1 A/N: No, I don't own any of these characters except Drusella, which is
part of the Ministry, which I DON'T own so I probably don't own Drusella
either. Um, yeah . . .
2 Chapter 17
An Ally
" I don't believe you. Why would you want to help ME?" Harry demanded to know. Draco shrugged in reply.
" I don't know, myself. I don't know. . . pity? It could be pity." Draco thought about it, his eyes flickering. " Maybe it's good will, but I don't think I have any . . ." He laughed bitterly.
" How can you help me, though?" Harry asked.
" First things off, I know that you don't have anyone else to rely on. Without that Granger girl and that Weasley kid, you don't have anyone. Neville doesn't know his ass from his elbow and Colin can't say a sentence without mentioning his camera." Draco had a point, even if it was a point cruelly made. " Besides, I know enough on Rebecca Crick to get her swamped."
" Really? Like what?" Harry asked.
" First of all, she despises both you and Mudblood." Draco watched Harry's facial muscles tighten in anger and he said: "What? She is one."
" Don't call her that." Harry ordered.
" I can call her whatever I want." Draco replied, then continued: " She wanted to creep you out, to keep you from playing as captain. She tried to kill your owl, Henpeck or whatever you named it."
" Hedwig." Harry corrected.
" Whatever." Draco murmured, then continued: " I know she didn't kill Hen - Hedwig, since I saw you with your owl. Of course, you're not the sharpest crayon in the box, are you, Potter? You honestly want the entire school to believe that your owl's dead, when you walk around half the time with it on your shoulder?"
Harry realized he had been careless.
" And another thing. Rebecca can't stand that Granger is smarter then her. She hates the idea. She told me herself." Draco grinned. "Right before she kissed me, too."
Harry grimaced at the mental picture that crept up into his mind. It wasn't a very pretty sight. " So Rebecca wrote those notes to Hermione?"
" Nope. I did." Draco admitted. " Swear you won't say it to anyone, or I'll have you hanged." The words hung in the air, and Harry knew that Draco meant business.
Harry nodded slowly. " I noticed that the paper had your father's crest on it, and it was sort of in your handwriting. You write sort of girlish."
" Shut up, Potter. At least I can read my own notes." Draco was referring to last week, when Harry was to read his notes to his Potions class so that Snape could give him a mark on his note-taking. Harry couldn't even read his own name, that's how messy they were. Instead of saying 'Harry', he had said 'Harpy'.
Harry felt his ears redden.
" Rebecca tried to set me up, I know it. She told me she wanted to write the notes to a girl she hated. Rebecca insisted that I wrote the notes, saying that the girl wouldn't recognize the handwriting then." Malfoy frowned. " She knew Granger would try to find out who wrote them. She went as far as to get a paper with the Malfoy Crest on it." Malfoy's hands were in fists now.
" So you're in this for revenge, too." Harry said.
" Precisely." Malfoy's eyes were burning with rage. " Nobody messes with me. I can get MYSELF into trouble fine enough. I don't need to be set up for it."
Harry laughed at that.
" You think it's funny, do you?" Malfoy looked at Harry.
" Sort of." Harry replied.
Malfoy scoffed and then continued: " I figured out that Granger got the letters, since I heard you in the library, talking about it. I got out of there right away, of course, I'm not stupid enough to just stand there."
Harry asked: " Why were you in the library?"
" I had to write that stupid paper for Trelawney. She had me write a 10-page essay on how palm reading does predict the future and how it does tell the truth. Baloney." Malfoy muttered.
" Oh."
" Anyhow. . ." Malfoy's lips twitched upwards at the corners, just briefly. " . . . You probably don't know that Rebecca insists on wearing her shoes, all the time, no matter what. She never takes them off, not even when she sleeps."
" Why?" Harry asked.
" I don't know." Malfoy replied. " I figured there had to be a reason. And I do know that she studied English Whitescales in Beuxbaxton. That's what she told me."
" But. . . Beauxbaxton students should have FRENCH accents, right?" Harry asked.
" I suppose." Malfoy shrugged. " That doesn't matter though, does it?"
" What country is she originally from, anyway? You can't make me believe she's from Britain." Harry said.
" She never told me." Malfoy admitted.
" So, what else can you tell me that could be significant?" Harry asked. He watched as Malfoy brushed back a few light strands of hair.
Draco was lost in thought. He paced from Harry's bed to Goyle's, and then back again. Goyle stirred so that he could see his close friend. Draco motioned for him to keep sleeping, though, and Goyle obliged.
Finally, Draco said: " I think she might be involved with You-Know- Who."
" Voldemort!" Harry breathed.
Malfoy flinched.
" Sorry." Harry dropped his voice to a low murmur: " Do you know about her family past? Maybe her family has a history with You-Know-Who. It could be a reason for why she might hate me, too."
" She's not how I imagine death eaters looking." Malfoy replied.
" Of course." Harry remembered Rebecca in his mind. Despite her heavily painted eyelashes and red-painted lips, she was rather beautiful. Harry felt his stomach knot up at this thought. Hermione. . . think of Hermione. . . his mind buzzed guiltily. There were catches in having a girlfriend.
They both were silent.
" I liked her, though." Malfoy admitted. "She had this dark humor. I suppose she sort of used me though." He sighed.
Harry looked at Madame Pomfrey, who had walked into the room just then. " Alright, boys, wrap it up. Harry needs his sleep."
" How cute. Have a nice nap, Potter." Draco teased, his eyes rolling upwards, silver-blonde hair shimmering in the moonlight streaming through the windows. He made a point by getting up just then and next he walked out, cold and nonchalant. He always had a way of making his leave or entrance without appearing to care about anyone or anything - and it impressed Harry.
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Harry thought long and hard about how Draco Malfoy wanted to help him. It was an odd choice for an ally. Draco had never been his friend, though they weren't publicly 'enemies' at the time, either. Draco, of course, had his revenge through this on Rebecca. Harry could see why Draco would want revenge on her - she was, indeed, the one that put him through a lot of trouble. He could have been expelled for the things she had him go through.
Who was the person that Harry saw, though? This question suddenly floated to the top of all of Harry's other ones. The person could have been a Death Eater. Why was the person barefoot? Did this have a connection to Rebecca Crick?
Harry fell asleep with these stormy thoughts.
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The next day, Drusella returned to question Harry again. This time, she was dressed in yet another exaggerated granny get-up. Her eyes peered at Harry through the odd-shaped glasses as she said: " Hello, dear. I came back with some more questions for you!"
" Lucky me." Harry whispered bitterly.
She wagged her finger at him. " Now, now, Harry! This is important. The Ministry of Magic needs to know." She spoke slowly, as if he were four.
" Talk to me like I'm fifteen, woman." Harry exploded.
Her lips tightened into thin slivers. She reminded Harry of Malfoy when he was really angry about something. Then, she said: " Fine, then." Her words stung, oddly enough. " I'll speak with you as an adult. But I hope you know it isn't my choice to be here. The Ministry does some weird things to its workers, and I'm not going to disobey orders just because I feel its inappropriate." She pulled off her glasses. " I don't wear glasses, anyhow." Drusella smiled.
Harry smiled back, finally satisfied with talking to Drusella. The whole bit about feeling more comfortable with a grandmother image wasn't true.
" So, what are the questions?" Harry asked.
" First of all, I want you to describe anything particular about that figure you were chasing again. Is there anything your ears caught, a rhythm in their chanting, maybe?" Drusella was about to add 'dear', then bit her tongue. She had grown used to her grandmother form.
Harry closed his eyes, trying to remember. " My scar felt tingly when I was by the person. I remember that the voice was animal, a hissing sort of voice. Not a snake-voice, I'd have been able to understand that."
" Ah. Right, you are a Parselmouth, am I correct?" Drusella asked.
" Right." Harry nodded curtly. " It's a bit of an odd characteristic of mine, really . . ."
" Please, only facts." Drusella said in a no-nonsense voice.
" Sorry." Harry said, and then continued: " I couldn't tell if it was a man or woman, as I said before. But I do know that it wasn't a child, it had to be someone older then me. It was a very adult posture." Harry added quickly: " They had no shoes. I suppose the feet were sort of male's feet. They were a bit hairy, and the toes all crooked and dirty."
She wrote that down. " Good! You're beginning to remember things, then."
" Yes." Harry agreed.
" So the feet tilt towards the fact that it was a male." She wrote that down. " Did you remember anything else, in particular?"
" No." Harry replied. " Can I leave the hospital wing now? I'm fine, really! And who was the boy that found me?"
" Oh! The boy that found you?" She smiled. " I suppose I can leak out some information to you, Harry. It was a little second year - Dennis Creevey. He nearly died of fright."
" Poor Dennis." Harry commented.
" I know." She nodded. " We feel we should tell you some other things, too, such as that we believe that a Death Eater attacked you, though we don't know how one even got onto Hogwarts grounds. It could possibly be one of the students, though I don't know how such a young child could be one." She said 'we' as in referring to herself and for the entire Ministry of Magic.
" I also want to know anything you can tell me about Charlie Weasley; you know, the guy that had the Dark Mark scarred onto his face?" Harry said.
" Oh! Him." She grew stern-faced. " I'm begging the Ministry to release his case. We are trying to match the leftover magical waste and powders inside the scar to an actual wand, but it could take weeks."
" Doesn't anyone care about Charlie's health?" Harry cried out.
" I'm sorry, I cannot continue this interview." She stood abruptly. " I can only give out a certain amount of information, and I cannot cross any lines that the Ministry had drawn for me as to what I can release to you and what I cannot."
" The Ministry. . ." Harry had a sudden dislike to it now. "When, at least, can I leave this place?"
" In a few days, Harry. We have to process the information on you, too." Drusella replied. Harry felt infuriated.
" A few days? Sort of like what you said about Charlie? It's been over two months now, and you're not doing bull about him!" Harry cried out.
" My sincerest apologies." She replied, stiffly, and left the hospital wing.
Goyle croaked from the bed beside Harry's: " What's sincere mean?"
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Harry wished that he wasn't all alone in the hospital wing. Ron had come to visit him four times, and Ginny came six (she always had something for him, either a Chocolate Frog or some jellybeans). Draco didn't come back for two days. Then, he returned the fifth day after Harry had been first admitted into the hospital wing.
Harry had never been so happy to see Draco in his life. The moment the other boy walked into the room, Harry cried out: "Did you find anything out? Anything at all?"
" Calm down, Potter, before you wet yourself." Draco replied, coolly. He walked all the way inside the room, until he was seated on the bed across from Harry's, and only then did he begin to speak: " I didn't do a single thing to help you."
" What? How do you expect us to be able to do anything if you're . . ."
" Shut up, will you? I'm not done." Draco interrupted him. "Don't you know anything? You DON'T interrupt ME and get away with it."
" Sorry." Harry sat back in his bed, his back pressed against the wooden backboard. It was cold and hard, and the wood smelled richly of birch. Harry tried not to appear impatient as Draco reveled in how he was making Harry so frustrated.
" I'm not going to just go and scour the books for you, Potter. You have to do something, too." Draco told him.
" How can I? I'm stuck in here, remember?" Harry grumbled. "The Ministry says. . ."
" The Ministry doesn't have to KNOW if you leave." Draco's words chilled Harry down to the spine. Harry suddenly realized what Draco was hinting at - they could make a stealthy, in-the-middle-of-the-night escape.
Draco continued after a few seconds of letting the previous information sink in: " I know that I don't even have to be doing this, so I'll only be working on your little case if you do something, too." Draco crossed his legs and sat Indian-style, his head propped on his arm in thought. " I just need to know if you have any knowledge of casting Invisibility Spells."
" None." Harry shook his head.
" Drat." Draco grumbled. " I could shove you in a sack and pretend I'm Santa Claus - - "
Harry burst out laughing.
" Hey. I'm thinking here." Draco said, with a smile.
" Oh." Harry fell silent.
" If there was some way to make you invisible." Draco mused. " Make both of us invisible, actually, since then it would be odd if I'm walking down the hall talking to some invisible person."
Harry tried not to laugh. He had never thought Draco had much of a sense of humor, but he was proven wrong. Harry thought hard. " I don't think there is a spell that can do that, at least, not from what we learned so far in school."
" Pity." Draco used the word as if he was saying an entire sentence.
" I wish I paid attention in Potions. Didn't Snape talk about it?" Harry asked.
" Who knows? Is there anyone who really pays attention to that old buzzard's lessons?" Draco wanted to know.
" I thought you liked Potions!" Harry exclaimed. He had always associated Potions with Draco, actually, since Draco always seemed to get favorite treatment in that class. Draco was always shown in Snape's class as the attentive, deserving pupil, at least according to the professor. Now Harry couldn't understand how Draco could not appreciate being favored.
" I despise it. I don't really like school much, I believe I know enough already to make it through life." Draco said. " I can pretend I like Potions rather well, at times. Its nice having Snape favor me, actually. Who doesn't like a nice mark for doing absolutely nothing?" He laughed wryly.
Harry smiled. " I suppose."
Suddenly, Harry remembered something crucial - the Invisibility Cloak! But would he dare tell Draco about it? Draco wasn't nearly the trustworthy companion, and he couldn't just tell him all his secrets right off. He didn't even know if he could trust him entirely yet!
" What's wrong with you, Goyle?" Draco suddenly burst through Harry's thoughts. Draco was looking at Goyle with contempt, since Goyle was letting out a low, pained moan and his eyes were rolling up into his head.
" My stomach. . ." Goyle groaned out.
Harry shot up out of the bed and then cried out: "Madame Pomfrey! Madame Pomfrey, Goyle's going to throw up again!"
Goyle's eyelids twitched, and his mouth slowly fell open, the tongue sticking out, and he let out a cough that racked his body. Then, Goyle grasped for a white bowl on the side of his bed and was ready to use it for not-so-pleasant purposes when Draco said: "Hold on."
He pulled his wand out and then tapped Goyle's head. "Vomitius Healus." Goyle suddenly stopped groaning. His stomach let out an odd gurgle, but he otherwise seemed a lot better now. He glanced at Draco and said: "What did you do?"
" It's something I picked up. Keeps a person from vomiting." Draco's face twisted into a look of discomfort. "Don't ask how I know it, since it's not a pleasant story." Harry didn't ask, and wasn't going to, since he could tell already that it was an unpleasant story.
Madame Pomfrey had run into the room, and seeing Goyle's odd recovery, she exclaimed: "The Vomitius Healus curse! Brilliant! Who used it?"
Draco raised his hand, awkwardly.
" Mr. Malfoy!" She was surprised. " Well, nice job, there. I couldn't have done it better myself." She sat down beside Goyle and patted his back. " Would you like me to bring you some chicken soup, dear?"
Goyle shook his head. " I think I'll go to sleep, if you don't mind, lady." Then, he turned over and fell asleep.
" Poor fellow. He's horribly tired. Tossed and turned all night, and then sleeps the day away now." Madame Pomfrey shook her head and then stood to leave the room.
Malfoy and Harry were left almost alone again, so that they'd be able to continue speaking.
" I think I might ask around for an Invisibility Potion, or something. . ." Draco suddenly shook his head. " No, but then everyone will think I'm going to do something bad and then they'll not tell me anything."
Harry was now greatly debating whether to tell Draco about his Invisibility Cloak. Finally, he decided to do just that. "Draco, I think I have to tell you something."
" What?" He looked at Harry with a curious face.
" Promise on everything, on your Malfoy honor, that you won't tell?" Harry asked.
Draco's eyes widened. Harry knew that if Draco swore on the Malfoy honor, he would never break that oath. Draco would probably rather die then blemish the Malfoy name. Harry watched him nod.
" Swear it." Harry demanded. A nod meant nothing.
" Alright. I swear on the Malfoy honor." Draco said, a bit reluctant. Draco didn't know what he was getting into, after all.
" In my first year, I received an Invisibility Cloak." Harry began. " It was my father's before me, and I don't know who's before that."
" Was that the reason I saw your stupid head floating in Hogsmeade?" Draco exclaimed.
" Yep." Harry nodded.
" I ought to kill you! It caused me weeks of puzzlement, you dimwit." Draco huffed out, his arms crossing. "Really, how childish, spooking innocent people like that."
" Be quiet and let me finish!" Harry said, harshly. Draco's expression grew to a horrified one, and Draco was ready to say something mean to Harry about telling him to be quiet, but Harry quickly began to speak again:
" I think that if you can manage to bring the Invisibility Cloak up here, we can sneak out at night and go to the library and look some things up."
" A good plan and all, but. . . where is this cloak, Mr. Genius?" Malfoy asked.
Harry gulped. " In my bureau, past the Gryffindor common room."
" Exactly. You don't think I'll be able to go into the Gryffindor tower unnoticed now, do you?" Draco questioned.
" Uh, I suppose not." Harry said. Now he was more stumped then ever. " I guess it would give everyone an awesome fright, especially in the Gryffindor common room, if you were to just walk in."
" I could try and get in there while everyone's asleep." Draco finally said.
Harry didn't want to tell this to Draco, but he didn't think he should be telling a Slytherin the Gryffindor password. It had been decided that this week's password was 'Frog Mucus', which was something made up by the Weasley twins. Harry looked down at the sheets and said: " I don't think I should tell you the password."
" The password!" Draco said, remembering the single obstruction that kept anyone unwanted out of the Gryffindor common room. " I completely forgot about that." He then pushed back his light blonde hair again, for it had fallen forwards across his forehead again. Harry realized that it could be forgiven if the week's password was given away to Draco.
" Maybe I could tell you, if you don't use it for any WRONG purposes?" Harry said, hoping that Draco would keep his word.
" I don't know. . ." Draco thought about it. The fact that he'd have access to a rival house's common room was tempting, after all. Draco finally sighed and said: "Alright, I do think I'll just have a look around, though!"
" You can look around at things, but don't look through anything." Harry had a sudden worried thought that Draco would discover his photo album, with Hermione's picture surrounded by little hearts, which he'd drawn in by a felt-tipped red marker.
" Fair enough." Draco said. " So what's the password?"
Harry hesitated, then said: "Frog Mucus."
" Amusing." Draco grinned. " Slytherin has the foulest passwords, I really think they need a bit of a touching-up."
" What are they?"
" Must I tell you?" Draco asked.
" I told you the Gryffindor password." Harry countered, his mind bent on finding out what could be so interesting about the Slytherin passwords.
" Well. . ." Draco reflected. " IN the past, they were some odd things - I remember 'Potter Stinks' back in second year. 'Dumbledore is a Loon' worked for a few hours, but the portrait grew upset about it." Malfoy grinned. " We also had 'Blood and Gore', which was an odd choice."
" Not very friendly passwords, are they?" Harry said.
" Nope." Malfoy seemed pleased. " Now! Tell me, precisely, where you hid your little cloak. If you want me to find it, then tell me exactly. It's not easy to search aimlessly for a rag in the middle of the night."
" It isn't a rag, it's a perfectly good cloak." Harry said, tired of Draco's wisecracks just a bit. " I put it in my bureau drawer, the top one. It's by a pair of khakis. I had to move the cloak since Neville's been having so many accidents lately that it's hard to keep cleaning things up and NOT find the cloak."
" So it's in your drawer." Draco sighed. " I guess I'm stuck flipping through your clothing, like some sort of trash-picker." He actually shuddered.
Harry shook his head. " Really, Draco, you like to make everything sound as if it's a torture for you."
" Who says it isn't?" He asked, standing up. His eyes stopped on his wand, hidden in his robes. He pulled it out and then swung it through the air. " I guess I'll get going before anyone finds out I've been up here TALKING with Potter." He seemed disgusted with himself.
" Malfoy?" Harry asked.
" What?" He turned, his wand readied. A series of sparkles fluttered from the tip, and he frowned.
" Why did you stick up for Ron and Ginny, when the other Slytherins were teasing them?" The question had bothered Harry for a while.
" So Weasley told you." Draco's cheeks reddened. " I stuck up more for Ginny then anyone, she was there with him, you know."
" I see." Harry smiled.
" You take that grin off your face, Potter." Malfoy threatened. "You forget that I even said that, in fact."
Harry nodded and said: " Don't worry, it's already forgotten."
Malfoy left the room, and Harry couldn't help but burst out laughing into his pillow. So Draco Malfoy, official Weasley-hater, might have a bit of a crush on Ginny Weasley! Or perhaps it was just his Malfoy honor to protect a girl? But he didn't seem too enthralled in sticking up for Hermione - he was rather doing just the opposite.
" I guess I'll never know some things." Harry whispered to himself, as Madame Pomfrey dimmed the lights in the room.
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Harry sat there, hoping Hermione would forgive him. It hurt him deep inside to think that he might have mortally upset her. He always cared for her a bit more then he let on, even. Sometimes she would make his stomach just melt.
The remnants of their evening sitting together in front of the crackling fire in the common room were only a bowl with melted chocolate lining the bottom, a few Kisses wrappers melted into the mix.
Harry could only close his eyes and try to remember her, since it had been about a week now since he had last seen her. He could see her thoughtful, intelligent eyes. This was the first thing he remember about her. He always thought it was silly, the way people called eyes 'windows to the souls'. But with Hermione, this was true. Hermione's eyes were windows. They showed her gentle, yet great intelligence that beamed through her, radiant as a rainbow. They blazed with golden sparkles when she was angry and glowed with a subtle shine when she was happy. They were lined with her tears when she was sad.
He wondered if she was thinking of him, too. Was she sitting in the common room, gazing out the window, thinking of Harry, flying across the sky on his Firebolt, sending branches of leaves into a wild tumult as he flew by them. Harry hoped she was thinking of him, and he hoped she was considering going to visit him.
It was growing dark, and Harry wondered how Draco would possibly get into the common room. Would he be caught and face getting thrown from school? Would he be able to find the cloak, deep inside the depths of Harry's bureau drawer?
Harry tossed over onto his side and he finally fell asleep to troubled, dizzying dreams.
A/N: Okay the next chapter will be Draco breaking in to Gryffindor Common Room and rummaging through Harry's stuff. I promise it will be funny at least a bit (I like adding humor to my stories). It will not be about Harry, it will fix on Draco's endeavors. Its for the purpose of the plot, since I am kinda tired of writing about Harry all bored and waiting in the common room.
2 Chapter 17
An Ally
" I don't believe you. Why would you want to help ME?" Harry demanded to know. Draco shrugged in reply.
" I don't know, myself. I don't know. . . pity? It could be pity." Draco thought about it, his eyes flickering. " Maybe it's good will, but I don't think I have any . . ." He laughed bitterly.
" How can you help me, though?" Harry asked.
" First things off, I know that you don't have anyone else to rely on. Without that Granger girl and that Weasley kid, you don't have anyone. Neville doesn't know his ass from his elbow and Colin can't say a sentence without mentioning his camera." Draco had a point, even if it was a point cruelly made. " Besides, I know enough on Rebecca Crick to get her swamped."
" Really? Like what?" Harry asked.
" First of all, she despises both you and Mudblood." Draco watched Harry's facial muscles tighten in anger and he said: "What? She is one."
" Don't call her that." Harry ordered.
" I can call her whatever I want." Draco replied, then continued: " She wanted to creep you out, to keep you from playing as captain. She tried to kill your owl, Henpeck or whatever you named it."
" Hedwig." Harry corrected.
" Whatever." Draco murmured, then continued: " I know she didn't kill Hen - Hedwig, since I saw you with your owl. Of course, you're not the sharpest crayon in the box, are you, Potter? You honestly want the entire school to believe that your owl's dead, when you walk around half the time with it on your shoulder?"
Harry realized he had been careless.
" And another thing. Rebecca can't stand that Granger is smarter then her. She hates the idea. She told me herself." Draco grinned. "Right before she kissed me, too."
Harry grimaced at the mental picture that crept up into his mind. It wasn't a very pretty sight. " So Rebecca wrote those notes to Hermione?"
" Nope. I did." Draco admitted. " Swear you won't say it to anyone, or I'll have you hanged." The words hung in the air, and Harry knew that Draco meant business.
Harry nodded slowly. " I noticed that the paper had your father's crest on it, and it was sort of in your handwriting. You write sort of girlish."
" Shut up, Potter. At least I can read my own notes." Draco was referring to last week, when Harry was to read his notes to his Potions class so that Snape could give him a mark on his note-taking. Harry couldn't even read his own name, that's how messy they were. Instead of saying 'Harry', he had said 'Harpy'.
Harry felt his ears redden.
" Rebecca tried to set me up, I know it. She told me she wanted to write the notes to a girl she hated. Rebecca insisted that I wrote the notes, saying that the girl wouldn't recognize the handwriting then." Malfoy frowned. " She knew Granger would try to find out who wrote them. She went as far as to get a paper with the Malfoy Crest on it." Malfoy's hands were in fists now.
" So you're in this for revenge, too." Harry said.
" Precisely." Malfoy's eyes were burning with rage. " Nobody messes with me. I can get MYSELF into trouble fine enough. I don't need to be set up for it."
Harry laughed at that.
" You think it's funny, do you?" Malfoy looked at Harry.
" Sort of." Harry replied.
Malfoy scoffed and then continued: " I figured out that Granger got the letters, since I heard you in the library, talking about it. I got out of there right away, of course, I'm not stupid enough to just stand there."
Harry asked: " Why were you in the library?"
" I had to write that stupid paper for Trelawney. She had me write a 10-page essay on how palm reading does predict the future and how it does tell the truth. Baloney." Malfoy muttered.
" Oh."
" Anyhow. . ." Malfoy's lips twitched upwards at the corners, just briefly. " . . . You probably don't know that Rebecca insists on wearing her shoes, all the time, no matter what. She never takes them off, not even when she sleeps."
" Why?" Harry asked.
" I don't know." Malfoy replied. " I figured there had to be a reason. And I do know that she studied English Whitescales in Beuxbaxton. That's what she told me."
" But. . . Beauxbaxton students should have FRENCH accents, right?" Harry asked.
" I suppose." Malfoy shrugged. " That doesn't matter though, does it?"
" What country is she originally from, anyway? You can't make me believe she's from Britain." Harry said.
" She never told me." Malfoy admitted.
" So, what else can you tell me that could be significant?" Harry asked. He watched as Malfoy brushed back a few light strands of hair.
Draco was lost in thought. He paced from Harry's bed to Goyle's, and then back again. Goyle stirred so that he could see his close friend. Draco motioned for him to keep sleeping, though, and Goyle obliged.
Finally, Draco said: " I think she might be involved with You-Know- Who."
" Voldemort!" Harry breathed.
Malfoy flinched.
" Sorry." Harry dropped his voice to a low murmur: " Do you know about her family past? Maybe her family has a history with You-Know-Who. It could be a reason for why she might hate me, too."
" She's not how I imagine death eaters looking." Malfoy replied.
" Of course." Harry remembered Rebecca in his mind. Despite her heavily painted eyelashes and red-painted lips, she was rather beautiful. Harry felt his stomach knot up at this thought. Hermione. . . think of Hermione. . . his mind buzzed guiltily. There were catches in having a girlfriend.
They both were silent.
" I liked her, though." Malfoy admitted. "She had this dark humor. I suppose she sort of used me though." He sighed.
Harry looked at Madame Pomfrey, who had walked into the room just then. " Alright, boys, wrap it up. Harry needs his sleep."
" How cute. Have a nice nap, Potter." Draco teased, his eyes rolling upwards, silver-blonde hair shimmering in the moonlight streaming through the windows. He made a point by getting up just then and next he walked out, cold and nonchalant. He always had a way of making his leave or entrance without appearing to care about anyone or anything - and it impressed Harry.
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Harry thought long and hard about how Draco Malfoy wanted to help him. It was an odd choice for an ally. Draco had never been his friend, though they weren't publicly 'enemies' at the time, either. Draco, of course, had his revenge through this on Rebecca. Harry could see why Draco would want revenge on her - she was, indeed, the one that put him through a lot of trouble. He could have been expelled for the things she had him go through.
Who was the person that Harry saw, though? This question suddenly floated to the top of all of Harry's other ones. The person could have been a Death Eater. Why was the person barefoot? Did this have a connection to Rebecca Crick?
Harry fell asleep with these stormy thoughts.
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The next day, Drusella returned to question Harry again. This time, she was dressed in yet another exaggerated granny get-up. Her eyes peered at Harry through the odd-shaped glasses as she said: " Hello, dear. I came back with some more questions for you!"
" Lucky me." Harry whispered bitterly.
She wagged her finger at him. " Now, now, Harry! This is important. The Ministry of Magic needs to know." She spoke slowly, as if he were four.
" Talk to me like I'm fifteen, woman." Harry exploded.
Her lips tightened into thin slivers. She reminded Harry of Malfoy when he was really angry about something. Then, she said: " Fine, then." Her words stung, oddly enough. " I'll speak with you as an adult. But I hope you know it isn't my choice to be here. The Ministry does some weird things to its workers, and I'm not going to disobey orders just because I feel its inappropriate." She pulled off her glasses. " I don't wear glasses, anyhow." Drusella smiled.
Harry smiled back, finally satisfied with talking to Drusella. The whole bit about feeling more comfortable with a grandmother image wasn't true.
" So, what are the questions?" Harry asked.
" First of all, I want you to describe anything particular about that figure you were chasing again. Is there anything your ears caught, a rhythm in their chanting, maybe?" Drusella was about to add 'dear', then bit her tongue. She had grown used to her grandmother form.
Harry closed his eyes, trying to remember. " My scar felt tingly when I was by the person. I remember that the voice was animal, a hissing sort of voice. Not a snake-voice, I'd have been able to understand that."
" Ah. Right, you are a Parselmouth, am I correct?" Drusella asked.
" Right." Harry nodded curtly. " It's a bit of an odd characteristic of mine, really . . ."
" Please, only facts." Drusella said in a no-nonsense voice.
" Sorry." Harry said, and then continued: " I couldn't tell if it was a man or woman, as I said before. But I do know that it wasn't a child, it had to be someone older then me. It was a very adult posture." Harry added quickly: " They had no shoes. I suppose the feet were sort of male's feet. They were a bit hairy, and the toes all crooked and dirty."
She wrote that down. " Good! You're beginning to remember things, then."
" Yes." Harry agreed.
" So the feet tilt towards the fact that it was a male." She wrote that down. " Did you remember anything else, in particular?"
" No." Harry replied. " Can I leave the hospital wing now? I'm fine, really! And who was the boy that found me?"
" Oh! The boy that found you?" She smiled. " I suppose I can leak out some information to you, Harry. It was a little second year - Dennis Creevey. He nearly died of fright."
" Poor Dennis." Harry commented.
" I know." She nodded. " We feel we should tell you some other things, too, such as that we believe that a Death Eater attacked you, though we don't know how one even got onto Hogwarts grounds. It could possibly be one of the students, though I don't know how such a young child could be one." She said 'we' as in referring to herself and for the entire Ministry of Magic.
" I also want to know anything you can tell me about Charlie Weasley; you know, the guy that had the Dark Mark scarred onto his face?" Harry said.
" Oh! Him." She grew stern-faced. " I'm begging the Ministry to release his case. We are trying to match the leftover magical waste and powders inside the scar to an actual wand, but it could take weeks."
" Doesn't anyone care about Charlie's health?" Harry cried out.
" I'm sorry, I cannot continue this interview." She stood abruptly. " I can only give out a certain amount of information, and I cannot cross any lines that the Ministry had drawn for me as to what I can release to you and what I cannot."
" The Ministry. . ." Harry had a sudden dislike to it now. "When, at least, can I leave this place?"
" In a few days, Harry. We have to process the information on you, too." Drusella replied. Harry felt infuriated.
" A few days? Sort of like what you said about Charlie? It's been over two months now, and you're not doing bull about him!" Harry cried out.
" My sincerest apologies." She replied, stiffly, and left the hospital wing.
Goyle croaked from the bed beside Harry's: " What's sincere mean?"
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Harry wished that he wasn't all alone in the hospital wing. Ron had come to visit him four times, and Ginny came six (she always had something for him, either a Chocolate Frog or some jellybeans). Draco didn't come back for two days. Then, he returned the fifth day after Harry had been first admitted into the hospital wing.
Harry had never been so happy to see Draco in his life. The moment the other boy walked into the room, Harry cried out: "Did you find anything out? Anything at all?"
" Calm down, Potter, before you wet yourself." Draco replied, coolly. He walked all the way inside the room, until he was seated on the bed across from Harry's, and only then did he begin to speak: " I didn't do a single thing to help you."
" What? How do you expect us to be able to do anything if you're . . ."
" Shut up, will you? I'm not done." Draco interrupted him. "Don't you know anything? You DON'T interrupt ME and get away with it."
" Sorry." Harry sat back in his bed, his back pressed against the wooden backboard. It was cold and hard, and the wood smelled richly of birch. Harry tried not to appear impatient as Draco reveled in how he was making Harry so frustrated.
" I'm not going to just go and scour the books for you, Potter. You have to do something, too." Draco told him.
" How can I? I'm stuck in here, remember?" Harry grumbled. "The Ministry says. . ."
" The Ministry doesn't have to KNOW if you leave." Draco's words chilled Harry down to the spine. Harry suddenly realized what Draco was hinting at - they could make a stealthy, in-the-middle-of-the-night escape.
Draco continued after a few seconds of letting the previous information sink in: " I know that I don't even have to be doing this, so I'll only be working on your little case if you do something, too." Draco crossed his legs and sat Indian-style, his head propped on his arm in thought. " I just need to know if you have any knowledge of casting Invisibility Spells."
" None." Harry shook his head.
" Drat." Draco grumbled. " I could shove you in a sack and pretend I'm Santa Claus - - "
Harry burst out laughing.
" Hey. I'm thinking here." Draco said, with a smile.
" Oh." Harry fell silent.
" If there was some way to make you invisible." Draco mused. " Make both of us invisible, actually, since then it would be odd if I'm walking down the hall talking to some invisible person."
Harry tried not to laugh. He had never thought Draco had much of a sense of humor, but he was proven wrong. Harry thought hard. " I don't think there is a spell that can do that, at least, not from what we learned so far in school."
" Pity." Draco used the word as if he was saying an entire sentence.
" I wish I paid attention in Potions. Didn't Snape talk about it?" Harry asked.
" Who knows? Is there anyone who really pays attention to that old buzzard's lessons?" Draco wanted to know.
" I thought you liked Potions!" Harry exclaimed. He had always associated Potions with Draco, actually, since Draco always seemed to get favorite treatment in that class. Draco was always shown in Snape's class as the attentive, deserving pupil, at least according to the professor. Now Harry couldn't understand how Draco could not appreciate being favored.
" I despise it. I don't really like school much, I believe I know enough already to make it through life." Draco said. " I can pretend I like Potions rather well, at times. Its nice having Snape favor me, actually. Who doesn't like a nice mark for doing absolutely nothing?" He laughed wryly.
Harry smiled. " I suppose."
Suddenly, Harry remembered something crucial - the Invisibility Cloak! But would he dare tell Draco about it? Draco wasn't nearly the trustworthy companion, and he couldn't just tell him all his secrets right off. He didn't even know if he could trust him entirely yet!
" What's wrong with you, Goyle?" Draco suddenly burst through Harry's thoughts. Draco was looking at Goyle with contempt, since Goyle was letting out a low, pained moan and his eyes were rolling up into his head.
" My stomach. . ." Goyle groaned out.
Harry shot up out of the bed and then cried out: "Madame Pomfrey! Madame Pomfrey, Goyle's going to throw up again!"
Goyle's eyelids twitched, and his mouth slowly fell open, the tongue sticking out, and he let out a cough that racked his body. Then, Goyle grasped for a white bowl on the side of his bed and was ready to use it for not-so-pleasant purposes when Draco said: "Hold on."
He pulled his wand out and then tapped Goyle's head. "Vomitius Healus." Goyle suddenly stopped groaning. His stomach let out an odd gurgle, but he otherwise seemed a lot better now. He glanced at Draco and said: "What did you do?"
" It's something I picked up. Keeps a person from vomiting." Draco's face twisted into a look of discomfort. "Don't ask how I know it, since it's not a pleasant story." Harry didn't ask, and wasn't going to, since he could tell already that it was an unpleasant story.
Madame Pomfrey had run into the room, and seeing Goyle's odd recovery, she exclaimed: "The Vomitius Healus curse! Brilliant! Who used it?"
Draco raised his hand, awkwardly.
" Mr. Malfoy!" She was surprised. " Well, nice job, there. I couldn't have done it better myself." She sat down beside Goyle and patted his back. " Would you like me to bring you some chicken soup, dear?"
Goyle shook his head. " I think I'll go to sleep, if you don't mind, lady." Then, he turned over and fell asleep.
" Poor fellow. He's horribly tired. Tossed and turned all night, and then sleeps the day away now." Madame Pomfrey shook her head and then stood to leave the room.
Malfoy and Harry were left almost alone again, so that they'd be able to continue speaking.
" I think I might ask around for an Invisibility Potion, or something. . ." Draco suddenly shook his head. " No, but then everyone will think I'm going to do something bad and then they'll not tell me anything."
Harry was now greatly debating whether to tell Draco about his Invisibility Cloak. Finally, he decided to do just that. "Draco, I think I have to tell you something."
" What?" He looked at Harry with a curious face.
" Promise on everything, on your Malfoy honor, that you won't tell?" Harry asked.
Draco's eyes widened. Harry knew that if Draco swore on the Malfoy honor, he would never break that oath. Draco would probably rather die then blemish the Malfoy name. Harry watched him nod.
" Swear it." Harry demanded. A nod meant nothing.
" Alright. I swear on the Malfoy honor." Draco said, a bit reluctant. Draco didn't know what he was getting into, after all.
" In my first year, I received an Invisibility Cloak." Harry began. " It was my father's before me, and I don't know who's before that."
" Was that the reason I saw your stupid head floating in Hogsmeade?" Draco exclaimed.
" Yep." Harry nodded.
" I ought to kill you! It caused me weeks of puzzlement, you dimwit." Draco huffed out, his arms crossing. "Really, how childish, spooking innocent people like that."
" Be quiet and let me finish!" Harry said, harshly. Draco's expression grew to a horrified one, and Draco was ready to say something mean to Harry about telling him to be quiet, but Harry quickly began to speak again:
" I think that if you can manage to bring the Invisibility Cloak up here, we can sneak out at night and go to the library and look some things up."
" A good plan and all, but. . . where is this cloak, Mr. Genius?" Malfoy asked.
Harry gulped. " In my bureau, past the Gryffindor common room."
" Exactly. You don't think I'll be able to go into the Gryffindor tower unnoticed now, do you?" Draco questioned.
" Uh, I suppose not." Harry said. Now he was more stumped then ever. " I guess it would give everyone an awesome fright, especially in the Gryffindor common room, if you were to just walk in."
" I could try and get in there while everyone's asleep." Draco finally said.
Harry didn't want to tell this to Draco, but he didn't think he should be telling a Slytherin the Gryffindor password. It had been decided that this week's password was 'Frog Mucus', which was something made up by the Weasley twins. Harry looked down at the sheets and said: " I don't think I should tell you the password."
" The password!" Draco said, remembering the single obstruction that kept anyone unwanted out of the Gryffindor common room. " I completely forgot about that." He then pushed back his light blonde hair again, for it had fallen forwards across his forehead again. Harry realized that it could be forgiven if the week's password was given away to Draco.
" Maybe I could tell you, if you don't use it for any WRONG purposes?" Harry said, hoping that Draco would keep his word.
" I don't know. . ." Draco thought about it. The fact that he'd have access to a rival house's common room was tempting, after all. Draco finally sighed and said: "Alright, I do think I'll just have a look around, though!"
" You can look around at things, but don't look through anything." Harry had a sudden worried thought that Draco would discover his photo album, with Hermione's picture surrounded by little hearts, which he'd drawn in by a felt-tipped red marker.
" Fair enough." Draco said. " So what's the password?"
Harry hesitated, then said: "Frog Mucus."
" Amusing." Draco grinned. " Slytherin has the foulest passwords, I really think they need a bit of a touching-up."
" What are they?"
" Must I tell you?" Draco asked.
" I told you the Gryffindor password." Harry countered, his mind bent on finding out what could be so interesting about the Slytherin passwords.
" Well. . ." Draco reflected. " IN the past, they were some odd things - I remember 'Potter Stinks' back in second year. 'Dumbledore is a Loon' worked for a few hours, but the portrait grew upset about it." Malfoy grinned. " We also had 'Blood and Gore', which was an odd choice."
" Not very friendly passwords, are they?" Harry said.
" Nope." Malfoy seemed pleased. " Now! Tell me, precisely, where you hid your little cloak. If you want me to find it, then tell me exactly. It's not easy to search aimlessly for a rag in the middle of the night."
" It isn't a rag, it's a perfectly good cloak." Harry said, tired of Draco's wisecracks just a bit. " I put it in my bureau drawer, the top one. It's by a pair of khakis. I had to move the cloak since Neville's been having so many accidents lately that it's hard to keep cleaning things up and NOT find the cloak."
" So it's in your drawer." Draco sighed. " I guess I'm stuck flipping through your clothing, like some sort of trash-picker." He actually shuddered.
Harry shook his head. " Really, Draco, you like to make everything sound as if it's a torture for you."
" Who says it isn't?" He asked, standing up. His eyes stopped on his wand, hidden in his robes. He pulled it out and then swung it through the air. " I guess I'll get going before anyone finds out I've been up here TALKING with Potter." He seemed disgusted with himself.
" Malfoy?" Harry asked.
" What?" He turned, his wand readied. A series of sparkles fluttered from the tip, and he frowned.
" Why did you stick up for Ron and Ginny, when the other Slytherins were teasing them?" The question had bothered Harry for a while.
" So Weasley told you." Draco's cheeks reddened. " I stuck up more for Ginny then anyone, she was there with him, you know."
" I see." Harry smiled.
" You take that grin off your face, Potter." Malfoy threatened. "You forget that I even said that, in fact."
Harry nodded and said: " Don't worry, it's already forgotten."
Malfoy left the room, and Harry couldn't help but burst out laughing into his pillow. So Draco Malfoy, official Weasley-hater, might have a bit of a crush on Ginny Weasley! Or perhaps it was just his Malfoy honor to protect a girl? But he didn't seem too enthralled in sticking up for Hermione - he was rather doing just the opposite.
" I guess I'll never know some things." Harry whispered to himself, as Madame Pomfrey dimmed the lights in the room.
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Harry sat there, hoping Hermione would forgive him. It hurt him deep inside to think that he might have mortally upset her. He always cared for her a bit more then he let on, even. Sometimes she would make his stomach just melt.
The remnants of their evening sitting together in front of the crackling fire in the common room were only a bowl with melted chocolate lining the bottom, a few Kisses wrappers melted into the mix.
Harry could only close his eyes and try to remember her, since it had been about a week now since he had last seen her. He could see her thoughtful, intelligent eyes. This was the first thing he remember about her. He always thought it was silly, the way people called eyes 'windows to the souls'. But with Hermione, this was true. Hermione's eyes were windows. They showed her gentle, yet great intelligence that beamed through her, radiant as a rainbow. They blazed with golden sparkles when she was angry and glowed with a subtle shine when she was happy. They were lined with her tears when she was sad.
He wondered if she was thinking of him, too. Was she sitting in the common room, gazing out the window, thinking of Harry, flying across the sky on his Firebolt, sending branches of leaves into a wild tumult as he flew by them. Harry hoped she was thinking of him, and he hoped she was considering going to visit him.
It was growing dark, and Harry wondered how Draco would possibly get into the common room. Would he be caught and face getting thrown from school? Would he be able to find the cloak, deep inside the depths of Harry's bureau drawer?
Harry tossed over onto his side and he finally fell asleep to troubled, dizzying dreams.
A/N: Okay the next chapter will be Draco breaking in to Gryffindor Common Room and rummaging through Harry's stuff. I promise it will be funny at least a bit (I like adding humor to my stories). It will not be about Harry, it will fix on Draco's endeavors. Its for the purpose of the plot, since I am kinda tired of writing about Harry all bored and waiting in the common room.
