Chapter Thirty-three

Draco, the Britney Fan

After a relatively short visit to the hospital wing, during which Madam Pomfrey made about six threats along the lines of "If Dumbledore even thinks about failing any of you, I swear I'll quit!" Harry, Hermione and Draco headed down to the kitchens wordlessly. The entire school had to know by now that Harry and Draco had woken up screaming, and there were all sorts of other things they couldn't or didn't want to explain—the single, large bed; the Slytherin Quidditch practice; the Cheese Spirit and its banishment; Hermione's attempt on Draco's arm's life… and that was only what had happened since yesterday morning, never mind Sunday, Saturday, and Friday. On an average day, each of them could handle teasing and gossip and rude remarks; at the moment, none of them wanted to face any further annoyances.

Unfortunately, "you can't always get what you want" is a very wise saying. Filch came out of the kitchens just as they were approaching the door.

"What are you three doing down here?" he demanded, glaring.

"Nothing," Harry and Hermione replied. Filch raised a skeptical eyebrow; he knew as well as Harry and Hermione did that the Hufflepuff dormitory and the kitchens were the only things in this part of the school that were of any interest.

Draco rolled his eyes; for two Gryffindor brats who often managed to escape punishment for broken rules, they weren't very good at lying to authority figures. "We were just taking a walk," Draco said coldly. "Not illegal, is it?"

"You were preparing to pull some sort of prank, weren't you?" Filch snapped, eyes darting around as if hoping to find some sort of joke-pulling device.

"Right," Draco said, rolling his eyes again. "Me and Potter and Granger work so well together, don't you think?"

Harry laughed and Hermione giggled; it didn't last long, however, as their mirth quickly changed to mortification at the fact that one of their least favorite people could make them laugh in a way that wasn't condescending.

Filch looked as surprised by their laughter as they did, and he edged away from them slightly. "You should be at breakfast. Go on, go," he said, gesturing up the stairs behind them.

Harry and Hermione exchanged panicky glances. "Mr. Filch," Hermione said quickly, "I am Head Girl, and it is my duty to patrol the corridors—"

"There is no morning duty, only night; you only have Wednesdays and Thursdays, besides. Go on, off to breakfast with you, and if I catch you down here again, you'll have detention to look forward to."

After a few moments, Harry and Hermione grudgingly turned around and headed back for the stairs; Draco glared at caretaker, but couldn't see a way to get past Filch without getting into serious trouble—and it wouldn't be prudent to let anyone on the staff know that the kitchens' location wasn't totally secret.

"More than one way to skin a cat, you know," Draco told Filch (who snarled but still looked a tad worried), then followed Harry and Hermione, leaving the caretaker to splutter angrily outside the kitchen door.

"So I guess we're skipping breakfast," Harry said.

Hermione bit her lip. "Maybe we can get Ginny to go in there for us?"

"I don't think so. She seemed pretty… er…"

"Psycho," Draco supplied helpfully. He had always been rather talkative—it was part of being arrogant and loving to brag a lot—and now that the sullen silence had been broken, he figured a bit of arguing and insulting banter was just what he needed.

"Well, I doubt she's going to be any more willing to go in there than we are," Harry said, trying to ignore Draco as best he could.

Hermione sighed. "Well, what are we supposed to do? Curse anyone who gets within three feet of us?" Harry paused, looking thoughtful, then drew his wand and grinned. "Harry, I was kidding—"

"Yeah, but no one else'll know that, and I'm hungry."

Harry walked on ahead, and Hermione sighed and followed him, drawing her wand also. "Boys," she muttered, "never thinking with their brains…"

Draco was still trying to come up with a good pun about the double meanings of her phrase when they entered the Great Hall. A good deal of the student body was there, chatting away; a lot of Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor students were at the wrong table, sharing gossip or perhaps discussing prank war ideas. Even some of the Slytherins were mixing with a few of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students; it was rare, but the occasional Slytherin had friends or at least acquaintances outside their house. Plenty of people spotted Harry, Hermione and Draco entering, but everyone hung back when they noticed their wands were out.

Managing to secure a good spot at the Gryffindor table, they were only interrupted once, by Colin Creevey, who asked if there was any reason for Ginny being in the hospital wing, seeming quite ill and rather jumpy. Neither Harry nor Hermione told him much, and when Draco opened his mouth he received two sharp kicks in the shins and he thought better of it. Madam Pomfrey had cured most of his bruises, and he wasn't really looking to get himself injured again.

Harry, Hermione and Draco all ate with their wands in one hand, which wasn't easy. When Harry dropped his wand beside his plate, neither Hermione nor Draco thought much of it; Hermione figured he was just having trouble using his silverware one-handed, and Draco simply didn't care. It wasn't until Harry gasped that they noticed he'd gone completely rigid.

"He's having a vision," Draco muttered.

Harry was, in fact, having a vision, but he couldn't make sense of it in the slightest. Draco appeared to be wearing Muggle clothes and sitting in the passenger seat of a car, wearing his seat belt; Harry could see snow-covered trees were flashing past. That alone was odd; the Malfoys despised Muggle things, so, unlike the Weasleys, they'd probably never ridden in a car. That wasn't the strangest part, however.

Draco was singing.

His arms were flung wide, his hair was messy, and he looked rather frightened, as though he was being forced to sing at gunpoint. His singing voice wasn't all that great; either that or he wasn't trying to sing properly. His voice seemed all wrong for the notes he was trying to hit, too. Harry barely noticed, however; he was concentrating on the lyrics.

The vision ended quite abruptly, and Harry returned to the present with a jolt. Confused, Harry tried to sort out the vision, glad it hadn't been about him, Hermione and Draco. Harry recognized those lyrics, but he couldn't remember from where; he hadn't really been paying attention to the Weird Sisters at the Yule Ball, and that was the only band he'd heard in the wizarding world… so it had to be Muggle, and probably old…

Something clicked into place and it hit him—Britney Spears. He'd heard that song several times, heard sung by Muggles as he wandered around Little Whinging, heard playing in shops he went to with the Dursleys or walked to alone. Draco had been singing Britney Spears songs? That made absolutely no sense…

"What was it?" Draco asked impatiently.

"It was you. Singing. Britney Spears."

Hermione stared at Draco incredulously. "You know Britney Spears?"

"Who's she?" Draco asked blankly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't play dumb. You obviously know who she is. I just had a vision of you singing 'Hit Me One More Time.'"

"Sounds like a nice violent song," Draco replied, frowning.

"'Baby One More Time,'" Hermione corrected absently.

"You're a Britney Spears fan?" Harry asked incredulously.

"No, I—that's not important! Harry, what on earth would Malfoy be doing singing Britney Spears songs? What else do you remember?"

"I don't know," Harry said, shrugging. "He was sitting in a car, passenger's side."

"A car? I've never ridden in a car. Why would I start now?"

"Well, you looked scared, but—"

"Okay, now I know you're lying," Draco interrupted irritably. "Come on, people, open your eyes. Doesn't it strike you as a little odd that these 'visions' are things that we would never do, and the only person who knows the truth about them is a guy like Snape? They're not visions. They're illusions."

"That's an interesting thought," Hermione said slowly. "False visions…"

"Oh, come on, Hermione; that was reasoned out by Malfoy," Harry pointed out.

"But it does make sense," Hermione said reluctantly. "A lot more sense than anything else."

"Nothing has made sense lately," Harry insisted.

"No… and that's what's bothering me. Think of it, Harry—which makes more sense, a cheese spirit bite causing psychic abilities, or a cheese spirit bite causing delusions? And Snape… he's the only one who knows what's really going on, and if it weren't for the fact that Snape's not the most imaginative person and certainly not the first person to purposely set himself up to get insulted, I'd bet every Galleon I have on him fabricating this whole happy bit. It's certainly freaking us out, which Snape would enjoy—it's freaking the entire school out, really—and you and Malfoy thinking that whatever you've been Seeing is actually real would be just the sort of kicks Snape would enjoy."

"Only Snape doesn't like kicks, and even for a prank, he wouldn't tie a pink ribbon in his hair in a bow or wear a Christmas sweater or tell us some funny story about what he did as a kid—"

"Who's to say that was a true story?" Draco said suddenly. "I mean, his whole mannerism yesterday freaked us all out—and Snape's smart. He could have figured out what I would do, could have made the whole thing up. He wouldn't have admitted having a crush on Potter's mum otherwise."

"I've had a little too much experience with visions to just write these off," Harry said stubbornly, wincing at the part about his mother. "We need to talk to Snape more."

Hermione sighed. "Look, Harry, maybe you're right, we shouldn't just ignore them. Still, I can't imagine that they're true, not if they're as bizarre as you say… but Snape has been helping us, you know; he knew when he gave us all those ideas that it would help you as much as me—"

"He can't be trusted," Draco said flatly. "It doesn't matter what he's done to help you, Granger; it's probably all just a means to an end for him."

"Whose side are you on, anyway?" Hermione demanded.

"Not yours," Draco said shortly. He jerked his head at Harry. "Or his."

Hermione blinked, suddenly remembering who she was talking to; their discussion was just the sort of thing Harry, Ron and Hermione did all the time. She shrugged off the creepy feelings of actually trying to figure something out with Draco Malfoy helping them in Ron's stead as best she could and turned back to Harry. "I don't know if these visions are true or not—mostly because I don't know what most of them are—and I don't know what Snape's really up to—"

"He told me there was no way to stop the visions, back while you were sobbing your heart out like a lunatic," Draco interrupted. "I'm pretty sure he's lying."

"There's no way to tell with someone that skilled in Occlumency," Hermione argued.

"Hey, I can do Occlumency, and you can still tell when I'm lying most of the time," Harry said.

"Stop switching sides!" Hermione yelled, stamping her foot.

"I'm not; I'm on the true-vision, Snape-is-a-sick-freak side," Harry retorted.

"Look, whether he knows or not, he can't be trusted," Draco said. "There has to be some other way, a spell to check the validity of a prophecy or something…"

"If only the twins were on our side," Hermione said with a sigh. "All those years of looking for joke shop junk has made them great at researching."

"What, you don't want to spend time in the library?" Draco snorted. "That's a first."

"Look, you evil little maggot," Hermione snapped, "if you want those visions out of your head, you'll keep your mouth shut. Harry and I have been solving these sorts of mysteries for over six years; I guarantee you we can do it. If you want help, you had better avoid pissing me off, or I'll make you beg for mercy by the time I'm through with you, understand?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "All right, fine. You get the visions out of my head; I'll leave you alone until the chain's off."

"Good," Hermione said, but sighed. She knew that it wasn't going to last for more than a minute and a half, but even a momentary lull was better than putting up with his constant rudeness.

"—Forbidden Forest—"

"—Best idea—"

"—Not too far in—"

"—Need people to be able to see it—"

"—Can't do it during exams—"

"—Last weekend before Christmas holidays—"

"—Everyone will be in Hogsmeade but the first and second years—"

"—So we convince people to stay—"

"—That'll tip off our victims, too—"

"—Right, don't want them to know—"

"—Leave Harry out of it, just Hermione and Malfoy—"

"—Yeah, they'll know it's us if we hit all three of them—"

"—But that's a prank only we know about."

"No, it isn't, plenty of people had parents who went here during the original prank—"

"Maybe, but parents who share their prank ideas with their kids?"

Ron sat on his bed in his dormitory, eating sandwiches that Fred had conjured and watching the twins with interest. They were pacing up and down the room, shooting rapid-fire ideas at each other… at least, that's what he assumed they were doing; he didn't have the foggiest clue what they were talking about.

"Slytherins would. People like the Bones family would. Dad would."

"Hey, we should talk to Dad!"

"No, too risky, Mum might find out what we're up to—"

"Shoot, we should have thought of that earlier—"

"—Yeah, damn, that could have been so useful—"

"—Well, if we need more ideas after this prank, we can do some of what we did our seventh year—"

"—No, too suspicious, and they've all been seen before—"

"—Everyone was so focused on the Umbridge thing, though—"

"—Nasty old bat, hope she's in St. Mungo's—"

"—Hope the centaurs came after her—"

"—Hope Peeves beat her to death with McGonagall's walking stick!"

"…We're getting sidetracked."

"Damn… okay, so we strike with this prank—"

"—But we don't want her to know—"

"—She's the only one we'll need to worry about really—"

"—Yeah, Harry's bright, but he assumes the best about people—"

"—Hermione's only delusional about teachers—"

"—Hey, maybe we should talk to Wood!"

"The next time I talk to Wood, I'm beating the crap out of him."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. But then, he had to be drunk."

"Or maybe high."

"Whatever he was on, we should get some."

"He's probably still got some. On second thought, why hold a grudge?"

"Excellent point. …And we're sidetracked again."

"Right. Okay, main problem—getting Harry away from Hermione."

"We can try using Ron."

"How? Have him try snogging Hermione in a broom closet?"

"Why not? Harry won't stick around for that. They're not THAT close."

"She's chained to Malfoy's wrist, mate."

"Oh, yeah."

"Yeah, she's probably won't get it on with Malfoy watching." Ron started gagging on his sandwich.

"Fred, you've just given me nightmares."

"Right, sorry. Anyway… there has to be some time when they split up, right?"

"We need to figure out their class schedules—"

"—She said something about it when we went down to Hagrid's hut right before that food fight—"

"—Oh, yeah! She has Ancient Runes on Thursday afternoons and Muggle Studies on Fridays—"

"—So we kidnap her right after lunch—"

"—No, if we kidnap her when she's supposed to be somewhere, people will notice too fast—"

"—And if she misses an exam without there being a good explanation, someone will go to Dumbledore—"

"—And Dumbledore will probably think she's been kidnapped by renegade Death Eaters."

"And then we're screwed, and probably in Azkaban."

"—So we do it after class, before she finds Harry again—"

"—Not enough time to get her; hallways would be too crowded—"

"—So we need to get Harry out of the way."

"How, though?"

"Club him over the head?"

"Nah… We could lock him in a broom cupboard."

"Or inflate his head like he did to Malfoy."

"Wait! He's supposed to have detention for that—"

"—On Friday!"

Both twins halted their pacing and turned triumphant grins on Ron. "We strike on Friday!" they yelled in unison.

Ron arched an eyebrow at them. "We strike what?"

The twins looked at each other and sighed.