Madame Hooch gulped down the rest of her coffee greedily, then set down her mug on the teachers' lounge table.
"Could that mug be any bigger?" said Professor Snape, who was eyeing it from where he sat in front of the fireplace. He did have a point. It was over a foot tall. "Small children could live in that thing."
Madame Hooch sneered back at him over her mug. "Your date with Rosmerta didn't go well?"
Snape snarled in response, then glanced out the window. "Looks like the blizzard's picked up. Didn't you have some students doing detention out there? Wasn't Malfoy one of them? Wasn't it supposed to be a bloody terrible snowstorm tonight - "
Madame Hooch sighed. "All right, all right, I'll go bring them inside. They can finish their detention later," she snapped at him.
Snape wordlessly watched her hurry out of the room. "I was just saying," he said defensively to no one in particular.
"Of course you were," said Sir Cadogan from where he stood leaning against the picture frame. "And Rosmerta was just 'saying' that you 'kind of creeped her out'?"
Sir Cadogan had to run away, very quickly, to escape Snape's creative paint-peeling charm.
Meanwhile, Madame Hooch was trying to open the front doors. "Locked?" she muttered, perplexed.
Mr. Filch was passing by. "So no student tries to kill themselves in this weather," he said in a nasty sort of voice. "We, ah, had an incident a couple years back, and Dumbledore's taking no chances this time. Worst snowstorm at Hogwarts in 50 years, you know."
"But I've got four students out there doing detention!" she protested.
He shrugged. "Better make sure they know a heat charm."
"They have no wands!"
"Well, then," he grinned sadistically, "they're in for a helluvanight, wouldn't you say?"
Madame Hooch was at a loss for words as he disappeared behind a hanging tapestry.
Draco felt duly punished for slapping Ginny. Okay, already! He begged the gods. Make it stop! I hate this snow! I'm sorry I slapped Ginny! For goodness' sake, it wasn't that hard anyway – oh fine, have it your way!
Hermione couldn't see in the dark, but she distinctly heard someone growling to himself angrily. She assumed it was Ron. "Is that your stomach, Ron?" she snapped, then immediately felt sorry. This was no time for arguments.
"May have been," Ron mumbled, making no effort to deny it. "I'm freakin' hungry. I could eat a house-elf." He waited for Hermione's backlash but none came. She was too cold.
Ginny's eyelids felt heavy. "Are we going to freeze out here?" she pondered aloud.
Draco opened his mouth to say something mean back, but his guilt consumed his insides once again. I hit a girl! I hit a girl!, a voice kept yelling in the back of his head. Shut up!, he bellowed in his mind, trying to quiet it. Just my luck. Out here in the freezing snowstorm, with about fifty voices in my head. It sure was loud inside his brain.
Nobody had answered Ginny. "D'you think Dumbledore knows we're out here?" she tried again, looking desperately for some form of comfort.
"Madame Hooch will have told him," said Hermione after a moment. She felt a little creepy – the tarp and woodwork around them dimmed the screaming noises of the wind, and it felt like they were in the eye of a hurricane.
"Madame Hooch sucks," burst out Ron suddenly, drawing a snort of derision from Draco.
"Glad to hear it," Draco replied. "You know what else sucks? Being out here in the effin' freezing snow with three Gryffindors."
"At least no one's slapped you," growled Ron. "Unlike my sister!"
"Ron!" Ginny admonished, jerked awake by his loud voice. "Will you let it go?"
"No!" said Ron, a little louder, into the darkness. "For Merlin's sake, Malfoy, at least apologize. You slapped a girl."
Draco's insides turned over. Should he apologize? Right now? But that would be at Ron's bidding, and he was far too proud to accept Ron's taunt. "I'll apologize when I feel sorry for it," he replied. He was lying – he'd felt sorry for it the second he realized he'd slapped Ginny.
Speaking of which, he wondered, why wasn't Ginny angry with him? She was certainly in a towering rage at the time, but she hadn't said a word to him all day.
Ginny was wondering this herself. Why wasn't she mad at Draco?
"You're going to feel sorry for it," Ron said after a moment's pause, in which he had formulated his tough-sounding reply.
"What, you're going to punch me in the dark? You don't even know where I'm sitting," said Draco mockingly. "You might hit your kid sister by mistake. Then she - "
CRACK. Ron's knuckles collided with Draco's jaw.
"Bloody fu – Weasley!" Draco roared. His face seared with pain as he tried to get his jaw back into working order. He had been knocked almost flat on his back and he had to rock himself back into a sitting position.
"Like I can't tell where you're sitting. You've been whining next to me for the past half hour," huffed Ron. He felt suddenly exhausted – the spurt of energy he'd had to deck Draco was gone.
"Ron!" cried Hermione when she finally realized what had just happened. "You didn't just – my Lord, you're a maniac, you know that!"
Ginny heard all this unfold in front of her, and she sighed heavily. "Would everyone just shut up?" she hissed. "I have an effin' migraine."
Draco's eyebrow shot up. 'Effin'?' That was his little word. Why, was the smallest Weasley emulating him? This thought was chased away by a new wave of pain in his jaw that came about when he involuntarily clenched it.
Everyone fell silent at Ginny's outburst. She felt thankful for this, but the sudden silence brought into sharp relief the dulled shrieking of the wind outside their little haven under the bleachers. It sounded awful, like a banshee turning inside out. She shivered, feeling – or rather, not feeling – the numbness that had taken over her fingers and feet. Ice crystals had formed on her eyelashes. Her hands felt like lumps attached to her wrists – they were so cold and dry that it felt as though the skin was stretched too tightly over the bones. She tucked them into her cloak, but it was no good. Her back slumped over as weariness took a hold of her.
Beside Ginny, Draco tried to distract himself from his physical state by focusing on the guilty turmoil within him. That seemed worse than thinking about being cold, so he reverted to his usual body complaints. Nevertheless, his mind was plagued with confusion. Why did he feel so guilty? He hit people probably every other day and felt no compunction until now. It was probably just because Ginny was a girl. But he also felt, in a weird way, that he was betraying himself, denying something. What was it? (A/N: we all know what 'it' is, but sigh we have to let Draco find out by himself.)
Hermione thought she had lost all sanity when she felt her hands creep over to Ron and grab hold of his fingers, but she felt better when he squeezed back. His hands were warmer than hers were. She felt a little awkward, but the temptation of warmth was too much, so she scooted closer to him.
Ron was a little taken aback at her forwardness and hoped it was Hermione next to him, but he smelled her familiar scent and let her inch closer to him. He knew she was probably freezing, and he had to admit, it was a little nicer having a human body right up next to his own. Especially since it was Hermione. He squeezed her hands again, which were between his own large ones. Hermione's hands were very cold, colder than his own were.
"Is anybody bored?" came Draco's voice suddenly, interrupting Ron and Hermione's little hand-holding moment.
"What?" asked Hermione in disbelief. "We're out here, in the middle of a blizzard, and you're asking for entertainment?"
Draco shrugged, even though no one could see him in the pitch black. "Wouldn't mind it. Can anyone sing?"
Ginny roused herself from her near-comatose state. "Sing?" she asked blearily. "You want someone to sing for you?"
"Or with me, if you're embarrassed, Weasel."
"I'm not going to sing for you!"
"Oh, come on, I'm dying over here. I need something to take my mind off the fact that we're about to die."
"We're not 'about to die'," corrected Hermione scathingly. Her breath tickled Ron's ear. "We're probably all going to have frostbite when we're rescued, but who cares? Madame Pomfrey can fix that."
"Do you suppose we'll get rescued soon, though?" asked Ginny. Her voice was hoarse and tired. She struggled to keep her eyes open. There was nothing to see in the dark, of course – but she knew that if she fell asleep, she might freeze to death.
"You've asked that ten times over, Gin," said Ron. "Nobody knows, okay?"
Draco cut in. "Why don't we play a game or something, or tell me what tonight's Astronomy homework is, I don't understand Mercury at all - "
"Oh, shut up," said Ron bitterly. "We're not your slaves. If you're so bored, why don't you sing for us, or something."
"Fine," said Draco, eager to make a point. "How about my newest rendition of 'Weasley is Our King'?"
"Fine with me," Ron shot back. "Although it's become more of a Gryffindor song now."
"Speaking of," said Draco, his tone changing and becoming oddly conversational (though perhaps this was an effect of the mind-numbing cold), "what exactly happened last year? All of a sudden you became this really good Keeper – and I mean that in the worst way possible – Did you get some sort of athlete's potion, or something?"
Ron was a little stunned. "N-no," he answered. "I just – ignored you guys, I guess. Focused on the game a little more."
Hermione smiled in the dark. Was she actually about to witness a civil conversation between Ron and Draco?
"Hm," said Draco thoughtfully, nodding out of habit since nobody could see anything. "And I'd thought that bewitching our badges to flash different colors would distract you."
"Did you really? Bewitch them, I mean? I never saw that," said Ron, who had begun to lean into Hermione.
"Oh, yeah, they were going crazy at that last match last year, I was surprised you lot didn't get on my case about that." It was surprisingly easy to talk to Ron. "Big improvement from our 'Potter Stinks' badges in Fourth Year."
Ron chuckled. "I bet Ginny noticed them, though – bet it confused her loads, all those shiny things when she was being the Seeker. You know, when Harry got DQ'd . . . Did it, Gin?"
No answer.
"Ginny, did it distract you? . . . Yo, Gin . . . Ginny? Hey, Ginny, where are you?" Ron's voice took on a concerned note.
"Maybe she's asleep?" offered Hermione.
Ron felt around worriedly for his sister. His fingers plunged into something squashy.
"Hey!" Draco cried. "That's me you're groping!"
"Ugh!" cried Ron, his hand flying back to him as though burned. "That's disgusting! Well - Ginny must be on your other side! Feel around a bit for her, would you? What if she's gone off or something and we didn't - "
"She's still here," said Draco, who had found her arm. "Not moving, though." He jiggled her arm around in an attempt to rouse her.
Hermione reluctantly detached herself from Ron and felt for Ginny. She felt Ginny's head, bowed over her curled-up knees. A glimmer of horror pulsed through her. "Good Lord, is she all right? Ginny? Ginny! Ginny!" She shook Ginny's shoulders.
Draco's heart had begun to hammer a bit when still no answer came. He felt his way down her cloaked arm to her wrist, then tried to find a pulse. "I can't feel a pulse!" he cried. Was it possibly to die out here? -
"Your fingers are probably numb!" Hermione was trying to do the same thing with Ginny's other wrist. "I can feel a bit of a pulse . . . Try her neck, Malfoy."
Draco felt for her head – her chin – and placed two fingers on the side of her neck. He pushed a little deeper into her skin, and finally felt something. "I feel it," he said at last, extremely relieved. "Think she's out cold, or what?"
Ron was busy hyperventilating.
"Ron, calm down!" admonished Hermione. "All we need to do is keep her warm. Look, let's all - hug her or something, I don't know. We need to pack ourselves closer together so we don't all end up unconscious. Here, Draco, you take the end, and we'll take turns being on the end. Turn around a little and put your arms around Ginny - "
It was an awkward arrangement, but the four students scooted themselves around until Hermione stopped bossing them around. They were all sitting either cross-legged or with their knees on either side of the person in front of them; it was like a single-file line, only they were sitting down, and they had their arms wrapped around the person in front of them. It felt like they were packed in a sardines tin. Draco was at the very end, his back exposed to the cold, with his arms around Ginny's middle. In front of the unmoving Ginny was Ron, who insisted that Hermione go in front of him because she was smaller and colder. Hermione protested until she felt Ron's warm arms around her.
"That's a little better, eh?" said Ron. "You all right back there, Malfoy?"
"Yeah - "
"No feeling up my sister! I'm serious!"
"Like I would!" called back Draco, who was probably beet red. The idea hadn't even occurred to him because he was so busy feeling embarrassed with his arms wrapped around the thin girl. He hoped his body heat would warm Ginny up; he could feel that she was cold through her robes. He set his chin down on her shoulder, trying unconsciously to blow warm breath on her stiff neck. He felt so out-of-place.
Meanwhile, Harry was in his dormitory. His jaw had dropped clear to the floor, as had the Marauder's Map. He couldn't believe what he had just seen on the Quidditch pitch area – four dots, labeled Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley – practically on top of each other!
A/N: Ha, ha, I'd been waiting for Harry to get out his little map. So, what does everyone think? Please review me, even if you've left me a review before! I'd love to hear what you think. Suggestions are welcome! :) Thanks a bunch!
I'll reply to my two latest reviewers. I'm going to try to reply to all my reviews, partly because it's an incentive for you to review me but mostly because I appreciate what you have to say! A lot!
Storymind: You'll get your snoggage in due time – patience is a virtue, m'dear. ;) I don't know about Truth or Dare – that seems a little cliché – but they're definitely going to have some sort of heart-to-heart, since they're faced with imminent death (or so they think – dun dun dunnnn!).
Professor Drusilla W.L.Silvers: Thanks a lot! Hey, I love your profile area. Very creative! And thanks for putting me on your faves list. 3