Chapter 9: Promenades and Promises
A.M. surveyed her room. The fireplace, only recently roaring with bright orange flames, was barely smoldering. Her bed was neatly made and the windows were pulled tightly shut. She was ready to go. Running a brush through her hair, she was sure to lock her door behind her, then skipped down the stairs, taking them two at a time.
She'd finally made a good impression on Harry, she was sure of it. He seemed genuinely interested in her the day before and that strangely lifted her spirits more than anything. 'Sure, Voldemort may be after you,' she thought sarcastically, 'but you finally didn't screw up talking to a guy. Maybe you'll get through this school thing after all.' Not even her ever-nagging critical self could pull her from her good mood.
She put her hand around the tear-drop aquamarine, dangling from a delicate chain around her neck. It had been her mother's and, supposedly, it held a luck charm. If that was true, it was certainly working. She'd found a new, slimmer, smaller wand, along with a newspaper on her doorstep. While the Prophet had no new events, the wand would be very helpful.
The castle halls were growing cooler everyday and the smell of autumn was in the air. She basked in the glow coming in the many high windows, streaming down the walls and onto the floors. Students seemed to gather in these pools of light, but this morning was an exception. When people had returned from dinner the night before, the Fat Lady had announced to each and every Gryffindor that there would be an important announcement the next morning. Everyone was eager to hear what Dumbledore had to say, no matter to whether the news was good or bad.
"A.M.," she heard a cold, syrupy voice call. She turned to see none other than Draco Malfoy walking toward her, his platinum hair blinding in the sunbeams. "Might we have a word?"
She disliked her Potions partner more than anyone else in the school. He was everything her father had prided in a person, and therefore everything she lacked (Not that she ever wished to be like Malfoy.). While Draco treated her amiably, she was sure he would take the first moment to betray her if he could. Especially if he knew.
"Draco, I'm in a hurry. There's an important announcement at breakfast and-"
"Yes, I received word of that as well. Well, might we talk afterward? I'm sure you'll find what I have to say," he paused to lick his lips, "quite appealing."
"I'll certainly find it gripping, Malfoy," she told him, secretly thinking that the only thing she'd like to grip after talking to that slimy boy would be a porcelain rim. She hurried quickly down the hall, refusing to turn back to see if he was following, for fear he would think she wanted to continue communication. 'If only Harry would be that forward.'
Once she arrived at the Great Hall, she searched for Hermione, the one person she considered her best friend at Hogwarts. This was by no means an admission that they were close; it only meant Hermione was the only girl who wasn't horribly jealous of A.M., or at least didn't make it obvious. "Has Dumbledore said anything yet?" she asked her, sitting down in an empty seat.
"No, but I must admit, I've never seen any man consume so much bacon."
"Ah, well, eccentricies are what make us all unique, right?"
"Hmmm… I suppose."
At that minute they were interrupted by a disturbance at the head table. Filch had run in, carrying something and was talking quietly with McGonagall. "Is this something to do with the big announcement?" some disembodied voice asked.
A.M. studied the deep creases forming on the Transfiguration professor's face. "I… don't think so," she said to no one in particular. She was getting the skin-tightening, tingling feeling she got when something horrible was about to happen. She shivered with a cold chill, trying to release her sudden abounding energy.
"You, okay, A.M.?" Hermione asked.
A.M. shook her head and pointed to McGonagall, who was now speaking to the headmaster. "Something's happened. You can see it in their faces." The golden cloud on which she'd been floating all morning burst, dropping her back to reality. Everyday Voldemort grew closer to finding her and, despite Snape's assurances, she wouldn't have felt safe if she'd been surrounded by fifty Aurors and a dragon. She was merely a refugee here at Hogwarts and any bad news never bode well for her.
The headmaster stood, silencing the whispers of the room with a raised hand. "While I expected to make a far more cheerful announcement, I must unfortunately begin our morning with a rather grim statement. I'm sure most of you remember Mademoiselle Fleur Delacour, who visited us several years ago during the Triwizard Cup. Unfortunately, she disappeared after leaving Gringotts Bank one evening last week. There's no sign of any struggle, so right now the Ministry is considering this a runaway case." A.M. was distracted by Ron loudly whispering to Harry a little ways down the table.
"If any of you have any information as to Fleur's whereabouts, it would be greatly appreciated if you would let us know. The sooner the Ministry can find her, the better. It's quite important-"
Ron stood up on his seat, turning all eyes on him, chairs dragging on the tiles as everyone spun to look. The redhead's face matched his hair, but he interrupted the headmaster. "She didn't run away."
"Would you happen to have word from her, Mr. Weasley?"
"Well, I… no. But I do know she was eloping with my brother this Christmas holiday."
"Oh, really? Your brother gave no mention to this when questioned."
"It was supposed to be a secret. Fred, George, Ginny and I were all invited, but they didn't want to tell mum and dad. Fleur was really excited about it. She wouldn't run away."
"I have two men from the French Ministry here investigating the disappearance. Mr. Weasley, would you mind speaking to them privately?"
Ron shrugged. "If it will help them find Fleur, sure." He walked out in the hall, where the Aurors were apparently waiting.
"Who's Fleur?" A.M. whispered to Hermione.
"Well, she went to Beauxbaxtons in France and came here for the Triwizard Tournament a couple years ago. She's part veela, you know: blonde, gorgeous."
"Blonde?" A.M. asked, her heart skipping a beat. "With pale skin, the like?"
"So you have seen a veela before? I mean, I didn't see one until my fourth year, but I'm from a muggle family. I figured you would know all about them, but then you acted like you didn't-"
"Oh, uh…" A.M. did not even bother to respond to Hermione's ramblings. Her mind was scrambling for some form of action. She could not just sit here, so her subconscious sprang for what it thought was the most rational thing to do. "Maybe I better go talk to Dumbledore." She sprinted to the front of the room. "Professor Dumbledore? Can we talk?"
"I already know what you're going to say, Miss Kinter. I've talked the Minister of Magic myself and he's promised to triple the search efforts. If there's a chance that she can be rescued, she will be. Also, Professor McGonagall has already taken the liberty to strengthen the locking charms on all your doors and windows. Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?"
Her heart rate slowed considerably. "No, you've covered more than I was even going to ask."
"You are certainly free to take your seat again, if you'd like." She nodded and returned to her chair.
Hermione was eyeing her strangely, making her wonder if there was something stuck in her teeth. "Are you all right?" she asked.
"Did you run track at your old school?"
"No, we didn't have a track team. Why?"
"I think you might have broken a world record running up there." A.M. laughed nervously and was very glad that Dumbledore continued to speak.
"After that slight interruption, I feel it is time to tell you some good news. Hogwarts is a very old school, rich with history and knowledge. We have had many traditions, from Christmas to Halloween to trying to break as many rules as possible in a single week. However, time changes, and with it, so must Hogwarts.
"I have been approached by many muggle-born students asking for a promenade, a yearly tradition at most muggle high schools. It seemed only fair that I regard this request, and after much deliberation by a panel," Professors McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick all stood and took a quick bow, "and myself, we decided to enact a dance for sixth and seventh years only." There was a collective groan from the younger students.
"However, because of the stress of the end of the year, we've decided to hold the dance after Christmas break and have a winter theme. If you would like to join the planning committee, be certain to tell Professor Sprout. She will be glad for you help, I'm sure." He abruptly sat back down and as the tables filled with breakfast delights, the hall erupted with excited whispering.
"We haven't had a dance here in two years," Hermione told, A.M.
"Really? I've never even been to a dance."
Hermione's mouth shaped into a perfect O, and A.M. realized she'd said too much. "You've never been to any dance?"
"Oh, well, they had them at my old school," A.M. lied, "I just never went to one. Couldn't get a date."
Her companion looked her up and down. "You couldn't get a date?"
"What are you suggesting?"
Hermione quickly went red in the face. "Nothing, I'm just… surprised, that's all." A.M's heart went out to the poor girl. After all, it would be quite difficult to befriend your crush's crush.
"Just because a guy would ask me to the dance," she worded carefully, "doesn't mean that I would accept. Especially if there was someone I would rather take." She raised an eyebrow and was pleased to see Hermione's posture relax. She didn't have to say it, but Hermione seemed to radiate one feeling: thanks. "Which leads me to my next question: who are you taking?"
"A.M., let's not play this girlish game. We both know who the other would like to go with and we both know that it's unlikely that either of those boys will ask us." She sighed. "I'll probably end up going with Neville."
"You mean, that's not who you wanted to go with?"
"Stop it! That's not funny." At that exact moment the clumsy boy walked up to the whispering girls, his hands folded behind his back. "Hermione, I was just wondering-"
"I'm sorry, Neville, someone else already asked me."
"Oh…" he looked flustered. "Well, if you're already helping someone study tonight, could you help me with Transfigurations tomorrow?"
A.M. burst into peals of laughter, tears coming out the corners of her squinched eyes. "Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry," Hermione stumbled over her words, "I thought this was about something else. Sure, I can help you study tonight." The boy walked away looking confused and Hermione shot her friend a dirty look. "Yeah, yeah, very funny."
"At this rate, you won't even be going with Neville!" A.M. cackled. It was wonderful to sit around laughing like a normal girl and talking to normal girls. Instead of-
"Ready to go?" Hermione asked, already pushing away from the table.
"Oh, yeah. Just kind of got wrapped up in my own thoughts. Happens, you know."
The girls walked out of the room, both catching glances to see if the two boys were looking their way, but they were disappointed. "I got a new wand," A.M. told Hermione, making small talk to try to get the boys out of her head.
"Really? You think it will work better than your other one?"
"I hope so. I don't think it could be much worse." The two were sharing a giggle when they were interrupted by Draco coming up from behind and putting an arm around A.M.'s shoulders.
"Hello doll," he grinned his devilish smile for A.M.'s affect. Mudblood," he sniffed as an afterthought, addressing Hermione. "How about that word you promised me?"
"Try getting your arm off me, Malfoy, and I really don't remember promising you anything. If you'd like, we may talk, but you must stop taking such liberties with me."
Draco's smooth appearance seemed to falter momentarily, but he quickly plastered on a charming grin. "Well, I was thinking: you may be Gryffindor and associated with that dumb mudblood over there," he pointed a hand over at her curly-haired friend, "but Snape seems to like you, so you can't be all bad. And while I was coming over merely to ask you to accompany me on the next trip to Hogsmeade, I thought I would give you the chance to join me for the promenade."
"I'm sorry? You want to give me the chance to do… what?" A.M. had to work hard to keep her jaw from dropping. Surely this was some sort of joke.
"The chance to come to the promenade with me." Draco offered it like a game show host offers a new car to a contestant, fully expecting a scene of hysterics followed by an unstoppable flow of "thank you."
She looked from his impeccable visage to Hermione's own mask of horror. "Um, if I may so blunt, Malfoy, I will make a deal with you."
"Certainly you may make a proposal."
"Alright, here it is: when I am turned down by every other boy at Hogwarts, I will gladly accept your invitation. You can wait to see if that happens, or you can give some other lucky girl 'the chance.'" Her friend burst into a frenzy of laughing and clapping, startling a few lone students walking the halls.
Draco raked a hand through his slick hair. "I see. Well, A.M., that can certainly be arranged." He stepped closer, reveling in the discomfort apparent on her face. "Don't play games with me. I can make your life heaven, but if you cross me," he hissed, "I'll give you hell on earth. You'd do well to remember that." With that he spun on his heel and walked away as regally as possible as someone who'd just been rebuffed for a date.
"Was he serious?" A.M. asked Hermione, chuckling.
"The only thing worse than being asked out by Draco Malfoy is winning first place in an ugly contest." She cocked her head, contemplating. "No, make that Miss Congeniality."
As they traipsed up the steps to their rooms, Hermione grabbed A.M.'s sleeve, halting her. "A.M, I don't know how Harry could turn you down for the dance. You are a riot a minute."
She shrugged. "Hey, I've got to have something to make up for my shoddy magic skills. I suppose humor is the natural alternative. Anyway, Harry and I spent some time together when we ran into each other and, who knows, I really think I made some headway." She sighed. "I think he might just like me."
Hermione's mouth formed an "O" and was, for a moment, at a loss for words. "Uh, A.M., I think you should know: I met with Ron and Harry yesterday and Harry was telling Ron, that day you're talking about, he couldn't wait to get rid of you."