Author's note: Hmmm…I meant to have this story be in tune with the real world...but...Holidays over, and they haven't even had Halloween yet? Uhoh. Either I'll have to type reeeeaaallly fast, or just update when I can.
Disclaimer: I love it when you think I actually own Harry Potter.
It makes me feel important.
Dedication: I would like to dedicate this chapter to my reviewers. Why? Because, frankly, I have read the reviews for other's story's, though mostly for other genres and books, but even in the Harry Potter category, people can be down right NASTY! I mean, are they having a bad day? I've read some reviews for other's stories, and I'm saying to myself "Well someone's bitchy!" I don't mean to be rude (though I usually do) but they are! I can't imagine why you would want to cut someone down like that.
Though for the most part, I find the Harry Potter people rather supportive. You lot rarely argue or shame, and mostly your reviews are filled with suggestions and comments, and lost of lurv.
It's beautiful.
So really, I truly want to dedicate this to you. I have yet to get a flame, and I have yet to be hurt by your reviews. I only find support and admiration, and even "elderly" advice when I open my emails. Never have I felt alone or unsupported or unloved. It takes two to tango, and it takes two to write a story on On person is the writer. The others are the reviewers. Without you, this story probably wouldn't exist. It would be lying at the bottom of my trash can.
So thanks, Happy Holidays, and hope you enjoy this chapter.
Chapter Twenty-One Ginny Completes a New Record, Someone's Rather Broke,
and It's Not Love Yet; This Story May Now Drink.
The light shifted, dancing twirls of color in the air as it sparkled brilliantly through the stain glass window currently occupying the space across from him. He frowned and shot a warning glare toward the window, which in return continued to sparkle and shoot beams of sunlight right into his perfect face.
"Bloody window." Draco Malfoy grumbled, as he turned back to his prey. There, across the hall, stood one Hermione Granger and her companion, Ginny Weasly, chatting about something.
"Like I care." He whispered. Which was a complete lie. The reason he was even here, crouching uncomfortably behind a stone pillar with it's pointy edges sticking into his…ahem…lower region, respectably painfully, was because he wanted to figure out where Bookworm and Weaselette were heading off to today.
"I mean, how else am I supposed to find out where I should administer the potion? Merlin, is the world against me?" he sniffed "Just because I'm beautiful."
Yeah, we'll keep you posted Draco.
"This really is ridiculous. I shouldn't have to stoop to such low measures just to…Heh! Wait! They're leaving!" Draco jumped out from behind the pillar, stubbed his toe, stepped on his shoelace, and fell down flat on his face, just in time to hear the words "Hogsmeade might be crowded," coming from Grangers beautiful…err, Mudlood-ly lips.
And as awkwardly and clumsily a teenage boy can, Draco stumbled back to his room to gather up his potion, which was now excitably ready.
He laughed.
Manically.
"I just wish Blaise and Pansy could be here to see this!" he wiped a fake tear from his eye. "But, of course, they would err…completely disregard its scientific and sadistic properties and laugh at me."
More like think it's silly. But, then again, if he thought that, we wouldn't have a plot, now would we?
Hermione glanced up and down the street, bored, as her friend dragged her into the nearest store, labeled "Madame Moxines Mad Fashions"
"Ooh, it's chilly outside. Come, come, in side now, Hermione. Gosh, it's gotten cold. Halloween's almost here, as well. By the way, that reminds me. We need to get you some fashionable scarves." Ginny rambled on, drawing nods of approval from busy salesclerks and looks of pity aimed at Hermione from the unfortunate boyfriends accompanying their girlfriends.
Hermione rolled her eyes and took a seat near the door. Ginny, on the other hand, was far from lax. She single handedly emptied half the racks of clothes, throwing finishing touches of winter-outerwear and trendy little purses, to the top of a pile of clothes. She stood back and grinned.
The store clerks gaped and checked their watches.
Five minutes.
"Well!" said Ginny cheerfully. "Now that we have that sorted out, I want you to try on this."
Hermione blanked. She looked at Ginny, wondering if she was going funny. "Uh…Ginny? What clothes? You nearly cleaned out the store. All that's left are things even Ron wouldn't wear. What am I supposed to try on?"
Ginny smacked a hand to her forehead.
Painfully.
"Hermione. Listen. See that heap of fashion behind me?" She nodded. "You're trying that on."
A giggle.
A soft giggle, reminiscent of a child's first taste of a sugary caffeine soda, was all that the store heard for a moment.
Ginny went to open her mouth, to ask if everything was all right.
But another giggle came, and then another, until Hermione as holding her stomach and grinning madly. "You want me to try all that on?" she asked wildly, throwing her hand toward the pile of clothes.
"Uh…ye-ah?"
And then, like a comedian arriving at the punch line, Hermione responded in a soft giggly voice, "All at once?"
The simple act of saying these three words, had sent Hermione into an even wilder state of hysterics, and she laughed till she cried.
The store employees, on the other hand, shuffled warily out of the room.
And Ginny?
She smacked a hand to her forever once again.
It was going to be a long afternoon.
Dear Draco, on the other hand, was steadily making his way towards Hogsmeade.
And while he walked, he sang a little ditty to keep him company.
How charming.
Here's how it goes:
"On the first day of Christmas, my nemesis was given by me,
A mind-seeing potion on a shopping spree.
On the second day of Christmas, my nemesis was given by me,
Two poison darts,
And a mind-seeing potion on a shopping spree!
On the third day of Christmas, my nemesis was given by me,
Three back-stabs,
Two poison darts,
And a mind seeing potion on a shopping spree!
On the fourth day of Christmas, my nemesis was given by me,
Four stinging remarks,
Three backstabs,
Two poison darts,
And a mind-seeing potion on a shopping spree!
On the fifth day of Christmas, my nemesis was given by me,
Five House Cup losses!
Four stinging remarks,
Three backstabs,
Two poison darts,
And a mind seeing potion on a shopping spree!
See? I told you. Charming, huh?
(Though we won't go into the fact that it won't be Christmas for a while.)
Hermione buckled under the weight of her shopping bags.
Hermione Granger, Bookworm Extraordinaire, currently was carrying twenty bags, from all the major labels currently stationed at Hogsmeade. Oh, and plus her Halloween Costume.
Yes, the good ol' Halloween torture suit--I mean...ahah...costume.
Hermione had finally thought she was done, hoping that Ginny would stop for a snack at Mr. Nick's Snack Snickery, then walk back up to the castle. No such luck.
Ginny, upon seeing the Magical Marvelous Costume Emporium, had dragged Hermione inside.
"Ginny!" she had whined, when seeing that her hand could not be wrenched from Ginny's tight hold, "Do we really? Can't we go home? I'm tiiiirreeddd… hummmpphh." But Ginny said nothing, except look back at her captive—I mean companion, and grin.
And so it began. Ginny browsed the shelves. "This one?" she would sometimes ask, and sometimes only she herself would answer. "Too ugly." Or "Too froufrou…red…clown-like…trampy…vampy…slutty…whorish…ewww….disgusting…what is this made for, Playwiz or something?…complete hussy!'
Hmm…we seem to have a trend costumes for girls nowadays.
But, eventually, and to Hermione's utter disappointment, they found one.
"Ooohh!" Ginny had squealed, "This one!" she had grabbed it and held it up to Hermione.
"I don't know, Ginny."
"Oh, come one!'
"No, no. I don't think…do you think I could pull it off? It's just not…it's so…I reeealllly don't see myself in that, Gin! Why not stick to the giant-book costume there in the back…it suits me better."
"No, no, I like this one."
And that was the end of it. Ginny would not take no, and marched up to the counter, amid mutters of "I like that book-costume, Gin" coming from Hermione.
Hermione, after a moment's consideration, finally realized that Ginny hadn't picked one out. "Ginny, where's yours?" Ahah! I kenw it! She wasn't going because she missed Harry too much! Mwhahaha! Now, she won't know I didn't go because she wont be there! It's perfect! Brilliant! Genius! I—
"Oh, don't worry. I have one" and then she had marched her right back out of the store again.
And Hermione whimpered. Sadly.
Oh, how long suffering she is, don't you think?
Yet there was one more detail on the back of her mind. What was it again? Oh, yeah…
Hermione was now broke.
"Ginny…do you think…? I mean, could we return…these? They're kinda heavy and …oomph!...I need money for more books, so if you could just…"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Here, let me take them." And deftly, she swooped up fifteen of them. Hermione gaped. Ginny smirked.
And flexed.
My, what a girl.
"Anyway, Ginny, um (well I didn't know you had such muscles, but that not the point) I'm guessing the makeover is over?" she asked hopefully. After all, they had only shopped for clothes and make-up and hair-products, she hadn't actually had anything done.
And she was hoping it would stay that way.
"What? You think we're done? Honey, we haven't even started! I have to apply all this to you! We have your hair to perfect…your eyes, lips, clothes. Gosh, I have to set up an outfit schedule for you. Once you get the hang of it, you can decide from there. Now, let's head back. I have some magazine clippings I want to hang up in your room. They'll help to remind you to…"
Well, you get the idea.
Hermione was in for one long ride.
And it was still only three.
Draco, one the other hand, was merrily—I mean manly, walking down the path towards Hogsmeade. His thoughts, though usually somewhat coherent, now ran through his head aimlessly. Kind of like this:
Man, I hope I see her.
Because I want to administer the potion.
Right.
Administer. Wow, that's a big word.
Where did I earn it?
Oh, yeah, Granger said it the other day in Advanced Potions.
She's so smart. I mean, uuhhh bookwormy! Yeah, what a nerd.
…
I bet she would know the root of it.
Root? Is that it? Or is it origin? She would probably know the original language. Sounds Latin to me, but I dunno. The definition, and the…
What was I talking about again?
Oh, yeah, Hermione.
I mean Granger…
Granger, what a funny last name. Reminds me of a cat.
Hey, Granger has a cat! Isn't that funny?
…
I can't believe I expected someone to answer that.
I should stop thinking.
But would that be bad?
Granger doesn't think you can think to much and I—heh? Who is that?
At that point, walking up the road from them, came one Hermione Granger, and Weaselette.
Draco gulped. He felt his palms get sweaty.
Oh no! what if she sees me!
Wait, is that bad?
How's my hair?
Why am I stressing?
I just have to gulp down this potion thingy and be on my way--
Oh Merlin, she's looking at me!
Draco, eyes wide with unknown fear, quickly grabbed the potion out of his pocket.
Ten feet to go.
He gasped as the top would not come off.
Seven feet.
She was looking at him now. Looking. His fingers trembled.
Why was she looking at him funny? Was his badge askew? His hair messed up? Did he not look perfect?
What was wrong with the confounded girl? Why was she staring at me and—Oh Merlin, here she comes.
Five feet.
Draco's mouth felt dry, his eyes wide. Sweat began to form on his hairline, then a tiny drop slowly dripped down the side of his head. His hands, feeling weak and clammy, tried to grasp the potion bottle.
She was three feet from him now.
Two feet.
And she, still staring at him, slowly walking by.
It seemed as though time stood still.
He could see every footstep she made and every cloud of dust puffing out from underneath their feet.. He saw the robes swish around her legs, and she passed him. His breath caught in his throat, and as Granger's confused look, writ all over her face, slowly passed his to turn back, a new emotion washed over him.
If I'm not mistaken, Draco Malfoy was now experiencing what pop-culture refers to as a high. Ecstatic. Euphoric. In raptures. Blissfully unhappy. And he had never felt that before. His breath still did not come, and his head felt miles high, and weightless, and he, Draco Honestus Malfoy, Head Boy of Hogwarts, and Prestigious Pompous Prick of the year, did not like it one bit.
And as his object of fascination walked away from him, his fumbling, unconscious fingers opened the bottle, and as the world seemed to speed up, he threw back his head and drank the labor of his mania.
As quickly as it sped up, it sped down again, to a drug-induced world of paraphernalia. His stopped mind, now driven by the effects of the mind potion, targeted in on the retreating back of Hermione Granger, and as the liquid remedy fixed on her, his mind blacked out for a second, and he was hurtled back. A screen, if it could be called that, though his muggle-disliking mind did not, sprang up on his vision. And at once he saw himself on the screen, holding the bottle stupidly.
He reached forward, and as his fingers touched, they were sucked in along with the rest of him. He found himself flying through space, hands stretched forth to the mini portrait of him, and suddenly he was there, in his body once again.
The bottle slipped, (or jumped of its own accord) out of his hands and smashed onto the cobblestones. The sound of the breaking glass was like a thousand chandeliers blowing in the wind, a million bell chimes whipping past your ears, the splashing of tiny water a hundred-fold.
As the glass shattered, as its pieces flayed out to fly through the air, tearing and racing around his feet, and fine mist sprang up. It's almost subtle body soon turned opaque, and before him was a swirling cloud of gas, like the smoke from a genie bottle.
He almost considered requesting three wishes.
Yet as he held back his tongue, slowly an image began to appear in the smoke. It writhed around a figure of him, buzzing and twirling.
He looked.
He squinted.
And then he fainted.
Author's Note: Oh it seems I have discovered the joy and sadistic glee of cliffhangers.
Review and give me your illustrious opinions, comrades.
Molten Chocolate Babycakes, anyone?
(Oh, I'm sorry, that's only for reviewers, yah? Get my meaning? p )
Ciao, my lovelies.