A/N: I think it needs to be pointed out that I can spell; I just live on the other side of the planet to most of you. We do things differently down here :) I noticed while writing this chapter my Microsoft Word spell-checker got rather annoyed with me, until I finally got around to changing it from American-English to Australian-English. Ah, much better. Little red squiggly lines under every second word get a little irritating after a while.
He he…lots of reviews. I love you guys :) You'll get your Harry/Draco action soon, promise! Only a teaser, this chapter, I'm afraid. But, enough from me – enjoy the show!
Disclaimer: N.O.T. M.I.N.E. Grrrrrrrr…
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On The Inside (Of A Broom Cupboard)
Chapter 3 – Revelations
***
When Hermione was good, she was very, very good; when Hermione was bad, she was very, very bad. How to get Harry and Malfoy into a small cupboard, together, without knowing how or why? She had always loved a challenge.
Ron had suggested pulling the same stunt she had in their second year, filling two chocolate cakes with a Sleeping Draught and feeding them to her victims. Ron could really be a git when he tried. No, getting them into the cupboard was as easy as a Gullibility Charm (or, for the more blood-thirsty plotter, a simple Stupefy would suffice), but to do it without their knowledge of her involvement was indeed food for thought.
A Sleeping Draught would certainly be effective, but created more problems than it solved. How to get it into their food? How to get them from where they slumbered (the Great Hall? The middle of a corridor?) to the particular cupboard? No, it was all far too crude, by her standard in any case.
But a Summoning Charm – now that had potential. Surely, with a few slight modifications, it could summon a person, instead of an object. But then, walls would be a problem. However, given the best part of a day in the library, Hermione had come up with the answer.
***
"Hermione!"
Malfoy gave Harry an irritated-but-somewhat-curious glare. Nonetheless, his desire to know what had prompted such an exclamation gave way to the obvious opportunity for insult.
"What's the matter? Mudblood still on your mind?"
Clenching his fists and teeth, Harry struggled to bite back a rather unsavoury comment, discretion being the better part of valour and all. Growing up with Dudley had taught him one of life's most important lessons: If you ignore it, chances are it will go away. Unfortunately 'it' wasn't going anywhere, and the shared enclosed space was doing nothing for his self-control.
Enjoying Harry's obvious fight with his features, Malfoy decided that this was just too entertaining to stop there.
"I don't see why you bother, it's not like she's your property."
Well, that was a change of tack, thought Harry. Half an hour ago he thought we were an item.
"You know," Malfoy continued, clearly in a mood for spiteful mischief "I think it was only yesterday I saw her with Dean. Wait, maybe that was Seamus…No, I'm pretty sure it was Seamus she spent so much time with over the Christmas holidays. And then there was Creevey…I didn't think she had it in her."
"You've been spying, Malfoy? That's not at all like you," said Harry, the sarcastic note in his voice contradicting the pretentious sincerity in his eyes. How much longer he could endure this, he didn't know. Keeping his face under control was beginning to hurt.
He had himself begun to wonder what Hermione was getting up to, though. Even in the last few weeks of the term, he had hardly seen her. That she was seeing someone was his first thought, but he had neglected to bring it up, on the grounds that Ron would have a fit. Maybe he should mention to Ron that Hermione might have plans differing to his. Poor guy had been trying to get up the nerve to ask her out for over three years now!
"Oh, but it's so...entertaining. She's quite the house slut! Who'd have thought it? Brown, maybe, but never our dear Head Girl," said Malfoy, his sneer so forced it looked like it was about to fly off his face.
Taking a deep breath, Harry slowly counted to ten and slowly exhaled (another life-saving technique developed as a result of living with the Dursleys). This was a war he'd spent all his life training for – stoic silence in the face of a wave of abuse. One element he hadn't practiced for, though; insults directed at him he could handle, but offence to Hermione was another thing altogether. Nonetheless, he would not be perturbed.
Idly, he fingered the 'Best-Friend Charm' in his pocket which Hermione had given to him at the start of the term, and at the same time gave a similar pendant to Ron and herself. She claimed they would glow a colour that represented each of their moods. Hermione's side of his small convex pendant was an 'anxious' amber; Ron's an 'apprehensive' yellow. Maybe they realised he was missing? He wondered what colour his face on their pendants would be – a fiery red would be his guess.
"I remember Father telling me about another Gryffindor whore he once knew," Malfoy went on. "Lily, I think her name was."
All thoughts of control and calm evaporated. Harry's face contorted unwillingly, before erupting into a menacing snarl. Screw it, he thought, and drew his fist.
***
Not that Harry would ever find out, his speculation concerning the 'colour of his mood' could not have been closer to the mark. Unfortunately for him, 'fiery red' can be interpreted in many different ways…and rage was not an emotion that crossed Hermione's mind. No, the glowing charm in her palm indicated only that everything had gone to plan. Anxiety, however, still lingered on Ron's face as he stared at the pendant in his own hand.
"Was this really a good idea, 'Mione? I'm not sure anymore. I mean…what if they…no, they wouldn't…would they?"
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "That was the idea, wasn't it? I mean, for Merlin's sake, he's nearly eighteen and still a virgin!"
Now it was Ron's eyebrow that nearly reached his hairline. "And you're not? You're not...not a…Hermione! Who? How did you…without us knowing?"
Hermione raised another eyebrow, suppressing an amused chuckle at the sight of blood rising in his freckled cheeks. "And what did you think? That Head-Girl-Hermione was only, ah, interested in textbooks? Oh, come on, you know me better than that. Of all people! Did you honestly think I'd spent all that time in the library? Well, actually, I did...but anyway…You were saying?"
Mouth agape, not unlike that of Professor Flitwick having forgotten what he was about to say, Ron emitted a small, near incoherent squeak. "Uh…who?" From the ridiculous pitch of his voice, Hermione could have sworn Peeves had him by the balls. In any case, he was acting extremely immaturely about the whole thing. But then, what had she expected?
"Ron, believe me, you're better off not knowing. Now, we have a job to finish, yes?"
***
Without any warning, the doors of the cupboard fell open.
For a moment, however small, both boys were completely oblivious to the sudden change in their environment. Malfoy, already sported the beginnings of a hefty black eye and a sweaty, flushed face, could only squint at Harry as the bigger boy prepared to send him flying into the cupboard doors. This would be all well and good had the doors not flown open at the point. Only a fraction of a second too late, Harry saw the 'wall' give way to an open hallway and attempted to pull the punch. Nonetheless, momentum had its way and both were powerless to prevent their graceless dive into the corridor.
Landing painfully on his back on the stone floor, Malfoy could only cringe and hold his hands over his head as Harry came tumbling out on of the cupboard to fall heavily on top of him. Harry's knee found its way straight into the pit of his stomach, leaving Malfoy gasping for breath and stuck for words.
Harry, on the other hand, had certainly come out on top in this situation. In a sudden flash of inspiration, hearing the gaggle of Slytherins coming down the passage, presumably from dinner in the Great Hall, he grinned. Picturing just how those walking toward them would see the two of them…Oh, sweet revenge!
Picking himself up from the stone floor as elegantly as he could, he reached out a hand and hauled Malfoy to his feet. As the group of students rounded the corner, into sight of the pair, Harry wrapped his arms around the other boy's lithe figure, one hand at the back of his neck, and moved in to press his lips against Malfoy's in a passionate embrace.
Taking only a quick, gratifying glance at the mixture of horror, disgust, and sheer embarrassment in Malfoy's eyes, and the collective shock evident in the faces of the Slytherins, he ran off in what he supposed was the direction of the Gryffindor tower with a triumphant grin stretched across his own features.