A/N, disclaimer:
Gryf: Took you long enough.
Cloe: Bitch, bitch, moan, moan. You need to remind me otherwise I'll go off and forget.
Gryf: I reminded you.
Cloe: You should have reminded me before then it wouldn't have taken so long.
Gryf: Whatever.
Gryf: Now what?
Gryf: Hurry up, I want to go to bed. It's 3 am.
Cloe: Its a chapter, its still filler, doesn't get good till later. Oh and since ff.net did that weird chapter thing I have found out that up to ch 5 we have over 100 kb, yay us.
Cloe: Baby.
Gryf: Nyah. Anyway, anyone that you recognize is most like JKR's, but Circe is most definitely ours, plus anything else you don't recognize.
Gryf: Mmmm Sleep is good....
Cloe: Yeah but sleeping in is even better, so with out much ado... I give you Chapter Six *the audience gasps*
Gryf: Yeah, and I yawn. G'night, folks and good reading! Plus reviewing, don't forget. It doesn't take that long either...me go to sleep...
Cloe: Good night you big baby.
Gryf: You're the big baby.
Gryf: You're taller than I am.
Cloe: : P just go to bed.
Gryf: I'm going, I'm going...
*************
Guardian Angel from Hell,
Chapter Six, Yep still filler
A Harry Potter Fanfiction
By Gryffith and Cloe
*************
Chapter Six, Yep still filler
The different tables were in an uproar the next morning over breakfast. The Ravenclaws were afire with would-be detectives trying to figure out who was responsible for the pranks and the Hufflepuffs were just as bad. The Slytherins were upset by the idea of their prized, or rich rather, seeker getting it between the legs and were clamoring accusations to each other and at the Gryffindors. The rumor-correct for once-spread like wildfire through the Gryffindor table that Draco Malfoy had sabotaged their seeker and so they retorted that anyone who had the privilege of giving a Malfoy what he deserved should get a medal.
Harry picked at his eggs and fed Hedwig bits of his bacon, which she snapped up appreciatively. Hermione worried over the latest letter from Sirius, who was trying to follow Voldemort's discouragingly cold trail just like all the other aurors, though the Animagi was much more cheerful than the other aurors, having suddenly turned from the hunted into the hunter.
"Cheer up, Hermione," Ron stuffed some bacon into his mouth, "You-know-who has been loose before. And what's more, Sirius isn't being hunted like a fugitive anymore. And besides, things are doing pretty well; have you ever seen Malfoy crumpled up like that before? Ha! Serves him right, too."
The girl shook her head, "I don't know. We should really tell him about Circe. She's causing a lot of trouble."
Harry stopped feeding his owl for a moment, "Are you crazy? She's not the one doing that; Malfoy is the one who causes all the problems. And beside, what harm can she do? She helps, Hermione, how else could I have gotten the snitch?"
"Yeah, and she asked us not to tell anyone!" Ron backed his friend up stoutly.
Hermione stood up clutching her plate; "I can't believe this! Harry is blinded a broom and a Quidditch game and Ron is blinded by…what other than those big yellow eyes! Don't stop me!" she glared at the boys, "I know how you were with that Firebolt when you first got it! You wouldn't even consider that it had been tampered with, even though your life could have been at stake! And you!!! Ron, every pretty girl that passes buy is just plain and innocent in your eyes! You couldn't even look at Fleur from Beauxbaton without getting that dreamy look in your eyes!"
And with that, she went over to sit next Neville while everybody else at the table wondered what the hell had happened. Even Harry and Ron looked dazed and confused. Nobody had paid attention to what the famous-or infamous among the Slytherins-trio had been talking about, too absorbed in their own argument, until they had actually separated.
Hermione wouldn't talk to them in their Charm's class that morning, though she had all the chances in the world. Discipline was completely disregarded when all the pillows in the room transfigured into firecrackers, jumped into their and danced around to the Nutcracker theme played by a charmed violin, flute, and clarinet trio. All the students spent the entire class period giggling, chatting, and laughing as a very flustered Professor Flitwick made hilarious attempts to change the colorful displays of sparks and confetti back to their original cushion forms. Their teacher's small and cherub-like body kept on being blown this way and that and then doused with purple, yellow, or red glitter as any fireworks that he got near to exploded. Yet Hermione still ignored the boys, instead she talked with Lavender and Parvati, the two other girls who shared her dorm room. Ron commented resentfully that Hermione seemed to have gained plenty of people skills over the past year.
And not even later that morning would the girl even deign to spare the boys a glance, not even when Fang, Hagrid's giant wolfhound, mysteriously grew wings that carried him high above their heads. The poor dog whimpered non-stop and had had to bark continuously before he had distracted Hagrid enough from his firoxes, small energetic foxes with fiery tails, to look up. Hermione had jammed her finger in Fang's direction and glared pointedly at Ron and Harry for a while, but what point she was trying to make they couldn't figure out so she just gave up and tried to cuddle a baby firox.
But even this was a disaster as it bit her right thumb instead and when she yelped and dropped it, its tail scorched a hole clear through to her Muggle blue jeans and periwinkle sweater; it was cold out there in December. To make matters worse, the hurt thumb began to shrivel like a red-orange raisin. Above Draco's jeering laughter, Hagrid released her to go to Madame Pomfrey and then he went on hesitantly about the effects of the venom found only in a baby firox's incisors. Nobody listened much, until he mentioned that they would be collecting the venom using sponges and they would be studying the collected venom in their coming Potions class with Professor Snape. At that news all the Gryffindors groaned, Harry and Ron the loudest, though they groaned at any mention of the hated Potion's teacher. So the two boys helped Hagrid pass out the compact balls of green fluff to all the students and then they paired up together to tackle their specimen.
The firoxes, grown and newborn alike, had long silvery-white coats ideal for winter and were hard to see against the snow if they escaped. The mature firoxes had long, lustrous tails of pale blue and splashes of gold, meaning very hot, but the babies sported easy-to-see but threateningly bright orange and yellow tails. Even without those tails the task was hard enough as the parents were protective and their teeth were sharp.
By lunch, everyone was exhausted, slightly crispy, and a little red in places, though no blood had spread that much due to the temperatures outside. All the students were starving, but Ron and Harry just grabbed some hot rolls and plodded their way to the infirmary. Hermione greeted them civilly, as she would new acquaintances, and the boys felt it keenly. But there wasn't anything they could do about it, so they checked that Hermione's thumb was okay-fortunately the venom had been stopped in time by Madame Pomfrey-and walked with her…or behind her rather, back outside to their Herbology class, double period and that meant all afternoon.
Most of the other students were still at lunch, so the trio was the first to reach the series of greenhouses, and even though they had been going to greenhouse six a lot, Professor Sprout was bustling about the front of greenhouse three. As they got closer to greet her, they could see their teacher was acting strangely and her face was oddly contorted.
"Are you all right?" Ron approached cautiously.
Professor Sprout scrutinized them for the moment, then waved her hand at the greenhouse,
"It's a madhouse in there, and I want to know who did it!"
Indeed, they could hear even outside of the greenhouse, soundproof though it was supposed to be the reverberations of incredibly loud music and screeches.
Hermione tapped her foot for a moment, then announced, "I know this song. My parents play it a lot and its called "YMCA," but I never found it very interesting. And those shouts…those are adolescent Mandrakes, aren't they?"
The professor nodded and handed them three pairs of earmuffs, "This prank is enough to drive any teacher mad!" All three muttered something along the lines of, "We've seen a lot of those lately," but they went in obligingly.
Yet, the inside of the greenhouse met some of Sprout's description, as the entire place was crowded with swaying, jumping, and wiggling plants. A group of teenage Mandrakes had climbed out of their pots and someone had given them what Hermione recognized as a Muggle record player, which explained the YMCA song, but to match the music was floating red, yellow, and purple mage lights and a huge disco ball hanging from the ceiling. To make it worse it looked like the entire place had been toilet papered and there was crepe paper strewn throughout the building and the plants were decorated with tasseled white and yellow scarves and one of the bigger Mandrakes, a ringleader most likely, had a orangey-yellow sash around his waist.
By now several other fifth year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had entered the greenhouse, armed with pink fluffy ear muffs, but once they entered they just stood there, stunned, until they were bumped into from behind by other students waiting to get in. At least half the boys were doubled up laughing at the peculiar figures of the dancing Mandrakes and all the girls were giggling uncontrollably. Even Sprout had a hard time keeping her mouth from letting out a large belly laugh. Someone had taught the Mandrakes several dance steps from Muggles, from the typical YMCA dance, which the leader was doing, to several other things.
A big male was jiggling his hips and jamming his left hand, pointer finger extended, from his right hip to the air to the left of his purplish leaves. A female was bent over trying to imitate the Charleston, but all she was achieving was tripping over her knees and falling in the soil while a pair, male and female, was doing the tango behind her. Another pair was imitating the jitterbug and the last female was trying to do the Grapevine, although every time her feet crossed she fell and tripped. At last though Professor Sprout went over and tried to guess how to turn off the machine. She waved her wand at it, but the machine, magically powered, as it was to work in Hogwarts, had to be deactivated by hand. She braved the dancing Mandrakes and grabbed the CD player and began to examine the thing, not really knowing what the little bumps on top of it were. At last she grew fed up and just threw it onto the ground as hard as she could, spraying screws, plastic shards, and microchips everywhere. The Mandrakes immediately began protesting the cancellation of their fun and they began screaming their loudest and they tried attacking the students, but Professor Sprout and a few of the more brawny boys helped shove them back into the pots one by one. Hermione rushed into help and found herself face-to-face with the ringleader-and the sash. Her eyes widened and she snatched the sash away from the Mandrake as Seamus crammed him into the pot of soil.
Panting, all the boys ran all over the greenhouse tearing down the toilet paper and the scarves while most of the girls followed up with spells to temporarily freeze the plants. Hermione stood there, reading the winking silver embroidery:
"Remember to let your charges have a little fun! C.M.M."
Lips pursed, eyes narrowed, and thinking cap jammed on, Hermione wordlessly passed the scarf to the teacher who read it and started giggling.
"What's so funny?!" Hermione demanded, but when she realized nobody could hear her-she couldn't even hear herself-she ripped off her earmuffs and tore off her teacher's.
Professor Sprout stared at her student for a moment in surprise and then recovered, "I thought I told you never to take off anyone's earmuffs without my signaling you to do so!"
Somehow silence resonated in the greenhouse, deeper than the silence installed by the earmuffs; Hermione was being reprimanded by a teacher and by Professor Sprout no less. When they saw their teacher without earmuffs and the tense situation, they gradually took off their own earmuffs to listen.
Hermione, unconscious of her fellow students, stared stonily at the floor before answering, "The Mandrakes were all planted and it was safe. I wanted to know what was so funny." Seamus walked up and tapped Hermione on the shoulder. When she turned he put his left hand on his hip and gawked at her a bit.
"You wanted to know what was funny? Haven't you been watching those Mandrakes? They were doing things like this!" and he began bouncing his hips and pointing his right forefinger at first his left hip than straight into the air and repeating it again and again. Everybody laughed at his impression and some of the other boys joined him just to show Hermione how hilariously stupid they had looked. Professor Sprout laughed along with the rest of the students…until even Hermione couldn't hold back a smile, which erupted into a peal of laughter.
Outside on her broomstick, hidden by Harry's cloak, Circe listened stunned to the laughter within; the Head Sergeant Master never laughed and when she smiled, it sounded as though her face resisted such an unfamiliar gesture. Of course here, in this time, she hadn't yet experienced the loss of Harry…and she shouldn't have to. The young woman felt a pang of duty when she thought of her teacher, who she respected in spite of her lack of humor, and of the unstable times in which she wasn't supposed to be. But those sentiments vanished when she thought of the fun planned tomorrow and the day after.
Circe buried these thoughts, not wanting to consider the future-her present-or the consequences of her actions. So she shifted her hips slightly, hardly noticeable but the broom took the hint and raced silently off towards the school. It was a matter of minutes before she was across the kitchen threshold and taking off the invisibility cloak. None of the house elves noticed her much, too busy and happy with their work. But as soon as a pair of giant blue eyes saw the small slender figure hanging up the shimmering fabric several of the elves trooped up to her and began asking what she needed.
"Oh, I'll just take a taco and some butterbeer, please," the young woman unconsciously rattled off one of her more customary orders. The three pairs of eyes widened at the order, extremely puzzled, and gawked at her dubiously; what was taco? Unnerved by their unswerving, if obedient, stares, the jitters quickly changed to anger and Circe glared down at them furiously.
"I gave you an order! Now carry it out!"
Dobby, of course one of the three, timidly began to open his mouth, but then shut it abruptly. Circe saw the gesture and snapped, "Don't make me repeat myself! Now go!"
"STOP RIGHT THERE!"
The young woman whirled around, extremely startled, and started slightly when she saw Hermione striding purposely towards her. Hermione, plain brown hair streaming behind her, stopped just short of colliding with the older girl and slapped Circe hard on the cheek.
The taller student, though younger, seemed struggle with agitated and hard to swallow words before sputtering, "These elves are not your personal property, "Circe!" You will treat them with respect!"
Dobby's eyes, instead of lighting up at the actions of his defender, blazed and he leapt in front of the young woman, who in fact seemed more in shock than anything else. The elf glowered at the friend of his hero; "Stand away, Hermione! Dobby will not allow you to yell at my mistress so!"
The girl's finger shot out at Circe, "You are a Malfoy! And you are the prankster!" While the young woman merely gaped back at Hermione, being too startled to paralysis, she did not deny the charge and Hermione threw her chin up triumphantly.
"I knew you were the prankster! And a Malfoy at that!"
Dobby's infuriated body seemed to swell at that announcement-for those words held no emotions other than pride, anger, and malice-and pointed his own knobby finger at Hermione, "Leave now! You have no place here!"
Astonished beyond thought, Hermione numbly obeyed the suddenly booming voice and left the kitchens. Silence reigned after her departure, though a few of the elves cheered faintly at the loyalty Dobby was finally showing his owners. Circe sank to her knees in front of the elves, staring into space. Dobby placed his hand on her shoulder, worried. The young woman winced visibly at the touch, but regained her composure and straightened the elf's shirt as thanks, but she couldn't manage more than a croak, not yet.
When she could, she thanked him for standing up for her but she canceled her order and replaced it with a demand for some strong whisky, a muggle drink to be sure, but one so commonly asked for in the wizarding world that the elves could comply. She realized that her appetite had completely vanished-she wasn't even sure if she could any food down-but she refused to acknowledge that there was any reason for the phenomenon other than a natural anomaly that could happen to anyone. After the elves departed, either to get back to work or to prepare her drink, Circe sighed and let her mind ramble, suddenly too exhausted to think about something specific and hold her attention there. What Dobby did may have been loyal through and through, but it sure didn't help much. The HSM dislikes me enough in the present, here a ragged chuckle tore itself from her throat, and now Hermione hates me before I'm even supposed to meet her!
A surge of loneliness flushed through her and settled rankling in her stomach, but Circe resisted the need to cry and purge herself of these feelings. Rebelliously she remembered how her father had constantly raged, "Granger is too clever for her own good!" Not realizing that she was using a quote from the man, she so often fought against to comfort herself, the young woman accepted the whisky and proceeded to gulp it down.
Gryf: Took you long enough.
Cloe: Bitch, bitch, moan, moan. You need to remind me otherwise I'll go off and forget.
Gryf: I reminded you.
Cloe: You should have reminded me before then it wouldn't have taken so long.
Gryf: Whatever.
Gryf: Now what?
Gryf: Hurry up, I want to go to bed. It's 3 am.
Cloe: Its a chapter, its still filler, doesn't get good till later. Oh and since ff.net did that weird chapter thing I have found out that up to ch 5 we have over 100 kb, yay us.
Cloe: Baby.
Gryf: Nyah. Anyway, anyone that you recognize is most like JKR's, but Circe is most definitely ours, plus anything else you don't recognize.
Gryf: Mmmm Sleep is good....
Cloe: Yeah but sleeping in is even better, so with out much ado... I give you Chapter Six *the audience gasps*
Gryf: Yeah, and I yawn. G'night, folks and good reading! Plus reviewing, don't forget. It doesn't take that long either...me go to sleep...
Cloe: Good night you big baby.
Gryf: You're the big baby.
Gryf: You're taller than I am.
Cloe: : P just go to bed.
Gryf: I'm going, I'm going...
*************
Guardian Angel from Hell,
Chapter Six, Yep still filler
A Harry Potter Fanfiction
By Gryffith and Cloe
*************
Chapter Six, Yep still filler
The different tables were in an uproar the next morning over breakfast. The Ravenclaws were afire with would-be detectives trying to figure out who was responsible for the pranks and the Hufflepuffs were just as bad. The Slytherins were upset by the idea of their prized, or rich rather, seeker getting it between the legs and were clamoring accusations to each other and at the Gryffindors. The rumor-correct for once-spread like wildfire through the Gryffindor table that Draco Malfoy had sabotaged their seeker and so they retorted that anyone who had the privilege of giving a Malfoy what he deserved should get a medal.
Harry picked at his eggs and fed Hedwig bits of his bacon, which she snapped up appreciatively. Hermione worried over the latest letter from Sirius, who was trying to follow Voldemort's discouragingly cold trail just like all the other aurors, though the Animagi was much more cheerful than the other aurors, having suddenly turned from the hunted into the hunter.
"Cheer up, Hermione," Ron stuffed some bacon into his mouth, "You-know-who has been loose before. And what's more, Sirius isn't being hunted like a fugitive anymore. And besides, things are doing pretty well; have you ever seen Malfoy crumpled up like that before? Ha! Serves him right, too."
The girl shook her head, "I don't know. We should really tell him about Circe. She's causing a lot of trouble."
Harry stopped feeding his owl for a moment, "Are you crazy? She's not the one doing that; Malfoy is the one who causes all the problems. And beside, what harm can she do? She helps, Hermione, how else could I have gotten the snitch?"
"Yeah, and she asked us not to tell anyone!" Ron backed his friend up stoutly.
Hermione stood up clutching her plate; "I can't believe this! Harry is blinded a broom and a Quidditch game and Ron is blinded by…what other than those big yellow eyes! Don't stop me!" she glared at the boys, "I know how you were with that Firebolt when you first got it! You wouldn't even consider that it had been tampered with, even though your life could have been at stake! And you!!! Ron, every pretty girl that passes buy is just plain and innocent in your eyes! You couldn't even look at Fleur from Beauxbaton without getting that dreamy look in your eyes!"
And with that, she went over to sit next Neville while everybody else at the table wondered what the hell had happened. Even Harry and Ron looked dazed and confused. Nobody had paid attention to what the famous-or infamous among the Slytherins-trio had been talking about, too absorbed in their own argument, until they had actually separated.
Hermione wouldn't talk to them in their Charm's class that morning, though she had all the chances in the world. Discipline was completely disregarded when all the pillows in the room transfigured into firecrackers, jumped into their and danced around to the Nutcracker theme played by a charmed violin, flute, and clarinet trio. All the students spent the entire class period giggling, chatting, and laughing as a very flustered Professor Flitwick made hilarious attempts to change the colorful displays of sparks and confetti back to their original cushion forms. Their teacher's small and cherub-like body kept on being blown this way and that and then doused with purple, yellow, or red glitter as any fireworks that he got near to exploded. Yet Hermione still ignored the boys, instead she talked with Lavender and Parvati, the two other girls who shared her dorm room. Ron commented resentfully that Hermione seemed to have gained plenty of people skills over the past year.
And not even later that morning would the girl even deign to spare the boys a glance, not even when Fang, Hagrid's giant wolfhound, mysteriously grew wings that carried him high above their heads. The poor dog whimpered non-stop and had had to bark continuously before he had distracted Hagrid enough from his firoxes, small energetic foxes with fiery tails, to look up. Hermione had jammed her finger in Fang's direction and glared pointedly at Ron and Harry for a while, but what point she was trying to make they couldn't figure out so she just gave up and tried to cuddle a baby firox.
But even this was a disaster as it bit her right thumb instead and when she yelped and dropped it, its tail scorched a hole clear through to her Muggle blue jeans and periwinkle sweater; it was cold out there in December. To make matters worse, the hurt thumb began to shrivel like a red-orange raisin. Above Draco's jeering laughter, Hagrid released her to go to Madame Pomfrey and then he went on hesitantly about the effects of the venom found only in a baby firox's incisors. Nobody listened much, until he mentioned that they would be collecting the venom using sponges and they would be studying the collected venom in their coming Potions class with Professor Snape. At that news all the Gryffindors groaned, Harry and Ron the loudest, though they groaned at any mention of the hated Potion's teacher. So the two boys helped Hagrid pass out the compact balls of green fluff to all the students and then they paired up together to tackle their specimen.
The firoxes, grown and newborn alike, had long silvery-white coats ideal for winter and were hard to see against the snow if they escaped. The mature firoxes had long, lustrous tails of pale blue and splashes of gold, meaning very hot, but the babies sported easy-to-see but threateningly bright orange and yellow tails. Even without those tails the task was hard enough as the parents were protective and their teeth were sharp.
By lunch, everyone was exhausted, slightly crispy, and a little red in places, though no blood had spread that much due to the temperatures outside. All the students were starving, but Ron and Harry just grabbed some hot rolls and plodded their way to the infirmary. Hermione greeted them civilly, as she would new acquaintances, and the boys felt it keenly. But there wasn't anything they could do about it, so they checked that Hermione's thumb was okay-fortunately the venom had been stopped in time by Madame Pomfrey-and walked with her…or behind her rather, back outside to their Herbology class, double period and that meant all afternoon.
Most of the other students were still at lunch, so the trio was the first to reach the series of greenhouses, and even though they had been going to greenhouse six a lot, Professor Sprout was bustling about the front of greenhouse three. As they got closer to greet her, they could see their teacher was acting strangely and her face was oddly contorted.
"Are you all right?" Ron approached cautiously.
Professor Sprout scrutinized them for the moment, then waved her hand at the greenhouse,
"It's a madhouse in there, and I want to know who did it!"
Indeed, they could hear even outside of the greenhouse, soundproof though it was supposed to be the reverberations of incredibly loud music and screeches.
Hermione tapped her foot for a moment, then announced, "I know this song. My parents play it a lot and its called "YMCA," but I never found it very interesting. And those shouts…those are adolescent Mandrakes, aren't they?"
The professor nodded and handed them three pairs of earmuffs, "This prank is enough to drive any teacher mad!" All three muttered something along the lines of, "We've seen a lot of those lately," but they went in obligingly.
Yet, the inside of the greenhouse met some of Sprout's description, as the entire place was crowded with swaying, jumping, and wiggling plants. A group of teenage Mandrakes had climbed out of their pots and someone had given them what Hermione recognized as a Muggle record player, which explained the YMCA song, but to match the music was floating red, yellow, and purple mage lights and a huge disco ball hanging from the ceiling. To make it worse it looked like the entire place had been toilet papered and there was crepe paper strewn throughout the building and the plants were decorated with tasseled white and yellow scarves and one of the bigger Mandrakes, a ringleader most likely, had a orangey-yellow sash around his waist.
By now several other fifth year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had entered the greenhouse, armed with pink fluffy ear muffs, but once they entered they just stood there, stunned, until they were bumped into from behind by other students waiting to get in. At least half the boys were doubled up laughing at the peculiar figures of the dancing Mandrakes and all the girls were giggling uncontrollably. Even Sprout had a hard time keeping her mouth from letting out a large belly laugh. Someone had taught the Mandrakes several dance steps from Muggles, from the typical YMCA dance, which the leader was doing, to several other things.
A big male was jiggling his hips and jamming his left hand, pointer finger extended, from his right hip to the air to the left of his purplish leaves. A female was bent over trying to imitate the Charleston, but all she was achieving was tripping over her knees and falling in the soil while a pair, male and female, was doing the tango behind her. Another pair was imitating the jitterbug and the last female was trying to do the Grapevine, although every time her feet crossed she fell and tripped. At last though Professor Sprout went over and tried to guess how to turn off the machine. She waved her wand at it, but the machine, magically powered, as it was to work in Hogwarts, had to be deactivated by hand. She braved the dancing Mandrakes and grabbed the CD player and began to examine the thing, not really knowing what the little bumps on top of it were. At last she grew fed up and just threw it onto the ground as hard as she could, spraying screws, plastic shards, and microchips everywhere. The Mandrakes immediately began protesting the cancellation of their fun and they began screaming their loudest and they tried attacking the students, but Professor Sprout and a few of the more brawny boys helped shove them back into the pots one by one. Hermione rushed into help and found herself face-to-face with the ringleader-and the sash. Her eyes widened and she snatched the sash away from the Mandrake as Seamus crammed him into the pot of soil.
Panting, all the boys ran all over the greenhouse tearing down the toilet paper and the scarves while most of the girls followed up with spells to temporarily freeze the plants. Hermione stood there, reading the winking silver embroidery:
"Remember to let your charges have a little fun! C.M.M."
Lips pursed, eyes narrowed, and thinking cap jammed on, Hermione wordlessly passed the scarf to the teacher who read it and started giggling.
"What's so funny?!" Hermione demanded, but when she realized nobody could hear her-she couldn't even hear herself-she ripped off her earmuffs and tore off her teacher's.
Professor Sprout stared at her student for a moment in surprise and then recovered, "I thought I told you never to take off anyone's earmuffs without my signaling you to do so!"
Somehow silence resonated in the greenhouse, deeper than the silence installed by the earmuffs; Hermione was being reprimanded by a teacher and by Professor Sprout no less. When they saw their teacher without earmuffs and the tense situation, they gradually took off their own earmuffs to listen.
Hermione, unconscious of her fellow students, stared stonily at the floor before answering, "The Mandrakes were all planted and it was safe. I wanted to know what was so funny." Seamus walked up and tapped Hermione on the shoulder. When she turned he put his left hand on his hip and gawked at her a bit.
"You wanted to know what was funny? Haven't you been watching those Mandrakes? They were doing things like this!" and he began bouncing his hips and pointing his right forefinger at first his left hip than straight into the air and repeating it again and again. Everybody laughed at his impression and some of the other boys joined him just to show Hermione how hilariously stupid they had looked. Professor Sprout laughed along with the rest of the students…until even Hermione couldn't hold back a smile, which erupted into a peal of laughter.
Outside on her broomstick, hidden by Harry's cloak, Circe listened stunned to the laughter within; the Head Sergeant Master never laughed and when she smiled, it sounded as though her face resisted such an unfamiliar gesture. Of course here, in this time, she hadn't yet experienced the loss of Harry…and she shouldn't have to. The young woman felt a pang of duty when she thought of her teacher, who she respected in spite of her lack of humor, and of the unstable times in which she wasn't supposed to be. But those sentiments vanished when she thought of the fun planned tomorrow and the day after.
Circe buried these thoughts, not wanting to consider the future-her present-or the consequences of her actions. So she shifted her hips slightly, hardly noticeable but the broom took the hint and raced silently off towards the school. It was a matter of minutes before she was across the kitchen threshold and taking off the invisibility cloak. None of the house elves noticed her much, too busy and happy with their work. But as soon as a pair of giant blue eyes saw the small slender figure hanging up the shimmering fabric several of the elves trooped up to her and began asking what she needed.
"Oh, I'll just take a taco and some butterbeer, please," the young woman unconsciously rattled off one of her more customary orders. The three pairs of eyes widened at the order, extremely puzzled, and gawked at her dubiously; what was taco? Unnerved by their unswerving, if obedient, stares, the jitters quickly changed to anger and Circe glared down at them furiously.
"I gave you an order! Now carry it out!"
Dobby, of course one of the three, timidly began to open his mouth, but then shut it abruptly. Circe saw the gesture and snapped, "Don't make me repeat myself! Now go!"
"STOP RIGHT THERE!"
The young woman whirled around, extremely startled, and started slightly when she saw Hermione striding purposely towards her. Hermione, plain brown hair streaming behind her, stopped just short of colliding with the older girl and slapped Circe hard on the cheek.
The taller student, though younger, seemed struggle with agitated and hard to swallow words before sputtering, "These elves are not your personal property, "Circe!" You will treat them with respect!"
Dobby's eyes, instead of lighting up at the actions of his defender, blazed and he leapt in front of the young woman, who in fact seemed more in shock than anything else. The elf glowered at the friend of his hero; "Stand away, Hermione! Dobby will not allow you to yell at my mistress so!"
The girl's finger shot out at Circe, "You are a Malfoy! And you are the prankster!" While the young woman merely gaped back at Hermione, being too startled to paralysis, she did not deny the charge and Hermione threw her chin up triumphantly.
"I knew you were the prankster! And a Malfoy at that!"
Dobby's infuriated body seemed to swell at that announcement-for those words held no emotions other than pride, anger, and malice-and pointed his own knobby finger at Hermione, "Leave now! You have no place here!"
Astonished beyond thought, Hermione numbly obeyed the suddenly booming voice and left the kitchens. Silence reigned after her departure, though a few of the elves cheered faintly at the loyalty Dobby was finally showing his owners. Circe sank to her knees in front of the elves, staring into space. Dobby placed his hand on her shoulder, worried. The young woman winced visibly at the touch, but regained her composure and straightened the elf's shirt as thanks, but she couldn't manage more than a croak, not yet.
When she could, she thanked him for standing up for her but she canceled her order and replaced it with a demand for some strong whisky, a muggle drink to be sure, but one so commonly asked for in the wizarding world that the elves could comply. She realized that her appetite had completely vanished-she wasn't even sure if she could any food down-but she refused to acknowledge that there was any reason for the phenomenon other than a natural anomaly that could happen to anyone. After the elves departed, either to get back to work or to prepare her drink, Circe sighed and let her mind ramble, suddenly too exhausted to think about something specific and hold her attention there. What Dobby did may have been loyal through and through, but it sure didn't help much. The HSM dislikes me enough in the present, here a ragged chuckle tore itself from her throat, and now Hermione hates me before I'm even supposed to meet her!
A surge of loneliness flushed through her and settled rankling in her stomach, but Circe resisted the need to cry and purge herself of these feelings. Rebelliously she remembered how her father had constantly raged, "Granger is too clever for her own good!" Not realizing that she was using a quote from the man, she so often fought against to comfort herself, the young woman accepted the whisky and proceeded to gulp it down.
