A/N: Well I am back! And it's late! I want to thank
all of the people who have reviewed me – especially those who have offered to
give me a beta read. My roommate actually beta-read this chapter…*hugs to
Tina*…but I'll probably need another one for the next chapter (so Lin-z, is the
offer still up?). Oh and I edited a lot of the dumb things out of my earlier
chapters (i.e.: no more HermOine it is now her-MY-oh-nee…Gosh I'm almost
as bad as Krum! And no Ginny did not get contacts in the middle of the fic –
her eyes are now permanently brown ;) ) so the earlier chapters may be a bit
different. But nothing major! Sorry it took awhile to this post up (I HATE
MIDTERMS!!!!) but I hope you enjoy. The Draco fans will be pleased…he is in
this part a lot along with Veronica, Harry, and Sirius…so read on.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything…not even (sniff!) Sirius…*goes off to weep*
******************
True to his word, Lucius Malfoy had withdrawn his son from Hogwarts in wrath immediately. Draco wasn't all that surprised; his father had been grumbling about Albus Dumbledore's policies of acceptance towards mudbloods and half-breeds ever since he could remember. The only thing that had kept him at Hogwarts for so long was his mother's reluctance to send far away from home. He would be starting at Durmstrang next term where, his father had assured him during the carriage ride home, no such nonsense would be tolerated.
"Durmstrang is a fine academy," his father had said decidedly. "It upholds the honor of our wizarding race – none of this catering to muggles and mudbloods that goes on at Hogwarts. And," he had added with a cold gleam in his eyes. "They foster discipline in their students…something that Hogwarts has certainly neglected to do."
Draco had shuddered inwardly at his father words. He vaguely recalled Victor Krum's description of Durmstrang…a dark, drafty place with no proper heating or food. Draco scowled, imagining himself slogging through five feet of snow, warm furs wrapped around him to block out the icy blasts of wind…
Almost makes Hogwarts seem like paradise, Draco thought glumly.
The truth was, that he was missing his old school already. He couldn't put his finger on exactly what he was so reluctant to leave…Crabbe and Goyle were faithful henchmen, but they were certainly not a joy to be around…Pansy was annoying (although it did boost his ego to have her following him around like a groupie)…and the Slytherin common room was…well it was in the dungeon after all…
At least, Draco thought with a faint grimace, I know what I will not miss. That damn specked midget and his Weasel and Mudblood sidekicks…
He would never have to see Harry Potter walking through the hallways…being fawned over by hero-worshipping girls…proudly holding the Quidditch cup high above his disheveled dark hair…given special treatment by teachers…grinning smugly as everyone seemed to believe he was the focal point of the universe…Draco felt the bitter feelings that that name always invoked stirring up in him.
I am being a pathetic prat, he thought sorrowfully. He shifted his weight, leaning on his other elbow. Then suddenly, he did what he always did when he needed a self-esteem boost. He stood and took a long searching gaze at himself in the full-length mirror on his closet door.
At least I am clearly better looking than Potter, he
thought looking fixedly at his silver-blonde hair, and steel gray eyes. Too
bad some people don't seem to notice…
"Mister Draco, sir!" Piped up a tiny high-pitched voice. It was Finky the Malfoy's new house-elf.
"What do you want?" Draco asked distractedly. Was it just him, or was one of his eyebrows a bit higher than the other? He would have to fix that.
"Your father is wanting to see you sir!" Finky declared, bobbing her tiny head up and down, and tugging on the brown potato sack she wore. "He is wanting you in the drawing room, Draco sir…many important persons there…they all be waiting for you!"
"Right," Draco said. "Tell him I'll be right down." With a final bow the house elf left. Taking one last approving glance of himself in the mirror, Draco left his room to meet his father downstairs.
Draco marched down the long dimly lit hallways of the Malfoy manor. Enormous portraits of his past ancestors sneered stuffily at him as he passed, looking strangely eerie in the flickering candlelight; but Draco paid them no notice. He entered the drawing room, his booted footsteps echoing in the spacious room, as they thudded on the hardwood floor. His father was there, along with most of his Death Eater companions. They regarded Draco stiffly as he entered the room.
"Ah Draco," Lucius said, beckoning for his son to come into the room.
"So I hear you've finally decided to take Draco out of Hogwarts!" Mancair was saying as Draco approached. "Wise choice," he nodded. "Durmstrang is the only way to go. Dumbledore is becoming rather bold of late…you wouldn't want any of his influence on your boy here."
"They actually teach you…useful…magic there," a tall, sallow man leered unpleasantly. It was Fallows, another friend of Lucius from the "old days."
"Yes," Lucius commented dryly. "And from what it looks
like…Draco can use a bit of practice with some of the more…elementary curses."
Draco stiffened. Why did his father almost find it necessary to degrade him
in public?
"I did it right," he insisted through clenched teeth. But no one heard him.
"At least he's got the spirit right, eh." Crabbe senior gave Draco an approving whack on the back, which nearly sent him flying to the floor. He was twice as large as his son. "Can't let the muggles get too comfortable, can we now?"
Draco regained his balance and nodded weakly. He turned to his father. "Why did you ask me to come here?" He didn't strive to keep the sullen tone out of his voice.
"Well son," Lucius said formally. "You will be sixteen in a few weeks. Soon you will be of age, and be old enough to join our ranks. I wanted to present you to our…your…future master."
Draco eyed his father with a steady, cool gaze. Voldemort…of course, he thought. Family pride and tradition and all of that rot…I'm to join him…to become like him. Draco looked at his father not altogether thrilled with the prospect. There his father was, calling a fellow wizard his master…chained to the whims of another and forced to except an alien will as his own. It was the sacrifice they all made, Draco knew, the sacrifice for power. The sacrifice he was expected to make.
But Draco was proud. He had a streak of haughty pride in him that his father could not even rival. True he wanted glory…he lusted fame and power to the point where it was almost to be feared…but he needed to be his own master as well. Draco wasn't sure which need of his would prove the victor in the end…
Of course he never voiced any of these hesitations to his father…no to do that would just be foolish. Draco was careful, and calculating. Only once had he let passion rule him completely…a mistake he did not plan to repeat.
"Yes, father," Draco said, making sure his tone indicated eagerness along with a healthy dose of respect. "Shall I open the trap door?"
He father nodded. Draco walked over to the stone statue of a hunched gargoyle, which stood by the fireplace. Its long knobby fingers were stretched upwards, a wail of anguished frozen in its twisted features. "Veritas," he said, and waited as the gargoyle's eyes began to glow with a dull red. A beam of light shot out, scanning Draco's eyes. He held his gaze, as the glow dimmed. Then suddenly the gargoyle sprang to life and leapt aside. The entire company followed Draco down into the drafty dungeon below.
Draco gazed around the room, still a bit in awe of it. He still remembered how he had snuck down into the dungeon after his first year at Hogwarts. He had spent hours working his way through all of the illegal potions, dark arts weapons, and spell books filed with dangerous curses and hexes that his father had hidden down there. Just a handful of it, would keep the Ministry busy for a month. Unfortunately his father had found him; and ruined all of the fun. That when Draco first found out his father was a Death Eater…
Lucius took the lead, stepping through all the clutter in the storeroom. They walked down a series of stairs. The air was quite damp, and Draco could hear the steady dripping of water as it fell from the walls and ceiling. Torches, provided the lightning, making everything very dim; Draco peered through the darkness at his father up ahead, a vague shadowy figure marching through the twisting underground maze. And then suddenly, they were out of the tunnel; the stone ceiling slanted steeply upwards, making the pathway open up to a spacious room with high, vaulted ceilings. A thin sallow man, with a hooked nose and greasy black hair stood in the center of the room, bent over a boiling cauldron. He eyed the group of people that entered the room.
"Ah Severus," Lucius said pleasantly, greeting his old friend. Snape gave him a stiff nod. Draco eyed his potions professor steadily; only a small quiver of his lip betrayed his true feelings. He had heard all of the rumors…about Snape and how he had betrayed his former master and joined Dumbledore. He had managed to worm his way back into Voldemort's favor somehow…Draco wasn't sure exactly how …but his reputation was still on thin ice. Snape was not in the clear yet, and Draco could sense that he was playing a dangerous game by trying to appease both sides. A game that could get him killed if he didn't watch his step…
"Have you prepared the summoning potion, yet?" Lucius continued.
"Yes, I have Lucius." Draco noticed that Snape was rubbing the Dark Mark scar on his forearm, almost as if it was an irritating rash that would not go away. "Are we all here?"
"It would seem so." Lucius answered. With that the Death Eaters surrounded the cauldron, shoulder to shoulder in a wide circle. Draco stood in between his father and Mancair, unable to get rid of the lump that had settled like a dead stone in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed, trying to keep his expression impassive.
It wasn't that he was afraid…he knew the day would come where he would have to face the Dark Lord. It was written in his destiny. He just didn't know that the day would come so soon.
He could have bloody well warned me before, Draco
thought grumbling as he cast a sidelong glance at his father. That is so
like him…as soon as I wake up from practically getting a brain concussion he
whisks me away to have a friendly chat with the most feared wizard of our era.
How typical.
Snape raised his wand and pointed at the bubbling liquid. "Accio Regalis!" He cried. The cauldron began to steam and froth furiously, as if it were boiling over a hot fire. A huge cloud of green smoke rose from it, and then it cleared, revealing a misty form, floating in thin air. A gaunt face, whiter than a skull, with flat snake-like slits as nostrils, and scarlet red eyes, stared back at them all. The disembodied apparition was somewhat transparent, but that fact did nothing to lessen the sheer power it commanded. Draco stiffened. He was seeing the Lord Voldemort for the first time.
The livid, dilated pupils surveyed the group with a roving stare. And then it spoke.
"Ah, Lord Voldemort is pleased," the voice said softly, it was colder than ice, a chill that send involuntary shivers up and down Draco's spine. "All of my followers seem to be present…except for Wormtail that is; he has more important matters to attend to." His lipless mouth opened and cackled without mirth.
"But we seem to have a new one in our company," Voldemort continued. Draco gulped as the scarlet eyes rested on him. "I see you have brought your son this time, Lucius."
"Yes my master," Lucius murmured, bowing deeply.
"I sense power in you," Voldemort commented quietly, still gazing at Draco. Quaking with revulsion, Draco lifted his eyes, trying desperately to gaze steadily at Voldemort. But his leveling steely-eyed stare that worked so well at school, quailed as it regarded the horrifying blood red irises of his father's master. Draco averted his gaze, but did not slump his shoulders or bow; he remained erect, his chin held high.
"I sense power…and a good dose of pride," Voldemort continued. "Pride is a strange thing…if clung to it can break a man. You will come to me in the end, Draco…" Draco shuddered. It was as if he were naked; all of his innermost thoughts were exposed to those roving lidless eyes.
"And Severus." The dissecting gaze turned slowly to Snape. Draco watched in amazement, as Snape actually knelt to the floor, his forehead touching the ground. "Get up." It was not a request but a cold command. Snape stood quickly, and looked unflinchingly at Voldemort. "Lord Voldemort knows you have been working hard to regain his favor…a fact that will not be overlooked. Of course, I am sure last time probably helped to persuade you as well…"
Snape paled at the cold reminder of the hours of torture he had undergone when he had first responded to Voldemort's summons. "Yes my master."
"Has Severus done anything else to please his master?"
"Yes, My Lord," Snape bowed again. "The girl…I spoke with her. It will not be long before she leaves for her home…I told her that if she stayed it would put Potter in danger." Snape raised his head, a cold distant gleam in his dark eyes. "As My Lord always says…nice people are so easy to manipulate…"
"Please, master," Mancair broke in. "This girl…is she the one we almost captured before…in the muggle park?"
"The same," A thin smirk twisted across the pale lipless mouth. "Dumbledore thought he was so wise to bring her to Hogwarts…a place where even the Ministry cannot interfere. But even his wisdom has his limits."
"Please, master," Lucius bowed humbly. "I do not understand…she is a muggle…what use is she?"
"She has rare powers, Lucius. A power that can resist the most potent magic. We can harness that power…and use to our advantage." Draco felt hot vindictiveness rise up in him…he had done the Imperious Curse right, despite his father's unfounded criticism. "Once we have her, we will be unstoppable."
"But how did she manage to escape us in the first place, I wonder?" Mancair muttered reflectively out loud. "I mean, my master," he added gruffly. "We had her…I was there personally in the hospital wing with Fudge and those Weasley idiots…Fudge was so scared of us that he was more than willing to hand her over. She was able to escape…somehow…"
"I was not pleased with that unfortunate blunder," Voldemort said softly. Mancair stiffened and fell silent.
"I'd wager it was Weasley's doing," Lucius said darkly. "Stupid fool! He would die for the common muggle rot, he would."
"Ah, a small man trying to be big," Voldemort leered sickeningly. "We shall have to deal with him and his family…teach the ministry not to poke its nose where it is not wanted…" All of the Death Eaters chuckled, along with their master.
But Draco remained silent, frozen stock-still. The cold pronouncement rung in his ears. Of course he had taunted Potter and his friends with ominous death threats more times than he could remember, and only partly in jest. But this time…it was so real. Looking at the grim ring of Death Eaters, and the unfeeling deadly gaze of their master, Draco was stuck by how very real the whole thing was. It wasn't just a joke to torment Potter anymore; he could see it in the icy faces surrounding him. People were going to die. Not that Draco cared; he was pretty sure it wouldn't faze him Arthur Weasley were killed, he hardly even knew the man. But Voldemort had said that he would deal with him and his family…
Draco felt sickening dread, as images of the youngest Weasley flashed through his head. She was so alive; with her blazing hair and twinkling brown eyes that flashed with unbridled passion (usually in the form of anger) whenever she saw him. Her fiery warmth had revived him in the dark and lonely hallway when he thought all was lost. He thought of her sweet voice, usually shrill with indignation as she parried all of his sarcastic comments; a subtle match he found strangely alluring. Her presence was like a healthy dose of sunlight, blinding and revitalizing at the same time…she can't die, Draco thought feeling his mouth go very dry.
But what was he to do?
*******************
"Veronica?" Harry stood right next to the plush sofa in the Gryffindor common room that she was seated in. Veronica gazed blankly off into space, her legs crossed, and her chin rested on her fist; there was no hint at all that she realized he was standing right next to her. Harry decided he would try again.
"Veronica?" He asked again, leaning in. Still no response. He tapped her on the shoulder and she nearly jumped out of her seat.
"Oh gosh, Harry! You scared me to death," she said, placing her hand on her chest.
"Well I've only been calling your name for five minutes," Harry grinned widely. Veronica responded with a wry smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. They were distant, burdened by pensive worry, and focused on some unseen point in space. "So you want to come eat lunch? Ron and I have to grab something before we go out to the Quidditch pitch."
"That sucks," she said distractedly. Harry gazed at her worriedly. Veronica looked up at him, finally realizing what he had said. "Oh! You were talking about lunch. Yeah, I mean sure…I mean no. Actually, I'm not that hungry," she spat out hastily, trying confusedly to jerk herself back into reality.
"Veronica…is everything alright? You've been acting strange lately…" Harry voice trailed off as he gazed at her concernedly.
"What?" Veronica scoffed, trying to brush off Harry's worry. "No. Everything's cool. Go ahead and eat."
"Its not the Daily Prophet article is it?" Harry's voice rose a little, the way it always did when he was upset. The article, which had come out three days before, was a smutty piece on Harry and his supposed scandalous liaisons with muggle women. Most of the photographs had been faked of course…. but there was a rather large (and unflattering) picture of Veronica, bleary-eyed and yawning on her way to the bathroom in the morning. The Slytherins were merciless of course, and Hermione furious. Apparently Rita Skeeter found a good scoop more important than breaking Ministry regulations on Animagi.
"That was a load of rubbish…no one really believes anything that gossip column prints…" Harry continued.
Veronica laughed hollowly, wincing. "Oh that," she shrugged. "I couldn't care less…well, I mean the picture was hideous. I am not a morning person at all and of course it was full color and in motion…" she groaned. "That is some major blackmail material right there…luckily I managed to gather up all the copies I could find and burn them before it got out of hand." She attempted a grin. "But if anyone in my home town ever finds it…I will hunt down the person responsible."
"Well something is up." Harry defiantly crossed his arms, with a determined gleam in his bright green eyes. "You haven't gone to classes with us in ages…you didn't come to my Quidditch match on Thursday…"
"Oh, then indeed something is terribly wrong with the world." Veronica grinned wickedly.
"You know what I mean." Harry gave her a pointed look. "And we did win by the way. 300 – 80."
"Well good," Veronica sighed. "Really Harry – everything's ok. I'm just kind of tired."
"Well if you say so," Harry shrugged with an I-know-something's-up-but-if-you-don't-want-to-tell-me-fine-then look. He stood up to go to the Great Hall.
"Wait." Veronica called out hesitatingly. Harry turned around. "Well actually…there is something I want to ask you."
There was a very serious look in her eyes; an expression that Harry had never quite seen before. The twinkling coyness was gone from her face, the playful smirk gone from her lips. Her eyes were distant and worried; it made them look dark and brooding…they stared up at him with a keen glance, reminding him of another pair he had seen before…but he couldn't quite place them. He took at seat besides her, transfixed.
"What is it 'Nica?" He pressed, quietly.
"I've heard stuff Harry…things about last year…" Harry
dropped his eyes, his face lined with pain at being reminded. "Look," Veronica
fumbled. "I know almost everything…it wasn't too hard once I wanted to find
out. You…I mean," she corrected herself.
Harry caught her hand in a firm grip. "Its ok," he said quietly. Veronica looked searchingly at him, but he shifted his eyes to avoid her gaze.
"Oh Harry!" she burst out suddenly. "Its just that there are so many things I'm confused about…with me…and you…and I-I just want to know if all I've heard is true…I have to know…because I care about you and I don't want to see you hurt." The words spilled from her like a flood. She felt her stomach lurch strangely as she waited for his answer.
Harry raised his head to look at her…but his green eyes were cold and stared straight past her, not making contact. "People died Veronica," he answered flatly. She watched as he lower lip quivered and then stiffened with resolve. "I don't want to talk about it." With that simple declaration, he let go of her hand and stood up.
"Harry…" Veronica began haltingly.
"No." His voice was firm and yet soft. "I want to have fun this year…I am having fun I mean. With you." He smiled forcefully at Veronica. "It's been great with you here. So don't worry yourself…with things. Let's just keep it simple." He straightened out his glasses, changing the subject abruptly. "I have Quidditch practice in ten minutes…can't be late. Honestly the twins are getting to be almost as bad as Oliver…success has gone to their heads…" He tried to chuckle lightly.
"Harry…" Veronica looked up at him pleadingly. But Harry didn't answer her.
"So I'll see you around," He said and without a backward glance, vanished out through the doorway.
Veronica stared after him, a mix of shock and hurt etched on her face. Closing her eyes, she buried her head in her arm. She felt the tears welling up behind her eyelids, threatening to overflow.
You will not cry! She demanded of herself, violently swallowing down her choking sobs. You will not! You knew it was going to happen – you jumped into this too fast… You know you can't let your guard down like that. Caring too much makes you vulnerable…you only get screwed in the end…
"But I don't care!" She told herself furiously. It was a total lie of course; but the stubborn resolution in her voice made her feel stronger somehow. She wiped the tears from her eyes with a sniff, and then just sat there in quiet reflection.
She was filled with anger…furious at Harry for brushing her
aside so indifferently…she felt the hot, stinging frustration that recalling
his words stirred up in her…keep it simple! Keep it fun! Like we are on some
kind of fling…she bristled with indignation. So after all of this…he
still doesn't trust me enough to tell me
But on further reflection she realized that Harry was probably just upset…he did say someone died didn't he, she thought suddenly, feeling a bit regretful at denouncing him so quickly. And he does have a lot to deal with…I guess I should cut him some slack…she sighed bowing her head.
After all wasn't he just following her own advice? Caring too much makes you vulnerable…that is part of the risk you take whenever you let someone in. And now Harry was shutting her out because he was afraid. And with good reason; he had much to fear if what Snape said was actually true…
She knew of course what she had to do.
I have to leave, she decided, suddenly. This is bad…for
me…for Harry…for everyone. Snape is a jerk, but he does have a point. Someone
could get hurt…and I don't want to be a burden anymore. I just don't belong
here. I need to stop pretending.
Hermione's cat Crookshanks ambled into the room. Meowing, he sprang up on the sofa. Veronica pulled him in close to her, stroking his silky coat. "But how, Crooksy, how am I going to get out of here?" She wondered out loud. The cat answered with a low purr.
****************
At the Gryffindor table Ron was busy giving Dean a play-by-play account of Thursday's Quidditch match. Harry sat down heavily by his best friend's side, unnoticed for the moment.
"So Hooch gave Fred a penalty. She said that he aimed the Bludger on purpose at Cho - which he didn't…if you ask me she seemed to be calling the game a bit too close." Ron took a deep breath. "So anyway…Davis got to take the penalty shot…I saw him take aim out of the corner of my eye…he faked to the right of course at first, like he always does …but I held steady. And then I saw the Quaffle flying towards me…so I lunged…" Ron recreated his athletic move, nearly upsetting Colin Creevy's glass of grape fruit juice. "And stretched my arm up…barely saved it with the tip of my fingers…"
"Yeah, right Ron," Hermione cut in with a sly smirk. "I saw the whole thing…it bounced off your head by accident…"
"It did not!" Ron said indignantly. "Even Hooch said that it was an amazing save…"
"I was only joking Ron," Hermione said rolling her eyes. "You know you are a good Keeper…honestly."
"Oh Ron, you are such an amazing Quidditch player!" George exclaimed in a high-pitched voice.
"You know all of the right moves," Fred continued batting his eyes.
"You can save my Quaffle any day…"
Ron's face was like the setting sun. "Oh sod off," he growled moodily, kicking Fred hard in the shin under the table. Hermione suddenly became very absorbed in the daily prophet. But Harry noticed that the tips of her ears were very pink. Usually he would have something to say about this, but today he wasn't feeling very playful.
He tried not thinking of Veronica, of the hurt expression her face wore as he left. He knew he was being unfair to her…but it was for her own good. He didn't want her to get wrapped up in all of his problems…with all of the danger that knowing him entailed. It was bad enough that his two best friends were involved…he didn't want to see her in the constant risk that they were. She was a strong person; that he knew…he admired her stoic attitude, her reassuring laugh that seemed to reduce all of his darkest nightmares into a puff of smoke…but he knew that even she couldn't scoff at the terror he had seen last year and would undoubtedly see in the future…and to see her breakdown would be more than he could bear.
It was all so simple during the summer, he thought
wistfully. Almost like I was a normal kind of teenager having a good time.
For a moment he had been able to forget the haunting events of last year; he
didn't have to think about the warning ache in his forehead or the anguished
look in the Diggory's eyes when they had found out that their son was dead. Was
it too much to ask that I get to feel unburdened once in a while? To feel the
simple pleasure of being young and with a girl that I liked to be with? It is
all so unfair…
And yet Harry knew deep down that all of these thoughts were selfish; that it was his responsibility to confront his destiny like he should…and not run away from it like a coward. Before it had been so easy to be brave; he had naively done what he thought was right without hesitation. But that had been before he knew how harsh the consequences could be. That was before he had witnessed death. The path was not going to be an easy one; he would have to face up to that.
And he would have to tell Veronica the truth. She had been in the dark long enough. He had to trust her…even though it wouldn't be easy.
"Oh bugger!" Ron was saying. "I forgot to read the chapter on the witch trails for History of Magic. No matter…not like Professor Binns encourages classroom participation…"
Hermione opened her mouth to admonish Ron about his poor study habits, when suddenly she gripped the arm of her chair. "Books! That reminds me…there was something I was going to look up at the library! I'll see you two later- have a good practice." Hastily gathering up her things, Hermione raced off out of the dinning hall.
"Nutters." Ron said tapping his head. "Completely batty."
Harry had to grin at that one. "C'mon Ron, we better go," he said.
During practice, Harry was able to forget the whole situation with Veronica for a while. Despite the fact that they were notorious pranksters, the twins were quite serious when it came to Quidditch practice. They usually didn't practice in the middle of the day, but everyone was free and the twins insisted that they would need the extra practice time for their upcoming match with Slytherin. Harry concentrated on capturing the Snitch in a series of drills while the twins timed him.
"Thirty five seconds!" Fred exclaimed delightedly as Harry zoomed overhead on his Firebolt, the little winged ball of gold clenched in his fist. "Your fastest yet Harry! I'd like to see Draco do that!"
"We've got a bloody good team this year," George said, a competitive gleam in his gray eyes. "Those Slytherin prats haven't got a chance!"
After practice Harry and Ron quickly showered, changed, and headed off to History of Magic. They were about five minutes late, but that didn't matter so much. Professor Binns hadn't even noticed his own death, let alone a couple of tardy students. Ron and Harry slipped inconspicuously into the back of the classroom.
"Where's Hermione?" Ron whispered as they took their seats. Harry looked around. Hermione's usual seat in the front of the classroom was empty.
"Don't know." Harry shrugged.
By that time Harry was too tired to worry about Veronica, or to think about anything much for that matter. He struggled helplessly against the tedious monotony of Professor Binns droning voice. His eyelids felt like they weighed a ton, as his mind slipped into a dull stupor. At his side, Ron kept nodding off and then waking up with a jerk. Seamus was already gone, his cheek rested on the desk; he was even drooling. Taking advantage of his friend's vulnerable position, Dean was trying to charm his hair so that it would turn green. With a loud scrape of quill against parchment, Ron actually fell forward his face thumping hard against the desk. He woke up with a start, rubbing the bridge of his nose. There was a thick black line across the top of his notebook.
Harry heard the back door creak as it opened on its rusty hinges. He turned around sleepily. It was Hermione. Catching Harry's eye, she put her finger to her lips and crept over to the vacant seat behind Ron and Harry. She gave Ron hard poke in the back with her wand, and he woke glaring at her grumpily.
"Wha-wha-what," he yawned. "What d'you do that for?"
"You shouldn't sleep during class," she said curtly.
"Excuse me Miss Model Student but you're the one who's ridiculously late to class!"
"Yeah, where were you?" Harry asked, stifling a yawn.
"I was in the library," Her face lit up excitedly. "You won't believe what I've found…it explains everything…"
"Miss Grant," Professor Binns gazed out into the classroom blearily. Hermione fell silent assuming that he was addressing her. "Please don't talk during class…as I was saying," and without missing a beat he dove back into his lecture on the witch trails in the 1600s and how they were completely pointless.
"I haven't missed much have I?" Hermione whispered anxiously. Ron and Harry gazed at her wearily. "I would borrow your notes…but-er…" she gazed at Harry's blank piece of paper, and Ron's incomprehensible scribbles with a black line through the middle. "Never mind…"
"Well class is almost over anyway," Ron whispered back. "You were about a an half hour late."
"No I wasn't," Hermione insisted, furrowing her brow, puzzled. "I was only about eight minutes late."
Ron and Harry looked at their watches and moaned.
They still had about fifty minutes left.
****************
It was evening. All of the students were in the Great Hall talking animatedly over dinner, the last meal they would have together before Christmas break.
But Veronica crept stealthily through the halls, her traveling duffel bag slung over her shoulder, all packed up. She desperately hoped no one would notice that she was trying to sneak out of the Hogwarts castle…
Ever since her conversation with Harry, Veronica had decided that she had to leave, and the sooner the better. It was almost Christmas so her mom would not be surprised if she flew back home; she had been planning to possibly come home for the holidays ever since the summer. She even had more than enough money for the plane ticket and for the train ride over to the London airport, thanks to her unused scholarship money that she got to study abroad.
I just need to get out of here, Veronica thought. She froze thinking she heard footsteps coming from down the hall, but it was only Peeves bouncing crazily off the walls. She took a sharp turn to avoid the poltergeist. She counted off the classroom doorways as she passed them by. When she came to the right one, she rapped on it lightly.
"Come on in," she entered the classroom, and smiled gratefully at the grinning Weasley twins.
"You just knew we were the ones to ask about sneaking out, eh?" Fred asked, eying her knowingly.
"We are the reigning experts on the matter though," George said a bit proudly.
"Right." Fred stood and walked over to the statue of the one eyed witch. He tapped it with his wand and muttered Dissendium. The hump of the witch moved to the side, exposing a tiny crack that a thin person could slide through. "So you go down here, then go down the tunnel and up some stairs. You'll come out in Honeydukes—it's a sort of candy store. You can come back the same way you came."
"Cool beans," Veronica said nodding. Both twins were staring at her amusedly, knowing smirks flitting across their lips. "What?" Veronica asked her eyes darting to the both of them.
"We were just wondering why you would need to be sneaking out…" Fred raised an eyebrow.
"A bit dodgy if you ask me…"George added, clearing his throat.
"Uh," Veronica's mind raced. "I-er…" she trailed off, at a loss of what to say.
"You wouldn't happen to be planning on a bit of nighttime...frolicking…would you now?" Fred continued, cheekily.
"With…I don't know…a certain specked, green eyed someone…" George said his eyes dancing with laughter.
"The Shrieking Shack might be a better place to go…I mean there is a reason they call it that you know…"Fred commented solemnly.
"Oh please," Veronica said rolling her eyes. But her face was quite red. At least she had been able to avoid telling the twins the truth. "You two are ridiculous. I've got to go." She stuffed her duffel bag down the hole.
"Well don't stay out too late—and you owe us!" George called after her as she disappeared down the opening.
Veronica slid for a considerable distance before landing on cold damp earth. It was pitch black. She stood fumbling around in the dark. Clutching her duffel bag, she reached into the side pocket and pulled out her house keys. Her best friend at home always made fun of the silly Disneyland mini-flashlight key chain; it was after all shaped like Pluto's head. But it also happened to emit a thin beam of light when you clicked it on. Veronica congratulated herself on being prepared, and made a mental note to tell her friend that it actually did to prove to be useful once.
She followed the tunnel for what seemed like ages, before coming upon a set of stone steps. She ascended them wearily, wishing she didn't have to drag her humongous bag along with her. At the top there was door. She opened it cautiously, hiding behind a large crate. She guessed that she was in a kind of storeroom. As soon as she could she darted out of the room, ducked behind the counter, sidestepped, and then stood up casually. The place had only a few people in it; she quickly made her way to the door, accidentally banging into a customer with her large bag.
She stepped out of Honeydukes and into the cold night air. It was a Monday evening so the streets were fairly empty. She shivered under the Hogwarts cloak that she still wore; her breath coming out like a puff of frost. She saw the Hogsmeade train station up ahead. She made her way over to it. Unfortunately it seemed to be completely deserted. Another icy blast of wind blew past, scattering bits of litter on the tracks.
"Damn." Veronica realized that there was probably some way to figure out what the train schedule was; too bad she hadn't thought to ask anyone before. She debated whether or not to ask the manager at Honeydukes, but she decided that would be a bit sketchy. She wanted to leave silently, with as little people as possible knowing anything until she was long gone. Wandering aimlessly across the British countryside didn't seem like such a hot idea either…
Veronica marched around the perimeter of the train station, wracking her brain for some kind of plan. The locket that hung from a chain around her neck banged irritatingly against her chest, so she took if off and stuck the pocket of her robes. Think…think…she repeated to herself over and over. Fred and George had detention with Filch…and right before Christmas, they had groaned…so she figured she had a couple hours before they mentioned it to the other Gryffindors and everyone came looking for her…she had to get out before then.
A loud barking caught her attention. Her head snapped up. A huge black dog was staring back at her from across the tracks. It bounded over to her side and tugged at her duffel bag with its teeth.
"Sirius?" Veronica inquired, pulling her bag back.
The dog sat up on its hind legs and actually brought its paw to its snout, indicating that she should not speak so loudly. Then with an intelligent gleam in its eyes, it cocked its head to the side. The dog began to trot off and Veronica followed it closely.
The dog led her out of the village and down a winding lane through the outlying countryside. The terrain became rocky, and soon Veronica was hiking up a hilly path, the dog bounding agilely from rock to rock up ahead. When they were very high up, the dog slipped through a narrow fissure in the rock, and Veronica squeezed through after him. They were both now in a dimly lit cave. She gazed in amazement at Buckbeak who was tethered on the end of a long rope. She had never seen a hippogriff before; she found it fascinating how a creature that was half a gray horse and half a giant eagle could be so beautiful. Buckbeak regarded her imperiously with his piercing orange eyes, and squawked loudly at her.
There was a faint pop behind her. Instead of the slow, dramatic transformation she had witnessed at the Weasley's, Sirius seemed to have altered back into human form immediately. "Bow to him," he suggested. "He won't be so agitated if you do." Feeling foolish, Veronica bowed down to the hippogriff. Buckbeak responded with a quick nod, and then lightened up considerably.
"So," Veronica turned to gaze at Sirius regretfully. Even though he was an adult wizard, Veronica noticed that he dressed sort of like a punk teenage muggle. He wore ripped jeans, boots, a T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. He even had sunglasses, resting on top of his head, pulling back rather long jet-black hair. His eyes gleamed knowingly. "What are you doing, out of the castle and at this late hour?"
He seems pretty cool, Veronica thought. Maybe if I
try to tell him what the twins thought I was doing he'll let me go on my way…
"I was-er-going to meet Harry…" she trailed off, faking an embarrassed blush.
"Nice try." She could see he was trying to be stern, but his eyes twinkled mischievously. "First of all you were by the train station…people usually use the Shrieking Shack for that type of thing…" he nodded knowingly, reminiscing on many a happy night he spent there in his youth. "And secondly I just owled Harry, saying I would talk to him tonight." He folded his arms across his chest, raising a dark eyebrow.
"Oh," Veronica let her eyes drop. Suddenly she decided to risk it all and tell Sirius the truth. For some intuitive reason she felt that she could trust him. "I have to go," she blurted out. "I can't stay here any longer." She looked up at him anxiously as he stared back, concerned. "Someone told me everything…if I stay Harry could die. Voldemort might use me as part of a plot or something…because I can resist magic for some reason…" She trailed off, looking up at him pleadingly. "You've got to let me go." She insisted flatly.
Sirius gazed at her, a strange mix of emotions playing across his face. She was so fearless…so stubborn. The flashing eyes, the way she spoke and carried herself…it all reminded him of someone he had known long ago. The resemblance was uncanny…almost unnerving. He stared down into the eyes that reminded him so much of his own and shivered suddenly.
"What is it?" Veronica asked, noting his strange expression.
Sirius just shook his head. "Veronica, I know you've probably heard all sorts of wild rumors…but you have got to stay put. Hogwarts is the safest place you can be right now."
"But Snape told me," Veronica looked up at Sirius. "He seemed pretty damn certain too."
"Snape?" Veronica watched as Sirius' face twisted up into a disgusted grimace. "Old greasy, honked-nosed Snake-face?" Veronica suppressed a giggle. "I wouldn't even trust him as far as I could throw him…"
"Harry told me about the mean things you did to him when you were in school," Veronica replied pointedly.
"Ah," Sirius's lean, clean shaven face lit up with rapture. "Those were the days…" He sighed nostalgically. "But Snaky Snape aside, I really think that you should stay around here. Its too dangerous, I wouldn't even trust you to walk around Hogsmeade by yourself…its fortunate that nothing happened." Sirius looked at his watch. "Look, I promised I would talk to Harry at nine…but I need to-er-borrow a fireplace down in the village." He gazed levelly at Veronica. "Stay put here—I'll tell Dumbledore everything you've said. And," The knowing gleam was back in his eyes. "Don't try to escape…I'm leaving a alarmscope outside of the cave. It is sensitive to the ground around the entryway. It will warn me if anyone goes in…or out…so that I can Apparate back here. I'll be right back." There was a muffled pop, and Veronica was in the cave alone.
Veronica leaned back against the wall. What was she going to do now? Of course Sirius would be too bias against Snape to listen to his warning…and she felt that even Dumbledore could not do enough to prevent Voldemort from getting a hold of her. No, it was just too risky. She would have to go away…as far away from Harry as she could. She surveyed the interior of the cave, as if she were searching for an answer. He eyes glanced over the pile of newspapers strewn across the floor, past the empty water bottle that lay in the corner, and rested on the huge hippogriff tethered to the rope that was preening its powerful wings with its beak….
She stared at Buckbeak for a couple of seconds. No that is just insane…a completely crazy idea. Don't even think about it. She dropped her eyes.
She lifted them back up a split second later. Well, she thought, considering. Was there any other way?
She lifted her chin decidedly. Aw fuck it. I'm only young
once.
Her mind made up, she stood slowly, eying the hippogriff. He stared back menacingly. Sirius's voice floated through her head…just bow to him, he'll be less agitated…timidly she bowed deeply before the majestic beast. Buckbeak bobbed his head approvingly, and Veronica moved forward, trying frantically to untie the rope with her numb fingers. She had an hour at the most…the rope fell undone to the floor. She tentatively stroked the hippogriff's feathers, which were surprising soft to the touch, and thrusting herself up, mounted Buckbeak.
C'mon, Giddy up!" Buckbeak craned his neck around to eye her like she was crazy. "C'mon please," she cooed, pleading with the hippogriff, and tugging at his reins. "We've got to go…now!" Squawking apathetically at her prodding nudges, Buckbeak trotted deeper into the cave. Veronica realized why a few seconds later; the ceiling of the cave had a huge gap that opened out into the sky. Buckbeak slowly picked up speed, with a powerful thrust of his wings, became airborne. They soared out into the starry night sky, leaving the hilltop far behind. Veronica clung desperately to the hippogriff with her knees…oh why the hell am I doing this, she thought.
But at least she had managed to escape.
**************
Coincidence would have it that as Veronica flew through the night on Buckbeak; another familiar character had taken to the sky on his shiny new Nimbus 2001.
Draco Malfoy zoomed through the air, his dark traveling cloak flying behind him in the wind. Every now and then he would sink to the ground, checking signposts, looking for a small village by the name of Ottery St. Catchpole…
Draco knew it was crazy. After all, the Weasley's hated his
guts…and there were so many of them.
But Voldemort's words rang in his ears…a constant nagging voice that had tormented him ever since that fateful night. We shall have to deal with him and his family…he had said. That chilling threat was what made his mind travel so many times against his will to Ginny Weasley, her sunlit copper hair, and sweet smile, and what had impelled him to look up the Weasley's address in his father's Ministry directory.
And what had made him sneak out of his house late at night…
Draco dropped to through the clouds again, after making sure no muggles were around. Hovering a few inches above the ground, he stared at a signpost. Apparently he had just entered Ottery St. Catchpole. He took to the sky again, bearing north. Below him the village lights twinkled invitingly as Draco stuttered with the cold. He came upon a small house, strangely lopsided as if extra rooms had been haphazardly glued to it crazily with magic.
This must be the place, Draco thought, perhaps a bit disdainfully.
He circled around the Burrow like a hawk, not sure what the best approach of entry would be. He thought of just simply knocking on the door…but then he imagined the twins answering it and turning him into a ferret, and leaving his to fend for himself against the garden gnomes. He thought of sneaking through the garden to the back door…but then he imagined Ron feeding him to a rather large Venus Fly Trap…
Bugger, he thought whistling through his teeth.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a glimmer of light shinning out of one of the upstairs windows. He swooped in closer (but not too close) to investigate.
As fortune would have it, it was Ginny's room. She must have left already for the holidays, he thought. He gazed at her for a minute, she was running a comb through her thick tresses; they fell about her like fiery waves. She was singing to herself (Draco would have probably found the scene less appealing if he could hear that it was WLB's new song), and she looked so impossibly gorgeous with that sweet smile spread across her lips. Draco felt a pang as he realized that she never smiled at him that way…that type of dreamy look was always reserved for Harry. He glanced at her for a few more moments, before realizing with a shock how impossibly dodgy he was being…staring at her through the window like some sort of stalker. He would have to go talk to her. Running his fingers through his white-blonde hair, and flinging his cloak dramatically around his neck, he swooped down to her window…
This is kind of like…what was that bloody play we did for
muggle studies? Ah yes. Romeo and Juliet. Draco grinned confidently to
himself. Girls like all of that romantic rot…she'll probably melt when she
sees that I have come to her rescue…
He hovered outside of her window. Ginny's back was turned; she was flipping through a magazine, and sitting on her bed. Draco rapped on the windowpane. Ginny turned around curiously, but her curiosity immediately turned to shock and then indignation. She marched over to her window and flung it open. All sweetness gone from her lips, and her eyes were flashing with their usual wrath that she reserved only for Draco.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?" she burst out.
"But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?" Draco quoted cheekily, unperturbed by her anger. "A word, my fair Virginia? I need to talk to you." He favored her with his sexiest smile.
"Then why don't you come to the door like a normal person, you git?"
And with that Ginny Weasley slammed the window shut in Draco's face.
**************
Well that's all for now…please review! It is so
motivating to know that people are actually reading your fic…makes you want to
write more. And a HUGE thanks to everyone who reviewed! It is way too
late for me to make a thank you list…but I promise to do one next time. And you
all know who you are. I love you guys!