The Unlikely Side Effects of Floo Powder

Chapter Four

By Miss Augurey

. . . . Yes, yes, I can't believe that they said that . . . what? Am I on? Oh! Errr, yes, well, thank you, I'm very honored to be invited on to the show John. Of course, yes, well, it's the towns one-hundred and fiftieth anniversary and, as mayor of Patuksy, I am very happy to announce that the renovation plans for the town hall and the sewage system will commence three weeks from now, two days after the official celebration.  Yes well, I understand that that sort of thing can be a problem, but I'm not the one you should take it up with . . . well, no, I didn't know the sheriff said that . . .  My stand on the new safety regulations? Heh-heh, ehmmm . . . boy, it sure is hot in here isn't it?

~Interview on Wake up Patuksy of Mayor Jonathon Helsing

~*~

Last Time:

WELCOME TO PATUKSY, KANSAS, HOME OF THE WILDCATS!

~*~

Hermione would remember, years afterward, exactly how blue the paint around the border of the sign was, exactly how many petals were on the flower on the right hand corner, and even the number of cows in the distance. The image before became stuck, indelibly within her mind.

Of course, at the time, all she could focus on were the words before her.

Kansas. Oh hell.

Draco just stared, not exactly sure what the sign before him meant—and wishing that he had paid more attention in World Geography when his governess had taught it to him so many years before (and it would have been easier had not she been under the impression that very short skirts and very tight blouses were apparel suited for a tutoring session).

Kansas—it was in the United States, but where exactly?  And Patuksy? Was that some important wizarding center that he was supposed to know about?

"Granger," he began slowly. "Do you, by any chance, know where we are?" Hermione came out of her stupor just long enough to look slightly irritated—as she always did when stupid questions were asked of her.

"You never went to a normal muggle school, did you?" she asked, suddenly interested in exactly how Malfoy knew enough math to take Arithmancy if he had never even gone to kindergarten.

"I had a personal governess," he said, eyes misting over as he fondly remembered Collette and her very shapely . . . legs.

"If you had ever taken a class on World History," Hermione began in her usual tone, "you would know that—"

"I'm not here to hear you lecture about stupid muggle classes. It's a simple question: in relation to the wizarding world, where are we?" Draco snapped impatiently, wondering how soon he would be able to get back to Hogwarts and change out of his dirty robes.

Hermione stopped, mid-sentence, as she tried to generate what Draco had just said. Her mind finally working properly again, she looked at Draco in an eerily calm manner.

"Malfoy," she asked, perhaps too serenely, "do you have your wand with you?"

Draco's heart nearly stopped, then sank to his chest as he felt in his robes for his wand. Finding nothing, he turned around to go back into the old bar to see if he had dropped it in there.

Then he remembered placing down his wand next to Blaise's as he walked to the front of the classroom in Potions and he slowly over toward Hermione, who was now murmuring to herself.

"—neither of us have them, no way to contact a wizarding town, no way to contact Knight Bus or Dumbledore, no way to get home—" she continued and Draco turned back to the sign, suddenly all to aware of exactly what it meant.

"Bollocks"    

~*~

Snape rubbed his eyes as he paced back and forth in front of the fireplace.

"So, you're telling me that, unless I know exactly what they said, there is no way for you to track them?" he asked, his voicing nearly cracking as he tried to control his temper.

The head within the fire nodded. "Yes sir, I'm sorry. Unless they used the Floo Powder officially manufactured by the Ministry, there's no way for us to track them."

Snape turned around and glared at the fire. "I will make sure," he hissed, "that the minister hears about this."

The head gulped and, with another—perhaps more sincere—apology, disappeared back into the flames.

Snape turned around. "Of all the moments the network personnel had to use the bathroom," he muttered. Professor McGonagall looked up from her hunched position beside Dumbledore's desk.

"Severus, what are we going to tell the Grangers and Ms Malfoy?" she asked quietly, her hand resting beside the two wands that Snape had found on his return to the classroom.

Snape nearly flinched at the names. Resisting the urge to go immediately back to bed and sleep, he looked up at the Transfigurations professor.

"Dumbledore said that he would speak to them as soon as he returned from the Ministry. He said that Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy would perhaps find some way of contacting us if they were--"

"Severus," McGonagall interrupted, "they don't even have their wands."

Snape sighed again, and looked up as the door opened and Ron Weasely and Harry Potter stormed into the office, looking ready to murder.

Really, of all the days not to drink his morning coffee.

~*~

Before she knew it, Hermione found herself next to a hyperventilating Draco Malfoy, and resisting the urge to laugh as he caught his breath.

Moments later, when he had fully recovered, she couldn't hide her amusement as he stared up at her from his crouched position on the ground.

" 'S not funny," he gasped, holding his chest and coughing as if to illustrate his point. "We have no way of ever returning to Hogwarts, ever." he said, if only a little melodramatically.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "We can walk down the road and find the nearest house," she said. "I'll ask to use the phone and call my parents, and then they can call Dumbledore or the Ministry," she finished, feeling much better herself as she stated the logic of her plan.

Draco stared at her blankly. "What's a 'phone?'" he asked, a moment later, a puzzled look on his face.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just follow me," she said, hoping that, for once, Draco wouldn't be a total ass and do the logical thing (which was to listen to her).

Of course, this was Draco.

"No, I don't think I will," he said difficultly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can't trust someone like you to lead us anywhere safe."

"Draco," Hermione said exasperatedly and impatiently—as she didn't want to spend a good part of the next hour convincing him to follow her.

And then it dawned on her.

"Why do I even care?" she said aloud, and began walking down the street towards Patuksy, leaving Draco standing by the edge of the road.

Moments later, she heard footsteps and watched, slightly annoyed, as Draco caught up to her and then began walking a few steps ahead.

"Going this way anyway," she heard him murmur as he passed her, and she, even though she would never admit it, a certain amount of the irritation quickly disappeared.

~*~

About two miles and forty-five minutes later, Hermione and Draco arrived at the first row of houses in the town. Each had matching mailboxes, matching green lawns and tulip beds. Hermione thought it was charming—Draco found it quite sickening.

As they walked up onto the first house with a light on, Hermione tried to dust of the dirt and ash from her cloak and Draco tried to fix his hair. Ringing the doorbell Hermione turned to Draco.

"Remember, we're supposed to be going to California and we missed our flight," she said, praying that Draco wouldn't ask her again to explain how such huge contraptions as airplanes stayed aloft without magic.

She turned back just as the door began to open and immediately plastered a smile on her face.

The woman who opened the door had graying brown hair and a sweet, if slightly plain face. Her hands were white with what Hermione could only believe to be flour as she took in the flowered apron the woman before her was wearing.

"Hello---" Hermione began, bracing herself for the door to slam in her face, but instead she felt herself pulled inside by the smiling woman.

"Now aren't you two just adorable?" she said, as Draco and Hermione's eyes adjusted to the indoor light. "All the way from England—was your flight long?"

Hermione stared at the woman, not believing what she was hearing. Too frazzled to actually answer the question, she quickly asked "may I please use the phone?"

The woman smiled and gestured to the cordless on the table next to her.

"Go right ahead—I know you two must be homesick already," she said, smiling warmly at the two of them.

Hermione, still too confused to do anything else, picked up the phone and dialled her parents' home number. As she waited to hear the ring, she heard the woman talking to Draco in the background.

"—I couldn't believe that the high school here was participating, but here you are. Next year, they said they might even bring in cultural exchange students from France, now wouldn't that just be amazing, but right now I think our tiny town can only handle so much . . ."

Hermione put down the phone and turned back to the woman.

"It says that---" she began.

"Oh yes, silly me, can't believe I forgot." The woman said, wiping her hands on her apron. "There's some huge power outage in England and none of the phone lines are working in and around London. Now, back to the exchange program . . ."

Hermione was beginning to feel slightly nauseous and one look at Draco told her that the confusion wasn't really agreeing with him either.

"Exchange program?" she asked faintly.

The woman stopped speaking momentarily. "You are the cultural exchange students from that prep school in London, aren't you?" she asked quickly and probably would have waited for an answer, had not the oven timer beeped at that exact moment.

"Oh! Be back in a jiffy!" she said cheerfully.

Hermione sat down on the yellow paisley couch and Draco collapsed into the chair opposite her.

"Cultural exchange . . . power outage . . . London prep school" Draco muttered to himself as Hermione sat in silence, her brow furrowed as she tried to come up with a plan. 

"Malfoy," she murmured softly, repeating his name again to wake him out of his stupor. "We can't get in touch with England or anyone in the magical world, we have no money, no place to stay and no way of eating." She began, looking at him intently. "If we tell her that we're the cultural exchange students she's speaking of, then we'll be able to spend the night and sort out everything we need to."

Draco just stared at her like she had gone completely insane. Hermione sighed, about to repeat herself, but before she could, the overly cheerful woman returned from the kitchen.

"Well, the chicken is ready for dinner, and I just put on the peas" she said, looking from Draco to Hermione. "Would you like to see your room now?" she finished and Hermione looked tentatively over at Draco, who seemed to be listening to the woman a little more intently than she was.

"Room?" he asked hesitantly, worried about the singularity of the word.

The woman nodded slowly. "We were under the impression that both of you were girls, and, because there are only so many rooms in this house, we thought it logical to put both of you in the same room." She looked at them suspiciously as they exchanged glances. "You two aren't . . . . involved, are you?" she asked, motioning between them with her fingers.

Hermione and Draco both laughed (perhaps a little too hard) and Hermione, in a moment of perhaps pure genius or pure stupidity (depending on how you look at it) quickly looked up at her.

"No, we're brother and sister," she said quickly, looking over at Draco as he immediately stopped laughing and began to glare at her.

The woman peered at the both of them intently for a moment before smiling slowly again. "Yes," she began as she headed towards the stairs at the other side of the room. "I can see the resemblance."

Hermione and Draco both turned to stare at her, mouths hanging open and both of them nearly falling over before they caught themselves and got up to follow her. Malfoy began giving Hermione glances and making a miserable face (at the thought of resembling her, Hermione guessed).

"Now, because of the celebration and the opening of the factory, your schedule will be quite full for the next couple of days, so perhaps both of you should turn in a bit early tonight."

Hermione, who was looking forward to a nice shower and a good nap, smiled at the thought of sleep. Of course, then the woman opened the door to the room they would share--

A relatively small room with a single lamp and clock, a dresser, a door to what Hermione hoped led to the bathroom, and a full sized bed.

One full-sized bed.

Hermione and Draco both began laughing hysterically at the exact same moment.

~*~

A few minutes later, the two of them were sitting on opposite sides of the bed, alone in the room as Mrs Kramer (Hermione had finally remembered to ask her name) needed to check on the casserole.

"This is your fault, you know," Draco said, sulking as he toyed with the edge of his tie.

"Oh, it's not that bad," Hermione snapped angrily, the chaos of the day finally catching up to her. "We'll be able to contact my parents tomorrow probably, in a couple of days at the most. We'll only have to play along for a day or two."

Malfoy turned to stare at her.

"I have to go to a muggle school," he began slowly. 'I have to eat muggle food and coerce with muggle children, and I have to sleep in the same bed as a mudblood—not to mention, the only thing I have to wear is this." He held up the red checked shirt that Mrs Kramer had given him after enquiring about the state of his robes, and Hermione rolled her eyes as he shook it melodramatically.

"And you think that this is my preferred choice?" she asked.

Malfoy smirked. "Sleeping in the same bed as a Malfoy? Do you know how many women would kill to be in your place?"

"More like kill if they were in my place—you specifically," she muttered, suddenly very much regretting ever volunteering in Potions in the first place.

Draco's smirk widened. "Fine," he said, "but I restate this: ask some of your Gryffindor friends." When he saw her blush, Draco laughed. "Or haven't you already?"

Hermione's blush deepened and she felt her ears grow hot as she remembered hearing Lavender Brown relate to Parvati just how well Draco Malfoy could kiss.

"Shutup Malfoy," she mumbled sullenly, not in the mood to hear him gloat.

Draco tisked. "Poor Granger, probably never even felt a man's touch."

Hermione looked up. "I—I have too!" she said indignantly, regretting the words the moment that they flew out of her mouth.

Malfoy quirked his eyebrows. "I bet you've never even been kissed by Weasely," he remarked, his voice low as he began inching closer to her on the bed.

"Sod off Malfoy, she snapped, jumping up quickly as she wasn't in the mood to have a confrontation with Malfoy (on a bed, no less). She watched his face, hoping he wouldn't notice that her hands were trembling.

He didn't.

Instead, he turned back towards the other side of the bedroom, shaking his head and laughing bitterly.

"Can't believe I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere with Granger," he muttered.

"Afraid that, for once, you'll have to take care of yourself?" Hermione snapped coldly.

Draco scowled and watched as the girl beside him walked swiftly into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. 'Merlin I hate her,' he thought, resisting the urge to scream and instead focusing all his attention on examining, for a third time, the plaid shirt in front of him.

Hermione leaned against the door, pausing to catch her breath as she heard Malfoy begin to move about in the other room. 'Merlin I hate him,' she thought, once again hoping that if she closed her eyes long enough, this mad world would melt away into something a little less crazy.

Like, say, Wonderland or Oz—hell, she'd take Candyland at this point.

~*~

A/N: Sorry for all of you that had to wait for this and the last chapter and I'm really sorry for chapter three's length. Also, don't give up on me—I swear this won't turn into a "muggle high school" centered fic. There's actually a bit of a hint of what's to come in this chapter, but it's so small that I'm sure you won't notice it at this point. Anyway, hopefully I'll be able to update soon, but I can't make any promises. Thank you so much for all the awesome reviews—they're what really motivates me to write. Oh, and one more thing: Floo powder was not mentioned to be green in any of the five books that JK Rowling has written. I've checked. The flames are green, but the powder itself has only been described as glittery. I was actually going off the definition from the HP Lexicon,  so . . . before you insult me personally, make sure you have your facts straight.

~Miss Augurey