It took forever and I'm a horrible person. I know. I've been working on some other projects, including my two brand new spanking stories on the account "Green Eyed Lady". Warning: I plan to spend a good deal of time on them in the near future. Another of my infamous excuses is that graduation is coming soon, and since I'm trying to win a scholarship for a private high school, I have a lot of work to do. Patience is gratefully appreicated. When I *do* get a free day, however, well, let's just say the greater portion of this was written because of one free day from school. So come summer I should be able to finish up very quickly.
Thanks again to those who have taken the time to review: Ayla Pascal, Bella Pontette, blackcatmischief, enoimreH (can you make that name any more complicated? :-), Lavander Ice, Le Chat Qui Garde La Lune, Silent Onion, Sorensen, and Taracollowen. I'm forever indebted to your support. As in literally. It'll take forever to finish writing this! *grin*
Chapter 18: Hagrid's Flight
15 February, later
Quiet. It's quiet. It's wonderfully quiet.
Noise - all I've heard today. Loud, headachy, gossipy noise, no less. All I've heard about is that Fling and the dragons over in Rowena's River.
But now, since it's a Hogsmeade weekend (while we're on this vein, why do they call it a weekend? We're only in Hogsmeade one day, and not even a full one…) most of the common room has cleared out. There's only the soft chattering of the younger students. There used to be a time they'd be furiously loud since no bossy older Gryffindors were around to tell them off on these days, but now everyone is too subdued. War.
I decided not to go; I feel tired from the night before and I can't count on Blustovadk to be around and flirty if another Arrow fan is stalking me again. Furthermore there's a lot of gossip (not on teenage lovelives) to record.
I'm sorely tempted to take up on Remus's offer, because you will not believe some of these stories going around! If I listened and believed every rumour that reached my ears, that would mean that Britain in all aflame, Cornelius Fudge is dead (I can't say it's that great a loss), He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has taken over Rowena's River and is using it to travel to ports, and Death Eaters have the entire Floo system patrolled. Frighteningly enough, these may be true at some point (although I have it on good authority - Dumbledore himself - that they aren't just yet) but some of the other ones are ridiculous. For example, everyone who drinks water from Rowena's River has had their toes turn into tiny furry wriggly mice. And another that a herd of dragons has to be coaxed to migrate across Europe. Er, let's just say some people have too much time on their hands and really overactive imaginations and too much time on their hands.
The Society for Purity has that, too. Too much time on their hands, I mean. They cornered me again today, earlier, sort of defying me, knowing as well I as did that nothing the prefects would do would matter much, with their family reunions made up of Death Eaters anyway. They didn't hurt me very seriously, but threatened a bit and that whole routine, adding a bit about what I was skulking around doing last night.
I wish I could hire a wizard to stay very, very close to Mum and Dad.
16 February
The Daily Prophet came in. Funnily enough, those rumours about the dragons were correct! I got a hold of one today at lunch. A herd of dragons was in Rowena's River (well, from my eavesdropping, I guess I knew that) and were abandoned by whoever brought them in (read: Death Eaters). Now the Ministry is left with the responsibility of getting them back to their reservation.
When I heard they were Hebridean Blacks, memory was sparked and I looked up my copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them. It states they've been watched over for many years by the MacFustys, a wizarding clan. I did some more research at the library and refreshed my knowledge of the fierce devotion the MacFustys are known to have for the Hebridean Blacks. Now, I wonder, just what happened to the MacFustys? Logic tells you the Death Eaters either kidnapped or killed them, but I haven't found word of that in the Prophet.
Perhaps I ought to be a reporter. Then I can get all of the accurate facts out.
The Society for Purity cornered me yet again (twice in two days - do they not get enough homework?) and made several snide remarks about the affair.
"Wouldn't you like mammy and daddy to see some pretty dwagons 'fore they die?" Malfoy sneered, bad-tempered because Snape's charm was resisting his attempts to magically throw me against the wall. (Crabbe then finished the job manually.)
Is it truly selfish to stay at Hogwarts, putting my family at danger? This has kept nagging at me a while. But then, this long circular mental debate continues, and I conclude that if I leave and You-Know-Who wins, we'll be good as dead anyway. At least this way I'm not only fighting him but also learning to protect myself and them if worse came to worse. (Well, with what I'm learning with Drothl, I suppose I shan't learn much defence there, but that's not the only way I'm learning.)
Another odd thing. When I slipped back into the common room and to my dormitory I found a bottle of Venn's Magical Bruise Balm. I used a little, warily, and it worked perfectly fine and I don't seem to be hexed. I must say I'm getting very tired of anonymous notes and gifts! Can't the sender just stand up and confess they sent it?
20 February
YEA! Why not throw Mairead Birmingham to the wind - she's not my literate arts teacher any longer - I'll tack on all the exclamation points I want. YEA!!!!!!! So there, Mrs. Birmingham - there's seven of them.
Ron and Harry sent the Bruise Balm - they told me about it Sunday morning - well, the conversation went something along these lines as they caught up with me in the Gryffindor passages to the Great Hall, with no one else around:
Ron: Well, if it isn't our little rainbow. (But not snidely, as he had been lately.)
Me (avoiding eyes): Shut up, Ron.
Harry: Didn't we get enough Balm?
Me (turning in shock, forgetting act): What?
Harry (spots my arm): Ouch… those Slytherins really did a number there, didn't they?
Me (quickly pulls sleeve over bruise): No! Why don't you mind your - what? (I only just now realised that they knew.)
Ron (folds arms): It's okay, Hermione. We know about those (we'll just skip over his adjectives) Slytherins. Come on. (lightly takes my wrist and leads me over to the thick windowsill) Let's sit down.
Me: You… You weren't supposed to know…
Harry (raises eyebrow): That. Is obvious.
Ron: Yeah, we got that impression. (mimicking) "Well, Weasley, it sure took you a while to realise I was a person…"
Me (reddens): Ron - I'm - I'm sorry about that - I didn't mean…
Ron, naturally wanted to know about that, so I explained the façade, how I had tried to protect my family and them in one blow.
You know what? They reacted exactly as I predicted: Harry was wide-eyed at first, and then his mouth took on a scary, firm set, and Ron yelled (before I muffled him with my hand) a couple of swear words and a "Give me my wand, Hermione, I'm going to hex all of them into the next century!"
"It's not every Slytherin, Ron, some are perfectly nice… look at Chelsea Smythe."
"I'll get them all until I get the right one!"
After we calmed him down and explained the importance of keeping his a secret, Ron grew really thoughtful and even a little… sweet.
"You've been fantastic, Hermione."
That's praise!
"Just remember that everyone has to believe that we don't like each other," I said warningly.
"Tough acting job!" Ron laughed, a little bitterly, a little lightheartedly.
"How'd you find out?"
"We got suspicious one day when we heard Dean and Sara talking about 'telling the other prefects about what they're doing to Hermione'… once we realised you hadn't really meant to be a git - sorry - lately and spied around, we sort of figured it out on our own. Then the other day we saw them corner you… Harry convinced me not to say anything just yet. We got the Bruise Balm in Hogsmeade yesterday."
"So I looked that bad?" I asked with a wry smile.
"You never look bad - erm, I mean, no, not really - well, sort of - just - just bruised."
What exactly does that mean? "Oh," was all I could reply with. There was this really long, somewhat-awkward-but-not-so-awkward-I-wished-it-would-end silence.
"You two are too good," I whispered at last, because if I didn't open my mouth I was going to choke on my tears.
"Yeah right," Ron grinned, and then looked at me. I blinked furiously, but it did no good. I kept thinking: don't cry, don't cry, they get horrified every time you do… Nothing doing, those stupid tears ended up rolling down my face anyway. "Well, Hermione's crying again. Everything's going to be all right; everything's back to normal."
I used the back of my hand to dry my face and looked for something to say. I then realised Harry was missing. "Where's Harry?" (I asked with great amounts of dignity.)
Ron didn't know. Harry later said, very neutrally, that he figured we could use some time alone.
I'll forgive him. It was so fantastic just to smile at them again. I guess I hadn't realised just how much I had missed them.
Ron had an interesting idea then. Thoughtfully, he asked: "So they've been… beating… on you a… couple months now?"
I winced. "Honestly, Ron, don't throw any temper tantrums on me, I think you know the answer to that now, and you don't have to worry, Snape gave me this charm that's been protecting me from the most dangerous - "
"Snape's been giving you what?" Ron hollered.
"Ron, keep it down!" I quickly explained about the charm; Ron was wide-eyed. "So see? It's been working."
He sighed and shrugged. "If I get another chance to shoot spiders on his head, this doesn't mean I won't take it." I snorted before I thought; Ron looked pleased - for the moment. Then he got serious again. "Hermione, I hate this, I absolutely hate this, but we've got something really good going now."
"What do you mean?" I asked skeptically.
"What I mean is that every so often you are with them as they, well, threaten you, and I'm not happy about it, but you've got a real chance here."
"What?"
"Like, do they tell you about, say, what they might do if you don't do such-and-such?"
"Yes. It usually involves torture for me and death for you."
"Do they mention how they might pull it off?"
I blinked slowly and then caught onto his meaning. "Ah! I see what you mean…"
"Sort of like spying," Ron nodded. I noticed now that his face was inches from mine, and his eyes had never been so earnest, thoughtful, and intense.
"Yeah… Rodgers, that Slytherin, he's an expert with Crutiacus Curses, and most all of them know Climatics…"
Ron winced but said: "That sort of stuff. We can find their strengths and weaknesses, maybe even conclude what they plan to do next…"
I couldn't believe Ron was being so… mature about it. I expected him to be off the handle, and he was for a while, but he discussed this spying angle with me quite calmly. I feel rather proud of him, in fact.
Even though we still can't talk openly, the past few days have been absolutely fantastic. Ron and Harry have acted their parts to a T, and no one suspects anything, but I know they're there. We'll find a place to hideout sometimes just to talk. They make me laugh chronically. I've been seeing this masquerade as a life-or-death situation so long that I've never found it funny, but they do. I'd be annoyed they weren't taking it seriously, normally, but I just can't get upset at them now.
The one problem is Ginny. Ron and Harry say they haven't told her anything, and that Ginny had been incredibly angry with me since December. "I though it'd die down," Ron shrugged, "but she's just getting more and more ticked the longer this goes on." So sooner or later I'm going to have to talk with her. I'm just trying to find the right time, when no Slytherins are watching and no Gryffindors will notice… well, partly. I also feel nervous about it as well. I know what Ron means; I've seen her glares at me lately. If looks could kill I could succeed Nick as Gryffindor ghost.
Well, technically, there's one more problem, too - Sara. I mentioned this to the boys and confessed that I didn't like how they had "replaced" me.
You would've thought I had slapped them! They were a good deal affronted.
"No one can replace you, Hermione!" Ron said.
"But - it looked like - "
"How d'you really think we can just replace a friendship like ours? We've been through everything together," Harry interrupted. "Yeah, Sara's fun, Sara's nice to talk with, yeah, I wouldn't mind calling her a friend. But she's Sara and you're Hermione." Seeing I looked unconvinced, he added: "Hermione, she lets us copy her homework occasionally! D'you know how wrong that feels?"
Even I laughed at that.
"Besides, she's two years older and George is dead gone on her. And she on him," Ron added. "Oh, Hermione, didn't you see it at the Valentine's Fling? I've never seen George so dopey." He imitated a blank stare, mouth open. " 'Uh… uh-huh… yeah…' It's pathetic, absolutely pathetic. I could hardly believe it was actually him.
"But anyway, I do like Sara. But she's not you and I've missed you."
"Truthfully, Hermione…" Harry began hesitantly. "Truthfully, the main reason I started talking with her over Christmas is because - first, we were all alone in Gryffindor, of course, but also… her parents are dead too, Hermione. And she doesn't feel she belongs - anywhere but here. I owe so much to you two, but… but it feels nice to have someone who knows. We don't even have to discuss it, we'd rather not, but we know."
Well, how exactly can I completely hate someone who helps Harry… I wonder if he purposefully set up that guilt trap for me to tolerate her. But something else I've noticed lately, she disappears a lot during the evenings. Now, where exactly is she going?
This has been a merciless entry. I really must finish up some Potions work for next week, and Crookshanks is suffering for attention.
22 February
Hermione, I know I am in your diary. I didn't want to stoop to your sorts of levels to get a point across, but I need to send you a note, and simply because my brother is dead gone on you I don't want you to be caught.
You told me all about what those Slytherins are doing and I can understand why you had to put on an act. But I'm still very angry with you for not telling us! Honestly, I thought we were friends, and friends don't hide things like that. Can you really not trust us enough? I know in my first year I didn't tell you about the diary and everything, but I think it's unfair for you to bring that up, because I barely knew you then. Since then I thought we had shared everything. I think it's awfully mean of you to go around lying to us, destroying reputations and spreading lies just because you were "ashamed" to admit what the Society for Purity was doing to you. Ashamed?! Why do you need to feel ashamed?
I still don't understand why you couldn't just tell us this but I can't be a friend with someone who is going to hide things like this from me. Trust me, my brothers treat me like a little girl enough. You've always said I could be trusted, now why not follow up on that?
However since apparently Harry and Ron do care about you now I don't want to cause tension. Just continue ignoring me and I'll do the same. Unlike some people I don't want to cause unnecessary waves and petty disagreements.
Ginny Weasley
22 February, later
I suppose since I'm pressed for time I might as well thank Ginny. Thank Ginny? I want to strangle her for going into my diary. At least now, however, there's no need for me to recount what happened when I talked with her. I explained all about the Society, and Ginny angrily whispered a few questions, huffed off, and I got this.
The worst thing is, she might be right. But I think she's being unfair; hindsight is only twenty-twenty. Perhaps I should have told them, but when the life of you and your family is dependant upon your immediate actions, how often do you really think through everything and have every decision you make correct? Furthermore, she may not have known me very well three years ago, but she at least ought to remember how difficult it is to confess something like this.
I'd go on ranting a bit more, as I'm prone to do, but there's something very important to record. The Hebridean Blacks at Rowena's River really must be herded back to their homeland, and Hagrid's been asked to do so.
Hagrid agreed, of course, he hissed it to us in Care of Magical Creatures and told us to visit him later and then explained it all. I couldn't go, because of the Great Masquerade (as Ron dubbed it), but the boys did and repeated the news to me.
They say he's thrilled, absolutely over the moon. I guess, considering his love of dragons and all, he would be, since he gets to fly on a broomstick for several days on end with a herd of dragons. He's even doubly happy because they're being sent to Charlie's dragon reservation (well, it's not Charlie's, but he works there) - where Norbert is!
"Hagrid says Charlie says Norbert's huge now," Harry said, "even though in dragon terms he's still a juvenile. Hagrid's sure he'll recognise him, even so."
"He's in a daze," Ron grinned. "Apologised 'cause the muffins were undercooked. Actually, they were just right for once, edible and all."
"Ron," I chastised. "You needn't pick on him; cooking just isn't his area."
"I'm just kidding, Hermione! Anyway, he's dead excited… leaving first thing tomorrow. We'll be stuck with Grubby-Plank and Fl… the two others," he amended quickly, looking embarrassed as he said her name. Fleur. Fleur. What a stupid name that is, anyway. Why name your child Fleur? It even looks silly when you spell it.
"You don't look happy," Harry pointed out quietly.
"I'm… I'm happy for Hagrid, I know this'll be the experience of a lifetime for him, and no one deserves it more, but… it's a little dangerous," I said at last, a deep feeling of doom in my stomach.
Ron burst out laughing. "Does he ever do anything that isn't? It'd be a great disappointment to him if he did anything tame and safe!"
I had to smile fondly as well but continued: "Honestly… to Romania… that's hundreds of kilometers… all open air… on a broomstick, right?" They nodded. "Not only might the dragons turn on him, well… fatigue… that's a long ride…"
"They're doing it in legs," Ron explained. "Hagrid's not the only one going, some others'll be there - Charlie knows most of them. Some'll rest at turns and camp behind while the others fly, then catch up and let the others have a break, and even the dragons won't fly that nonstop…"
"Still, not only that," I cried, a little panicky. "I mean, those dragons… someone killed their keepers, kept them, set them loose… I bet my life it was Death Eaters. They probably like the fact the Ministry is one the noose trying to keep them safe and secret from Muggles now, if they go to Romania, the problem's solved… what if the Death Eaters try to make sure they don't get there? It sounds like a diversionary tactic to me."
"What exactly do you know about diversionary tactics?" Harry asked.
I gave him a hard look. "I've been friends with a Seeker star how long? And five years trying to survive the twins? Trust me, I know a diversion when I see one. What I'm saying is that no one escorting the dragons away is going to be a great person in their eyes… and hasn't Hagrid been helping Dumbledore? I'm sure, all in all, he's really popular with the Dark Side."
"Exclusive club, that is," Ron pointed out.
"Stop cracking jokes; this is serious."
"I'm worried, too, but we can't sit here twiddling our thumbs the whole time," Ron said matter-of-factly. "I doubt it'd be too easy to hurt Hagrid, since nothing else seems to have done it yet."
That true, and a welcome relief. I still plan on being worried, however. I wish I could run down and visit him. Stupid Society! If it weren't for them I could do so freely… but I really don't want them to get any ideas on whom to hurt. I wish I had remembered to write a note for Ron and Harry to give him. But I'll just have to follow Ron's advice and stop worrying. If I get this worked up every time someone who I care about is in danger, I might be worrying a bit too much, considering the minor fact that we are in the middle of a deadly war.
February 23
Charlie sent Ron a quick note this evening, simply stating that Hagrid's flight had started off beautifully, all was going well so far, that Hagrid would probably reach Romania and back within a little over a week, and all the dragons seemed to have accepted him and the other "shepherds" readily. (It sounds funny to call them shepherds when their sheep are anything but sheep!) Everything was going right as rain, in other words.
There was also a beautiful snapshot "his friend Josie" had taken.
"Charlie's girlfriend…" Ron murmured.
"Is she?"
"He mentioned her a good bit over Christmas, I'd guess so." He chuckled.
That reminded me - I asked: "So where exactly did you go over Christmas?"
"Oh, that, sorry, forgot you didn't know."
"Well, I don't know, and why didn't you take Harry?" My voice was a little stern.
Ron winced. "We wanted to, trust me… see, we were going to. Dad had to meet with some Ministry members on their holiday to discuss his plans against the Dark Side. We were going to meet them on a Christmas trip to Wales. Well, Dumbledore and Mum had arranged for us to take Harry, I think, but then at the eleventh hour…" He shook his head with an incredulous smile. "You won't believe this, but Percy invited us to a special resort in Wales."
"Whatever for?" I asked.
"Trust me, Hermione, that's what all of us asked! He got snappy with us and asked why on earth he couldn't just treat his very favourite family to a nice Christmas? Hermione, it was expensive, I couldn't believe it. Percy was always so tightfisted with what he earned over at the Ministry - and it's not like he earns a whole lot. Well, he didn't tell us to bring friends. He got really red when we brought that up later and promised next time he would let us invite whoever we wanted. He was acting really weird."
"How so?" I asked worriedly, remembering how I had thought last year about how he might react to Crouch's death, and whom he might side with, the Ministry or his family.
"Just… not like Percy. That holiday, let's say. That's all the pay he must've saved for a year now! He never spends like that. And he spent a lot of time asking us about what we were doing at school, what was going on. Asking us questions - usually it's all him, him, him. And the Ministry and flimsy-bottomed cauldrons. It's like he's gone through a total transformation. And then…"
Ron trailed off, frowned, and continued: "This was the really odd thing. The night of Christmas - not Christmas Eve, but the one after that, actual Christmas Night - we had been drinking hot chocolate and about ready to go to bed… it was really snowy that night… so we all went up to bed. Percy gave us all a good-night hug and said he had to write a few Ministry things, he'd be up soon… well, that sounded like Percy. The next morning, Ginny woke up really early and found a note from us, saying that he loved us. Percy was gone."
"Goodness!"
"Yeah, I thought something like that, too. Mum and Dad ran out straightaway. They found him outside in a snow bank, half-frozen… brought him back inside, thawed him… nearly yelled him to death, Mum was seeing red and crying, she was so worried… he seemed sort of flat. Like he was frustrated, but mostly just rather blank."
"Oh. My. Goodness. Ron, that's terrible, that's suicide!"
"Yeah, well. Fred said about the same thing. He and George charmed his pillow so it played the March of Death when he slept after that." He snickered at the memory.
My mouth hung open. "Ron Weasley! Your very own brother is suicidal, probably confused to no end about this pull between what his family wants of him and what the Ministry of Magic wants of him, and all you and those twins can do is laugh at him!"
"Well, it was rather funny…" He caught my eye and added quickly: "Oh, you're right though, completely awful of us, I know."
"How's Percy look?" I asked sternly.
"Beat. Ministry's got him running in circles, Dad says."
I sighed and shook my head.
But then I looked back down at Josie's picture. It's lovely. It's just as Hagrid first got into the air on his broomstick (a Timberboom or something). The sky backdrop was a perfect beautiful clear blue, a few streamy white wisps of clouds here and there, and the picture showed the cold air's brilliance. The Hebridean were taking flight at the same time as well - unraveling their huge bodies into the air, stretching and twisting gracefully, dazzling purple eyes alert. And Hagrid, in the middle of it all on that broom, moving rather dragon-like himself, with this expression of pure bliss. The whole picture is just breathtaking. My fears were greatly assuaged - something as beautiful as that can't be ruined. Well, it can be, but probably not.
On the other hand, I was getting very worried about Percy. Did he really almost commit suicide, or is Ron just exaggerating again?
25 February
Since the Society hadn't done anything more to bother me lately than to send a few notes and charmed my books to sing when I open them, Harry suggested we stage a fight tomorrow to provoke them into remembering me. I wouldn't have thought of doing anything to incur harassment just a few days ago, but Ron reminded me about what information I might get from spying.
I wanted to point out we had no one to give that information to, but decided to cross that bridge when I came to it. We're staging a fight for tomorrow in the Great Hall; I'm going to trip Ron and we'll get into a huge mess. I refused to let Harry get involved when the Dark Side wanted his skin so much to begin with.
Ginny's going to be furious when I trip her brother, however. True to her word, she doesn't show any hostility toward me whatsoever and is icily polite when we talk. But she is obviously still angry with me, and I'm frustrated with her, although I feel I deserve parts of it.
26 February
Sara Blustovadk and I were assigned to the same cauldron today in Potions. I think Snape deliberately wanted to torture one or both of us.
I practically wanted to shout at her: "Honestly, Blustovadk, don't touch a thing and let me do it!" Potions is not her favourite subject, to put it lightly, and she couldn't tell a beetle from a cockroach if her life depended on it.
When Snape came by and hissed to her: "Six tonight", I thought he was giving her a detention. Then I remembered how she often disappeared in the evenings and looked at her curiously. "What's that about?" I asked bluntly.
She glanced at me warily, trying to dice an ingredient evenly and failing. "We're going to make passionate love," she replied sarcastically.
"Excuse me for wanting a straight answer. Do you ever answer anything without sarcasm?"
"Yes." She pounded once rather sharply and continued very low under the cover of an argument between Ron and Malfoy, "The boys know about the Society?"
I gave her a warning look and nodded very discreetly.
"I'll shut up. Fine, you answered my question, I'll answer yours, since some people trust you for some reason. I meet with one of the teachers every week for, well, training, I'd guess you'd call it."
"It's called 'training'. So what is it?"
"It's getting hands-on experience for the behind-the-scenes duties of instructing." She paused, looked at me. I stared. "I don't have any guardians who'll pay for my schooling here and no money of my own. Dumbledore offered a very kind agreement where I'd finish my years here and teach."
Blustovadk looked completely depressed. I was wildly jealous. "And what's so wrong with getting a teaching position at Hogwarts! That'd be fantastic."
Sara made a face. "For you, maybe. I'm not looking forward to having all my old classmates call me 'Professor'. And what if it's the Defence position? I'll die. I couldn't heal a wound or drive off anyone or thing to save my life." She cut off abruptly and reddened. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to complain, especially not to you."
"What'd you want to do other than teach?"
"Play Quidditch. Sounds terrible, doesn't it? I know, I'm awfully ungrateful. But tonight it's with Snape. How much of this do I put into the potion?"
We finished the class with few more arguments about our work. Then I asked about her family.
"My parents died when I was little," she shrugged. "I… I don't remember much about them. I don't know what their name was, or mine surname. I lived with my grandfather a little while… he died too." She paused. "They didn't like me very much."
"Why ever not?"
"I think I remember them saying… that I was too much like my uncle."
I grinned involuntarily, although secretly I was feeling a touch of empathy. "What was so wrong with him?"
She shrugged again. "Apparently he did something terribly disgraceful. And I was too much like him. Who knows that I might have done the same thing he did, turned out the same way, I suppose? Mr. Blustovadk of the Ministry of Magic adopted me. I took his name. He died in my fourth year."
"And," drawled someone behind us, "you have us to thank for the fact you're alive now."
It was Malfoy. Sara forced a neutral face. "'Morning, Draco. Oughtn't you working, not eavesdropping?"
He smirked. "What a sad, lovely story, Blustovadk."
"If you enjoyed," she shrugged.
"I did. Tell on."
"The Malfoys were kind enough to take me in the past few years," Blustovadk finished blandly.
"And keep you from Hogwarts!" I cried, furiously. "What's that, Malfoy, I suppose you needed a new house-elf? Had to put Secrecy Spells on her so Dumbledore couldn't find her?"
Then I realised how loud I had been.
"Honestly… yeah," Draco smiled maliciously.
A murmur of talk broke out. "…were they talking about Sara?" "What about the Malfoys?" "Isn't that against the law?" "Did they use her as a servant?"
"Settle down," Snape ordered lightly. "Mr. Malfoy, please take a seat. Miss Blustovadk, sad and sweet though your life story may be, perhaps you could re-tell it and we'll fetch you a crying towel some other time."
Sara turned to our potion, face burning red as Slytherins snickered and Gryffindors were squirming in sympathy. When class was dismissed she turned to me with a horrible glare and half-scowl. "You couldn't've said that any more loudly, Hermione?" she snapped.
"Well, you weren't exactly quiet when you noticed my dealings with the Society," I retorted. "You don't think it wasn't embarrassing for me to have all the prefects know of that, and to have them think I can't stand up for myself?"
She turned without another word, and I realised what my words sounded: As if I had set up that entire scene just to get revenge for her telling Dean and Leila about the Society. Which, in any case, I don't care whether she thinks so or not. I didn't mean to say anything so distinctly, and she needn't have gotten so worked up over it.
Criticism... praise... death threats... marriage proposals...
