a/n: We are sorry for the delay! We had lives, lives I tell thee! And now that we don't, we can write again! Or, well, Flowerpagoda can write at the moment, I'm bogged down in homework. Arg. Well, read and review please! Thanks!
Tearing the Veil
Chapter 4
Each hard knock on his bedroom door grated his nerves, with a barely imperceptible pause between them. Will it never cease? he thought to himself, as he heard Hermione's constant prattle accompanied by bouts of yelling.
"Malfoy! Hurry up! We're going to be late for the meeting!" Her cries were obviously being ignored, which only caused her to huff and stomp her left foot, something Hermione barely ever stooped down to, but nonetheless here she was banging on one blonde prat's door. A pale and bloody proud prat at that. Today she particularly disliked anything with a strong 'p' sound, and Malfoy would receive every negative word she could muster that began with it.
"Honestly, what can you be doing in there?" Hermione exasperatedly exclaimed, the door still her only listener.
In the beginning of their forced relationship as head boy and girl the two had ignored one another, but after having to attend meeting after meeting and plan events, delegate orders, etc, the two had decided to talk on a semi-regular basis. They often degenerated into petty name calling, and sometimes into the cruel taunts of their childhood. After various trials, errors, and tears, the two formed an uneasy camaraderie where if one was upset the other would ignore them until order was restored. It worked, mostly, and allowed them to bait one another when spirits were high. After all, most of Draco's nastiness came out around Harry, and Hermione was generally an easy-going girl.
Draco rolled his eyes while furiously scratching over some parchment, his attention absorbed. He managed – and here he thought himself generous – to yell from within, still seated, "What damn meeting are you referring to?"
Through the door, Draco was sure a steady frown formed on Hermione's features, her eyebrows scrunched over her small nose, her stance akimbo. He could hear her muffled, frustrated growls while she said, "Did they not teach you manners at that priggish pureblood preparatory school? You can come to the door and speak to me."
He rolled his eyes, and finally pushed the chair back, crossing over to open the door. Meeting a glowering Hermione with a quirked eyebrow he quipped, "Yes, well, I expected as much from you, since you muggles know how to make a ruckus to gain attention. I prefer being sent notes in advance, Ms. Granger, not being bombarded with commands at my door. And what about this meeting?"
Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest, "The," and she spitted the word, "meeting, Malfoy, is for the Halloween Ball we're supposed to be planning."
He leaned against the doorway, took a cursory look at her and drawled, "By the way, your hair looks extra frizzy today. I feel like lending you some hair product, Granger."
For a moment Hermione was completely distracted, puzzled at first by Draco's remark, and then affronted. "My hair? I'm sorry, Malfoy, I don't have hours and hours to waste away making my hair look immaculate. I, you see, have a life. While you have…" and here she cast a Tempes spell, "…We're going to be so late!" She looked panicked, shifting her weight from one foot to the other anxiously.
"Oh. Right. It must have just slipped my mind," he said as he tossed his bangs lightly out of the way. "And I do have a life, Granger. I pay others not to have a life and do my hair for me, actually. See, I am the center of another's life; how many can say that about you?"
"You pay people to do your hair for you?" she asked incredulously, blinking several times in a vain attempt to process the information. Was he really that full of himself? Surely not. "Really Malfoy, there are many places I can go with that but somehow I imagine it stands alone."
He glared at her, the mocking tone he had before completely absent. "You will not insult my pristine image."
Hermione's shoulders started to quake, she bit her cheeks while turning progressively from her soft, rosy complexion to a deeper hue of the same color. She could hardly contain herself.
Draco gracefully pushed himself away from the door frame, and looked Hermione straight in the eye. "I will meet you downstairs in the Room of Requirement in five minutes, seeing as you so rudely interrupted me. And don't think I can't tell you're laughing there. I am pristine. Have you ever seen anyone or anything as beautiful as me?" With that as his cue, he nodded and closed his door softly in her face, still keeping eye contact until his face was no longer visible.
Hermione shook her head, turned and began her ascent to the Room of Requirement, mumbling to herself, "I think humility itself has died."
The room had magically accommodated itself to house the small congregation of students that had trudged up from their rooms and other areas of the castle. Some of the students were mumbling as they shuffled in, complaints on their tongues at somehow being tricked or threatened. The others that had resigned to their fate sat around the conjured fireplace that Ron thought was absolutely necessary for playing exploding snap. Harry shook his head and smiled as he sat himself across from him to join in the game.
Hannah Abbot cleared her throat as she made her way in, and paused for emphasis after a few of the gathered turned to look at her. "I'm only here because they needed a representative from Hufflepuff and I drew the shorter straw," she said as she looked around waiting for a response.
Ron looked up, confused at the proffered information, stammered, "Uh, thanks Hannah, for that uh...update?" He poked Harry and whispered while leaning in, "What do I say to that, mate?"
Hannah continued as if though Ron had not spoken. "I just wanted everyone to know that."
Harry, looking back up to make sure the others were occupied, said in a serious tone that suggested previous experience in such matters, "Just don't make eye-contact and we should be okay."
Ron nodded, "That sounds wise. Do you always do that? No wonder you sometimes look spacey…"
"I don't look spacey. I am merely skilled in self-preservation," Harry retorted.
"Thank you, Hannah, but believe me, we weren't going to take any of your opinions seriously anyway," Draco drawled as he made his way into the Room of Requirement settling against the wall. Hannah sputtered, huffed and sat in one of the chairs, crossed her arms with the not-so-silent hope that the meeting would end quickly. Hermione made her way inside, as she had waited by the dungeons until Draco had finally decided to leave his room and attend his duties. She'd followed to make sure he didn't make any…unnecessary detours.
There had been that one time where the Head Boy and Girl were supposed to attend one of Dumbledore's boring speeches on House unity. Hermione had shown up, and, after waiting twenty minutes, had been sent out by a concerned Headmaster when Draco had failed to show. Hermione found him in their common room in what she could only describe as a very awkward position with Pansy. From that moment on, Hermione knocked before entering, and always made sure he was on time for events.
"Alright. Now that we're all settled and present, let's get down to business," Hermione said as she took a seat at the front.
"Oh yes, your grandness. You should really use some of my gel," Draco said as he made his way to one of the seats, grabbing an end of Hermione's hair, tossing it aside and finally sitting down with his legs crossed.
Hermione responded, in sotto voce, "Can I also borrow the scantily clad boy who puts the gel in your hair?"
Harry's attention was diverted to Hermione's comment, but couldn't figure out exactly what part of him made him start. He shook his head and mentally cursed himself.
Draco glared at her, deeply affronted. "You're not touching one of my house elves. We draw the line there, Granger, though considering we have several boundaries. This one is deeply personal."
Hermione's eyes lit up, Harry envisioning SPEW banners splayed on every wall and being forced to wear more House Elf Liberation! buttons. He hoped Hermione would calm down.
Draco continued. "You may, however, borrow Pansy, if she doesn't attack and maul you first," his trademarked smirk spreading just so.
"Ew. That's all I have to say. Ew." Hermione turned her attention back to the room, barely full but at least hopefully enough to successfully plan the Halloween Ball. It was their duty, nay, a fundamental part of their lives at Hogwarts to plan this event well. Unfortunately, not many seemed to agree with her as she noticed that most had either brought homework or were busy daydreaming. Merlin, life is not fair, she grumbled mentally.
From somewhere in the depths of humanity, in the recesses of thoughts-that-are-not, a voice, a beacon came forth and spoke to not one person, but to all and to no one: "I've made a necklace out of light bulbs because it keeps away Snark-a-lumps with their innate brightness but they broke because they're fragile." And here Luna Lovegood paused, in deep thought, nearly trance-like. "Like friendship."
Pansy broke through Luna's moment, the dead quiet of the room slightly perturbing, glaring at Hermione. "I wouldn't be caught dead, or even as a corpse, would I be found in your company, Granger. Draco should know better than offering services he is not fit to give." She huffed, directing a meaningful look in Draco's direction, which was completely ignored. Draco acted as if he had not even heard her and looked down at his manicured nails.
Blaise spoke up, next to Pansy. "Bloody finally. Some of us have places to be." Pansy smarted him on the arm, though she didn't look too upset.
Draco shrugged and re-crossed his legs, drawling as he spoke, "So what is this about, Granger? I remember you ceaselessly babbling about something, but I kind of filtered it out."
Her eyebrow twitched as she testily replied, "Well, we're having the Halloween Ball and Professor Dumbledore wanted to bolster Inter-House unity…such that it is." She made a half-hearted gesture at the room which managed to encompass the fullness of apathetic individuals quite nicely.
"…And?" Draco raised his eyebrow, waiting for her to finish.
"You were at the meeting too, Head Boy."
"I never really listen to the old man, I mean, I can't distinguish his rubbish about lemon drops from actual conversation. I'm amazed how you can decipher any of it."
"The benefit of having a mind that can process words, no doubt," she quickly quipped.
Ron and Harry, cozy by the fire, began to softly whisper to one another, hoping to not attract Draco or Hermione's attention. Harry figured it was best if they went unnoticed; that way they would have to contribute less to the meeting. What was probably the third time that evening, Ron asked, "How did she drag us into this? Ugh, we should stop playing exploding snap, Hermione'll have a fit."
"I think she said she wouldn't revise our papers if we didn't go. And to save her from the ferret. Which we're doing a piss poor job of, honestly." Harry pointed to the other end of the circle where Hermione was gesticulating more than usual out of annoyance as Draco sat back feigning nonchalance.
Ron blinked. "Right, but she would have revised them anyway…wouldn't she have? I'm not sure I want her alone with the ferret anyway. Have you noticed they've been – " he leaned in closer to Harry, voice dropping, "friendly with one another?"
"If by friendly you mean they have yet to rip out one another's throats, then yes," Harry said as he glanced over at Draco again, looking at him suspiciously. "Perhaps he's luring her into a false sense of security."
Ron frantically waved his hand in front of Harry's face, obstructing his view of Malfoy. "Stop being paranoid! You're doing it again! Though, you may have a point…" Ron glared again in Malfoy's direction, taking over Harry's previous efforts, thinking.
"You're right, Ron," Harry said as he began scribbling on a piece of paper.
Blaise yawned, patted his mouth arrogantly and addressed the Head Boy and Girl. "So, are we actually going to do anything or are we just going to watch you two take the piss all day?"
"And this is why you won't rise in Slytherin, Blaise. It's all about politics and banter." Draco sneered at him, then turned away brusquely. "Fine, let's start this meeting. And I am quite able to process information, Granger, but not babble. You do remarkably well in that area."
Hermione cleared her throat, peeved at being admonished, but slightly heartened by Draco's joking manner. Not being able to process information, really. She shook her head, finally pleased to get the meeting started. "Well, does anyone have any ideas?"
The gathered group of Pansy, Blaise, Ron, Harry, Draco, Luna, Hannah, and a few scattered others just looked at her blankly.
"Pirates," Luna immediately suggested.
Everyone turned to look at Luna, most faces sporting incredulous looks, not sure what to make of the strange, blonde girl. After an awkward pause, Hermione replied, "Let's put pirates in the maybe pile…"
Pansy immediately jumped in. "You have got to be kidding me. We are not taking suggestions from that," and here she pointed an accusing finger at Luna, "that thing." Pansy crossed her arms and slid further back into her chair.
Luna looked at Pansy, confused. "Oh, no. I'm actually a person. Blood and bones and all. But I can see where you would be confused." She looked up, a dreamy expression softening her already placid face.
"…What house is she in?" Pansy asked rhetorically. "Oh right, not Slytherin. No, you don't exist, dear."
"If a Slytherin falls in the forest and a Gryffindor hears, does the Slytherin really exist?" Luna parried, still obviously enmeshed in her own world.
"OKAY. ENOUGH." Hermione stood up and glared at both sides.
Harry kept scribbling on his parchment, and Ron poked him as he looked
onward. "Harry, what is that thing? Are those…stink lines?" The note – which back in its birth, was once a fine, white sheet – was now riddled with squiggly lines. These lines, if one looked hard enough (for Harry was no great artist) showed a picture of Hogwarts' very own Head Boy being pecked to death by a Hippogriff.
"Don't become an art critic, Ron, whatever you do in life," Harry said as he furtively tossed the folded parchment at Draco. Draco continued to inspect his nails.
"No, I think I'd leave that to Hermione. Leave it to her to find imperfection in anything. Like my essays," Ron replied, sullenly.
"Fine, pirates, whatever. I want…what the hell?" The paper had landed on Draco's lap and, when he finally noticed something beyond his cuticles, occupied himself with trying to open the damn thing. Who the hell folds paper so poorly, for Merlin's sake? Doesn't everyone have classes in origami?
"Oh!" Hermione jumped up in her seat. "I have a perfect idea. Why don't we have a Peter Pan theme? There's lots of things to choose from. Pirates. The Lost Boys, the Indians, Merpeople and a lot more."
Luna smiled. "I said Pirates."
Blaise rolled his eyes. "You sure did, Lovegood."
"Did you now?" Draco asked, sounding amused. As a child he had read the works of J.M. Barrie, as the man had been a wizard and Lucius had felt it taught children a valuable lesson – Muggles will believe anything; they were that gullible.
Draco discreetly began to open the folded paper, and smirked as he saw the awful rendition of himself. He moved his hand and conjured a quill, surreptitiously scribbling on the parchment. "Oh, then I call Peter. Yes, I'll lead you all."
Harry jabbed Ron with his elbow and said in a whisper meant to project, "Right off of the astronomy tower."
Draco eyed Harry. "I think only you would be stupid enough to follow me right off, Potter." Ron's mouth was agape, not sure how to respond to the statement, finding too much truth to rebuttal.
"I think I should be Peter," said Harry. "I have the better body for an outfit of leaves."
Hermione sat cradling her head in her hands. It had been going so well for a few minutes.
"Potter, what on earth makes you think that any living person, with eyes mind you, would want to see your scrawny limbs sticking out from a bed of leaves around your crotch? No, no, we need someone with presence, leadership and breeding to carry this all off." Draco ran a hand through his immaculate hair. "Clearly this writes you off the list. Besides, I called it first."
"Oh, that's really mature," Harry quipped.
Draco smiled as he folded the now forgotten parchment into a paper airplane and chucked it at Harry's forehead. "There you go, scarface."
Harry caught the airplane before it collided right before his face. "And everyone has seen your scrawny limbs, not to mention the area of your crotch. Don't you think the school is tired of the same old show? Familiarity breeds contempt and all that."
Draco scoffed. "Please, any person would beg to see this crotch again. In fact, several people have done so, several times, on their knees. And they remained so for some time after. But I digress. We can't go and taint our sacrosanct Hero image of you, now, can we?"
Blaise scuttered over closer to Pansy, leaning his head in carefully to not be overheard. "I think they're much too obsessed with each other's genitals, if you take my meaning." A few seats away, Hannah Abbot sat rigidly straight, looking scandalized.
Pansy whispered back, "I'd disagree with you if I weren't here watching this entire thing. Are they…flirting?"
Blaise shrugged slightly. "I would imagine so, except both of them are heterosexual."
Hermione overheard and couldn't help but laugh derisively, only to immediately have Pansy's attention. She looked at Hermoine with an inquisitive look on her face. I can see the gears turning, Hermione thought.
Ron had finally managed to close his mouth, attempting to catch up with the several minutes that had sped by and left him behind. He poked Hermione. "What are you laughing at?"
Harry, deciding it was time to see what horrid things Draco had concocted with his quill, undid the paper airplane and silently inhaled. Just as quickly, a coy, innocent smiled passed across his face. Paper-Draco had been rearranged to look like Harry, a much better likeness than his feeble attempt at the Malfoy heir – not that he'd admit that aloud – and the hippogriff had become the Slytherin Prince himself riding him. "Now, now Malfoy. The only time you'd be on top is on paper."
Ginny, who had walked in late and sat next to Hannah, glowered. "What on earth is going on here? Weren't we supposed to talk about the Halloween Ball?"
Harry ignored her. "I'll tell you what, Malfoy. Let's make a little wager. If you win, you can go as Peter Pan. If I win, I go as Peter Pan, but you'll have to go as…as…the fairy."
Hermione, voice small, barely believing where the conversation was going, asked, "Tinker bell?"
Luna spoke up again: "I want to be Captain Hook."
"The fairy. The green little thing that runs around in a tutu? Fine. But believe me you, you will be wearing tights that night, Potter, and I will laugh gloriously in your face." Draco crossed his arms and smiled triumphantly. "Pick your undoing, Potter."
Pansy leaned in again to Blaise, her hand covering her mouth. "Why do I feel that they are enjoying this far too much?"
"Because they are," Blaise replied.
"Oh no, Malfoy. No tights. You'll shave those scrawny legs of yours." Harry commanded.
Malfoy raised both his eyebrows nearly to his hairline. "Oh nono, you what? Are you going to be waxing those chicken legs of yours?"
"Only if I lose. Which I won't. You can't have stubble for this, you know."
"Hah, why not accept your fate as the fairy and be done with it? I obviously carry the twig and berries around here."
Hermione couldn't help it and burst out laughing. "Oh. Dear. Merlin. What does that even mean?"
Draco stared at her incredulously, "What do you think it means? I'm not giving out free anatomy lessons today, Granger. Catch me in a better mood."
"Ew. Again. Thank you for that, Draco, I really appreciated it," Hermione said, looking slightly disgusted.
Pansy, exasperated, rolled her eyes and huffed, "What about this meeting? What of the planning? I need to know what kind of candles and tablecloths to order for this!" But Harry and Draco paid no attention to her complaints, or to the purpose of the meeting, in general.
"You always lose to me, Malfoy. In Quidditch, The House Cup, even the fact that I'm the boy-who-lived and you're just another rich prat. History has a habit of repeating itself, so I'm going to win. The bet should be…" he stuttered, upset that he couldn't come up with something on the spot. They couldn't race outside in potato sacks, or anything of the sort. That was rather absurd, and he wasn't about to let Malfoy know that his best idea consisted of some muggle sport that children played.
"Stop stalling and pick something," Draco snapped, peeved that Potter would dare to bring up such things. They were all slights, slights on his character and how he still could not please his father, was still behind in all of his expectations. "The old coot makes sure you win the Housecup, so don't get all boastful about that. And I'm not sure I'd want a delusional, deranged man as my mentor to begin with."
Harry ignored any mention of Dumbledore. "We'll do something easy. Catch the snitch at midnight. Quidditch pitch, tonight, that is, if you can sneak around Snape. We'll let it go, have a few witnesses. Just like first year."
Blaise shook his head, still trying to follow how a conversation about a party ball could twist itself into a pissing match between Harry and Draco. But then again, they were always at it. "What is this Peter Pan? It has to be some muggle thing."
Pansy played with a curl, still watching the pale blonde and brunette as they made plans and threats. "Yes, probably," she sighed. "I can't believe we're going to do this. My plans are ruined. This is the antithesis of any Slytherin party. I demand the tablecloths and the lining of the goblets be green to compensate for this embarrassment." She was utterly annoyed with Draco. He never stooped to this kind of thing. At least, he usually had more finesse about it.
Hermione raised her quill, clipboard and parchment on her lap. "Green tablecloths, check." She had apparently been taking notes the entire time, despite the frequent interruptions.
"You're on, Potter. It'll be you, Granger, Blaise and me. We need a representative from each of our houses to make it fair."
"Need I remind you the consequences for a head boy and the captain of the Quidditch team for getting caught past curfew is a big one." Hermione interjected.
"Oh shut it, Granger," Draco snapped. "How many rules have you broken for those two blunderheads the past six years?"
"That are on my record? None." Hermione smiled at him, and batted her eyelashes. "And secondly, I'm not playing this game. If you two want to play who has the bigger broomstick you can do it during school hours."
Ron nodded, solemnly, as if his words and decision carried great weight. "I'll go. I want to see you pulverize him, Harry!" He thrusted his right arm into the air, crouching down in a defensive stance. Harry tilted his head to one side just finally realizing that others had been in the room and privy to the entire exchange.
"These don't have to be on your record, either. Use that brain of yours we know you have under all that fluff," Draco protested, still trying to get his way.
Hermione crossed her arms, clipboard in hand, and shook her head obstinately. "I have to study. I'm not going and that's that."
Draco sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose with his right hand, conceding. "Fine, we'll take the red head - scratch that, he's awfully biased and would skew the results. No." He shook his head. "It'll have to be you, Granger. And Zabini."
Blaise looked startled from his chair, no longer reclining lazily against it. He stammered, "But…I…tonight…with the sixth year Ravenclaw..I…" He hung his head, dismayed. "Ugh."
"Reschedule it," Draco answered, completely unfazed and undeterred. "You can get her some other time. This is far more important.
"No it isn't," Blaise grumbled. This sixth year had been particularly hard to woo. Something about feminism and being her own woman who didn't need to be defined by a man and some other crap that Blaise had generally tuned out. He had finally gotten her to agree to a late night tussle, and now he'd have to somehow reschedule that. Usually he wouldn't, but house politics stated that if the Prince of Slytherin wanted something, the Prince got it. After all, Draco's father could be a right manipulative bastard when he wanted to be.
"I'm not going," said Granger, in a tone which brooked no argument.
"Ugh, fine. Granger, you're off the hook. But I demand an oath from you, Weasel. And Blaise, my image rests on this. Of course it's more important." Draco slightly adjusted his shoulders. Let them dare contradict me, he thought.
"A Slytherin asking honesty from a Gryffindor? That's rich," Ron snorted, hunched over and gave Harry's shoulder a soft smack, certain his brooding friend agreed.
"GODS!" exclaimed Hermione. If they weren't going to talk about the darn Halloween ball, then she certainly was going to move the pissing contest along so she wouldn't have to listen anymore. "Alright, Ron, Blaise, come here and kneel." Hermione shook her head in frustration, pointedly ignoring Draco's authoritative demeanor and the general smirk of content he had.
"I can get nearly anything I want, Weasel and don't you forget it," Draco called after him as Granger had both Ron and Blaise kneel in the center of the chairs, right before the fireplace.
From his position on the floor, Blaise stared around him, mumbling, "I don't like where this is going…"
"Blaise, just do it! We got our tablecloths!" Pansy cried from her seat, the obvious only high point in the entire meeting.
Ron glared at Blaise while Blaise gave him a blank stare.
Hermione cleared her throat, again, which felt like the thirtieth time that evening. "Right, touch the tip of your wand to the other. Now, do you solemnly swear to watch this snitch match and give the results fairly, even if your side does not win?"
Ron sighed, "I suppose."
Blaise managed to shrug, "Sure."
Bright light emitted from both the tips of the wands, blue and gold, that entwined and finally rose up to disperse themselves – and thus the spell – over both boys.
Draco rolled his eyes, finally happy that the procession was over. "Now that that's settled, the Quidditch field at eleven, gentlemen. And Blaise," he raised a delicate eyebrow, "do not be late. I cannot stand impunctuality, and Potter is always running to classes."
Harry piped up, "Oh you notice, do you?" Part of him found it thrilling that he had captured the blonde's attention. His more suspicious and paranoid tendencies whispered that Malfoy's intentions weren't known, and best to be alert.
"As the professor yells and humiliates you in class, yes, I do notice that, as does everyone else. I find it rather funny, actually."
Hermione had enough. "Meeting adjourned." She spread her arms out, still holding her clipboard, directing her woebegone flock out the doors. "Please leave."
"Oh thank the gods," Pansy exclaimed. She stood and grabbed Blaise by the arm. "We're leaving. Now."
Harry scoffed at Draco's remark, despite the fact that he could feel his cheeks burn a soft crimson. "Seems you pay just a bit too much attention to me, Ferret."
Around them, Ginny, Luna and Hannah shuffled off, Luna's odd, dreamy voice echoing off the walls in the corridor. "I'm a pirate!" she said, enthusiastically to a morose Ginny. The ginger-haired girl offered her friend a small smile, and headed off to the Gryffindor common room. She turned around before completely leaving, asking shyly, "I'll see you all later?" Hermione nodded, and tried to push Harry and Draco along.
Draco continued to spar verbally, unable to desist from any argument, especially not with Potter, and disregarded Granger's commands to leave. "When Snape yells at you, who can't help but notice? Besides, who can't help but notice how red you become? You're your own beacon. That's nothing to do with me, but your own recklessness."
When the two bickering boys had taken their leave, Ron saddled up by Hermione, taking note of her exasperated expression.
Hermione leaned against the wall and exhaled heavily, "Well, that was a disaster."
Ron joined Hermione by the wall, so close their shoulders were touching. It did not pass Hermione's attention. "You know," Ron started, licking his lips, "Harry hardly paid any attention to Ginny at that meeting. I thought they might have had something? And, he's over Cho Chang and all." Ron looked down and scuffed his black loafers against the stone floor.
"What?" Hermione blinked. Then blinked again. "Ron, he's…can't you tell?"
"What? Can't tell what? Moody? Well, yes, but I was hoping he'd get over that. He's kind of quiet too sometimes…I thought Ginny being so outgoing would be good for him."
Hermione glanced around, hoping she was surreptitious and made sure no one else was within hearing distance. "Ron, Harry's gay. And not just semi-interested gay. He's queerer than Santa with his elves."
Ron was nodding and then stopped. "Wait, what? Santa's a poof?"
"Only the biggest," Hermione smirked.
"Harry's not gay…he liked Cho! He uh. He. Right. Well, he's liked girls before," he attempted weakly. "Sure, he's a lonesome bloke, but not…gay." He stood up straighter against the wall. "How do you know? He doesn't do the hand thing like Draco does. Hell, he doesn't even care about his hair!"
Hermione sniffed, slightly affronted. "I mean he practically wore a rainbow."
"When!? He never wears any colors!" Ron hollered, noticed his statement and felt it was necessary to add: "Not that I notice that kind of thing, but Harry dresses blandly."
"You don't have to be interested in your hair to be gay, Ron! That's a stereotype you're propagating! And I know because I have eyes, Ron." Here, Hermione leaned her head back, thinking. "I bet you ten galleons he's gay."
"I told you about those big words, Hermione, and I don't have that kind of money!"
"One galleon then." She wanted to win this, and knew she would. It was all worth investigating.
"I feel kind of bad we're doing this behind Harry's back…but fine. How are we going to find out for sure, though? I can't ask him, 'Hey mate! Are you a poof?'"
"I'm sure it'll come up again," Hermione said confidently. "And when he does come out, I'll be one galleon richer, thanks to your supreme homophobia."
Ron frowned. "He's not coming out because he's not gay. And I'm not a homophobe. It's just…this is Harry. He's too busy to have a girlfriend, that's all." He turned to look at her, and saw the victorious gleam in her eye.
"If he's not gay, Malfoy isn't a prat."
"But you can't do that!" Ron replied indignantly. "Malfoy is always a prat! That is a constant! Harry's just not right in the head right now."
"Oh yes, where does he find the time between not paying attention in class, not doing homework, and feeling sorry for himself?" Hermione parried, as she pushed herself off the wall in frustration and placed her arms akimbo.
"You can't place a constant with an unknown!" Ron rattled on. "You can't compare a bishop that moves diagonally to a queen that moves in any which way!"
Hermione arched an eyebrow. "What?"
"And don't make a comment about the queen bit!" Ron said heatedly.
"I don't…we had this discussion about chess metaphors, Ron. Haven't you considered playing a different game?"
"I like chess. Look, Hermione, let's not make it harder for Harry, alright?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and mumbled under her breath, "Harder than he is for Malfoy?"
"We'll wait and see what he ends up doing. …He wasn't hard or anything! He was just fighting with Malfoy, like always. Stop making it sound so…certain."
"Yes," Hermione retorted, "and the sexual undercurrent was imagined."
"What undercurrent? Pansy was the only one talking about tablecloths."
"I…I…Oh dear Merlin." Hermione shook her head, curls and frizz swaying about her shoulders. "You make me hurt somewhere deep down, Ron."
"Oh. Um, right."
"I'm going to go do some homework."
"Talk to you later, then, Hermione." Ron stopped talking and looked down, then back up at her. "Hermione? I'm confused."
"It's okay. I might be as well. Have fun at the thing tonight. Try not to get caught." She gave Ron a small smile, waved, and headed back to the dormitories, leaving Ron behind to find some way to amuse himself before the planned match.
Hermione made her way into the dungeons as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She really did not approve of the boys having it out on the Quidditch pitch. Why couldn't they solve their problems like rational individuals, using their words instead of their egos?
Then again, she reasoned, maybe it will do Harry some good to let off some of that sexual tension. Honestly, his obvious attraction to Malfoy was getting ridiculous.
She quietly entered the potions classroom and was shocked to see that Professor Snape was not present. Highly odd, she thought. He was usually sitting behind his desk grading papers or standing over a cauldron. She vaguely wondered if she should leave but reasoned that he would probably be back soon.
There were a lot of papers lying haphazardly on his desk. It was a direct contrast to everything else in the room, all neatly organized, labeled and in the correct spot. Hermione guess that Snape had simply walked out of the room to retrieve something. He wouldn't ever leave his desk in such disarray.
Being the absolute nosey pest that she was, however, she could not contain her curiosity and crept over to the large, wooden desk. She figured she'd just have a brief glance at what he had been working so hard on these past weeks. Professor Snape was a man she very much respected and so she did feel a twinge of guilt at spying on his papers when he wasn't about. Then again, she had hung around with Harry and Ron for a great many years, and they had no conception of privacy whatsoever.
She really only meant to take a peek but the first words she saw drew her in like the proverbial moth to the flame. Any sort of rational concern she may have harbored about not getting caught disappeared as she perused the papers.
Unlike the process for creating a horcrux the "soul-displacement" charm is relatively simpler and does not require that the soul be permanently split from its host. Nor does it require a sacrificial victim. The split soul should be able to return to its other half after traipsing through The Veil or any other non human realm. However, while this has worked in theory and is arithmetically sound, be warned that it has never been successfully done. The two halves of the soul should be able to rejoin one another without any lasting detriments, in theory. In practice there has been irrevocable changes, what is known as "cuts" on the soul which, in some cases, have been so severe that the two halves no longer mesh.
The problem seems to stem from the lack of vessel for holding one half of the soul in our realm. Various objects have been charmed, such as goblets and boxes, to living beings such as animals and plants. None of these have successfully held a soul for longer than five minutes before the soul begins to deteriorate at an exponential rate.
The soul cannot remain in its body either since the body must be placed under a stasis charm. The soul is unaffected by meager magics and deteriorates in that hold as well.
Hope this helps somewhat.
-Delilah
Hermione recognized Snape's spidery scrawl in the margin.
Possible solutions: either an object that can successfully house half of a soul without deteriorating (of which none come to mind – perhaps a pensieve?) or
Hermione never did get to find out what else her professor imagined would be useful, because a heavy hand landed on her shoulder. She was roughly turned around. In shock she let out a frightened yip and was further terrified to be looking into the face of her potions master.
While Severus Snape did not usually show what he was feeling, Hermione could easily recognize the rage in his eyes. It was tainted by something else, she could see, but had no time to analyze it because he looked like he was about to strangle her at any moment.
After a few moments of agonizing silence she almost pissed herself when he finally spoke.
"How much did you read?"