I am going to post this story here in its entirety until fanfiction.net lets me post it there in 3 days, lol. Get the ball rolling, as it were.
This story is appropriate for most ages. It has a few adult-subject references, but it's pretty mild. It's got a lot of Ron/Hermione pairing in it, so if that's not your cup of tea, BEWARE, lol.
Also, I need to put it in perspective. I wrote this BEFORE HBP came out, a couple years ago, so the events are taking place after book 5 and before knowing the outcome of book 6. I think it's still a fun bit of fic.
Thanks for reading. _________________ "For too long we have been taught to praise the wrong heroes, thieves planting flags and murderers carrying crosses. Let us at last praise the colonizers of dreams." ~ Peter S. Beagle
Last edited by moonfisher on August 18, 2005 11:50 am; edited 1 time in total
The door to the boys' dormitories nearly shook from its hinges as Harry darted in, his face quite ruddy, his invisibility cloak falling from around his shoulders. Ron jumped and looked up from polishing his broom.
"What IS it, Harry?"
"Ron! If Hermione asks, I have been HERE for at least an hour, reading," Harry sputtered, out of breath. He hurriedly threw his cloak into the chest at the foot of his bed, snatched up his copy of The Daily Prophet, and threw himself onto his bed, face up, and reading.
Ron opened his mouth to prompt Harry further, when a great clatter echoed up the stairs from the Gryffindor common room. Thunderous footsteps banged up the stone stairs and a flurry of brown hair barged into the boys' dormitory.
"Which of you was it?" Hermione demanded.
Truly in the dark, Ron need not struggle to keep a straight face, "What are you on about, 'ermione?"
Hermione's face was contorted with barely managed rage. "Which of you took that cloak into the Prefect's bathroom while I was in there?" she growled through her clenched jaw. "At first I thought it had to be YOU Ron, as you're a prefect and know the password, but then I remembered that Harry got the password from Cedric last year."
She placed her hands on her hips and looked at them both as though she would pierce their hearts with her eyes.
Harry looked as blank-faced and clueless as possible, while Ron continued to sputter, "Honest, Hermione, I was nowhere NEAR the bathroom. What happened?"
Hermione's glare broke and she looked at her feet, tears brimming in her eyes. "I thought I could trust you guys, that you were my friends."
Neville, mustering enough bravery to enter the room that he heard so much screaming coming from, walked in the doorway and put a hand on Hermione's shoulder, comfortingly. Hermione smiled through her tears.
"Well, at least SOME Gryffindor boys know how to act like friends and gentlemen," she sniffed.
"What happened, Hermione?" Neville asked quietly.
Hermione put her hands on either side of her face and sat on the foot of Seamus' bed.
"I was taking a bath in the Prefect's bathroom. I know it is only mid-afternoon, but I had been hitting the books all day and needed a little break. I lay in the tub for a good hour, and then I stood up. Suddenly, I heard a gasp, and the door flew open! I heard someone run out of the bathroom, and the door shut behind them. Now, I know of two people with access to both a cloak and a password. It couldn't have been them both, they ran too swiftly."
Neville blushed with embarrassment on Hermione's behalf and at the thought of her bathing. He cleared his throat and shook his head. "Come on, guys. Just 'fess up and apologize."
During Hermione's explanation, Ron's face had become quite pale and his stomach churned. "Harry, you dirty rat," he thought to himself, "That's something to be expected of Draco, that is."
Ron was torn between clearing his good name and keeping his promise of silence for Harry. He sighed and muttered, "Honest, Hermione. It wasn't us. It had to be someone else. Maybe someone else has a cloak?"
Hermione leaped to her feet and balled up her fists, "You may as well just admit it now, Ron! Harry is at a loss for words while you stammer and make excuses! Another cloak, indeed. And they happen to have the password as well, do they? Ronald Weasley, I'm of half a mind to write your mother about this!" with that, Hermione turned on her heel and ran from the room. After a sharp look of disgust aimed at Harry and Ron in turn, Neville followed her.
When the footsteps echoed in the distance, Ron flung his jar of polish at Harry.
"You nasty git! What were you thinking?" Ron shrieked.
Harry dodged the jar with his head, catching it instead in the shoulder. "Ow! Ron, I wasn't there on purpose! I was on the run from Umbridge when I saw Snape coming in the opposite direction on the map. Umbridge has been shadowing me all day and I wanted to give her the shake. The halls were too crowded to just hug a wall without getting bumped. I didn't think anyone would be in the bath this early in the day."
Ron shook his head. He didn't understand why he was getting so upset. He had the right to be offended, but what he felt bordered on... jealousy? Protectiveness? He shook his head to clear it.
"So you decided to stay there for a bit once you saw an occupant?"
"No, Ron! Listen! I didn't even know she was there. I slipped in quietly. She must not have heard me; her head must have been underwater, because I didn't see her, either. You know how big that tub is! She must have been under the bubbles. I hid there for a few seconds, watching them pass by on the Marauder’s Map. I was so intent on them; I missed the dot that said "Hermione" on it in the tub. Next thing I know, I hear a rush of water, and I look behind me and... and..." Harry blushed and looked at his feet, "I looked away immediately, Ron, and made a run for it. I didn't want to violate Hermione's privacy in any way at all! I didn't see anything! Too many bubbles, and I sure as heck didn't look. I was too embarrassed."
Ron looked Harry in the eye hard, "You're sure you didn't see anything?"
Harry became exasperated, "Nothing!"
Ron nodded and rose from his bed. He walked over to where Harry was on his bed and punched him right square in the mouth. Harry fell backwards off the bed, throwing his arms around his face for protection.
Harry scrambled to his feet and backed up, not wanting to fight his best friend, "Ron, what are you doing?"
"You let Hermione get mad at me! Blame me for your dumb mistake, while you sit there and look innocent!"
"I'm sorry, Ron, I'll set things right!"
Just then a voice came from the doorway, "You'll set WHAT right?" It was Neville who had spoken, with Hermione standing behind his shoulder.
Ron lowered his fists and looked ashamed. He did not want Hermione to see her friends fighting like foolish children, after all she had been through today. He looked at the floor and muttered, "You better start talking, Harry."
Harry, shaking with a combination of embarrassment and pain from his bleeding mouth, told Hermione what had happened.
"I promise I didn't see anything Hermione. I averted my eyes immediately and ran for it," Harry finished his explanation.
"Why couldn't you just be honest from the beginning?" Hermione said, her voice sounding both relieved and exhausted.
"Sorry, Hermione. I didn't know how you would take it."
Hermione sighed and hugged Harry, "I can forgive you anything, Harry. Just be honest with me in the future, please. Now, you need to get to Madam Pomfrey's and have that mouth looked at."
"I'll take him," Neville said, "I've been helping Madame Pomfrey with her Mandrakes this year and I would like to check in with her anyway."
Harry smiled painfully at Neville. It was wonderful to see Neville doing so much better in his studies and standing up for Hermione. He was really coming out of his shell.
Neville helped Harry stumble out of the dormitory, leaving Ron and Hermione behind in uncomfortable silence.
Not knowing what else to do, Ron picked up his jar and his rag and began polishing his broom again. Hermione sat at the foot of Harry's bed, watching him for a few minutes before speaking.
"Why did you hit Harry, Ron?"
Ron shrugged and became more intent on his polishing.
"Ron?"
"I don't know. I was just mad he let me take the blame like that, I guess."
Hermione smiled slightly and said, "Oh," quietly, sounding almost... disappointed.
Ron was a bit confused by her reaction, "Why? You aren't angry with me, are you?"
Hermione shook her head, "No, Ron, I'm not angry at all. I was just wondering why you would punch Harry over such a little thing."
Ron dropped the rag and looked outraged, "It is not a little thing! He violated your privacy and let me take the blame for it! How dare..."
"So you're just angry that he blamed you," Hermione interrupted.
"Yes... no... Hermione, what are you getting at? What do you want me to say?"
Hermione fiddled with the hem of her robe as she answered, "I don't know. I guess I thought you hit him because you were standing up for me, but I'm just being silly."
Ron stood up and walked over to where Hermione was sitting on the edge of Harry's bed and sat down beside her, on the opposite corner, moving closer but carefully maintaining a three-foot space between them.
"I was a bit angry on your behalf, Hermione. I've got a little sister, so I guess it's just natural that I be protective."
"Oh," Hermione said, "So I'm like a little sister?"
Ron leaned over and patted her on the shoulder, "No, Hermione. You're a lot more interesting than my sister."
Hermione, exasperated, grabbed Ron's hand as he patted her shoulder and yanked him closer to her.
"Ronald Weasley! Were you jealous of Harry or not?"
Ron grew bright red and sputtered, not sure what to say, "Uh, well, I... umm, Hermione?....uh..."
"Oh, just shut up!" Hermione whispered, throwing her arms around his neck and bringing her mouth very close to his.
Ron stopped trying to think of what to say and decided what to do instead.
He slid his arm around Hermione's waist, ran his other hand through her hair and tilting her head back, and kissed her. _________________ "For too long we have been taught to praise the wrong heroes, thieves planting flags and murderers carrying crosses. Let us at last praise the colonizers of dreams." ~ Peter S. Beagle
Ron waited until he heard the slow, steady breathing of his friend before making his move. As soon as he was sure Harry was sleeping, he slipped quietly out from under his blankets and over to the foot of Harry's bed. Slowly, cautiously he inched Harry's trunk open and pulled out the invisibility cloak. He slipped it around his shoulders and carefully moved down the stairs.
Hermione was sitting in the common room, reading on the futon in front of the fireplace. Nobody else was still up. With a silent sigh of relief, Ron moved around the futon and tugged gently on her hair. Hermione looked up immediately and giggled. Ron then threw the cloak over both of them and dropped onto the seat beside her.
Neither of them was certain why they were keeping their relationship a secret. Plenty of Gryffindors kissed and held hands in the common room. But in the two weeks since their first kiss, Ron and Hermione had made a habit out of secrecy. It just seemed more fun to have a secret.
They were both also concerned about how Harry may take to his two best friends being so intimate around him, so they thought it best to conduct themselves privately.
"I feel a bit dodgy, keeping this from Harry," Hermione had said, "But it certainly is fun."
In fact, the times they had come close to discovery were the most exciting. Harry had gotten up only a couple of nights before, and wondering where Ron was, had gone down to the common room and sat right beside Hermione and Ron's hiding place. They both had to fight off giggles as they leaned away from Harry, hoping he wouldn't brush against them or notice the depressions in the cushion where both of them were sitting.
"Yeah," Ron had agreed with Hermione, "Kissing is easier when nobody is looking at you."
"Well, I'm certainly looking at you, Ronald Weasley."
That weekend was a Hogsmead weekend, and both Ron and Hermione were trying to devise a way to be alone without hurting Harry's feelings. As chance would have it, Harry provided his own reason for them.
"I can't go this time. Snape is demanding an Occlumancy lesson this evening. I have to go."
"Now that's a fine exchange," Ron replied, empathetically, "Hogsmead for fun-loving Snape."
"Tell me about it," Harry muttered.
"Well, Harry, it is very important that you learn how to do it properly, for your own protection," Hermione chided, softly nudging Ron.
Ron nodded vigorously, "Yes, it is. Well, Harry, sorry to run off on you. We'll bring you something."
As Harry watched his two friends scurry down the path to catch up with the throng heading for Hogsmead, he could not keep his dark thoughts from lingering on the feeling that his friends were GLAD he couldn't go. He kicked a rock across the courtyard and muttered under his breath angrily.
As Ron and Hermione approached Hogsmead, they dropped further and further back from the group. When they were far enough behind, they both darted into the trees on the outskirts of town. It was a warm and bright day, and Hermione and Ron both sat down together on a sunny mound covered in grass. Hermione's hair was full of brambles from darting through the trees. Ron began to gently pick them from her hair and smooth her tresses back out. Hermione threw her arms around Ron's neck when he finished and kissed on the cheek. He casually put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned back against him.
"It's easier to spend time together without a cloak over our heads," Ron said.
Hermione tossed her hair over one shoulder and responded, "Not to mention easier on my hair. It looks such a mess when I get out from under that cloak, I'm terrified one of the other girls will notice and think I had been up to something inappropriate."
Ron laughed and pulled her closer to him. He was kissing her under her ear when he heard laughter erupt from the trees behind them.
"That is the foulest thing I have ever seen!" Draco cried out as he broke cover and strutted into the clearing, Crabbe and Goyle following in his wake.
Standing up and stepping in front of Hermione, Ron said, "That's something, considering what you tend to hang around with. How did you ever manage to keep these two trolls from making any noise?"
Malfoy sneered, "Well, Weasley, I'm sure you couldn't hear an elephant coming through the trees with all the slurping sounds. This is a bit low, even for you, Weasley. What would your parents say? A pureblood wizard chewing on the lips of a mudblood."
Ron stepped forward as though to strike Draco, but Hermione put her hands on his shoulders to stop him. "Don't bother, Ron. We're outnumbered and too far away from anybody to be safe. Let's just get out of here."
Ron reluctantly let Hermione lead him away from Draco and his cronies, through the trees. Draco's taunts and insults became muffled as they put distance between them.
"Well, the secret's out. You know Malfoy won't let us go a day without ridicule. We'd better tell Harry, before he gets mad at us for keeping it a secret." Hermione sounded disappointed as she said it.
Ron shrugged, "Why tell anyone? Let's not make a big deal out of it. We'll just hold hands in front of everyone and let them draw their own conclusions."
Hermione agreed, and said, "True, Ron. No need to announce it as though it were an engagement."
At the word "engagement," Hermione felt Ron's hand clench.
"Taking it a bit fast, aren't you?" he asked. Hermione laughed back at him, "Please, Ron. It's a figure of speech."
When they reached Hogsmead, it was a bit late. They quickly purchased some candy for Harry and began trekking back to Hogwarts. When they arrived, they held hands as they walked through the school and into the common room. Harry was sitting in a chair, polishing his Firebolt, when they walked in. He smiled up at them. His eyes passed over their hands and quickly returned to their faces. Without missing a beat, he said, "Did you have a good time?"
Ron smiled back, "Sure, Harry. We brought you some stuff."
Harry thanked them and happily returned to his broom. He felt much better now that he knew his friends weren't trying to avoid him; they just wanted some time alone.
"Oh, and Ron?" Harry said, "If you need my cloak, just take it. No need to sneak."
Ron looked shocked, and then the three friends began to laugh.
The next day, as expected, Draco made kissing sounds at Ron and Hermione as they sat down to breakfast. Harry, taking it all in stride, turned to him and said, "Draco, I already told you no. Quit making passes at me."
The Gryffindor table erupted with laughter at Malfoy's speechless expression. George and Fred both laughed the hardest. Then George leaned forward and whispered, "I'm just glad to see Ron with a girl. For awhile there, we feared he fancied YOU, Harry." Ron threw a biscuit at the twins as the table began laughing again. Draco glared at them and whispered conspiratorially to Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy. Ron had the sneaking suspicion they were up to something, and that it couldn't be good. _________________ "For too long we have been taught to praise the wrong heroes, thieves planting flags and murderers carrying crosses. Let us at last praise the colonizers of dreams." ~ Peter S. Beagle
The banquet table was bustling with activity, which was usual for a Saturday night dinner. Gryffindors were usually the noisiest and most robust of the houses, and this night was no exception. Harry beamed down the table at Fred and George as they crammed several candies and baked goods into various pockets of their robes.
"Better take what's free while we can," Fred had once told Harry, conspiratorially, "We don't want to waste too much of our investors money on candy to jinx." Harry often wondered if they hadn't sewn pockets into the seams of their robes for stashing all the candy they nicked every night.
Ron had finished his dinner and was sitting quietly, for once, his chin in his hand as he watched Hermione daintily sip at her soup. After a few moments, she noticed him and her cheeks flushed as she smiled at him over her bowl. Ron grinned back what had to be, in Harry's opinion, the goofiest grin he had ever mustered and offered Hermione a piece of candy. She unwrapped the candy, bit off half, and offered the rest to Ron.
"Seriously now, you're making us all quite ill!" George squawked from his seat down the table.
"If you want, Ron, maybe she'll chew it up for you first so it's easier for you to swallow," Fred chided before they both fell into easy laughter with Lee and Angelina.
Ron blushed furiously and muttered, "Bugger off," before pointedly ignoring them.
Harry chuckled softly and watched his friends. He was genuinely happy for them, although at times he felt like a third wheel and rather put out. He had begun making a habit of inviting Neville or Ginny along on most of their excursions just to make himself feel less of an intruder. At least they weren't fighting anymore...well, not as often.
As the table began to clear of students towards the end of dinner, Ron glanced around the room. Glad to see that the other Weasleys and most of Slytherin were gone, he leaned in and pecked Hermione on the cheek.
"Hem, hem," that small sound of a throat clearing, while in and of itself was nothing, paralyzed Ron with terror. Harry slowly looked up from his plate and into the toad-like face of the Hogwarts High Inquisitor, Professor Umbridge herself.
Hermione did not turn to look at her, but rather closed her eyes and waited for the reprimand she was certain to come.
"Hem, hem. I hope I don't have to explain to Gryffindor house the rules and regulations pertaining to public displays of affection in this school," Umbridge purred with honey-coated malevolence.
"No, Ma'am," Hermione spoke quietly.
"You should be ashamed of yourself, young lady, for such outlandish behavior, though I suspect that being raised among Muggles has been devastating to your manners."
Harry clenched his fist and looked into Umbridges horrid, buggy eyes. "It was a kiss on the cheek. Nothing more than Ron gives his mum when he leaves for term," he stated steadily.
"I do not need sexual education from a fifteen year old boy. Twenty points from Gryffindor, and one more day of detention for you, Potter. I'll see you Monday evening," she sneered as she said this and bumbled on out of the room, her bulbous form gracelessly moving amongst the dinner refuse.
"Harry! When WILL you learn not to speak back to Umbridge?" Hermione pleaded.
"When she's learned not to be a hateful prat," Harry replied, before spinning around, off the bench, and stalking off to the common room.
When Harry arrived at Potions the day after his detention, he was in a sour mood. His hand still stung from doing lines and he did not look forward to getting whatever noxious, foul components his potion called for, all over his fresh wound.
As they all began to mix their potions, Harry was distracted and forgot to add the powdered crab's lips. Instead of the lovely green bubbles Hermione had popping out of her cauldron, Harry had brown sparks. He glanced at Ron in panic and saw that Ron's potion was equally befouled, though a bright pink colour instead.
"I should save myself the trouble and simply give you a zero before class even starts, Potter. It appears that my hopes you would eventually grow a brain have been in vain," Snape sneered at Harry as he said it and with a wave of his wand, Harry's cauldron was empty.
"What's that pink stuff there, Weasley?" Malfoy shouted, "A love potion for that horsy girlfriend of yours?"
Ron turned towards Malfoy, whipping his wand out of his robes.
"Expelliarmus!" Snape called, and Ron's wand shot straight up in the air and landed in his cauldron.
Snape walked up to Ron, towering over him, a dangerous look in his eyes.
"You dare to raise a wand in my classroom?" he asked quietly, "Perhaps Mr. Weasley would like to test his potion out on Miss Granger. Then we can all find out just what kind of mess he's created here."
Ron looked panicked, but Hermione cleared her throat and stated, "Obviously the only mistake he made, judging by the colour, is that he forgot to add his mugwort to the essence of lavender BEFORE adding it to the cauldron. The potion will have no effect, so I will happily drink the entire cauldron if you wish."
Snape looked down his greasy nose at Hermione, rage barely contained behind his eyes.
"It is unfortunate, Miss Granger, that while you have been slobbering all over Mr. Weasley, you have failed to imbue any of your positive traits upon each other. If he could only teach you when to SHUT UP and you teach him how to use half his brain, neither of you would be quite so objectionable."
At this, Malfoy scoffed and the Slytherins tittered with laughter. Hermione kept her eyes coolly on Snape’s face as the bell rang, dismissing them. Ron and Harry quickly gathered their things.
"Let's GO, Hermione," Ron whispered hurriedly.
Not taking her eyes from Snape, Hermione stoutly packed her things and strode, dignified, out of the dungeon.
That weekend, Hogsmead was a pleasant break from a tiring week. The homework seemed to keep piling up, Harry had managed to slip in two D.A. meetings, and Ron worked tirelessly at improving his Quidditch skills.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville were sitting on a bench along the main promenade, sipping butterbeer from edible candy mugs. The snow was falling in a comforting blanket all around them. Icicles twinkled in the afternoon sun, and they all huddled together for warmth around their warm drinks. Harry sighed as he licked some of the wonderful drink from his lips.
"I think I need a refill," Harry said.
"Oh, me too!" Ginny giggled.
"I'll buy," offered Harry.
"I would like to grab a couple more of these mugs, they're a swell idea," added Neville.
"You coming?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione.
"No, we'll wait here," said Hermione.
With a grin, Harry and the others trooped back through the ice and snow, towards the store.
As soon as they were out of sight, Ron leaned in and began kissing Hermione.
"Ron!" she hissed, though giggling as he kissed her eyes and ears hurriedly, "Someone is going to see us. There are plenty of teachers that come here. Would it really do for them to see the Gryffindor prefects acting so outrageously?"
"So what? Do you want me to haul you into the forest or behind one of these bins? 'Cause I will."
Hermione laughed and snuggled into Ron's neck, warming her frosty nose and lips.
Ron suddenly froze on the bench, hardly moving.
"Hermione..."he whispered.
"What is it, Ron?"
"Is that McGonagell across the street, staring at us like a mad, hungry owl?"
Hermione gasped and looked up. There, across the promenade, was Professor McGonagell, peering over her spectacles at them both and shaking her head, as though concerned.
"She wouldn't actually DO anything to us, Ron, though I am dreadfully embarrassed. What must she think of us, carrying on so?"
Minerva McGonagell watched the two of them for a few moments longer before turning to the right and crisply walking down the sidewalk.
That evening, when the students arrived back at Hogwarts, Hermione was not surprised that she received a summons to Professor McGonagell's office. Ron, however, seemed concerned and wondered why he had not gotten one as well.
"She probably wants to speak to each of us in private," Hermione assured him, "About our duties as prefects and the standard we must uphold for the other students."
"And quite possibly to warn you about Umbridge. For all we know, she's made another mad rule expelling students for goggling at each other over dinner."
Harry laughed at this, and Hermione rushed out the door to meet with her Professor.
When Hermione knocked on Professor McGonagell's door, she quickly responded with a sharp, "Come in."
Hermione opened the door and stepped into the office.
Professor McGonagell was sitting at her desk, surrounded with mounds of student homework, all perfectly organized and most already graded.
"Close the door and have a seat, Miss Granger."
Quickly doing as she was told, she soon found herself seated politely across from the Professor, her posture impeccably straight.
McGonagell set her papers aside and pulled her glasses off with one hand, sighing into the other. After rubbing her temples a bit, she replaced her glasses and looked at Hermione for the first time since she had entered.
"Miss Granger, I am not sure how to broach this subject with you. You have always been a reliable, sensible young woman, deserving of my trust and respect. Lately, however, I have become aware of some of your, shall we say, extra-curricular activities."
Hermione lowered her head humbly, ashamed of herself for being so careless about public affection, silently vowing to just deal with invisibility cloaks and messed up hair.
"Some of your classmates have come to me, Miss Granger, to express concerns about you," the Professor continued, "Even Umbridge has found it necessary to have a discussion with me concerning the nature of your relationship with your fellow prefect."
Hermione toyed with the hem of her robe, folding it and unfolding it between her hands before sighing and looking up into Professor McGonagell's face. She was shocked to see tears in McGonagell’s face.
"I can understand students dating, Miss Granger," she said quietly, "As long as they are responsible. Umbridge has already sent owls to both of your parents, apologizing for the entire mess, though I requested she give me time to sort it out."
Hermione's jaw dropped in shock. Owls home?
"Professor," Hermione choked, startled, "With all due respect, don't you think everyone is overreacting just a bit?"
"Overreacting, Miss Granger? I truly expected more than this from you. The two prefects of Gryffindor house, being so irresponsible. This is just the kind of ammunition Umbridge needs to pass more of her inane rules. I really expected you to be smarter about this. If you needed the spell components, you could have come to me."
Hermione, growing more befuddled by the moment, stammered, "Spell components for what?"
"For any number of things, Miss Granger! You can toss together all manner of potions and spells when you three want to get into mischief, but Mr. Weasley and yourself can't bother with a simple Essence of Stork Feather, Draught of Sterility or even a simply Shield Charm would suffice!"
Hermione became quite pale at this, "You...you think I'm, that I'm...." she dropped her head into her hands and her shoulders began shaking.
Professor McGonagell moved swiftly to sit beside Hermione and put a comforting arm around her shoulders.
"There, there, child, don't cry. We'll sort this out somehow. We can..." she halted in mid-sentence as Hermione leaned back and she saw that she was not crying at all, but laughing uproariously.
"Professor!" she chortled, "I am NOT pregnant."
"But Miss Parkinson came to me today and told me you had been crying in the girls lavatory all day over it. And Professor Umbridge said she saw you and Mr. Weasley all but fornicating in the open on school grounds, though I daresay I believe much THAT woman says. Then I saw the two of you at Hogsmead over the weekend and I thought..."
Hermione continued to laugh, "It's ABSURD, Professor. Why, Ron and I have done nothing more than 'slobber on each other' as Professor Snape puts it."
"Yes, he had said something to that affect," McGonagell said, apparently relieved that her star pupil was not in any trouble.
"I KNEW those rotten Slytherins were up to something," Hermione hissed.
"Now, that's enough Miss Granger. I am very sorry that I thought so little of your moral fortitude as to believe these lies. You must understand, I've seen a good deal happen in my decades here, and nothing surprises me anymore. Twenty points to Gryffindor for being wiser than I had believed. Off to the common room with you."
As Hermione left McGonagell's office, she couldn't help but wonder what reaction Ron and Harry would have to this misunderstanding. With a groan she remembered the owls Umbridge had sent to their parents. This would be fun to explain, especially to Mrs. Weasley. _________________ "For too long we have been taught to praise the wrong heroes, thieves planting flags and murderers carrying crosses. Let us at last praise the colonizers of dreams." ~ Peter S. Beagle
The rest of the fifth year at Hogwarts had flown by, considering all that happened. As the year wound to a close, Harry Potter was not looking forward to another summer spent with the Dursleys while he knew Ron and Hermione would be happily together. Harry was glad, however, that they would be allowed to spend the summer together, considering the mess they had gotten themselves into with their parents.
Hermione’s parents had, of course, a good deal of faith in her. They were certain that Umbridge’s letter concerning their daughter’s “predicament” could not be accurate. They were rewarded for their confidence when, a day after Umbridge’s letter arrived, another came from Professor McGonagell, explaining everything.
Ron had not been so lucky.
Though Professor McGonagell had also sent an owl to the Weasley household, it did not arrive before Mrs. Weasley had already dispatched a howler.
“RONALD WEASLEY!” the incendiary letter exploded, “Of all the unacceptable behaviors my children have embarrassed me with, this is the worst! And you’re PREFECTS, no less! Just you steer clear of that young woman until I’ve arrived! I’ll be there tomorrow morning to fetch you both!”
Then in sickly sweet tones, the letter turned to Hermione and said, “And just you rest and mind what you eat, dear. We wouldn’t want you straining yourself in your condition, now.”
Ron stared at the ashes that were all that remained of the letter and Hermione hid her face in her hands as the Slytherins snickered at the next table.
Once term had ended, Harry found himself spending another drawn-out summer wasting under the harsh scrutiny of the Dursleys. This summer was a bit different, however, as the Dursleys spent it glaring at him and continuously checking the front window to see that no strange characters were strutting up the walk to give them another stern lecture. After the warnings they had received regarding their treatment of Harry, particularly the warning from Mad-Eye Moody, the Dursleys were being cautious and silent. Harry did not mind, as he preferred cold penetrating silence to screams and threats. Dudley spent more time than ever trouncing smaller children with his toadies, wary of being under the same roof as Harry for too long.
Harry often found his thoughts turning to his two best friends, Hermione and Ron, both of which Harry felt secretly resentful. They were off at the headquarters for the Order, undoubtedly kissing and enjoying life without him, while he, yet again, had to spend the summer haunting the deathly quiet Dursley household. Harry grinned at the idea of rattling some chains as he wandered about the house, wondering if the Dursleys would put a stop to it or only become more frightened of him.
Harry’s birthday was still two weeks away, and he looked forward to the packages he was sure to receive from his friends. The letters they had sent were expectedly devoid of any information, but he understood why, since his conversation with Dumbledore. As Harry had looked into the horse-like face of his aunt that morning at breakfast, he found himself wondering how someone who hated him so much could unwittingly carry the protection of his mother’s love. It was ironic, to say the least.
It was mid-afternoon as Harry was interrupted. He was lying in his bed, reading Quality Quidditch Tactics when his door flew open and Uncle Vernon stepped it, holding the cordless phone.
“Phone call for you!” he hollered, glaring at both Harry and the telephone in turn, suspiciously, “You’ll take it downstairs on the wired unit. I’ll not have you holding secret conversations in your room. Can’t imagine who would be calling YOU. None of YOU’RE people can use a phone.”
Harry jumped up and ran downstairs to the telephone table in the hallway.
“Hello?” he stammered. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard a girl’s voice chatter back at him.
“Harry? It’s Hermione.”
Harry knew that Hermione would be the only one likely to call him, as her parents were Muggles and phone use was something she had learned at an early age. Her voice sounded frantic, and Harry immediately became concerned.
“Hermione? What is it?” he stammered. Images of horror flashed through his mind. Voldemort had just killed a bus full of Muggles? The Death Eaters had Dumbledore taken prisoner?
“Harry, it’s... ” the line went dead.
“Hermione? HERMIONE?!” Harry called franticly.
“There will be no yelling in this house!” Uncle Vernon yelled from his station halfway up the stairs, where he had stood to spy on Harry’s conversation.
Harry began to wonder what he should do. Should he send an owl out? That would take too long, but he was under orders from Dumbledore not to leave the house, so he could not very well go to Grimmauld Place himself. As he paced back and forth, trying to sort out his course of action, an owl flew in the window and dropped a bit of rolled parchment on the floor at his feet.
Uncle Vernon’s face became very red and contorted with anger that owls were once again coming in his house, but he bit his tongue as he remembered the spinning eye of Mad-eye Moody at the train station.
Harry pulled the letter open and read, in a strong graceful script: “You are to do nothing, Harry. I know the temptation must be great, so I will be sending someone along for you promptly. Pack your things. Rest assured that Miss Granger is fine; we had to terminate her call lest she panic you. ~A.D.”
That solved everything. Dumbledore was sending someone to fetch Harry for whatever perilous quest awaited him. He quickly dashed up the stairs and began packing his things. Uncle Vernon followed closely on his heels.
“Running off for the rest of the summer, are you? Can’t say I’m sorry. I don’t want any of those… those weirdos coming up my driveway, do you understand me!?” Vernon yelled.
Harry was too busy packing to tell his Uncle that no fewer than nine of his favorite people had been in the house last summer. Then his eyes turned to the window.
“Too late,” Harry said, a smile spreading across his face, “The ‘weirdos’ have arrived.” And sure enough, there were Lupin, Moody and Tonks stalking up the driveway. Uncle Vernon’s colour was quite unusual as he watched the strange trio shuffle up to his door. Tonks’ hair was an astonishing emerald green.
Harry threw the last of his things into his trunk and latched it shut. With that in one hand and Hedwig’s cage in the other, he dashed downstairs and out the front door to meet them.
“Alright there, Harry?” Mooney asked, his bowler hat carefully pulled over his swirling eye, “Need me to have a talk with the relations?”
“No,” Harry said, breathless from his run, “No, they’ve been charming. Let’s go!”
To Harry’s surprise, the three of them rushed him into the street and Lupin held up his wand.
“We’re not flying?” Harry asked.
Just then, the Knight Bus appeared with a bang in front of them. The doors swished open and Stan began grabbing Harry’s bags.
After a brief ride on the Knight Bus, they were dropped off in a deserted clearing in the country. There, they took an old shoestring portkey to the sewers of London and had Harry wear his invisibility cloak all the way to Grimmauld Place. When they finally walked in the front door, Hermione was waiting for them, a desperate look in her eyes. Mrs. Weasley was also there, agitating a dishtowel between her worried hands.
“Harry!” Hermione cried, leaping forward and throwing her arms around his shoulders.
“Hello, Harry dear,” Mrs. Weasley said sweetly, though her voice belied a hidden emotion, a weariness.
“Hermione? What is going on? Are we going somewhere?” Harry asked.
Lupin put a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder and said, “No, son. You aren’t going anywhere. That’s why we brought you here. We can’t have you running off again, like you did after your godfather. It’s far too dangerous.”
A mixture of anger and despair flashed in Harry's eyes as he thought about Sirius. Lupin, seeing the hurt on Harry's face, immediately regretted mentioning the incident. Before Harry could explode, Hermione intervened.
“Oh, Harry!” Hermione cried, her eyes now welling with tears. “They won’t let me go either! What are we to do?”
“What’s going on? Where won’t they let us go?” Harry stammered, awkwardly trying to comfort Hermione. Why do girls cry so much, he wondered, as Mrs. Weasley’s eyes became misty as well.
“Harry, it’s the… the D… Death Eaters, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said quietly, “They took Ron and Ginny.”
Hedwig squawked angrily as Harry let her cage clatter to the hardwood floor.
Harry was screaming at Lupin and Moody, stalking back and forth across the kitchen, while Hermione cried quietly into a dinner napkin and Mrs. Weasley comforted her.
“I am entirely capable of helping!” Harry yelled, “After all that Hermione and I have been through, we should be allowed to help!”
“No, Harry. You are not part of the Order,” Lupine said calmly, but firmly.
“Neither are they!” Harry shouted, “Ron and Ginny are not in the Order either, so they’re as much our business as they are yours.”
“That’s some pretty backwards logic there, Harry. No. You and Hermione are to stay here and remain safe.”
“You can’t stop us,” Hermione whispered from her napkin. She lowered the red, moth eaten cloth and her tear-streaked face was full of determination. “We don’t have to listen to you,” she said through clenched teeth.
Harry was taken aback. He was well aware of how much Hermione loved Ron and valued the friendship of his sister, Ginny, but it was unheard of for Hermione to blatantly disobey a rule.
“I assure you, we can, young lady,” Mrs. Weasley said firmly. Hermione continued to glare at them defiantly.
Harry sighed and threw himself onto a chair, emotionally drained.
“Do we know if they’re… if they’re okay?” Harry asked.
“They’re fine,” Lupine responded. “They’re being held for ransom.”
“Ransom? What do we have they could want? Me?” Harry asked.
Hermione cleared her throat and said, “They want Dumbledore.”
Of course, Harry thought, it was Dumbledore who defeated Voldemort at the Ministry. He was the greatest enemy, not Harry.
“Though we believe this may be a clever ruse to lure YOU out again, Harry,” Lupine added. “Which is why you will remain here.”
“How did they capture them?” Harry asked, despondent.
“They tried to get Neville and I as well,” Hermione said, almost whispering. “We were all in Diagon Alley, purchasing the books for next year. It was MY idea.” She almost sounded ashamed. “I thought we could study ahead for the year together, as there is little else to do around here. And Ginny could use the extra studying, as she has her O.W.L.S. this year. All of a sudden, Ginny stopped walking with us and she began stepping slowly closer and closer to Knockturn Alley. We tried to stop her, but she did not appear to be acting of her own free will. Then Ron got in front of her and tried to hold her in place, calling for help. Neville and I both grabbed onto her clothes, but she kept moving. As she stepped into the shadow of the alleyway, I saw a gloved hand grab both Ginny and Ron and pull them in. They both kind of…stiffened, and Ron got so pale! The hand reached for us, but just then several other wizards arrived to help and they both just vanished into the shadows, like that!”
Harry did not move or blink as Hermione recounted her story. Ron and Ginny were gone, taken, and waiting for their help.
“We’re doing all we can, Harry. We’ve been looking for them tirelessly,” Lupine assured him.
“There’s more, Harry,” Hermione said. She opened an issue of The Daily Prophet and laid it on the table in front of him. It was dated for a week before. The headlines read, “Captured Death Eaters escape Askaban Prison; Ministry Unable to Maintain Control After Loss of Dementors.”
That was it, Harry thought, Lucius Malfoy has them, Draco is probably gloating over them as we sit here.
As though reading his mind, Lupine said, “We already searched the Malfoy estate, Harry, as well as the homes of several other Death Eaters. Only Draco and Narcissa are there. Ron and Ginny must be somewhere else.”
"Of course, we can't conduct a thorough search of these homes without alerting the occupants to our presence," Tonks chimed in.
Harry looked across the table into Hermione’s eyes and saw determination there. Without speaking they were both in agreement that, no matter what the Order tried to do, they would rescue Ron and Ginny! _________________ "For too long we have been taught to praise the wrong heroes, thieves planting flags and murderers carrying crosses. Let us at last praise the colonizers of dreams." ~ Peter S. Beagle
“This year I’ll show Potter what happens when he gets my father put it jail!” Draco exclaimed as he perused the selection of books in Flourish and Blotts with disgust. He picked up a raggedy tome from the hand-me-down pile and laughed.
“Uh oh. Quarter price! Still too rich for Weasley blood!” As Draco said this, Crabbe and Goyle guffawed and chortled beside him.
“Maybe I should hide these so the Weasleys can’t have any books this year. That might keep those repugnant Muggle lovers out of Hogwarts.” As he dropped the book back in to the pile with contempt, he stumbled and fell across the heap of them. Dust flew in all directions as Draco straddled the misshapen stack of musty hand-me downs. Crabbe and Goyle stared at him stupidly.
“Why don’t you two watch where you put your big feet!” Draco yelled.
“We weren’t even near you,” Crabbe answered stupidly.
“Well I certainly didn’t fall on my own! Now get over here and help me up, you dullards!” Draco snapped. Doing as they were told, the pair helped him stand and he began dusting himself off, a scowl on his pointy face.
Crabbe and Goyle shrugged as one and wandered back over to their mothers to beg for more money. Narcissa Malfoy, with a look on her face that indicated she just ate something foul, strode over to Draco and handed him a silver sack.
“Go buy yourself a new owl. That last one you had was late with the mail yesterday, and I’ll be having her for dinner,” said Narcissa.
Draco took the coin and smiled at his mother maliciously. He placed the bag deep in his pocket and strode out the door and noticing it hanging ajar behind him, he almost walked back to shut it. Then, remembering that he was not at all a conscientious young man, Draco sneered and headed towards the pet store.
Draco Malfoy wasted no time at all selecting a new owl, finding a small, black, beady-eyed beast of a bird and choosing it immediately. He attempted to walk out the door with the cage, but was stopped by the shopkeeper and forced to pay. After making his purchase and finally leaving the wretched store (how dare they make him pay), Draco set the cage on the sidewalk to return his money sack to his pocket. Just then, the door on his owl’s cage flew open and the bird fluttered out and down the sidewalk about ten feet. There, the black owl poked and prodded at the ground with his beak and talons.
“Blast it all, ruddy bird!” Draco snarled and stalked toward it. As he came near, however, it fluttered farther away and stopped again, pecking at the ground.
“Mother will have you for supper as well,” Draco said as he again stalked towards the owl.
But once more, Draco’s new pet fluttered away and down an alley behind the pet store. Draco pulled out his wand, intending to immobilize it, and he stormed into the dark alleyway.
“Petrificus Totalis,” a girl’s voice said, quite matter-of-factly, and Draco fell to the filthy ground, stiff as a board.
As he lay there, a small prick of blood appeared in the crook of his arm, almost invisible to the casual observer. Draco’s eyes then fluttered shut as he involuntarily fell asleep.
The invisibility cloak fell away to reveal Harry and Hermione, both grinning from ear to ear.
“You’re quite clever, Hermione, nicking that anesthesia from your father’s office,” Harry said, impressed with his friend.
Hermione shrugged and said, “Well, it’s the only way to knock him out without using our wands. If we were to get in trouble for this, priori incantatem can easily be cast and used against us.”
“Well, let’s move this git out of the way,” Harry said, grabbing Malfoy by the ankles and dragging him down the alley. He set him carefully behind some rubbish and lay his invisibility cloak over him, hiding him from sight.
“How long do we have?” asked Harry.
“Well, he will start to stir in a couple of hours, but I have another needle for him just in case. You need to hurry, Harry!” Hermione ordered as she handed Harry a large silver flask with a cork on top.
“There should be enough in there to keep you going for at least four hours,” Hermione said.
“How in the world did you manage to make this in time?” Harry asked.
Hermione looked a bit guilty and said, “I kind of… took it.”
“From where?” Harry asked, looking surprised and oddly pleased that Hermione had nicked someone’s potion.
“It’s the leftovers from when Mad-Eye Moody was being impersonated. Snape confiscated them to a hidden closet at Grimmauld Place.”
“Are you sure this won’t turn me into Moody?” Harry asked, eyeing the potion worriedly.
“It was a fresh batch, one that hadn’t any hair added yet.”
Harry wrinkled his nose at the flask and pulled out the cork. A terrible, acrid smell filled the alley.
“I’ll never get used to Polyjuice Potion,” Harry complained as Hermione dropped a bit of Draco’s hair into the container.
Harry sipped from the flask and scowled. Hermione grabbed it from him so he would not drop it and put her hand against his back as he leaned over a trashcan and retched. Harry’s skin began to bubble and quiver as he slowly began to resemble Draco Malfoy.
Once the transformation was complete, Hermione handed the silver vessel back to him and scowled.
“You’re quite unpleasant to look at, Harry,” she said.
“You dare address a REAL wizard in that fashion, Granger?” Harry sneered.
Hermione punched him in the shoulder, “Goodness, you sound just like him, too. Hurry up now, that hawkish mother of his will no doubt be waiting. And DO be more careful, Harry. Tripping Draco like that in the bookstore nearly blew our cover.”
Harry, neither having time nor proper conditions to fully swap clothes with Draco, swapped only robes with him. He felt like a traitor as he pulled on the Slytherin colours.
Hermione helped him fasten the robe quickly and then looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears.
“If he’s there, Harry, please bring him back to me.”
“I’ll bring him back for all of us, Hermione,” Harry replied, turning away.
Harry scooped up the black owl from its perched position on a nearby trashcan and gave it some more of the food they had used to lure it away from Draco. It pecked his hand affectionately and Harry walked back to where the cage was and replaced the owl. Then he picked up the cage and, his knees knocking in terror, headed back to Flourish and Blotts to go home with “mother.”
Harry did his best to look contemptuous as he walked into Flourish and Blotts and presented Narcissa with his new owl. She gave it the once over, the sneer on her face never wavering.
“What did you name it?” she asked.
“Umm… well it’s… Darkheart!” Harry said proudly.
Narcissa rolled her eyes and said, “Please, Draco, must you be so melodramatic? Darkheart indeed, you ridiculous boy.”
Harry did his best to look affronted and unapologetic.
Narcissa did her best imitation of a smile and asked him, “Where’s my change?”
Harry swallowed and his eyes became wide. He had forgotten to lift Draco’s belongings from him. That’s it, he thought, I’m dead.
Harry made a show of checking his pockets and looked up pleadingly, “I must have dropped it somewhere. Let me go back and look for it.”
Narcissa snarled and threw her arm around his neck, her pointy nose nearly gauging his eye out. Harry knew without a doubt she was about to kill him.
“Lost it, did you? My rotten little wizard, just like his father,” she said, and she kissed him on the cheek.
Harry tried to recover smoothly and did his best to grin at her affectionately.
“Let’s go home then, Draco. I have all your books here,” Narcissa said, turning on her heel and storming out the front door.
Harry followed her as she walked down Diagon Alley. He became more and more nervous as he realized how close they were getting to Knockturn Alley. Sure enough, she turned crisply and walked right into the darkness of Knockturn.
Harry tried his best to look as though he belonged there. Nobody bothered or accosted him the way they had on his first visit. But then, the Malfoys were probably regulars here, he thought. Once they came to a dead end, Narcissa turned to face him and placed her hand on a trashcan. Harry looked at her quizzically.
“What in the nine hells are you waiting for, Draco? A red carpet? Grab the portkey!”
Harry jumped forward and put his hand on the trashcan next to Narcissa’s and felt the familiar tug at his navel. He was on his way to the Malfoy estate.
Hermione sat in the alley reading as she guarded Draco’s still form. Occasionally, she checked her watch to be sure he was not yet due to wake before diving right back into her books.
Suddenly, she heard a great shriek from down the alleyway and there was a flash of red hair as a large form hauled her to her feet and squeezed her in both arms.
“You -- why you…” Mrs. Weasley was trying to speak, “OF ALL THE SHENANIGANS I HAVE WITNESSED MISS GRANGER…”
Hermione stammered and flushed. She had not wanted to frighten Mrs. Weasley so by disappearing, but they had little choice as Grimmauld Place had become a virtual prison.
“I TOLD YOU TWO TO STAY RIGHT WITHIN MY SIGHT!” Mrs. Weasley was yelling.
“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, “We didn’t think we had a choice.”
“I should have known better than to trust you two! Asking me to escort you to Diagon Alley so you can buy new quills and parchment, and this is the thanks I get. You and Harry dashing off on me while I have my back tur -- WHERE’S HARRY?”
Hermione looked down at her feet. She had hoped Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t find her for another few hours. She and Harry had left her on the far side of Diagon Alley and had worn the cloak to hide from witnesses. They had asked to come, hoping beyond hope that they would run into a member of the Malfoy family. She had known there was a possibility they would be found before their mission was complete.
“I can’t tell you,” Hermione said stiffly.
“You will tell me NOW, young lady!” Mrs. Weasley demanded. Hermione continued to stare down at her feet defiantly.
“Oh, heavens. He didn’t go looking for Ron and Ginny, did he?”
Hermione kept her face impassive and bit her lip.
“Hermione Granger! Answer me!”
Hermione shook her head, her rambunctious curls bouncing side to side.
Mrs. Weasley grabbed Hermione by the wrist and tried to haul her out of the alley.
“I’m not leaving,” Hermione said coolly.
“And why not? If you won’t talk to me, I’ll take you to someone who can shake the truth out of you.”
Hermione knew it would be a disaster if she left Draco unguarded. Thoughts of Snape’s truth elixir danced in her head. She pulled Mrs. Weasley back into the alley and leaned in close to her.
“You must promise not to do anything about what I am about to show you,” Hermione whispered sternly.
“I will promise nothing, young lady! Who do you think…”
“Promise or you will learn NOTHING.”
Mrs. Weasley sighed, trying to relax. Two of her children gone, and now Harry off to the heavens-know-where and Hermione trying to blackmail her.
Tight lipped, Mrs. Weasley said, “Very well.”
Hermione walked her toward Draco’s hidden form and told her everything.
“To the Malfoys’? Hermione, do you have any idea how much danger he is in? He’s walked right into the wolf’s den!” Mrs. Weasley sobbed, overcome by all the happenings of the last week.
“It’s too late now, Mrs. Weasley. All we can do is guard Malfoy and wait for Harry to return,” Hermione stated. Mrs. Weasley summoned a chair in the alley and sat down, grief stricken.
As everything cleared, Harry found himself standing in a large, dark and tidy room. Great tapestries depicting several evil wizards destroying Muggle cities hung on the wood-paneled walls (So THAT’S what happened to Atlantis). Low, dark shelves lined the room, filled with several glittering, evil looking utensils and artifacts. A fireplace danced with green light in the corner. The floor was covered in a rich, purple cloth, which almost seemed alive as he trod upon it.
“Take that horrid owl to your room, Draco,” Narcissa said, looking down distastefully. “It’s getting feathers all over the howlfurr.”
Howlfurr? Harry thought, as he followed Narcissa off the vibrant rug. She opened a jar on the shelf and pulled out what looked like a human eyeball. She then leaned down near the purple rug and held the eye out in her skeletal hand.
The corner of the rug lifted and a gaping mouth appeared, fangs dripping saliva. The rug growled lowly as Narcissa dropped the gelatinous eye into its maw. It slurped, crunched and chewed happily. Harry stared at the rug in terror. So THAT’S a howlfurr, he thought.
“Owl to your room, NOW!” Narcissa repeated. Harry quickly turned and walked out what he hoped was the correct door. This was going to be even harder than he thought; he had no idea where Draco’s room was. As he wandered up the stairs to hunt for it, he was sure of one thing. He had seen a trapdoor underneath that howlfurr, and it most likely lead to what he was looking for. _________________ "For too long we have been taught to praise the wrong heroes, thieves planting flags and murderers carrying crosses. Let us at last praise the colonizers of dreams." ~ Peter S. Beagle
Harry clamored up the stairs to the second floor of the Malfoy mansion. He found walking up and down stairs a bit awkward, as Draco’s limbs were a bit ganglier than what he was used to. Thinking of Draco, he quickly checked his watch; it had been one hour. Once he reached the top of the spiraling stairs, he glanced around to make sure nobody was nearby before swiftly pulling the silver flask from his pocket, uncorking it, and taking a sip.
The nausea passed quickly this time. Bloody hell, I hope I’m not developing a taste for this swill, Harry thought as he tucked the flask safely back in his pocket. His fingers brushed against his wand and he fingered it, realizing that he had forgotten to grab Draco’s wand in addition to the money. He made a mental note not to let Narcissa see his wand.
The landing at the top of the stairs stretched into a long, dark hallway. There were more than twenty doors, and Harry felt sure he would never find the proper one. Darkheart squawked in his cage as Harry hefted it and moved down the hallway.
He decided to just be logical and try every door in the order he came to them. Upon reaching one of the closest to him, he set down the cage and turned the door handle slowly, wary of what may jump out at him.
It was a lavatory. A huge tub stretched across the lavish room, with many fancy faucets decorating it. Harry was reminded of the Prefects’ bath at Hogwarts. Thinking of what he saw of Hermione on one particular visit to the Prefects’ bath caused Harry to blush with shame. He quickly and tastefully abandoned that line of thought.
Harry closed the door and moved farther down the hall to the next . This one swung open to reveal a music room of sorts, but a music room of nightmares. A black lace rug stretched across the immaculately polished hardwood floor and in its center was a gruesome organ. The keys and pipes looked to be made from human bones. In the corner was a black and twisted harp, a demon-like visage stretching up where angel wings would normally adorn it. Harry shuddered to think of the music the Malfoy family made together in THIS room and hurriedly closed the door.
The next three were locked. On the third, however, when he rattled the handle, a voice called from inside.
“Narcissa? Is that you?” asked the voice of Lucius Malfoy.
Knowing that he must answer, Harry called out, “No.”
The handle rattled as it was unlocked and the door opened. Lucius Malfoy stood there in all his dark glory, though it was the best expression Harry had ever had Lucius give him.
“Did you need anything, son?” Lucius asked. “I’m a bit preoccupied with the preparations, as you know.”
‘Preparations?’ Harry thought to himself. Knowing that he must act like he knew what Lucius meant, he responded in what he hoped was a convincing manner.
“Just checking to see if you needed any help,” Harry stammered.
Lucius looked puzzled then smiled. “Well, son, you rarely offer to do much of anything around here. I’m surprised. But I suppose you just want to take a look at the grisly things for yourself, don’t you?”
Terrified to his very core, Harry tried his best to look malicious and nodded.
Lucius beamed with pride and pulled Harry into the room.
This room was better lit than any other Harry and seen thus far in the Malfoy mansion. Torches were lit high on the stone walls and numerous vials and cauldrons bubbled and glittered in the firelight, and there were no windows that Harry could see. He followed Lucius toward a wooden table on which were two glass jars.
Lucius gestured to the jars grandly and said, “There they are, son. I would put down your owl before getting to close. They’re likely to spook it to death.”
Obeying quietly, Harry set the cage down on the cold stone floor and moved towards the jars. He bent down as close as he dared and looked in. There, floating in a thick yellow suspension were two little worm-like creatures. Realizing they were not as grizzly as he feared, Harry moved closer to one of the jars.
Suddenly, the little worm’s mouth opened and rows of nasty teeth were displayed as it threw itself violently against the glass. The container rocked back and forth, an amazing feat for a little worm of no more than three inches. Harry recoiled in disgust.
“What do they do?” he asked in a whisper.
“Didn’t I tell you about this yesterday, Draco? Honestly, boy, your fancy for hearing the same violent stories over and over has not changed since you were very young,” Lucius hissed.
Harry felt himself flush. If he weren’t careful, he would blow his cover.
Lucius sighed, as though deciding to humor his son.
“The little darlings will enter the Weasley children by their navel and take root deep inside of them. Soon after we make the exchange for your ‘beloved’ headmaster, the worms will quickly grow to more than ten times their original size and eat the little red-headed brats from the inside-out.”
Harry felt himself swoon. So Ron and Ginny were here; he and Hermione were right. But they would soon have these hateful things put inside their bodies. Harry placed his hand on the table and steeled himself.
“When will you be doing it? I thought I might be able to watch,” Harry queried.
Lucius smirked and said, “I can’t take the chance that one of them will get inside of you. It’s quite irreversible, you know.”
Irreversible? Harry felt his knees wobble again and swallowed hard. He knew he had to be strong for Ron and Ginny’s sakes.
“Why, it cost a fortune just to get these two here. They’re so rare since the Ministry had them all eradicated. ‘Public safety.’ What a joke! These had to be shipped from Australia. Run along now, Draco; I have work to do.”
“Very well, father,” Harry said, then getting an idea added, “I’m not feeling all that well. Can you help me take my owl to my room?”
Lucius sneered in a disgusted manner and clapped his hands, calling, “Ryadean! Ryadean come here at once!”
A fat, dumpy house-elf appeared with a bang. He was wearing a gray, worn out sack for attire.
“Yes, master,” Ryadean said.
“Take Draco’s cage to his room for him and see to that all is ready to comfort him. He is not feeling well,” Lucius ordered.
Ryadean bowed deeply and swiftly grabbed the cage. Harry had to resist the urge to smile at his luck as he followed the round form of the house-elf down the hallway to Draco’s room. Harry knew he would have recognized it at once had he ventured down the hall; the front of the door was covered in Slytherin paraphernalia.
As Harry followed Ryadean into the bedroom, the house-elf tripped and dropped the cage, causing Darkheart to squawk and flap.
Without thinking, Harry hurried forward to help the house elf back to his feet. Ryadean began blubbering.
“Please, young master, Ryadean is sorry! He will punish himself. Please do not kick Ryadean anymore. Please don’t feed Ryadean to the howlfurr!”
Harry felt sick as he thought of the horrible things Draco had probably put this poor elf through. He also did not want to blow his cover, so he turned his back and said, “Get out!” as nastily as he could. Ryadean jumped up and ran from the room as though he was certain death followed him.
“I’ll bet Hermione could convince THESE elves to become free. The ones at Hogwarts are just too well treated to think any differently,” Harry said to himself. Then he began to inspect Draco’s room.
The various posters of dark wizards and evil vampires came as no surprise to him. Neither did the huge black canopy bed in the center of the room.
“I always knew he was a bit swishy,” Harry said to himself in regard to the frilly bed.
The point of interest, however, was the dartboard. There was a scoreboard next to it with the names Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle written on it and various numbers beside it. What was interesting, however, was that the dartboard was a picture of none other than Harry himself. The picture waved, winked, and smirked out at him. Harry picked up the darts and hurled one at himself. It bounced off the wall, missing the dartboard entirely.
“Is that the best you can do?” the picture of Harry taunted.
Harry threw the second dart and it hit the outer ring, nowhere near the picture of Harry.
“You throw like a Mudblood!” the dartboard hissed.
Harry scowled. “I would never say something like that!” he stated and hurled the last dart at the board. It hit the picture of himself in the forehead with a resounding thunk. The Harry in the picture fell back, rubbing himself and spoke again.
“You always were better than me, Draco.”
Harry walked up and wrenched the board right off the wall.
After searching Draco’s bedroom for anything that could help him, Harry gave up and walked back down to the living room where he had seen the trapdoor. He glanced around, carefully avoiding Narcissa, as he made his way down the stairs. He heard her banging around in the kitchen, yelling at her house-elves. He was almost past the kitchen into the living room when Narcissa threw the door open.
“Oh, Draco. There you are. Lunch is ready. Come on,” she said.
Harry bit his lip in disappointment and followed her through the kitchen and into the dining room.
The long table was overflowing with food. Harry was not surprised to discover, however, that he and Narcissa were the only two eating. Not sure where to sit, he allowed Narcissa to sit first before hurriedly taking his seat at the only other place setting. As Narcissa began to eat, Harry picked at the food on his plate, anxious to find and rescue Ron and Ginny, but terrified of being discovered.
Harry glanced down at his watch. It had been another hour. He needed to take another dose, and he had only enough for two more hours.
As they ate, Narcissa looked over the Daily Prophet and began tittering with laughter.
“Look at this, Draco. They have an obituary in here for Sirius Black. ‘In Memory.’ How touching. Oh and it says he’s survived by his Godson, Harry Potter. It’s a good thing they didn’t mention his loose connections to THIS family. Getting himself killed is the best favor he’s ever paid me.”
Harry’s knuckles turned white as he grasped his dinner knife with all of his strength and fury. He began to shake with the effort of containing himself. Narcissa looked up at him and appeared startled.
“Draco? Are you okay?”
“I just… Harry Potter infuriates me, mother. I’m not feeling well. May I be excused?”
“Sure, I don’t see why not…” she said, then her brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with your hair, son? It looks a bit dark.”
Harry realized that he was overdue for his sip of Polyjuice. He was supposed to be sipping some every hour. He pulled out the flask, before Narcissa could identify him, and took a swig.
“What in the world is that, Draco? What are you doing? Are you drinking, young man?” Narcissa asked.
Harry pulled out his wand, having no other escape, and pointed it at her.
“Petrificus Totalus!”
Narcissa stiffened in her chair, her eyes still locked on him. He knew he didn’t have a moment to lose and quickly darted from the dining room. His jinx wouldn’t last forever and he needed to get Ron and Ginny.
Harry ran into the living room and eyed the howlfurr. He reached down and tried to grab it, but its mouth gaped open in bloodthirsty lust. Harry ran to the other corner of the rug and reached down, but the mouth appeared there as well. Becoming desperate to move the howlfurr, he opened the jar of eyes. He closed his eyes against the sight of what he was doing and palmed an eyeball.
Harry stood a few feet away from the howlfurr and held the eye out to it. It writhed in joy and opened its mouth, but it still did not move away from the trapdoor.
“It can’t move,” a voice said from behind Harry.
Harry turned around quickly, his hand going to his wand. There was Ryadean, in all his dumpy glory, watching him.
“What’s that?” Harry asked.
“It can’t move. It’s cursed to stay right there. It only curls up for the big master of the house, young master Draco.”
Harry kept his hand in his pocket, on his wand.
“Are you saying there’s no way past this, Ryadean?” Harry asked.
Ryadean smirked and walked up to Harry, looking him up and down, as though sizing him up.
“You are not young master,” Ryadean said matter-of-factly.
Harry sighed and pulled out his wand. He really didn’t want to immobilize the poor little filthy thing, but he had no choice if he was going to save Ron and Ginny.
Ryadean held up his hands and said, “But I can PRETEND that you are! I can!”
Harry stopped and regarded the elf curiously.
“What do you mean?” Harry asked.
“Ryadean has heard of your greatness from Dobby, Harry Potter. Ryadean will help you.”
“But how can you help me without betraying your masters?” Harry asked.
“I will have to punish myself most severely, but I will do it for you. You freed my cousin Dobby, sir.”
“Do you want me to free you, Ryadean?” Harry asked.
“No, young master. There can be no freedom for me. I am too old. The rug will move if it is dead.” Ryadean disappeared with a bang.
Harry began looking around the room for a way to kill the rug. He wasn’t very fond of the idea, but it was the only way to save his friends, and the rug had a taste for human flesh anyway. It was a thing of evil.
Near the fireplace, Harry saw a Muggle-type shovel, broom, and poker. He grabbed the poker and gave the rug a stab. The purple monstrosity buckled and screamed loudly, thrashing about. Harry stabbed it again and tried to throw it away from the door, certain that Lucius could hear the racket in his laboratory upstairs.
The rug lurched at Harry, its hungry mouth aiming for his eyes. Harry closed them tightly and stabbed again, connecting almost instantly with the howlfurr. Wounded, it rolled over easily and he pushed it away from the trapdoor with the poker. Glad he didn’t have to completely kill the hateful thing, Harry pulled the trapdoor open and scurried down the silver ladder inside.
There he found himself in what appeared to be a dungeon. He ran through the dark prison, speeding past cells that lined both sides of the long hallway.
“Ron! Ginny!” he cried out.
“Harry?” he heard Ginny respond.
“Harry, we’re here!” Ron’s voice called. Harry moved towards their voices in the dark dungeon. His hands suddenly connected with Ginny’s, which were thrust through the bars of their cell.
“Stand back!” Harry said firmly, “We must hurry!”
“Alohamora!” he said, and the cell door clicked open. Ginny threw her arms around Harry as she flew out of the cell. She immediately released him and squinted to see him better in the light.
“Harry?” Ginny asked, unsure of herself.
“It’s me, Ginny. Hermione gave me a Polyjuice potion so I could resemble Draco,” Harry explained.
“I don’t like it,” she said firmly.
“Ginny, we need to go, now! Come on Ron!” Harry said frantically.
“We thought we were done for, mate,” Ron said, limping hard on his right leg.
“What happened to you?” Harry asked his best friend.
“Draco. The little toad hit me in the knee with a lead pipe this morning.”
Harry placed his arm around Ron to help him walk, remembering that it was the same knee Sirius had injured during their third year. Harry bristled in anger that Draco would dare abuse his friends in this manner.
As they struggled down the dark hallway, Ron mumbled, “Thanks for coming after me, Harry. You’re the best friend anyone could ask for.”
Harry smiled sheepishly and said, “We’re more than friends, Ron. We’re like brothers!”
It was a slow process getting Ron up the ladder, but both Ginny and Harry helped him and they were in the living room in no time.
“What the bloody hell is that thing?” Ron asked when he saw the howlfurr.
“No time. Let’s go!” Harry reminded him.
The three of them moved toward the fireplace and Harry pulled a pouch of floo powder from his pocket. Hermione thought of everything, he mused.
“Not so fast!” Lucius’ voice said from the doorway. He was running in, his wand at the ready, one of the jars of those horrible jars in the other hand.
“Go! Now! All together! Say Diagon Alley!” Harry instructed. Harry and Ginny, with Ron supported between them, jumped into the fireplace. Harry threw down a handful of the magical powder and they all yelled, in unison, “Diagon Alley.”
The three of them were gone in a puff of green smoke.
Lucius took his wand and immediately disapparated to follow them, though he was not sure where in Diagon Alley they might be.
The three teenagers slid out the fireplace into Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes together, all clinging to one another. They stood quickly and helped Ron sit down on a nearby chair. Fred and George looked thunderstruck from their position behind the counter, but quickly ran over to their younger siblings and hugged them.
“Boy are we glad to see you two,” George said as he and Fred both embraced Ron and Ginny.
“Yeah, I was tired of keeping Hermione satisfied while you were gone,” Fred added. Ron scowled at them and the twins began laughing, showing their relief through humour.
“Ron, Ginny, you two stay here. I need to go get Hermione so we can get out of here,” Harry said.
Ron flushed visibly at the thought of Hermione being nearby and nodded in agreement, watching as Ginny sat down by his feet and began tending to his leg. Upon seeing this, and sure that they were safe, Harry darted out the bookstore and down the street to where Hermione was waiting.
“Hey, Draco! Where you been?” he heard a voice call. He turned to see Crabbe and Goyle looking at him vacuously.
Grinning to himself, Harry said, “Hiding from you two fools. If there’s anything I can’t stand, it’s having a couple of dim clowns follow me around all day.”
Both of their faces fell as Harry turned and continued running toward the alleyway. He dashed inside to see both Hermione and Mrs. Weasley waiting for him.
“Harry?” Mrs. Weasley asked, hopefully.
“It’s me, Mrs. Weasley, and they’re safe.”
She began to cry tears of relief and Hermione hugged Harry. When she let go, Harry quickly took off Draco’s Slytherin robe and swapped back into his Gryffindor, then he pulled on his invisibility cloak.
“How’s the little toad doing?” Harry asked.
“He’s about to waken, Harry. Turns out one shot kept him out for three hours. What a weakling,” Hermione answered, smirking down at the unpleasant boy.
As soon as Harry had the invisibility cloak on securely, so he would not be seen until the transformation passed, he, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley all left the alley and headed straight for Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes to where the others awaited.
Hermione and Mrs. Weasley both fell upon Ron and Ginny like mad, wild things, crying and kissing. After a few moments of this, Harry regretfully reminded them that Lucius might be following them into Diagon Alley. Once said, Fred and George closed the shop early and the group headed back for Grimmauld Place.
When Draco awakened, he wondered what had happened to him and where the bloody hell his owl was. Upon checking his pockets he found his wand and money still intact, so he knew he had not been robbed. He stumbled out of the alley, rubbing his head and trying to get his bearings. His robe was covered in soot, as though he had recently used that filthy Floo powder. As he walked into the street, he saw Crabbe and Goyle walking towards him with scowls on their faces.
“Crabbe, Goyle! I need help. Somebody knocked me out; I don’t know what happened,” Draco said.
“Oh, ho! You hear that Crabbe?” Goyle said. “Now he wants his dim clowns around again.”
Crabbe crossed his arms. “I’m telling my dad.” The two of them turned their backs on Draco and walked away.
“Don’t you walk away from me!” Draco yelled after them.
“Well, you don’t want us to follow you anymore,” Goyle replied.
“What is going on here?” Draco said to himself. He started walking towards the nearest store, Ollivander’s.
Lucius Malfoy suddenly burst through the doors with murder in his eyes. He looked at Draco and sneered.
“There you are! I’ll teach you to breach the privacy of my home!” Lucius cried, raising his wand and walking towards Draco.
Draco stepped back, his mouth agape.
“What? Father! It’s me! What are you on about?” Draco cried, falling back in the dirt of the street. People around them darted away into nearby buildings in apprehension of a duel.
“It’s one of the Deatheaters, escaped from Askaban!” a woman screamed as she darted into the relative safety of a nearby candy store.
Lucius paid them no heed and glared at Draco for a moment. He pulled him to a standing position and whispered a question in his ear; a secret question long ago arranged beteen father and son. Draco answered him in kind and Lucius nodded, satisfied that he had his real son. Together, they continued their search for the escaped Weasleys, though they knew it was in vain.
“That was awful brave of you, Hermione, coming after me like that,” Ron whispered into her hair.
“I didn’t do anything brave, Ron. Harry was responsible for all of the heroics,” she responded, nestling her face into his neck. “I’m just glad to have you back.”
Ron sighed and said, “Harry may be brave, Hermione, but you’re clever, and I don’t fancy the idea of kissing HIM.”
Hermione giggled and began kissing every freckle on Ron’s face.
In the next room, a young Weasley girl was having a romance of her own, only this one was in her head.
Ginny Weasley sighed as she dreamed of the boy who twice had saved her life and wondered if they would ever be more than friends.
~Fin _________________ "For too long we have been taught to praise the wrong heroes, thieves planting flags and murderers carrying crosses. Let us at last praise the colonizers of dreams." ~ Peter S. Beagle
WOW!! Congratulations moonfisher, I read this last night and I really liked it! You did a great job of bringing the characters to life in their "original" spirit, while putting your own spin on a plot too. Super cool
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