A/N: Hi! Tis Escritora. Ok, so, I just finished the 5th chapter of "You,
Me, and DADA" to find that fanfiction.net will be in a read-only mode for
TWO WHOLE WEEKS. I might die. I could simply stop breathing and fall out of
this uncomfortable blue folding chair that I have written many a story on.
In case you never hear from me again, well, you'll know what happened. :o)
So, I'm gonna write this chapter in hopes of having lots of things to post
when reviewing-and posting-comes back. After this I'll probably work on the
next chapter of "Road trip". then "Even Heroes Have the Right to Bleed." I
haven't been writing a lot of poetry lately, I have my reasons, and yes-
they're GOOD reasons. Oh yes, and only the beginning of the plot unfolds
in this chapter, so don't be surprised if you have a couple questions left.
Like, the details of Voldemort's whole plan thing. So, without further ado,
I bring to you. the disclaimer.
Oh wait! Before I give you the dreadfully boring disclaimer, I know that some of you thought that Hermione was somewhat OOC-a bit devilish for her character. I agreed, and tried to make her a bit more stick-in-the-muddish this chapter. That doesn't mean I made her a wimp. *devilish grin* You'll see.
Disclaimer: Plot=Mine. Draco and the rest of the HP crew=Not mine. Farrah Young and Hugh McGregor=Mine. The Mansion, Hogwarts, and locations=Not mine. Also, spells and charms are.you guessed it. not mine too. (Oh yeah, and Sheryl Crow and songs aren't mine. For those of you who are wondering. well. I'm not a fan of her. I hate the new song. But she's used neither negatively or positively, so fans or not-fans alike can 'have a ball.')
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"Where is she?" Hermione snapped, breaking the silence that had settled over us for the last five minutes-since Farrah had gone. "I don't see why you couldn't have just gone, Malfoy. At least then we'd have a flying chance in Hell of someone coming back. Even if you sent back a Death Eater."
"Do shut up, Granger," I yawned. "If I used my card, they'd know that I was here AND who I was with. Oh yes, and I wouldn't come back if I was Farrah. I'd be too afraid of you."
"Did anyone ever tell you," she smirked, "that you're not funny?"
"Why, yes they have. Sorry to totally obliterate your 'original' comment, but it's been done."
"Draco!" she shrieked in frustration. She stood up abruptly and began pacing the length of a fallen tree. Ron's freckled and rather oversized ears perked up.
"I heard 'Draco' and you can't convince me otherwise!" he exclaimed with utmost satisfaction.
"NO SHIT!"
"Hermione, calm down," I pleaded, although I took about three giant steps away from her.
"Malfoy," she snarled, "if you-what was that?"
Some sort of whirring beep sounded, jolting us all from our states of tension. Harry, Hermione, and Ron were wildly scanning the forest, as if a secret loudspeaker was hidden in a tree or something. I smacked my hand against my forehead. For three teens who had defeated Voldemort countless times, they were pretty stupid.
Harry was frozen-even his chest scarcely moved as he breathed. "Guys," he choked out shortly. Ron and Hermione's heads whipped around. "Don't-*gasp*-move. It could be-*gasp*-a bomb set off by-*gasp*-movement." Hermione and Ron paused to consider. I wasted no time in laughing my ass off. Harry's eyes narrowed at me. "Draco-*gasp*-what do you think you're- *gasp*-doing?"
"Harry, you dolt," I managed to wheeze between convulsions of laughter. Finally calming myself down, I had to look away from where Harry stood rigid to keep myself from cracking up again. "Harry, you really underestimate my father if you think that he'd have a movement bomb. And, by the way, that was the sound of the tracking device being shut down. Farrah came through."
Harry and Hermione both scowled; Ron simply looked relieved and hopped-well, practically hoppped-over the log with a cheerful smile. Harry and Hermione strode over as well, but I swear Harry's body tensed the whole time. "Which way, O Captain?" Hermione grumbled, pushing a wavy strand of hair out of her eyes. Please excuse me while I wistfully sigh. Okay, back.
"Thattaway," I said. Harry and his super-troopers pushed past me and walked five yards in the direction that I was pointing in. Harry turned back around.
"Now which way?" he asked.
"Uh, guys?"
"Yup?"
"This might work better if I took the lead."
"Oh. Right."
I took my sweet time catching up, watching Hermione's scowl deepen with every lackadaisical step I took. It made me feel a little bad. but so amused. at the same time. Finally, I reached Harry's side and, with a mock authority tone, commanded that they follow me as I trudged through uprooted trees in a north-west direction.
We continued on for ten minutes or so when there was light tap on my shoulder. I turned around, and-putting it rather simply-Hermione socked me in the face. "Blimey!" I bellowed as I stumbled back, clutching my mouth. "She punched me in the jaw!" I tried to complain, but it came out more like "Sha pun may in a ma." My back felt wet, and I relized that I had fallen against the trunk of a tree, wet and dewy from the previous night's rain. My head was swimming, dizzy and flashing colors that a head show not be displaying. My visions was blurry. I took my hand away from my mouth. It was covered in blood.
"Er, Hermione?" came an extremely timid version of Ron's voice.
"Yes, Ron?" Hermione replied sweetly.
"Why did you do that, Hermione?" His voice shook with nerves. I rolled my head to the side. It felt ready to fall off and bounce onto the leaf- covered forest ground with a thud.
"Oh," she answered darkly. "Can't you see, Ron? He's leading us into a trap!"
"Wot? I ya m'not," I said, my words still disfigured by Hermione's blow-oh yeah, and the blood that kept filling up my mouth made it hard to speak. "I m'not. I ral eem'm not." Translation: "What? I'm not. I'm not. I really am not."
Through my eyes I could make out Harry leaning over me. "His eyes are half- closed," announced the Boy Who Lived. "I don't think he's unsconscious."
"Obviously not," Hermione snapped. "He just spoke."
"What did he say?" asked Ron. His head and Hermione poked on the sides of Harry's.
"He probably said, 'I can't believe you fell for my trap. Now you're all going to die.'"
"Hermione!"
"What, Har? Since when do you trust Draco?"
"I could say the same for you."
"Then what are we doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing, Herm."
"Harry, don't you think your argument is a bit repetitive?"
"Guys, c'mon!"
"What Ron? You trust him?" Hermione sneered.
"No!" Ron insisted hastily. Well, that was a no-brainer. I watched helplessly.
"Then let's go," she said firmly.
"Wait!" I murmured, trying to call. I felt my palms against the ground and tried to push myself up-to no avail, but it did catch their attention.
Ron faltered as Harry and Hermione began to walk away. Come on Ron, I willed. Don't let them go.
"Guys, we should hear him out. I'm not going."
God bless Ronald Augustus Weasley. Hey, "RAW." So I wasn't the ony one- well, Hermione too-with weird initials.
"Don't be a hero, Ron," said Hermione acidly. "It's not becoming on you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron retorted. I heard the hurt in his voice. He knew what that was 'supposed to mean.' So did I. "What? Oh, right," he snorted. "Harry's the hero of the group."
"I didn't say that," Hermione protested. "Don't be impossible, Ron."
" 'Don't be a hero,' she says. 'Don't be impossible,' she says. Well, Her- mi-o-ne," he said, stressing each syllable of her name like a fantastically odd drunkard. "I'm not moving."
It was silent. "We're not going to leave without you," Harry said quietly.
"I know," Ron answered just as solemnly. I could feel Hermione nod. Ground had been broken.
"Repairo mala os," she muttered. A few sparks danced around my mouth. The fog in my head seemed to seep out of my ears and it suddenly was light enough to be lifted upright on my shoulders. Slowly my mouth grew dry, and then normal, and I blinked furiously fast. I felt just fine.
"Thanks," I said, a little louder than I had hoped to. It seemed to wake everybody up, remind them that we were alive.
"So." Hermione trailed off.
"It isn't a trap," I insisted quickly. It seemed to startle her.
"Oh," she said shortly.
I leaned in closer; they crouched down beside me, sensing that I was ready to speak. "You guys want to know what's going on?" Dry looks all around. "Okay, so that was an obvious question. I'm going to tell you, but you have to shut your mouths. Agreed?" They nodded. "Oh, and one more little factor in this pact."
Harry raised his eyebrow. "What?"
"There will be no punching. Man, Hermione, you've got one hell of a right hook."
She blushed sheepishly. "Sorry-er, thank you." Harry and Ron laughed lightly.
"Y'see." I shifted to the right. "It's no secret that most Death Eaters meet in the Mansion at special times. This," I said, lowering my voice, "is one of those times. Tonight, starting in the evening, will be one of the hugest Death Eater celebrations of the year."
"Why?" Hermione butted in. I scowled to shut her up.
"Because today, Hermione, is my eighteenth birthday."
They stared at me. "So?" Ron asked.
"Yeah, I'm with Ron. Why is your birthday a day for celebrating? I thought that you weren't becoming a Death Eater, so they shun you or something," said Harry, rather eloquently for a seventeen-year-old who was crouching in the dirt in a pair of plaid crimson boxer shorts and a white tank top. They all stared expectantly.
"I didn't know that I wasn't going to definitely take my vows until a few hours ago," I explained, a note of hysteria threatening to creep into my voice. I held it in. I was surrounded by idiots-I would have to be the sane one. "So starting in a few hours, people will be coming to set up. It will probably take all day. Mum ordered a fountain." I smirked ironically at the thought. "People will start arriving for cocktails at four-in the evening, that is."
Hermione's distrust in me got the better of her one more time. I did, after all, kidnap her from her room. I thought she was over that by now, though. "How do you know all this?"
"Well, gee, Hermione," I said. "It is my party. I think I faintly remember receiving an invitation. Oh, yes, and picking the decorations." I really loved her. Really. But I had no patience at the moment for stupid questions. And then again. I felt bad. I wasn't being too kind for her. She had turned away. "Hey," I said. "Sorry." She nodded and smiled. Okay, back to the deathly important speech.
"My father is the Dark Lord's right hand man. His son becoming a high follower is a huge event. So huge that they have a special event taking place in my name."
"And I take it that it's not a rousing game of pin-the-tail-on-the- hippogriff?"
"No, Ron," I laughed. "Unfortunately, no."
"Then what is it?" Harry asked urgently.
This time I was the one dishing out an ultimately dry expression. "Harry?"
"Yes, Malfoy?"
"It's Draco, really."
"Yes, Draco?"
"Let's think hard about Voldemort's to-do list, shall we? #1-Take over the world. #2-Take over the world. #3-Bathroom break while listening to Sheryl Crow CD. #4-Continue taking over the world."
Ron stared at me hard. "Voldemort listens to Sheryl Crow?"
I could only look at him and think, "Gee, I wonder what God was on when he made this kid." Instead, I sighed. "Yes, Ron. Voldemort listens to Sheryl Crow."
Ron shook his head. "Well, I'll be damned. And I thought Percy was the only one."
Hermione, Harry, and I locked eyes. This kid really was clueless.
"So," said Harry, breaking the "Ron's-an-idiot" tension. "Taking over the world again, eh? You'd think that with all the time on his hands he'd think of an original idea."
"Like smoothies for all?" Hermione giggled.
"Or kids-eat-free day at 'Ol Voldie's Kitchen of Pain?" Ron piped in.
"Or hey, I'll just take over the world again," I snapped. Did they not get how serious this was? Of course they didn't. They had always come out on top with the Dark Lord, so why should they be scared? I would have loved to tell them right then, but Ron was busy trying to remember the lyrics to some-you guessed it-Sheryl Crow song. Harry and Hermione were crooning along, leaving me to roll my eyes at their stupidity of the moment. I checked my watch. A quarter to four? It couldn't be! And yet it was.
"Guys," I said; no one paid any attention. "GUYS!"
"What?" asked Harry, breaking the Sheryl Crow trance.
"Let's go!"
"Go.?"
"To the Manor-where have you been for the last few hours, Ron?"
"Well," said Ron, considering an actual answer, "I tried to go to asleep and then woke up because people were laughing. I walked over to see Neville on top of a girl, and he rolled over and it was Pansy Parkinson. Nar Litkins* grabbed her clothes and Guy Wimsdon* tried to pull the covers away but Pansy managed to cover herself-not like half the guys hadn't already seen what she had," he added thoughtfully. "And then Harry was yelling for someone to get them clothes and then you and you-" He jerked his head toward Hermione-"were sitting there and I had makeup on me and-wait!" Ron suddenly looked angry. "I never did get an explanation for that."
"You made Ginny's boyfriend break up with her," said Hermione. "How'd you know that?"
"Huh?" Hermione's voice rose to nervousness. "What do you mean?"
"We read your diary," I offered, and then added very, very quickly upon seeing a few buckets of steam rising out from his ears, "But we didn't enjoy it. At all."
Harry was chuckling. Ron shot him a death ray via his eyes. Needless to say, Harry stopped laughing immediately and settled down. "I'm sorry, Ron," Hermione tried. "I really am. We won't tell Ginny. We just thought that. Well, the makeup and. you know how it is."
Ron shrugged, with an aura that was so unfeeling that I saw Hermione flinch. "Let's go," he said softly, and I wordlessly trudged on without checking to see if anyone followed. They would, and they did.
We hiked for five minutes. I assumed that the guards that had been sent to track us had gotten lost when the device had been shut down. But, that meant that they could be anywhere out there so I urged them to stay quiet as we quickly darted through the bushes and trees until I could make out the front gates, a brilliant gold flash of bars that were surely shined that morning by a lucky house elf-well, they were shined every morning, but it's anyone's guess, right? Ron's face stayed dull and thoughtful; Harry kind of gave off the feeling of being in an awkward situation; and Hermione, as she often did, seemed to be preoccupied with a million thoughts concerning her rather intelligent mind.
We stood back, only a few yards away the golden front gates of the Malfoy Mansion-or commonly, and notoriously known as simply the Mansion. "It's amazing," said Hermione breathlessly.
"What is?" My curiosity got the best of me.
"It's amazing," she said, "that such a place of evil could look so absolutely beautiful."
I was slightly offended-it was, after all, my home and I had been raised them and turned out, er, fine. Anyone would be a little miffed if someone called their house a "place of evil," but I couldn't really get mad. She was right, really. But not just about the whole evil deal. The Manor was awing.
It towered, consuming its given acres like a proud mother. It was four stories tall, but it seemed as if it was ten times that, just standing back and admiring it. It was mainly black and gray, but the carvings, sparkling with a gold tint and silver streaks, were artworks whose match went unmet by even the greatest painters and sculptors of the wizarding and Muggle worlds alike. The shutters were a pale silver that seemed to invite you in to a place of majesty, and each roof shackle was adorned with a design that left Harry, Hermione, and Ron dumbstruck. I only gazed disappointedly at the front door, which lay about twenty yards down a pebble path from the gate. "Hey," I said. "They moved the 'welcome' mat."
"What now?" asked Hermione. She shivered, although it was rather warm out for the early hours of the morning.
"I guess we climb the gate," I shrugged.
Harry raised his eyebrows. "Remind me why we can't just stick your card in this little slot"-he poked the card slot mounted on a brick wall on the end of the gate-"and walk up the path."
"And while we're at it," I retorted sourly, "we can ring the doorbell and give Voldemort a bottle of champagne as a party gift-oh yes, and hand over Harry as well to be probed and then brutally murdered."
Harry blanched. He was wringing his hands like a child who had eaten ten packs of sugar before attempting to fall asleep and suddenly had anxieties that gave a psychologist nightmares. "What, Harry?" I scoffed. "Didn't anyone tell you that Voldemort would love to kill you?"
"I knew that," said Harry, shifting from side to side. "But nobody mentioned there'd be probing involved."
"You've got to be kidding me, Potter." I shook my head. Idiots. "Let's climb over the gate, shall we?"
"Do we have much of a choice?" Ron grumbled.
"No," I said flatly.
"Oh."
"Well, don't just stand there, Ron."
"I'm sorry, Malfoy, I must have been too busy sticking up for you when directions for what to do were handed out," he sneered.
"Or singing 'Soak Up the Sun'," I muttered.
"What was that?" Ron had his murderous look on. I decided not to continue on the subject.
"You're tallest," I said matter-of-factly. "So give me a boost up."
"This is ridiculous!" Ron exclaimed.
"Do it, Ron," Harry ordered sternly.
"Harry," said Ron, "you just told me to hoist your worst enemy up on my hands so that he can climb over the gate to one of the most evil places in the world. Can I give you a moment to rephrase or completely change what you just said?"
"Ron." This time it was Hermione speaking testily. I shot her a grateful, but weak, smile.
"Fine," Ron gave in. He interlocked his fingers and placed the palms up. "Let's do this, Malfoy."
I hesitated, and then picked up my left leg and placed it on his hands. Holding the bar, I hoisted myself up and began climbing until I was nearly sitting on the top. It wasn't a very comfortable position. I let go with my right arm and started to slide my left leg to adjust my position, wavering violently over the gate to my home.
"Can I let go now?" Ron gasped from under me.
"No," I said sharply. If he let go. I scrambled to secure a position. The gate was still wet from the previous night's rain-or perhaps the sprinklers- and I felt my grip slipping as I began to lose my balance over the top bar.
"I can't hold on much longer!"
"Ron, you can't!"
"Mal-foy. I'm gonna. faint."
"Weasley!"
"Hurry!"
"Weasley, just-" I felt my foot catch nothing but the air. He had let go and staggered backwards onto the concrete. I wavered dangerously, trying to grasp the gate but it wasn't enough. I teetered, knowing that I was going to fall back. "Catch me!" I managed to bark out before I totally lost anything to hold onto and went crashing down.
Thud.
Ouch. That really, really hurt. "Why. didn't you. catch me?" I asked groggily.
"Because you're on the other side of the gate," Harry said flatly. "Nice fall, Malfoy."
I struggled to lift up my neck and scanned around me. Sure enough, I had fallen onto the other side of the gate and could see Hermione and Harry watching me from behind the bars. Oh, so that's why home had always felt like a prison. Or maybe it was because of the Death Eaters roaming the hallway to make sure I didn't do anything I wasn't supposed to do-like send a Muggle a 'Get Well' card. Ron, however, was breathing heavily on the ground. "Malfoy," he gasped. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."
"Ron," I breathed, trying to catch air. "You nearly gave me a broken back, neck, skull, collarbone, rib cage-"
"Okay," he said, finding his footing and standing up. His steps were shaky. "We're even. You read my diary and almost gave me heart failure, and I almost made you break everything in your body. Shake on it."
I rolled my head to see he was clutching the railing and had his hand jutted through the bars. "You've got to be kidding me. If you think that I'm getting up just yet," I croaked, "then you have another thing coming." My watch beeped. Four a.m. And I was lying on my back on the grounds of the Malfoy Mansion like a washed-up turtle. A washed-up turtle that was losing the feeling in his. well, his whole body.
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*I stole Guy Wimsdon and Nar Litkins from another story of mine, "Even Heroes Have the Right to Bleed," where they actually are characters (friends of Harry's). READ THAT! It's my best writing, I think, and it's so underappreciated. Ok, so it has 139 reviews, but compared to some of my other stories. Anyway.
A/N: Hi. Chapter done. Supposedly fanfiction.net will be back tonight in read-only so I can't post this (it's 12:45 a.m. on July 2nd). So, um, thanks for reviewing my last chapter. I really appreciate it. Yup. So, uh. Oh, yeah, a friend of mine was asking for my user name on here. and I guess I only trust a couple people to read my stuff. So is it weird that I didn't want to give my friend my user name? Hmm. Okay. So. g'night everybody. Be happy. Drive a Volkswagon Beetle-much cuter than a Chevy. :o)
Adios~Escritora
Oh wait! Before I give you the dreadfully boring disclaimer, I know that some of you thought that Hermione was somewhat OOC-a bit devilish for her character. I agreed, and tried to make her a bit more stick-in-the-muddish this chapter. That doesn't mean I made her a wimp. *devilish grin* You'll see.
Disclaimer: Plot=Mine. Draco and the rest of the HP crew=Not mine. Farrah Young and Hugh McGregor=Mine. The Mansion, Hogwarts, and locations=Not mine. Also, spells and charms are.you guessed it. not mine too. (Oh yeah, and Sheryl Crow and songs aren't mine. For those of you who are wondering. well. I'm not a fan of her. I hate the new song. But she's used neither negatively or positively, so fans or not-fans alike can 'have a ball.')
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"Where is she?" Hermione snapped, breaking the silence that had settled over us for the last five minutes-since Farrah had gone. "I don't see why you couldn't have just gone, Malfoy. At least then we'd have a flying chance in Hell of someone coming back. Even if you sent back a Death Eater."
"Do shut up, Granger," I yawned. "If I used my card, they'd know that I was here AND who I was with. Oh yes, and I wouldn't come back if I was Farrah. I'd be too afraid of you."
"Did anyone ever tell you," she smirked, "that you're not funny?"
"Why, yes they have. Sorry to totally obliterate your 'original' comment, but it's been done."
"Draco!" she shrieked in frustration. She stood up abruptly and began pacing the length of a fallen tree. Ron's freckled and rather oversized ears perked up.
"I heard 'Draco' and you can't convince me otherwise!" he exclaimed with utmost satisfaction.
"NO SHIT!"
"Hermione, calm down," I pleaded, although I took about three giant steps away from her.
"Malfoy," she snarled, "if you-what was that?"
Some sort of whirring beep sounded, jolting us all from our states of tension. Harry, Hermione, and Ron were wildly scanning the forest, as if a secret loudspeaker was hidden in a tree or something. I smacked my hand against my forehead. For three teens who had defeated Voldemort countless times, they were pretty stupid.
Harry was frozen-even his chest scarcely moved as he breathed. "Guys," he choked out shortly. Ron and Hermione's heads whipped around. "Don't-*gasp*-move. It could be-*gasp*-a bomb set off by-*gasp*-movement." Hermione and Ron paused to consider. I wasted no time in laughing my ass off. Harry's eyes narrowed at me. "Draco-*gasp*-what do you think you're- *gasp*-doing?"
"Harry, you dolt," I managed to wheeze between convulsions of laughter. Finally calming myself down, I had to look away from where Harry stood rigid to keep myself from cracking up again. "Harry, you really underestimate my father if you think that he'd have a movement bomb. And, by the way, that was the sound of the tracking device being shut down. Farrah came through."
Harry and Hermione both scowled; Ron simply looked relieved and hopped-well, practically hoppped-over the log with a cheerful smile. Harry and Hermione strode over as well, but I swear Harry's body tensed the whole time. "Which way, O Captain?" Hermione grumbled, pushing a wavy strand of hair out of her eyes. Please excuse me while I wistfully sigh. Okay, back.
"Thattaway," I said. Harry and his super-troopers pushed past me and walked five yards in the direction that I was pointing in. Harry turned back around.
"Now which way?" he asked.
"Uh, guys?"
"Yup?"
"This might work better if I took the lead."
"Oh. Right."
I took my sweet time catching up, watching Hermione's scowl deepen with every lackadaisical step I took. It made me feel a little bad. but so amused. at the same time. Finally, I reached Harry's side and, with a mock authority tone, commanded that they follow me as I trudged through uprooted trees in a north-west direction.
We continued on for ten minutes or so when there was light tap on my shoulder. I turned around, and-putting it rather simply-Hermione socked me in the face. "Blimey!" I bellowed as I stumbled back, clutching my mouth. "She punched me in the jaw!" I tried to complain, but it came out more like "Sha pun may in a ma." My back felt wet, and I relized that I had fallen against the trunk of a tree, wet and dewy from the previous night's rain. My head was swimming, dizzy and flashing colors that a head show not be displaying. My visions was blurry. I took my hand away from my mouth. It was covered in blood.
"Er, Hermione?" came an extremely timid version of Ron's voice.
"Yes, Ron?" Hermione replied sweetly.
"Why did you do that, Hermione?" His voice shook with nerves. I rolled my head to the side. It felt ready to fall off and bounce onto the leaf- covered forest ground with a thud.
"Oh," she answered darkly. "Can't you see, Ron? He's leading us into a trap!"
"Wot? I ya m'not," I said, my words still disfigured by Hermione's blow-oh yeah, and the blood that kept filling up my mouth made it hard to speak. "I m'not. I ral eem'm not." Translation: "What? I'm not. I'm not. I really am not."
Through my eyes I could make out Harry leaning over me. "His eyes are half- closed," announced the Boy Who Lived. "I don't think he's unsconscious."
"Obviously not," Hermione snapped. "He just spoke."
"What did he say?" asked Ron. His head and Hermione poked on the sides of Harry's.
"He probably said, 'I can't believe you fell for my trap. Now you're all going to die.'"
"Hermione!"
"What, Har? Since when do you trust Draco?"
"I could say the same for you."
"Then what are we doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing, Herm."
"Harry, don't you think your argument is a bit repetitive?"
"Guys, c'mon!"
"What Ron? You trust him?" Hermione sneered.
"No!" Ron insisted hastily. Well, that was a no-brainer. I watched helplessly.
"Then let's go," she said firmly.
"Wait!" I murmured, trying to call. I felt my palms against the ground and tried to push myself up-to no avail, but it did catch their attention.
Ron faltered as Harry and Hermione began to walk away. Come on Ron, I willed. Don't let them go.
"Guys, we should hear him out. I'm not going."
God bless Ronald Augustus Weasley. Hey, "RAW." So I wasn't the ony one- well, Hermione too-with weird initials.
"Don't be a hero, Ron," said Hermione acidly. "It's not becoming on you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron retorted. I heard the hurt in his voice. He knew what that was 'supposed to mean.' So did I. "What? Oh, right," he snorted. "Harry's the hero of the group."
"I didn't say that," Hermione protested. "Don't be impossible, Ron."
" 'Don't be a hero,' she says. 'Don't be impossible,' she says. Well, Her- mi-o-ne," he said, stressing each syllable of her name like a fantastically odd drunkard. "I'm not moving."
It was silent. "We're not going to leave without you," Harry said quietly.
"I know," Ron answered just as solemnly. I could feel Hermione nod. Ground had been broken.
"Repairo mala os," she muttered. A few sparks danced around my mouth. The fog in my head seemed to seep out of my ears and it suddenly was light enough to be lifted upright on my shoulders. Slowly my mouth grew dry, and then normal, and I blinked furiously fast. I felt just fine.
"Thanks," I said, a little louder than I had hoped to. It seemed to wake everybody up, remind them that we were alive.
"So." Hermione trailed off.
"It isn't a trap," I insisted quickly. It seemed to startle her.
"Oh," she said shortly.
I leaned in closer; they crouched down beside me, sensing that I was ready to speak. "You guys want to know what's going on?" Dry looks all around. "Okay, so that was an obvious question. I'm going to tell you, but you have to shut your mouths. Agreed?" They nodded. "Oh, and one more little factor in this pact."
Harry raised his eyebrow. "What?"
"There will be no punching. Man, Hermione, you've got one hell of a right hook."
She blushed sheepishly. "Sorry-er, thank you." Harry and Ron laughed lightly.
"Y'see." I shifted to the right. "It's no secret that most Death Eaters meet in the Mansion at special times. This," I said, lowering my voice, "is one of those times. Tonight, starting in the evening, will be one of the hugest Death Eater celebrations of the year."
"Why?" Hermione butted in. I scowled to shut her up.
"Because today, Hermione, is my eighteenth birthday."
They stared at me. "So?" Ron asked.
"Yeah, I'm with Ron. Why is your birthday a day for celebrating? I thought that you weren't becoming a Death Eater, so they shun you or something," said Harry, rather eloquently for a seventeen-year-old who was crouching in the dirt in a pair of plaid crimson boxer shorts and a white tank top. They all stared expectantly.
"I didn't know that I wasn't going to definitely take my vows until a few hours ago," I explained, a note of hysteria threatening to creep into my voice. I held it in. I was surrounded by idiots-I would have to be the sane one. "So starting in a few hours, people will be coming to set up. It will probably take all day. Mum ordered a fountain." I smirked ironically at the thought. "People will start arriving for cocktails at four-in the evening, that is."
Hermione's distrust in me got the better of her one more time. I did, after all, kidnap her from her room. I thought she was over that by now, though. "How do you know all this?"
"Well, gee, Hermione," I said. "It is my party. I think I faintly remember receiving an invitation. Oh, yes, and picking the decorations." I really loved her. Really. But I had no patience at the moment for stupid questions. And then again. I felt bad. I wasn't being too kind for her. She had turned away. "Hey," I said. "Sorry." She nodded and smiled. Okay, back to the deathly important speech.
"My father is the Dark Lord's right hand man. His son becoming a high follower is a huge event. So huge that they have a special event taking place in my name."
"And I take it that it's not a rousing game of pin-the-tail-on-the- hippogriff?"
"No, Ron," I laughed. "Unfortunately, no."
"Then what is it?" Harry asked urgently.
This time I was the one dishing out an ultimately dry expression. "Harry?"
"Yes, Malfoy?"
"It's Draco, really."
"Yes, Draco?"
"Let's think hard about Voldemort's to-do list, shall we? #1-Take over the world. #2-Take over the world. #3-Bathroom break while listening to Sheryl Crow CD. #4-Continue taking over the world."
Ron stared at me hard. "Voldemort listens to Sheryl Crow?"
I could only look at him and think, "Gee, I wonder what God was on when he made this kid." Instead, I sighed. "Yes, Ron. Voldemort listens to Sheryl Crow."
Ron shook his head. "Well, I'll be damned. And I thought Percy was the only one."
Hermione, Harry, and I locked eyes. This kid really was clueless.
"So," said Harry, breaking the "Ron's-an-idiot" tension. "Taking over the world again, eh? You'd think that with all the time on his hands he'd think of an original idea."
"Like smoothies for all?" Hermione giggled.
"Or kids-eat-free day at 'Ol Voldie's Kitchen of Pain?" Ron piped in.
"Or hey, I'll just take over the world again," I snapped. Did they not get how serious this was? Of course they didn't. They had always come out on top with the Dark Lord, so why should they be scared? I would have loved to tell them right then, but Ron was busy trying to remember the lyrics to some-you guessed it-Sheryl Crow song. Harry and Hermione were crooning along, leaving me to roll my eyes at their stupidity of the moment. I checked my watch. A quarter to four? It couldn't be! And yet it was.
"Guys," I said; no one paid any attention. "GUYS!"
"What?" asked Harry, breaking the Sheryl Crow trance.
"Let's go!"
"Go.?"
"To the Manor-where have you been for the last few hours, Ron?"
"Well," said Ron, considering an actual answer, "I tried to go to asleep and then woke up because people were laughing. I walked over to see Neville on top of a girl, and he rolled over and it was Pansy Parkinson. Nar Litkins* grabbed her clothes and Guy Wimsdon* tried to pull the covers away but Pansy managed to cover herself-not like half the guys hadn't already seen what she had," he added thoughtfully. "And then Harry was yelling for someone to get them clothes and then you and you-" He jerked his head toward Hermione-"were sitting there and I had makeup on me and-wait!" Ron suddenly looked angry. "I never did get an explanation for that."
"You made Ginny's boyfriend break up with her," said Hermione. "How'd you know that?"
"Huh?" Hermione's voice rose to nervousness. "What do you mean?"
"We read your diary," I offered, and then added very, very quickly upon seeing a few buckets of steam rising out from his ears, "But we didn't enjoy it. At all."
Harry was chuckling. Ron shot him a death ray via his eyes. Needless to say, Harry stopped laughing immediately and settled down. "I'm sorry, Ron," Hermione tried. "I really am. We won't tell Ginny. We just thought that. Well, the makeup and. you know how it is."
Ron shrugged, with an aura that was so unfeeling that I saw Hermione flinch. "Let's go," he said softly, and I wordlessly trudged on without checking to see if anyone followed. They would, and they did.
We hiked for five minutes. I assumed that the guards that had been sent to track us had gotten lost when the device had been shut down. But, that meant that they could be anywhere out there so I urged them to stay quiet as we quickly darted through the bushes and trees until I could make out the front gates, a brilliant gold flash of bars that were surely shined that morning by a lucky house elf-well, they were shined every morning, but it's anyone's guess, right? Ron's face stayed dull and thoughtful; Harry kind of gave off the feeling of being in an awkward situation; and Hermione, as she often did, seemed to be preoccupied with a million thoughts concerning her rather intelligent mind.
We stood back, only a few yards away the golden front gates of the Malfoy Mansion-or commonly, and notoriously known as simply the Mansion. "It's amazing," said Hermione breathlessly.
"What is?" My curiosity got the best of me.
"It's amazing," she said, "that such a place of evil could look so absolutely beautiful."
I was slightly offended-it was, after all, my home and I had been raised them and turned out, er, fine. Anyone would be a little miffed if someone called their house a "place of evil," but I couldn't really get mad. She was right, really. But not just about the whole evil deal. The Manor was awing.
It towered, consuming its given acres like a proud mother. It was four stories tall, but it seemed as if it was ten times that, just standing back and admiring it. It was mainly black and gray, but the carvings, sparkling with a gold tint and silver streaks, were artworks whose match went unmet by even the greatest painters and sculptors of the wizarding and Muggle worlds alike. The shutters were a pale silver that seemed to invite you in to a place of majesty, and each roof shackle was adorned with a design that left Harry, Hermione, and Ron dumbstruck. I only gazed disappointedly at the front door, which lay about twenty yards down a pebble path from the gate. "Hey," I said. "They moved the 'welcome' mat."
"What now?" asked Hermione. She shivered, although it was rather warm out for the early hours of the morning.
"I guess we climb the gate," I shrugged.
Harry raised his eyebrows. "Remind me why we can't just stick your card in this little slot"-he poked the card slot mounted on a brick wall on the end of the gate-"and walk up the path."
"And while we're at it," I retorted sourly, "we can ring the doorbell and give Voldemort a bottle of champagne as a party gift-oh yes, and hand over Harry as well to be probed and then brutally murdered."
Harry blanched. He was wringing his hands like a child who had eaten ten packs of sugar before attempting to fall asleep and suddenly had anxieties that gave a psychologist nightmares. "What, Harry?" I scoffed. "Didn't anyone tell you that Voldemort would love to kill you?"
"I knew that," said Harry, shifting from side to side. "But nobody mentioned there'd be probing involved."
"You've got to be kidding me, Potter." I shook my head. Idiots. "Let's climb over the gate, shall we?"
"Do we have much of a choice?" Ron grumbled.
"No," I said flatly.
"Oh."
"Well, don't just stand there, Ron."
"I'm sorry, Malfoy, I must have been too busy sticking up for you when directions for what to do were handed out," he sneered.
"Or singing 'Soak Up the Sun'," I muttered.
"What was that?" Ron had his murderous look on. I decided not to continue on the subject.
"You're tallest," I said matter-of-factly. "So give me a boost up."
"This is ridiculous!" Ron exclaimed.
"Do it, Ron," Harry ordered sternly.
"Harry," said Ron, "you just told me to hoist your worst enemy up on my hands so that he can climb over the gate to one of the most evil places in the world. Can I give you a moment to rephrase or completely change what you just said?"
"Ron." This time it was Hermione speaking testily. I shot her a grateful, but weak, smile.
"Fine," Ron gave in. He interlocked his fingers and placed the palms up. "Let's do this, Malfoy."
I hesitated, and then picked up my left leg and placed it on his hands. Holding the bar, I hoisted myself up and began climbing until I was nearly sitting on the top. It wasn't a very comfortable position. I let go with my right arm and started to slide my left leg to adjust my position, wavering violently over the gate to my home.
"Can I let go now?" Ron gasped from under me.
"No," I said sharply. If he let go. I scrambled to secure a position. The gate was still wet from the previous night's rain-or perhaps the sprinklers- and I felt my grip slipping as I began to lose my balance over the top bar.
"I can't hold on much longer!"
"Ron, you can't!"
"Mal-foy. I'm gonna. faint."
"Weasley!"
"Hurry!"
"Weasley, just-" I felt my foot catch nothing but the air. He had let go and staggered backwards onto the concrete. I wavered dangerously, trying to grasp the gate but it wasn't enough. I teetered, knowing that I was going to fall back. "Catch me!" I managed to bark out before I totally lost anything to hold onto and went crashing down.
Thud.
Ouch. That really, really hurt. "Why. didn't you. catch me?" I asked groggily.
"Because you're on the other side of the gate," Harry said flatly. "Nice fall, Malfoy."
I struggled to lift up my neck and scanned around me. Sure enough, I had fallen onto the other side of the gate and could see Hermione and Harry watching me from behind the bars. Oh, so that's why home had always felt like a prison. Or maybe it was because of the Death Eaters roaming the hallway to make sure I didn't do anything I wasn't supposed to do-like send a Muggle a 'Get Well' card. Ron, however, was breathing heavily on the ground. "Malfoy," he gasped. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."
"Ron," I breathed, trying to catch air. "You nearly gave me a broken back, neck, skull, collarbone, rib cage-"
"Okay," he said, finding his footing and standing up. His steps were shaky. "We're even. You read my diary and almost gave me heart failure, and I almost made you break everything in your body. Shake on it."
I rolled my head to see he was clutching the railing and had his hand jutted through the bars. "You've got to be kidding me. If you think that I'm getting up just yet," I croaked, "then you have another thing coming." My watch beeped. Four a.m. And I was lying on my back on the grounds of the Malfoy Mansion like a washed-up turtle. A washed-up turtle that was losing the feeling in his. well, his whole body.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
*I stole Guy Wimsdon and Nar Litkins from another story of mine, "Even Heroes Have the Right to Bleed," where they actually are characters (friends of Harry's). READ THAT! It's my best writing, I think, and it's so underappreciated. Ok, so it has 139 reviews, but compared to some of my other stories. Anyway.
A/N: Hi. Chapter done. Supposedly fanfiction.net will be back tonight in read-only so I can't post this (it's 12:45 a.m. on July 2nd). So, um, thanks for reviewing my last chapter. I really appreciate it. Yup. So, uh. Oh, yeah, a friend of mine was asking for my user name on here. and I guess I only trust a couple people to read my stuff. So is it weird that I didn't want to give my friend my user name? Hmm. Okay. So. g'night everybody. Be happy. Drive a Volkswagon Beetle-much cuter than a Chevy. :o)
Adios~Escritora