Chapter 22: MEDDLE

It was drizzle in Diagon Alley, but downpour in other part of London.

Hermione wasn't quick enough to cast Water Repellent Charm when they materialised in front of 12 Grimmauld Place so they were drenched in seconds. But her movement was rather hindered with Harry's – in his delirious state – hand limping on her left shoulder, even though most of his weight was supported by Ron. In times like this, she could see the benefit of Floo travel.

She let his hand to fall from her shoulder to open the door and went in ahead of the two men, whirled her wand to dry their clothes once they're inside. She had given up telling Harry to lock his door months ago. When there're only six people including him who could find and see this house, what's the need of locking it, or so he had argued. More so he believed neither one of them would wish him harm nor that he's planning to shut out any of them. This too trusting character of his was how he ended up falling victim to George's latest invention at tonight farewell party.

Angelina's pregnancy had finally reached Mr Perks' ears, not that Angelina and George had ever put any effort to keep it secret. There were noticeable changes in her appearance as she never tried to conceal her growing abdomen with baggy clothes. Most who saw her can correctly guess that she's pregnant in one glance.

Her relationship with George was never a secret either. Other than living together, for outsider and even people close to them, there's no significant change in their interaction too. Both would lightly say "Oh, we're good friend" and "No, right now we don't have any plan to marry" to anyone who enquired about their relationship. Although most just let them be, their way of living didn't sit well for traditionalist like Mr Perks.

As predicted, nothing could dissuade Mr Perks from demanding his only daughter to quit her job. It was non-negotiable. He'd been very adamant to the point that he might go as far as confine her at home if she defied his order. Therefore after one and a half years working at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Amy left the shop.

Tonight was her secret farewell party at the Leaky Cauldron. Secret, not surprise. As far as Mr Perks was concerned, Sally-Anne had been taking Amy to Leaky Cauldron for a girl night with her fellow Hufflepuff. He might not forbid her outright from continuing her association with the Weasleys, but they didn't want to take a risk for it to truly happen – especially with her Ministry's job application at stake too. Asking his permission to attend a party organised by her former employer after dusk where the said employer's preposterous behaviour was the reason of her resignation seemed to be a bad idea.

Nonetheless, it didn't stop the same employer, namely George Weasley, to pull his prank.

With Ginny was in Ireland for Quidditch and Angelina skipped the night (she couldn't drink anyway), Ron had been a poor replacement to be George's standing guard. They're lucky that there's only one victim, the man who had survived the most feared dark wizard in decades but easily fallen prey to a joke shop owner.

There wasn't much room for three people to climb the stair side by side, the fact that the one in the middle was as good as a dead weight on their shoulders certainly didn't make it easier. However both Hermione and Ron agreed that levitating him using magic just felt wrong. Stunning him was not an option too considering normally being hit by Stunning Spell when drunk would lead to massive headache afterward and they didn't want to take a risk with his condition. At least now he's mostly inebriated, barely conscious but no longer under compulsion to tap dance.

"I really can't comprehend what's the point of making this potion," Hermione grumbled once they put Harry down on his bed.

Ron chuckled. "Not everyone is good at dancing, Hermione. A little help will be appreciated," he defended. "As far as I know, this supposes to boost your confidence and relax your body to follow the music. Well, obviously combining it with Firewhisky is not a good idea."

"And obviously none of you thought on an antidote," she scoffed, her scowl accentuated her sentiment.

"Who would ever make antidote for Felix Felicis, Hermione? This is not poison." A loud giggle from their friend pulled his attention, he shifted his gaze to Harry and snickered, "Blimey, I'm just glad that it's not me."

She rolled her eyes. "So what should we do to him?"

"Let him sleep it off? The last time George tried it, a sip only lasted for about ten minutes before it wore off," he suggested. Harry chose that moment to move his hand in a dance motion following his hum. "And a sip of Sleeping Draught to make him more comfortable perhaps?"

Hermione grimaced, there's no way they could leave him like this. It's almost an hour since Harry had started dancing on the table like a possessed man and he had only stopped because of exhaustion – the potion apparently didn't boost stamina. She heaved a long heavy breath and pinched the bridge of her nose, weighing her options.

"Do you know the ingredients?"

"Not in detail."

"Just tell me, does George use either poppy seed, asphodel, pine branch, or scorpion powder?"

He frowned, trying to jog his memory. "Definitely asphodel," he said confidently. "Not sure about poppy seed and pine branch, but I'm sure he didn't use scorpion powder. There's some problem with our supplier, we can't restock Puking Pastilles because of it."

"Puking Pastilles contains scorpion powder?!" she shrieked. Ron only shrugged. "Oh never mind, why I even ask. Sleeping Draught is fine. Those four are ingredients that won't react well with alcohol, but if it scorpion powder then you can't give Sleeping Draught to him. We don't need any more complication."

He nodded in understanding. "Can you get it? Harry stores some of his supply in his study, if it's not there then there maybe some in the kitchen. I'll change his clothes, he won't like sleeping in his robes."

Both of them had their wands, therefore one of them could just summon it from the bedroom. But she understood, Ron didn't want her there without saying it directly hence she exited the room. And even though she actually had a vial of Sleeping Draught in her bag, she went to the room two doors away down the hall that Harry used as his study because just standing outside until they're done just seem stupid.

Unsurprisingly, the door wasn't locked. She's really worried about Harry's life as an Auror, at this rate his lack of vigilance would get him killed someday. She was tempted to check whether his drawer was secured or not just to prove her suspicion but she quickly dismissed that thought. There's a limit on how far she would meddle in his life and rummaging his drawer surely crossed that boundary, she'd just scold him later.

Finding the vial, she intended to leave right away but her eyes caught what it looked to be a piece of parchment under the desk. Her curiosity won.

It's a map. The first place she recognised in it was Hogwarts, but the one that took her attention was an area near Hogsmeade. It was circled in red, two words of 'Hogsinbag Moor' were written there. She never heard it and she prided herself to know the area well after spending considerable time going back and forth there for her House-Elf and magical signature research.

Then she remembered why she was here, Ron would wonder if she didn't return. She put the map to where she found it and headed back to Harry's bedroom.

She knocked the door. "Put your clothes on, boys! I'm coming." Not waiting any reply, she opened the door and entered.

"Right on time." And without missing a beat, he grinned, "Will not want you to catch us in a compromising position, will you?"

She burst out laughing, finally let herself to see the humour in their situation. She pulled the stopper and positioned the lid of the vial on Harry's lip while Ron held him. Easier than she had thought, it only needed a little coaxing for him to drink the draught. Soon he dozed off and fell into slumber.

"Sleep well, Harry. Maybe this can be your lesson to be more careful, don't start to carry your own bottle like Moody though," she joked light heartedly, gazing at him fondly.

She expected to hear a quip from Ron, but when there's only silence she moved her gaze from her sleeping friend to her other childhood friend and was taken aback by the strange look he threw at her. She raised her brows in question.

A timid closed lip smile appeared on his face. "Looks like it will be awhile until the rain stop. Fancy a cuppa?"

Knowing him for so long, she reckoned that he had something to say to her and he was nervous about it. She couldn't recall anything significant had happened in the past weeks so she wondered what could make him this jittery. Nevertheless, she didn't voice it and played indifference instead.

"You can Apparate home directly from the front door, but I have to walk several yards to my flat. I think I'll stay the night here, there are plenty empty rooms anyway," she told him in light tone. "But I will not refuse a cup of hot chocolate."

His posture was more relaxed than before and he beamed, "Well, let's see if Harry has any."

They didn't need to look though, because when they arrived at the kitchen two cups of steaming hot chocolate were already served with a plate of orange biscuits on the table.

"Wow Hermione, this House-Elf Bond is the best idea you ever have on spew. We don't even have to ask!"

"It's S.P.E.W," she corrected him sharply, not appreciating how he kept teasing her with her past endeavour. "It's only for meal and household chore. You can expect them to clean the house and do your laundry but don't expect them to prepare your clothes, you have to get it yourself from your wardrobe. Same for grocery. They'll prepare meal only if there's something they can cook in the house. It doesn't mean you can be lazy."

He dismissed her tirade for the biscuits, sipping his chocolate between bites. Recognising that she would only waste her breath if she continued, she shut her mouth and took the stool opposite him, reaching her cup.

"I ... I'm seeing Louisa."

Her cup stopped few inches from her lips. She had to blink several times to grab her bearing and looked up at him.

"What I mean is I'm dating Louisa. It's still new. I haven't told anyone and I want you to be the first to know," he blurted out rapidly as if afraid of losing his nerve. "But I'll end it if you don't like it."

It took three seconds longer for Hermione to adsorb what she'd just heard. "Wait, what?!"

"I don't want to repeat what happened in sixth year with Lavender and everything. I hurt you then. But trust me, you're more important to me so if you don't like it, I'll break up with her. It's only been a week, so it will be easy."

"Calm down, Ron!" she cut him in, stopping his ramble. "Breathe."

She actually said it more to herself, suddenly her stomach seemed to be filled with melted lead and someone was playing drum loudly in her ears. It slowed her brain down.

"Okay, let me get this straight," she began. "You're dating Louisa Phillips, but you also said you'll end it if I told you to. Am I right?"

"I don't want to hurt you again," he murmured, his head bowed despondently.

Ignoring the tightening feeling in her chest, she said, "Oh please give me some credit, Ron. I can grow up too, I'm not seventeen anymore." She made sure that her voice sound was light.

His eyes glanced up to hers, hopeful. She exhaled, pushing whatever had filled her lung out, and smiled. "Do you love her?"

He opened his mouth but then paused. "I ... I don't know," he whispered. "But I like her,"

And his face lighted up, from his eyes and his grin. "She's amazing, Hermione," he started. "You know how I often accompany her since she barely knows anyone here, right? She's very smart, it's like she knows everything. Except Quidditch. Do you know that they don't have Quidditch game at Beauxbaton? Some who play Quidditch do it during summer holiday, they have some kind of summer youth league there but none of her friend plays so she's not very familiar with it. Then I took her to Canons' match and we're having so much fun. Not that I don't enjoy our other outing, but it felt different. We spend a lot of time together, just the two of us. Honestly I don't even know how it happened, we ... we're going out and suddenly we're dating. It's just happen."

Hermione wasn't sure whether Ron even took breath throughout his talk but one thing for certain, his smile never faded from his face, it only broadened overtime. His eyes might be on her, but not at her.

She didn't know how to respond except for a quiet, "Okay." She swallowed the lump on her throat. "She makes you happy," she surmised for him.

"Yes, she does." There's no hesitation in his answer.

"Then I'm happy for you, Ron."

She smiled, ignoring the turmoil of emotion in her chest. It managed to assure Ron, though there's still some concern in his stare. "You're sure?"

She chuckled. "Off course, why wouldn't I? We're friend. The fact that you date Louisa or any other girl will not change that." To lighten the mood, she added teasingly, "I promise I will not send horde of canaries if you kiss Louisa in front of me, you have my word. And just so you know, I like her too"

Despite what she said, the heavy and throbbing feeling in her chest didn't recede one bit. It's hurt, but she just had to deal with it. Later, not now. What she had to do now was to prove her word, to be a good friend for Ron.

.***.

Draco ducked behind a worn down sofa in what appeared to be a drawing room directly connected to sunroom. This place was too open for his liking, however it provided more space to move and to escape if needed. He might be on the side who initiated the attack but right now he was the one being cornered.

Only St Potter would think that it's a good idea to carry out a raid in the morning with only one meeting to coordinate everything just the afternoon before. A frontal attack with only eight persons in the team. He couldn't decide whether this was good or stupid plan.

It certainly had the benefit of minimising possible leak – they still hadn't found where the past leaks occurred – since everyone involved would mostly be under watch from start till the end. Judging by everyone's expression, nobody had known about this plan except Potter and Robards.

Winter also meant the sunrise came later, thus even though they wouldn't have the cover of the night, the dawn could spare them some. There's surprise value as well since most people weren't morning riser. A proper gentleman would know that starting quarrel before breakfast was unbecoming.

In fact for a hasty arranged raid, it had gone swiftly according to plan. They had charged in from all angles. Several young wizards (possibly new recruits) had been caught unaware and easily apprehended. Then, it had been going downhill from there as it had turned into full blown fight, especially for him.

Crabbe Sr was bordering crazy. He might not be bright or talented wizard which only made him more dangerous with lack of care on danger or risk which made him unpredictable, essentially a loose cannon. Added with his goal to kill him, it's all turned to be the worst combination for Draco. Once Crabbe Sr had seen him, he had bothered with nothing else but to kill him. And that's how he ended up being cornered to this room.

There's a loud explosion in distance, followed by shatter of glass and something like the crash of furniture. The curse on the land made Apparation not possible. With no quick escape as option, duels were unavoidable. Which meant everyone was busy. Not that he anticipated anyone would come to his rescue, some of his colleagues would never mind to write him off as being killed in action.

Amidst noises around him, he could hear the heavy footstep from the hallway, getting louder with every step. Engaging him in open duel had been proven to be very risky, Crabbe Sr was willing to die if it meant to take Draco with him, bare handed if necessary. Blood for blood; if Crabbe line had to end, so did Malfoy line.

Draco's best bet would be to tackle him in one strike; stun him or kill him. Amongst spells, those two were one of few which must be cast verbally to get the desirable effect, meaning his position would be revealed. But killing him was never an option, he couldn't even risk to kill him by mistake and tainted his magic. So even though Stunning Spell could be deflected easily – even for Crabbe Sr – he had no other choice than that, he just had to make sure that his aim would hit the target.

From the sound, Crabbe Sr was approaching the door or closer. It's time to act, just one chance.

Non-verbally he blasted the china at the corner for diversion and in one quick motion, he leapt from his hiding and shouted, "Stupefy!"

Then everything was blurred in a rapid series of curses, light, and hexes.

Something had tripped Crabbe Sr which made his aim miss, it charred the wall where it struck. The next thing he knew, he was rolling from one furniture to another, smoky streams of red, blue, and green flew over his head as Crabbe Sr releasing barrage of curses to his direction.

Draco whipped his wand to block a curse as he was second too late to take cover on nearby table which gave Crabbe an opening to throw another Slicing Curse. He dodged it in time and, in the same motion, shot back the same curse. Crabbe Sr didn't even bother to dodge it, letting it wound his left arm to keep firing his attack. To stay in defensive was getting more difficult for Draco, the spells kept coming in an erratic direction that it's harder for him to dodge it.

The next time he blinked, he was sliding so fast on his back and only stopped when he hit the wall. Wood splintering, flakes of broken glass raining down all around him, and by the sharp stinging feel on his side it seemed like couple of his ribs were broken. Worst, few feet away from him, lay his wand on the floor.

"Coward till the very end, Malfoy. Or you're just weak?"

From where he was, the first thing he saw was his leather shoes. Draco was always the tall one amongst his peer and for many reasons he'd never liked if he had to tilt his head up to anyone, but now he had to. He bypassed the wand that been pointed at him to look straight for his would-be-murderer's eyes.

"You already killed my father," he stated coldly, maintaining his expression to remain void of emotion. It wouldn't be wise to provoke him, he only planned to lure him to start talking. Draco knew he could summon his wand wandlessly, but he needed leverage.

Crabbe Sr laughed menacingly. "He's a bonus. But you'll meet him soo– "

Draco leapt towards his wand, taking his chance while at the same time also bracing himself for whatever curse coming. For a second, briefly he heard a shout of "IMPEDIMENTA!" a moment as he darted to the sunroom, using the doorway for shelter. He pressed his back to the wall and clenched his wand against his chest for reassurance.

"Who's there?!" from the other room, the older wizards screamed.

Draco stretched his neck to take a peek, wondering who had saved him earlier, but pull it back quickly as Crabbe Sr angrily throwing curses to every direction. He pressed his back further to the wall when a red light blazing through the door, making a long nasty dent when it finally hit the wall.

Lowering his body to the floor, he carefully tried to take another look to the drawing room and he saw a distinct ripple on the wall beside the window. His eyes widened in horror, it flickered a glimpse of brown hair as it moved to veranda through the shattered glass window, several dots of red liquid on the floor revealed her hiding spot.

Draco cursed under his breath. Of course Potter will drag her into this! Let's hope she's smart enough to stay where she was.

He sat back again, gritted his teeth cursing what he's about to do, and hollered, "Vincent burned himself to death, Crabbe. Don't blame me for his own stupidity when he got it from you!"

"You bastard!"

The wall above him was blasted, but Draco was ready for that. He rolled over to the other side of the door frame and, utilising the dust as cover, shot a Freezing Spell. Unlike Stunning Spell, it would work on whichever body part it hit. Crabbe Sr was falling to the ground as his lower body was paralysed but Draco didn't wait to disarm him. His left hand was halfway to grab the wand when his eyes caught a jet green light from his left and he quickly ducked for cover.

"Crabbe, let's go!" It's Yaxley.

"No! I almost had the boy!"

"We leave now, you moron!"

Seeing an opportunity to strike, Draco whipped another curse but Yaxley was faster. With a loud groan, a bookshelf came toppling down towards him.

Draco was flat on his back, arm flung over his head in reflex, but the crushing blow never came. If it not for the sofa he's been using for cover, he'd be well pinned by 80 pounds of solid wood instead of raining books.

In his current position, he could only resume defensive stance. All of his senses were on alert for any noise or movement, prepared for incoming attack. However, minutes ticked by and aside from a soft tug of falling books, it's mostly hush. There's not even any explosion, blast of curse, or cries of spells from the distance.

He crawled cautiously from under the shelves, Protego ready on the tip of his tongue, and found nobody in the room. Yaxley had succeeded to force Crabbe Sr to run then, probably dragging him by the collar, not wanting to fight a lose battle.

Ignoring the ache on his right ribcages, Draco stormed to veranda. He didn't even bother casting Revelio Charm and just snapped, "What the hell are you doing here, Granger?! Potter–"

She grabbed his wrist. "Don't tell him please."

Her Disillusionment Charm was lifted and he's sure that it's not deliberate but it was because she couldn't hold it any longer.

There, sitting on the floor and back leaning against the wall as if she was using all her energy to not pass out, was Hermione Granger.

She wore dark jumper but Draco could see that it's damp. By the red wet mark on his wrist where she gripped it weakly and red liquid seeping through her sleeve before dripping to the floor, he could guess the reason.

"You were hit," he spoke, stating the obvious.

She grimaced, releasing a hiss of pain. "Can you please summon my bag from the room, I have my potion and salve supply there. My right arm feels numb and I don't think I can move either."

Even with how wet her jumper was, there's still enough that escaped and created a dark pool on the stone floor below her limp hand. The slash was on her right arm, but from her low neck jumper, he could see angry red open wound on her collarbone. He recognised this curse.

"You need to go to hospital," he said urgently. This was bad, very bad.

"No! I'm fine, just get my bag, please. Nobody can know that I've ever been here," she pleaded, inhaling a shaky breath. Her face was so pale, certainly from the loss of blood.

"Gran–"

"Please, Draco."

It was barely a whimper before her body gave away. Her grip slackened and his hands moved in time to catch her as she fell forward into his arm, cold and unconscious.