~ Chimera's Call ~

Chapter 5

As much as he willed her to open her eyes, she didn't even move. They would need a potion or a spell to wake her up. Yet Harry couldn't think of any and none of the teachers were within reach. The only other person who could have come up with a solution from her great resource of knowledge lay still as stone on the sofa. Chagrined, Harry bit his lip.

"Malfoy," Ron said, the word sounding almost like a growl to Harry's ears. "He's done this to her, he has to know how it can be undone -- hasn't he?"

"I think so," Harry answered doubtfully. "But even if he knew – do you really think he would tell us? He was gleeful enough about the damage he'd caused."

"Maybe he just needs a little persuasion," came the gloomy reply. Surprised, Harry looked up. Ron still stared down at Hermione, only by now his whole body had grown tense and his eyes glimmered strangely from beneath red strands of hair. With still growing wonder, Harry saw that his friend clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles were already turning white.

"Persuasion of what sort?" Harry asked carefully.

Ron shot him a quick, burning glance. "Of the hard sort."

Harry looked at Ron, then straightened and with a grim face retrieved his wand. Of course. Malfoy would never help them, unless he was made to. And made to he would be. 'Nothing I'd rather do,' Harry thought darkly.

"You're right," he said. "I'll go find Malfoy and then he will help Hermione." 'Oh yes,' he thought. 'He'll be very ready to help once I've finished with him.' Spells and counter-spells already formed in Harry's mind as he anticipated the coming duel with his arch-enemy. Anger added to the contempt he already felt for the spiteful Slytherin. Determined to roast Malfoy if it came to it, Harry shoved his spectacles into place and set out for the common rooms exit. He hadn't fully finish his second step when a hand on his arm stopped him in place.

"No, Harry," Ron said, gripping his friend's sleeve a little too tightly.

Confusion made the bespectacled boy raise his brows. "But I thought you said . . ."

"I didn't mean a wand lesson," Ron cut in, pressing his lips together tightly. "And I didn't mean that you should go."

Astonishment was written all over Harry's face as he studied Ron. For a moment, the two just stared at each other, reading each other's expression and thoughts. The exchange was quick and succinct. Harry lowered his arm and tucked back his wand.

"All right," he said and folded his arms before his chest. "I'll stay with Hermione."

Ron nodded and strode to the portrait hole without any further word.

***

Mischief is a pleasing thing, as long as you can bask in its success.

Draco Malfoy knew the scent and feel of such delight all too well. His schemes were meant to work, and triumph was something Malfoy would drink like sweet wine. Obviously, he enjoyed every single drop.

From his watch-point beneath the stony pillars Ron could see the smug grin plastered over the Slytherin's pale face. Had such a smirk usually driven Ron into madness, it now only deepened the coldness of his anger. It was a new feeling, and with a stony calmness Ron could watch Malfoy and take in the scene that surrounded him. In such composure he could plan and prepare.

Goyle was with Malfoy, trodding behind the smaller boy like a dog at its master's heels. That could be a problem, but Ron reckoned that surprise might give him the advantage he needed. He waited until Malfoy and his shadow came by the fountain in the middle of the place, then he stepped out of the shadows and into the courtyard. Distantly, he felt his heart hammering fast against his chest.

The two boys didn't see him until he was almost upon them. When Malfoy finally noticed him approaching, a look first of surprise then of satisfaction settled on his features.

"Weasley!" he exclaimed in mock-wonder. "Came out for a walk? I thought you had more important things to d--" He only came thus far, then Ron was upon him and Malfoy was sent sprawling on the snow-covered court. The skinny Slytherin had only so much time as to gasp when Ron seized him roughly by his collar and lifted him half up from the ground. Goyle behind them stood frozen in shock, gaping at the scene with saucer-round eyes. Ron, however, wasted no time. With a quick flip of his hands, he turned Malfoy around and pressed his face into the snow. Summoning a strength he had no idea he even possessed, Ron then grabbed the sputtering Slytherin by his shoulders and stood him on his feet. With a push in the back he propelled Malfoy in another direction and made him tumble against the fountain. Malfoy could hardly grip the rim of the basin in time and his nose stopped only inches above the iced surface of the fount.

Ron leaped after him and held him down, his hand clasping in an iron-grip around the other boy's neck.

"Spill, you slimy git," Ron snarled. "What have you done to her?" A small part of him was surprised by the ferocity that had seized him, but the larger part of Ron Weasley could only see the picture of Hermione's prone figure, her white cheeks marred by the trickle of blood and her features twisted in fear. He could hardly prevent his hands from shaking and his breath went rashly, puffing vapour into the crispy air.

Malfoy beneath him made an almost mewling sound when Ron put still more pressure down on him. That was the moment Goyle at last decided to participate. Two paw-like hands snapped around Ron's waist like a tight rope and he was lifted in the air and off Malfoy. For a split second he could hear Goyle's panting breath, then Ron was tossed into a snowdrift. He came up in an instant, ducking under a heavy swing that Goyle had aimed at him.

Ron Weasley, who had grown up with four elder brothers under the same roof, threw himself into the fight. Years of experience and the remembrance of uncounted brawls clicked into place. He easily foresaw the moves of Goyle, twisted out of his reach and returned quick blows where the plump Slytherin didn't expect them. Like an eel he slipped through a vice-like grip and jumped out of the stomping lad's way. Goyle, who never saw it coming, flew over Ron's outstretched leg and shot head first into the snowdrift. There he lay and Ron – snow-slumps plastered to his red hair – whirled around to face the remaining Slytherin.

Malfoy, still too baffled to be quick, fumbled in his robes for his wand. When he finally did retrieve it, Ron was already at his side and slapping the magic tool out of the Slytherin's hand. When he lifted his fist, Malfoy actually cowered and a wave of satisfaction washed over the seething Weasley.

It was then that Ron came to his senses again. He looked down at Malfoy's shivering frame and saw the thin trail of blood that trickled from the pointy nose. Mild shock poured into Ron's fury and he hesitated. He had neither planned to strike so hard nor to push the fight so far. But the moment he'd gotten his hands onto this villain's collar, there had been no stopping him. The better half of him now wagged its finger and funnily enough, his conscience came up with Hermione's eyes, staring sternly up at him. He thought that no matter what the git had done, Hermione certainly would not approve of Ron beating Malfoy into a lumpy mass.

'Not that he doesn't deserve it,' Ron thought grimly.

He loosened the grip of his hand, which had grasped the front of Malfoy's robe. Still, there must have been something in his eyes that kept Malfoy fretting in spite of the waning grip. Ron himself didn't notice anything unusual about himself, he was just enraged, but Malfoy appeared to see something new in him. Later, when the present scene would long be part of the past, this particular moment would enkindle a fire of hatred every time Draco was reminded of it. Ron Weasley had frightened him in a way that brought him to reveal weakness. Shame and wrath would from thereon struggle inside of him and never, never, would he forgive the humiliation. Neither would he get rid of the thought that the red-head could summon a strength that overpowered his own.

Right then, though, at the side of the fountain, Malfoy couldn't think at all. Ron still towered above the ducking Slytherin, indecisive about what to do, when once again a pair of thick arms tore him away. This time, there was no savage wrath that could support him, and Goyle held the lanky boy fast in his grip. With clenched teeth, Ron dragged at the arms that held him.

Malfoy stared at them, then straightened slowly. If possible, his face had taken on an even whiter shade of pale and his dark eyes flickered unsteadily.

"Weasley," he breathed and his voice trembled in fast-growing ire.

"Tell me what you've done to Hermione," Ron squeezed out from between clenched teeth, unfazed by the menacing situation. He locked his eyes with Draco's and put all his rage in his piercing glance. "Tell me, or I'll swear I'll take care of your face so that even your mother won't recognise you after."

Malfoy's eyes widened and he indeed took a step backwards. Then he caught himself and tilted up his chin, though he couldn't entirely hide the shaking of his hands.

"Big words, Weasley," he hissed. "I wonder how you'll put them into effect."

"Don't fret, I will," Ron snarled and kicked his feet in order to get free.

Heat came in angry spots to Malfoy's cheek and at length he dared to come closer. Ron could see he was seething, his careful mask of vanity fallen from his sharp features. Open hate glistened in his eyes and beneath his disheveled strands of hair he looked almost mad.

"That mud-blood deserved what came to her," he sputtered. "If I could've made it, she would have gotten even worse!"

Ron struggled wildly against Goyle's grip and felt his initial fury return.

A frenzied grin broadened on Malfoy's face. "I nearly would have," he went on in a leeching voice. "It was all there. If I had taken another glass and one more pouch your muggle-witch would be cold as stone by now. Just another phial out of that shelf, and I would have re-invented the Sleeping Beauty tale." He gave a short, resentful laugh. "Only that she would be neither a beauty nor would she ever wake up."

Wild triumph gleamed in his eyes and he watched Ron to complete his victory. Yet he was confused as he met only surprise on his opponent's face.

"You've been into Snape's secret supplies," Ron said in a low and astounded voice.

Malfoy flinched and stared at him, realising what he just had revealed.

Reassured by Malfoy's shock, Ron summoned his strength and repeated in a louder voice. "You've been into Snape's secret supplies!" Malfoy clearly was bereft of all words and Ron felt himself gaining more upper-hand with every passing second. Thus encouraged, he went on fast. "You've stolen from your own head-of-house, oh, and you've been in an area strictly forbidden to every student. They'll cast you out as soon as they find out!" Again Malfoy flinched violently and Ron knew he had won. It only needed one more step. He went totally calm in Goyle's grip and looked at Draco with narrowed eyes. "Let me down," he said coldly. One quick glance of Malfoy and Goyle released him.

On the snow-paved courtyard Ron stood facing Draco Malfoy and this time he didn't use his fists to make his point. It only needed the dark sound of his voice.

"Now tell me how to wake Hermione."

***

TBC