Façade
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Author's Note: I wrote this fic in response to a challenge posed by the LiveJournal community dhr_valentine, in conjunction with Valentine's Day 2004. :)
Here's the challenge that I responded to, based on a request given by my good friend Kat:
3-5 Things to Include in
the Fic:
1. Snogging (well, duh!)
2. Draco in pink or in a bunny
rabbit suit
3. Hermione as a cat
4. Harry or Ron as a dog (not
necessary but it'd be a bonus!)
5. Romance and humor fic
* * * *
The students of Hogwarts milled into the Great Hall that morning, expecting nothing more than just an ordinary breakfast, and possibly the morning mail dropping into their laps in a mess of feathers.
Of course, messy breakfasts and morning mail were far too mediocre for Hogwarts, and the Headmaster Professor Dumbledore knew this. That was why on this particular morning, as sunlight streamed through the windows, a large, pink banner floated over the House Tables, stretching from the lofty ceiling to hover uncertainly over the students' heads.
"Hogwarts Proudly Hosts This Year's Kingsbury Animal Refuge Charity Conference," Ron Weasley read aloud from the banner, tilting his head upwards to read the grand lettering.
"To Protect, Shelter, and Rehabilitate the Mistreated Pets of Wizarding Britain," Luna Lovegood muttered from the Ravenclaw table, and smiled as she returned to her cucumber sandwiches.
Ernie McMillan gazed in confusion from the Hufflepuff table as he read on, "This Year's Theme: Awareness through Education – Enlighten the Young on the Situation At Hand."
"Featuring Guest Appearances by the Wyrd Sisters and Celestina Warbeck," Pansy Parkinson squealed from the Slytherin table, her eyes glistening. Immediately she launched into a long and detailed ramble on how she owned all of the Wyrd Sisters' albums, and the gave the latest updates on Celestina Warbeck's love-life, of which no one was listening to.
Professor Dumbledore gestured the room silent. Standing up, he announced: "I'm sure you are all eager to start on your breakfasts immediately, but your appetites might be distracted somewhat by this large, fluttering mass of pink satin fluttering over your heads. I hope you grant me the permission to explain why it was put there, and why I chose the colour pink."
The Hall was silent. Even the owls in the rafters stopped hooting to listen.
"Every year, the Kingsbury Animal Refuge holds a charity event in order to run and upkeep itself," he said. "I am proud to announce that Hogwarts has been chosen as the host this year, in accordance with the current theme."
Dumbledore beamed happily the still-confused faces. "This Saturday evening (which is also Valentine's Day, I might add), very important Ministry officials and vastly popular musical performers will be attending the event.
"I am assigning a few students specific tasks for the day. I will call you individually to my office, where I will give you your duties and your … appropriate attire." There was a spark glimmering in his eye as he finished his sentence.
"Oh yes: The banner is pink, because it is such an uplifting colour, and I'm particularly fond of strawberries. You may return to your breakfasts." And he sat down.
Whispers broke out throughout the hall like a dam unleashed. Students talked excitedly, suspiciously and amusedly about the upcoming charity event, mentioning things like, "I heard that the Newt Scamander is going to make an appearance!" and: "I read about the Kingsbury Animal Refuge in the Daily Prophet last week," and: "Strawberries? Why strawberries?"
But the most intriguing discussion, of course, was about Dumbledore's strange speech. They wondered curiously what he had meant by 'specific tasks', and even more curiously, what he meant by 'attire'. They speculated amongst their fellows quietly, ignoring breakfast and taking their time to walk to class.
No one noticed Argus Filch, the school caretaker, drag an overly-large, strangely-shaped hemp sack down the corridors leading to the Headmaster's office – nor did they notice the floppy pink ear pop out of it and drag slowly across the cobbled floors.
* * * *
That Valentine's Day, the Great Hall was filled with finely dressed people, swilling around expensive drinks and pretending to know one another immensely. House-elves wove in and out of the crowd, serving little open sandwiches and refilling goblets with pumpkin juice.
A large notice had been placed over the entrance to the Great Hall – "HOGWARTS WELCOMES YOU TO THIS YEAR'S ANNUAL KINGSBURY CHARITY CONFERENCE"; and, slightly underneath: "HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!"
The most prominent people in the Hall, however, did not look like people at all: Apparently Professor Dumbledore had assigned the Prefects the task of distributing brochures to the crowd; and what he meant by 'attire' were large, full-length costumes of domestic animals.
Ron had a huge wire mesh mask over his head that resembled a Labrador with its tongue hanging out. He was handing out brochures to practically everyone, and was most taken-aback when rich, finely dressed kids would occasionally punch him or run away screaming when he tried offering them one.
Hermione was – ironically – dressed full-length in a cat costume, which reminded her of that all-too-familiar Polyjuice incident in her second year. She could hardly see out of the mask, and it was stifling hot.
It was then – in the suffocating cat-mask, and while handing out brochures to indifferently rich guests – did Hermione find the time to start reflecting on the past few weeks.
Harry Potter, Hermione's best friend, had apparently stumbled over romance a few months ago and was currently basking in the attention of a certain Cho Chang. As Hermione forlornly passed out brochures, Harry was probably taking Cho down to Hogsmeade that very moment and shelving out a year's worth of savings to buy her roses.
It stung Hermione greatly – after all, she seemed to be only girl in his presence since his First Year, and he had not even glanced her way since then. Hermione had kept her admiration for him a secret for all those years. She liked him immensely, but kept in mind that a romance between best friends would be incredibly awkward – not to mention inconvenient in those life-and-death situation they seem to be facing so often. Therefore, she kept quiet.
Perhaps, she thought in sighs, if I was just a bit more forward, he would be taking me down to Hogsmeade instead, and I wouldn't be trapped her in a stifling and humiliating costume and being alone when I shouldn't. Perhaps I should have told him, he would not have noticed Cho so much.
Perhaps it's my fault I'm alone on Valentine's Day.
It was then her eyes began to sting was an onslaught of tears. Her vision blurred, and through her watery vision she could only imagine Harry beamingly hand Cho a boxful of chocolates. It wasn't a pleasant thought (especially when you're in a costume that reminded you of your worst memory and you had nearly five-hundred brochures to pass out).
Abandoning her post, Hermione ran to the school Greenhouses, her cat's tail swinging behind her as she disappeared behind the doors.
* * * *
It must have been hours until Hermione stopped crying. The afternoon sky had already faded into evening shades of sunset, and the bundles of clouds looked like bales of cotton candy.
She was holding her immensely large cat-mask on her lap, leaning her chin between the furry, pointed ears and rocking herself back and forth. She reflected on how they would punish her when they found out she had abandoned her post, and how very lonely she was.
A slight rustling among the greenery broke her thoughts.
"Hullo," a muffled voice said. Hermione spun around, and caught sight of a large, pink bunny rabbit – that is, someone in a pink rabbit costume, holding a handful of brochures in his oversized paws, framed between palm fronds. The mask had immense blue glass eyes, and a pair of rabbit teeth jutted comically from its muzzle. It would have been a very funny sight. But Hermione was too busy feeling awful to laugh.
He's probably come to tell me that Dumbledore is looking for me, and ten points have probably been deducted from Gryffindor for my neglecting of my duties, she thought as she wiped away her tears. She immediately felt embarrassed.
Instead, the pink bunny-costumed student sat beside her, and mildly stated, "I heard you crying."
Hermione couldn't place the voice. The mask obscured all familiarity of its speaker, not top mention blocked his entire face. Perhaps it is Ernie McMillan, Hermione thought, but she remembered he was down at Hogsmeade, probably sharing Butterbeers with Susan Bones.
"This costume is just so hot, that's all," Hermione replied airily. "I just felt so bothered I had to get it off."
The pink bunny didn't say anything for a while, and merely looked away to gaze at the sunset. After a moment, he said quietly, "Shouldn't you be in Hogsmeade by now, celebrating Valentine's Day, instead of working at a charity event in an absurd animal costume?"
That statement threatened another teary assault. Hermione choked, cupped her face in her hands, and swallowed back her tears. "No," she stated, voice quavering, "I have no one to celebrate it with. I couldn't find myself a valentine."
"That friend of yours?" the bunny proposed – "that Harry Potter? Surely he wouldn't be as uninformed as to not have noticed how pretty you are by now."
Hermione frowned bitterly. "Not how he's noticed how pretty Cho Chang is."
"Cho Chang." His voice was dry and disdainful. "Listen: was it Cho Chang whom Harry saved from a mountain troll when he was barely out of puberty? Was it Cho Chang who got him through his Second Year alive? Is it Cho Chang who throws him secret glances in the Great Hall, at Quidditch practice, and in Potions class? Is Cho beautiful and smart, kind and determined, honest and resourceful and remarkably witty?
"Of course not, Hermione Granger," he said, replying his own question. "It's you. It's always been you."
Hermione was stunned. What he said struck such a chord of warmth, she smiled, and at that moment she thought very highly of the colour pink and of bunny rabbits.
"Thank you," she muttered breathlessly, before she could think of anything else to say. Then she blushed. "I – I mean: why would you say that about me?"
"Because for the simple fact they're true, Miss Hermione Granger," the bunny said charmingly, and for an instant, Hermione could catch a note of familiarity in his voice.
She bit her lip. "Pardon me for asking – but who are you? I didn't quite catch a name."
"Shouldn't you know by now?" His voice was quiet, and sounded slightly disheartened. Hermione would have asked again – would have, that is, if Ron's voice didn't call from the greenhouse entrance.
"Hermione! We were looking everywhere for you. Professor Dumbledore wants to see you – something about leaving your post."
"I must go," Hermione whispered breathlessly at her reflection in the bunny's glassy blue eyes. "I'm so sorry – thank you for all your help. I'll see you again."
"Possibly." He watched her leave. "Goodbye, Miss Granger."
* * * *
Apparently, all Dumbledore wanted to tell Hermione was that duties were over – she was finally free to join the Valentine festivities in Hogsmeade. But Hermione had different plans.
"Have you seen someone in a pink bunny costume?" she asked Hannah Abbot, as they passed by each other in the hallway.
"Not after the charity conference," Hannah replied, perplexed at the desperate expression on Hermione's face.
The same question was asked to every single person who passed Hermione that evening, as she scoured the Great Hall as its surrounding areas for her stranger. No one had seen him after the event. No one knew who he really was.
She ran down hallways and up staircases, amazed at the desperation of her search. How could someone so conspicuous vanish so mysteriously? It was only when she crashed into an all-too familiar figure did she stop running – and even then, it was to pick herself up from the floor and scowl considerably at the person she bumped into.
"Running in the hallways, Granger?" Draco Malfoy scornfully chided, staring down at the mass of bushy brown hair and tangle of robes sprawled on the floor. "What an fine example of a Prefect you are, honestly."
"I was in a hurry, Malfoy," she muttered. "I'm looking for someone rather important to me, if you'll just excuse me."
He rolled his eyes. "Just in case you haven't noticed, Granger – Potter has been awfully busy gadding off with that Ravenclaw girl. If you still need him, I'd suggest looking in Hogsmeade. Preferably at Madame Puddifoot's, being drowned underneath mounds of confetti."
"I wasn't looking for him," she said, face burning. Then she realized: it wouldn't hurt to ask Draco where her stranger was – she'd asked everyone else.
"By the by, have you seen anyone wearing a pink bunny costume?" she asked, "as in, the ones the Prefects had to wear at the charity event?"
It was then Hermione knew she had made a mistake. Immediately Draco burst out laughing, derisively announcing, "Hermione Granger is interested in someone dressed as a domestic rodent! I honestly never thought you as that sort of person, Granger, never."
"I'm not interested in him!" Hermione retorted hotly. "I just want to find him. Look: just get out of my way, I'll find him myself. I don't need your help."
"Denial, Granger. Sounds awfully like denial," Draco replied. "Why else would you crumple your skirt chasing around a stranger you met for only five minutes in the Greenhouses – unless you were interested in him?"
She brushed past him, muttering curses under her breath and wishing all sorts of colourful and unpleasant things upon his blonde head. If there was one person she'd rather not waste her time with, it was Draco Malfoy. She marched down the hallways and continued to search.
Three steps away, Hermione realized something. How did he know we were in the Greenhouses?
She spun around, and her breath stopped in her throat. What she saw sent her into a reeling, smiling dither – and she supposed that her Valentine's Day wasn't completely ruined after all:
Peeking out of Draco's overstuffed knapsack, flapping comically behind him, was a ridiculously large rabbit's ear.
Of course, it was the softest shade of pink.
* * * *