A/N: Hi!!! Sorry this update took long, but to make up for that, this chapter is extra long, and I think, extra good. Lots of different stuff going on in this one, hope you like it.
In this chappie: Some amusing events involving a towel and a some water, Ron and Hermione have a fight, the future of the school is in question, and even a little fluffy magic. Read and Enjoy!!
To my sublime readers:
PotterLover: Yes, Herm kissing Dr out of her own accord is wrong, but in a deliciously forbidden good way. I'm glad ur going crazy, hehe. There are a few answers in this chappie, like what happened to Fudge? (I haven't forgotten) Also, u'll see what happens between Eve and Harry
A Very Interested Reader: Wow, that's exactly the effect I wanted with that Dr/Herm scene. I'm glad u like the characters. A little hint as to what Eve's powers are. (Ull get it, ur smart) More Eve/ Harry fluffiness in this one.
Chapter Twenty Seven: Moment of TruthEve broke away from him. Even though she was still wiping away tears, she gave a smile, although it was slightly awkward, embarrassed.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you all of that. It's not your problem. You shouldn't have to deal with it, you have enough expected of you already."
Harry shook his head violently. "No, don't think that."
She sighed. "I'm sorry you had to see me like this."
"Like what? Someone who isn't perfectly a kick-ass, sadistically indifferent Slytherin?"
She managed a weak smirk. "Remember, I'm Voldemort's daughter--don't think I won't kick your ass." She looked at Harry, then at her own clothes. "I'm also sorry that you have to see me this filthy. I think I need a shower; it wouldn't hurt if you got one, either."
She got up, and Harry of course tried to help her, but she refused. She walked out of the door, and found that he was following her out into the corridor.
"I'll walk you to your room," he offered.
"Are you going to escort me into the shower as well?"
He blushed. Although she wouldn't admit it, she was glad he was next to her. She noticed how his eyes looked even brighter than normal, now that they contrasted with the dull, gray dust on his face. The naughty side of her wished he would actually take her up in the offer. He had this disconcerting way of giving her some reassurance merely because of his presence. Maybe I just like his cologne, she rationalized to herself, trying to be funny. Then another part of her brain said, Maybe I like him.
She wondered what anyone would think, seeing them walking together, covered in brown dust and debris, and both with that goofy half-smile one gets when he or she is with a person they really, really like being with.
Luckily, Hermione's dorm room was not very far from Lupin's office. Eve mumbled the password ("dragon heartstring"), and led Harry to the room; Eve's trunks lay open on the floor. two smaller beds now replaced the one large bed that was Hermione's.
"I hope she won't kill me for that," she said, smiling.
"Don't worry. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't."
Her grin widened and she took off her robes, threw them in a corner, and sat on her own bed. She was still in her school uniform, although it was slightly dirty now.
"Well, the valiant Harry Potter has successfully protected me from any evil dangers that had been lurking on the way to my room."
"Yeah, I guess I'd better be going," he said this slightly awkwardly, because he knew he really did not want to leave.
"Yeah, I guess; that is, unless you want to use the shower too?"
The bottom of his stomach seemed to have vanished. "Er, no thanks. The boys dormitories have showers."
"Oh, didn't know you'd rather see a bunch of naked boys, but I guess that's fine by me."
"Very funny."
"At least wash your face and hands or something."
"No, ladies first."
"How dare you. I'm not a lady."
"Alright, alright."
He took off his robes, his gray Hogwarts vest, and undid his red and gold tie. He rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, and tried not noticing how she was staring at him intently.
"If you were planning on getting some sort of show, I'm sorry to say you'll be disappointed."
"I'll be disappointed cause I won't get a show or because what I'll see will be disappointing?"
He groaned in frustration. "I feel sorry for Hermione. I don't think she'll be able to live with you peacefully for very long." She chuckled; at least he was making her feel slightly better. Harry went in the bathroom, took off his glasses, and turned on the faucet. The water poured out, but it amazingly forked in two directions, one on either side of his hands, leaving them completely dry. He looked over his shoulders.
"Stop that," he said. Eve giggled. He moved his hands around, but the water moved too, as if magnetically repelled by them. He groaned in frustration.
"Will you let me have some water, please?" It was more of an amused demand than a request.
"Okay." A sharp squirt of water blasted into his face. Eve was laughing, and let the water flow normally. He shook his head and washed his face and arms. The cold water and soap felt very good.
He rubbed his eyes and opened them, and even though his vision was foggy, he knew what he saw. Eve was standing in back of him, turning on the shower, and she was wearing nothing but a towel.
"Eve, What are you doing?"
"I said I wanted a shower, didn't I?"
"You could at least wait until I get out of here."
"Doesn't matter; you can't see without your glasses."
"I can see more than you think."
"Oh yeah, then where are they?"
"What?"
"Your glasses." Her voice was very silky.
Harry's fingers fumbled around the edge of the sink where he had left them; he felt nothing but cold, smooth marble. She was giggling, and he barely was able to see his glasses twirling around her fingers.
"Give me those."
"Come and get them."
"What are we, nine years old?"
"I doubt a nine year old would look this good in a towel."
He chased after her and she ran back into the bedroom. They circled around the beds. Harry would have been faster if his vision wasn't so bad. He banged his knee on the corner of Hermione's bed and yowled in pain. Eve laughed furiously. He took advantage of her being off guard and pounced on her. He found himself lying on top of her on the bed, twisting her arm to get his glasses. She was still giggling. "Let me go," she said.
"Give me my glasses."
"Let me go."
"Give them to me."
"Let me go first."
"Give me my glasses first."
"No."
"Look. You're nearly naked, and I can't see what I'm doing. Things could get ugly."
She giggled more, but suddenly stopped. "You look better without them."
Harry blinked. "I do?"
"Yeah. Besides, I can read your mind now that you don't have them."
"What?"
"I couldn't before. I read people's minds through their eyes. With a big hunk of glass blocking them, it's rather difficult."
Harry gripped her arm even more tightly. "What am I thinking now?"
She had completely stopped struggling against his grip. "I don't know."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to know. I'm too afraid to find out." She paused. "Why don't you
show me?" Harry suddenly became conscious of her bare knees near his, her curved bare shoulders, and her face, inches away, her mouth slightly curling up. He leaned in closer—
A loud voice followed the bang of the door being opened. "Hermione you'd better be--" Harry grabbed his glasses and put them on.
It was Ron, who stopped dead in his tracks, staring at them, his eyes as big as dinner plates, mischievously grinning from ear to ear.
"Harry, you lucky little son of a bitch."
Eve was smiling madly. "Get off me, you sick pervert," she cried while pushing Harry off her.
He looked aghast. "Excuse me, I beg to differ. You were the one shamelessly flirting with me."
The smile never left her. "How dare you lie about me like that."
Ron was still grinning, his arms crossed. He said to Eve, "If you don't mind me interrupting, but you are the one who's nearly naked at the moment." Harry laughed.
Eve shot him a glare, and replied, "I was just about to take a shower, when he came and attacked me."
"You stole my glasses!"
"Don't be ridiculous. You're wearing your glasses."
Harry was so furious, he opened and closed his mouth, trying to say something. He desisted, and satisfied himself by muttering under his breath, from which only the word "Slytherin" could be determined.
"What are you doing here, Ron?" Eve asked.
"I'm looking for Hermione. Apparently she's not here."
"I think we should both go, Ron," Harry said. Now that Ron was there, he felt even more awkward around Eve. "Fancy a game of Quidditch? One on one?"
"Not now. Dumbledore's looking for Hermione. Something urgent. I've been looking all over the castle for her."
"Look in the hospital wing."
"Why in the hell would she be there?"
Eve bit her lip. "Draco's there."
"That's not funny, Eve."
"I'm not trying to be funny. I can read minds, Ron. She was thinking about visiting him when I told Snape what happened with the potion."
"But if she's just visiting him, what's taking so long?" Harry asked.
A look of utter hatred and anger flashed across Ron's face. He ran swiftly out the door. Harry motioned to follow him, but Eve held him back.
"I think they need to sort this out by themselves, Harry." He guessed she was right and nodded his head.
"Harry?"
"Hmm?"
She smiled. "Gimme fifteen minutes. Then I'll be happy to play Quidditch with you."
He smiled back. "Really?"
"Yeah." She raised an eyebrow. "One on one."
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Ron was walking swiftly, his mind focused on one object—Malfoy. In fact, he wasn't paying much attention to where he was going and bumped into someone.
"Ow!" The voice was familiar: it was Hermione. "Ron, where are you going in such a hurry?"
"Where on Earth have you been? We left Lupin's office, saw Harry wasn't with us, went to Dumbledore for help--"
"But then Lupin sent us a message saying everything was okay." Hermione interjected.
"But that doesn't mean you had to disappear! You just left, then Dumbledore got an owl, and asked me to find you. Where were you?"
"I said I
wanted to find Harry, didn't I?"
"Well then I guess you lied."
Ron said, his features sharpened.
Hermione looked like he had just slapped her. "What?"
"He was in your room with Eve. You should have gone there first, if you were looking for Harry, that is; but you weren't."
Hermione felt the heat rising in her face. "Oh really? Then where was I, if you're so smart?"
Ron leaned in closer, examined her face, which was still red, her slightly heavy breathing, the scent hanging onto her skin.
"Why do you smell like men's cologne?"
"I don't."
"Yes you do. I'm a guy. I know what men's cologne smells like. And I can also tell its pretty expensive stuff."
"Ron, you're going mad. What's wrong with you?"
He wasn't paying attention. "I read about it in Witch Weekly. The new cologne. One bottle is supposed to be worth more than a new Firebolt. I can think of one person at this school who could probably buy it."
Hermione closed her eyes; it was true, she could never get that scent of Draco's out of her head, a touch of a sort of citrus fruit and lilac. She felt many things at once—guilt, shame, regret, but most of all, anger.
"If it's supposed to be so ridiculously expensive, how are you supposed to know what it smells like?"
Ron drew back, the hurt quite evident in his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Hermione's eyes grew wide. She hadn't meant it to sound that way. She just wanted to draw the blame away from herself. "Ron, no, I didn't mean--"
"Stop fucking with me Hermione," he said sharply, grabbing her painfully by the shoulders—his eyes were glossy and his face was so uncharacteristically sharpened she barely recognized him. "Just because I'm not a genius like you doesn't mean I'm an idiot. I know what you're doing; I just never thought you'd have the conscience to hurt me like that. It's not bad enough you're cheating on me with our archenemy, the evil git whose done nothing but treat us all like shit for the past seven years; but you even have to lie to me about it—or is the truth something I shouldn't be able to afford either?"
He let her go violently and stormed off, leaving her standing there, alone, the tears running across her cheeks.
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Harry knocked on the door to Eve's and Hermione's room. His hair was still dripping wet—he decided to take a shower in the dormitories as well. It was the fastest shower he ever took.
"Come in," he heard Eve's voice. He did. She was hanging up her towels in the bathroom. Her hair was tied up, some of the black, wet tendrils trailing down her face and neck. She was wearing a black tank top with thin straps and tight jeans. Harry secretly admired her neck and shoulders. Then he noticed something he never had before, on her back, near her right shoulder.
"What's that on your back?"
"Huh?"
"Your back. There's a sort of mark on it."
"Oh, yeah, my birthmark. It's shaped like a--"
"A dragon."
She smiled. "Yeah. Dumbledore said it's why people were scared of me when I was born. Don't understand why. Personally, I like dragons."
"Then you've never seen one in person."
"And I suppose you have?"
"Had to face one in my fourth year. I managed to steal an egg."
" I should have known. The famous Harry Potter would be no match for a puny dragon."
"Maybe this time I've found one that is."
Her eyes sparkled. "Get your broomstick and we'll see."
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"Miss Granger, is there something wrong?"
Although she had wiped away the tears, her eyes and face were still quite red. Usually she could tell Dumbledore anything, and unlike most adults, he would not superficially judge her. To her, Dumbledore was like a beloved grandfather. But somehow she thought he wouldn't be able to help much with this situation.
"Nothing, sir. Just a small fight with a boyfriend."
"Ah. Lovers' quarrels are usually those that hurt the most—no matter how small they are."
"Doesn't matter. You wanted to see me, sir?'
He leaned in closer and interlocked his old fingers together. "Yes. And I'm afraid I don't have news that will cheer you up. The Minister of Magic has been murdered."
Hermione gasped. "Are you sure?"
"I wouldn't be telling you this if I wasn't. Anyways, there has been evidence that he's been under the control of the Death-Eaters for quite some time now, under the Imperius Curse. Otherwise, the break-in at Azkaban wouldn't have been possible."
"But why murder him now?"
"Because evidently the Death-Eaters do not need him anymore. Which means they are planning something quite drastic. Because of that, I am sorry to say I am going to be forced to close the school in two days. Which is why I'm telling you all of this now."
Hermione's mouth dropped open. He continued, "As soon as Mr. Malfoy is feeling better, I will have him help you. Meanwhile, I need you to help organize the students and their preparations to go home. I also need you to help organize the Graduation Ball, which will have to take place, unfortunately, tomorrow. As you can see, the staff will need all the assistance it can get."
"Oh, sir, this is an emergency. We don't really need a Ball," she said.
"No. It's been tradition for the graduating class every year for more than a thousand years. And I know all the students look forward to it for years. I'm forced to deprive you of enough activities this year. I still want to keep some sanity as much as possible in these times. I want your last memories here to be happy ones. Think of it as a formal closing ceremony for the school as well."
She took a deep breath, and nodded her head.
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The grounds that day were absolutely gorgeous. It was the type of sharply cold day during the transition from autumn to winter, where the sky was blindingly white from all the clouds, clearly cutting the silhouette of the bare trees, whose thin branches rose up like black lacework across the sky. The air was cool, clean, and fresh, the type of air that made your lungs feel like they never properly breathed before.
Eve noticed how Harry's eyes were almost the same bright green as the grass, and that the biting cold wind swayed his hair and gave a pink tinge to his cheeks. She smiled.
"Wait. We can't use a Snitch. Your powers, remember?"
"I asked Madame Hooch what I could do if I wanted some flying practice, and she helped me out a bit. She enchanted a Snitch to be specifically repelled by me. It can't be used legally in competition, of course." She walked with him to the locker rooms and opened the storage closet. As soon as she got near the box which held the Snitches, it began shaking wildly.
"But that will give me an unfair advantage," Harry said.
"Not really," she smiled wider. "It's enchanted to be repelled by Parselmouths."
Harry gulped. "So, whose broomstick is that, anyway?" Harry asked, pointing to the one she was holding, which looked much flashier than the regular school ones.
"It's Draco's actually. Don't tell him, he'll kill me."
"Well in that case I'll work extra hard to make sure it gets demolished."
"I won't doubt it—you're flying abilities are pretty scary to the Slytherins."
"Really?"
'Draco would never admit it, but everyone else on the team, they're always bashing their heads in trying to figure out what to do to get past how good you fly. I was their last hope, actually."
"Too bad; I would have really liked to play against you," he said, grinning.
"Well, here's your chance. "She opened the box and the Snitch shot out like a bullet. but she was already in the air with Harry closely following her. The Snitch was racing ahead of them, making sharp spontaneous turns. Eve was better at going at high speeds (fear is the only thing that inhibits someone from going too fast; Eve of course had no fear). However, because she lacked experience, she wasn't as good at Harry at maneuvering sharp turns. The snitch darted in and out of the bleachers, the large hoops for the Quaffles, and they both whizzed after it, one leading the other at different times. The whole world was nothing but motion and color, the only thing in focus being the tiny golden ball, the minute wings invisible because of how fast they were flapping. Harry felt the blood rushing to his face, the bitter wind cutting at his cheeks, whipping his cloak back. The speed he was forced to go was making him dizzy—he feared his glasses would be whipped off his face any second. The Snitch suddenly made a hair pin turn at a right angle and shot straight up into the air. He reacted instantaneously and gained the lead; Eve had to slow down slightly to turn up. He was flying almost vertically upwards at astonishing velocity, his heart racing. He had to slow down slightly, he was becoming nauseous, and that was all that Eve needed. She nudged her broom inches ahead, it was built strong enough to withstand it. She reached out her arm.
Then the Snitch reversed direction in a blink of an eye; it went down, and smashed straight into Eve's (or rather, Dracos') broom, knocking the broom from under her and sending her careening straight into Harry. Before he realized what he was doing, he had slowed down and straightened his broom, and she landed right on it, in front of him. The broom dropped a few feet because of her weight, causing Harry's heart to feel like it lurched into his stomach. He grabbed her around the waist until he was able to slow down the broom to a complete halt in midair. They were both panting heavily. She turned her face to look at him.
"Thanks," she gasped.
Harry scanned the horizon. "The Snitch is going into the castle!"
"Don't worry," she breathed. "Probably going back to Madame Hooch now that we stopped chasing it." She smiled again, her cheeks bright red. The light wind was moving her tied hair around her face.
"I'll tell Malfoy its all my fault about the broom. I think he'll enjoy hating me for it more." Harry stared at the broken pieces of wood on the ground; he always found the destruction of a high quality broom as somewhat tragic.
"Alright, but I'll let you do that only if you teach me how to swerve like you did a few seconds ago."
"Okay," he said. They spent the next half hour flying, Harry showing her his best tricks, teaching her as much as he could about his techniques: grip the broom here, lean forward hear, turn exactly at this point. He was dizzy, from the flying, from the subtle scent of her hair—lilac and lilies—and from something else.
"Go higher," she suddenly said.
"Higher?"
"Yeah." He obeyed and traveled higher up in the air.
"Keep going."
Harry did so, slightly puzzled. He had rarely ever flown this high before; he fought not to look down. "Um Eve--"
"Harry, they say that above all other things, you're specialty is diving. Is that true?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"Are you sure?"
"I think so." When he had flown for the first time ever, he was able to dive. She turned around. Her eyes glinted. She smiled.
To Harry's horror, she had leapt off the broom, plunging into the air like a swimmer. He froze for a split second, not believing his eyes.
Doubting her sanity, he dove in after her, now traveling almost vertically downwards. She wasn't screaming or panicking; her arms were outstretched, her eyes closed, and a calm smile on her face as her hair whipped back. She seemed to be enjoying it. Harry urged his broom faster, closing in on her, the ground approaching with frightening speed. He was able to catch her once again; unfortunately he was a few feet off the ground and his broom slammed into it with a huge force. They both slid onto the grass, their bodies aching but not seriously harmed. Harry found himself on top of her again, barely able to breathe. She was laughing out loud, seeming to relish the mere exhilaration of it all.
When Harry was finally able to speak, he gasped out, "Why in the name of all that is holy did you do that? Why did you just jump off the broom?"
"So you would catch me."
"Have you gone completely insane?"
"Of course I have," she said. Suddenly her face changed as she stared deeply at him and suddenly Harry was feeling her mouth—not on his lips, but on his cheeks, her lips trailing across his jaw line. He froze; for a second he wondered if he wasn't dreaming again. Was there the slightest bit of a chance that the girl he had secretly been craving actually felt the same way and was making the first move? He couldn't believe it—an infamous Slytherin, Voldemort's daughter, it made absolutely no sense, but it was happening. And he had no idea what the hell to do.
He put his hand on her cheeks; her face was cold, her moist hair colder still because of the wind. His lips went to her face, under her ear, across her neck. His other hand traveled under her robes, across her shoulders covered by a thin sweater, then lower to her back, and he felt her shiver under his touch. He pulled her in closer to him by her waist, and he could feel her warm breathing on his face, and she had buried her head into his chest, nuzzling him and holding him tightly around the neck. The whole world seemed to disappear; there was no Voldemort, no school under danger, no Hermione or Ron fighting, no loss, no worry, no fear. Just the endless sky and the wind and the grass and their skin and shivering bodies and trembling lips and whispering breath.
Hr raised her chin and leaned in closer to finally kiss her lips (usually in this part of his dream he would wake up before he would ever reach them). But this time he felt she would keep on staring at him with those fathomless emeralds, this time she would not disappear. But when he got finally got close enough, she moved her head away.
"Oh my God," she whispered.
"What?"
"It's snowing."
"So?" All he could do was look at her that moment.
"Harry, look." He did, and gaped. It was snowing, and there was nothing quite special
about it—except for the fact that it was blue. The individual flakes were a light blue color, as if pieces of the sky itself were falling; and they had a iridescent sparkle to them, causing the whole sky to glitter.
"How did you…how did you know I always wished for blue snow?"
She was smiling. "Harry, I didn't do this."
"Eve, I can't do wandless magic."
"Maybe not deliberately." He had accidentally made glass disappear before his first year, when he definitely didn't have a wand. He stared at her, the blue fakes settling in her hair, her eyelashes. Beautiful. He realized he had seen this scene before, but in a dream. He held her hand as the snow fell gently all around them, gilding the landscape with pale blue.
Students were slowly beginning to pour out, the older ones watching with astonishment, the younger ones gazing with wonder and happiness and an expression that said, "I knew this could happen one day."
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Draco was gazing out the long window of the hospital wing. Anger and coursed through him. He wished she had never touched him at all, instead of cruelly giving him a taste of what she felt like and then instantly denying him. He was angry because that always happened to him, angry that he was cursed in that way. He would never actively pursue her—his pride would never let him. But she would never surrender herself fully to him—he terrified her too much. If only one of them would just let go, then he knew they'd be able to experience things they had never felt before, things not everyone would feel in their lifetimes.
Suddenly he saw it—he thought he was going mad; it was snowing blue snow. It was amazing. He had to go outside and see it, touch it. He hastily got off his bed and put on a cloak.
"Where do you think you're going, Mr. Malfoy?"
It was Snape, although it was hard to see him in the shadows with his dark hair and cloak.
"Sir, it's not every day you see blue snow."
He frowned, but managed to make it look amused. "And I thought surely you'd be above a nauseating display of Gryffindor sentimentality."
He smiled knowingly; he knew only of one Gryffindor who was in love at the moment and who harbored delusional, fluffy sensibilities enough to do something like that.
"Potter?" Snape nodded disapprovingly.
"Does that mean that she…that we're all safe?"
"I suppose," he sighed. "Although I do question Miss Riddle's taste." Draco was reminded why he liked Snape so much.
"So do I," he said, but considering everything happening with Hermione,he had been questioning his own taste recently as well. He continued walking. "Even so, I'd still like to get out of bed, Professor. You know us Slytherins don't do so well lying about doing nothing."
Suddenly Snape had an extremely grave look. "Mr. Malfoy, I'm afraid I should advise against that. I think you'd want to lie down after what I have to tell you."
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