Pansy had followed him the week before while they all searched
for that over-grown oaf, Hagrid. She watched his bright red head
bob around under bushes and up in trees, calling out to his
sinfully delicious brother late into the night. It ought to be a
crime for a Weasley to look that good. He was so . . .
interesting with that earring dangling against his throat like
that.
She shook her head and went back to her potion. Pansy was
surprised that the younger Weasley spoke to Potter and Granger at
all, but then again, he was in Gryffindor and they were a
notoriously thick bunch. For that matter, so were all the
Weasleys. Pansy sighed and twirled her hair, regretfully
admitting that her statement included the good-looking one with
the fang earring.
Her eyes travelled slowly over to Ron's bowed head and smirked.
They were in Potions now and the idiot was roughly chopping up
hemlock with one hand while at the same time throwing fistfuls of
dried mandrake root into his cauldron. What a sorry excuse for a
wizard. This was the boy who killed the Dark Lord? He
must have backfired a hex or something because Ronald Weasley
certainly wasn't on par with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Pansy
laughed before ducking her head and glancing at Ron from the
corner of her eye. He couldn't even make a Flying Ointment
correctly! Ron wasn't far away, and when he caught her looking at
him, she could see every freckle on his face clearly.
"Problem, Parkinson?" Ron whispered cheekily, his eyes
flicking toward the wand on her desk and then back to her face.
Pansy smiled at him brilliantly, showing all her teeth. He was
scared of her, no doubt about it.
"Yes," she answered in a treacle-like drizzle of words.
"I have a problem with you, of course. I don't know how
Professor Snape expects me to concentrate on my potion when I
have to be in the same room as an ugly sot like you."
Ron rolled his eyes and leaned closer to her, even though there
were no less than two tables between them. "Is that the best
you can do? I think you're slipping. Then again, if I had to look
at that mug first thing every morning, my game would be off,
too."
Pansy narrowed her eyes and glanced up quickly at Snape. He was
making a pointed effort to ignore the class while he marked
sixth-year exams. "You think you look better than me,
Weasley? That's a laugh."
"For Merlin's sake, either move over there or shut it,
Ron," Dean Thomas grumbled, poking the other boy in the
ribs. Ron scowled at him for a moment before turning back to his
cauldron.
No matter, she would catch him after class. Pansy looked at Snape
again; only he was glaring at her this time. He was already vexed
with her, no point in making him even more upset than he already
was. She flinched and went back to making her ointment, mashing
the berries of deadly nightshade carefully with her mortar and
pestle before adding it to her cauldron. The potion was a sort of
dull grey colour when she was finished.
"Enough time has passed. Your Flying Ointments should be a
blue colour similar to this." Snape held up a colour wheel
for the class to see and tapped the appropriate colour with his
wand. "Thick and viscous in consistency."
The arsing potion wasn't even close to the brilliant blue that it
was supposed to be! She thought back through the ingredients and
realised that she hadn't added the Billywigs yet. A glance at
Millicent's area beside her showed that there were only two of
the pesky insects left, still trapped and buzzing madly inside of
the jar.
Most would have squished them with their pestle first, but Pansy
took pleasure in tossing them into her bubbling potion alive. She
could easily imagine that they were actually a certain
ginger-haired Gryffindor. There! Now it looked about right. With
any luck, Snape would be done with them soon and then--
Pansy's head snapped up when she heard a chorus of giggles around
her. What was so bloody amusing? She couldn't see anything out of
the ordinary except that they all seemed to be pointing at her.
Even Millicent was tittering in what she probably thought was a
feminine fashion. A quick glance down revealed nothing unusual.
What was wrong?
"Is there a problem, Millicent?" she ground out at her
bushy-haired classmate.
The girl snorted indelicately before she grabbed a hank of
Pansy's curly hair and roughly plucked a sticky web of goo from
it. The class snickered again before Snape growled out a warning
about detentions and they all went back to their work. But before
he did, Pansy scanned the room. She reasoned that Blaise was too
subtle for that type of childish trick, as were most of the other
Slytherins. Pansy found the one Gryffindor who wasn't laughing
behind their hand at her and narrowed her eyes. The fool didn't
even realise how conspicuous he looked by trying to play
innocent. Oh, he was really going to pay.
Right now.
Pansy snatched up her wand and stomped over to Ron's desk. He
glanced at her mildly, the barest of smiles playing over his
stupid freckled lips.
"Yeah?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows at her.
Before anyone could stop her, she pointed her wand in his face
and fairly screamed: "Poxis!"
There was a loud squack and her wand melted from her
hands and turned into a rubber chicken. Or maybe it was a duck.
Pansy stared at the remains of her wand and she could feel a
muscle on her cheek start to flex and twitch involuntarily. She
gritted her teeth together and was about to pull out the small
knife she kept on her person, regardless of the consequences, but
Snape had risen from his desk while this happened and was
directly beside her.
Snape looked at the rubber fowl, then at Ron, before he favoured
Pansy with a piercing eye. He lifted an ebony brow and the class
held it's collective breath, cringing as they anticipated the
scathing words that were about to be uttered by the greasy
Potions professor.
"Well, that was unexpected."
*~*~*~*~*~*
Like Snape had said, it was unexpected.
Well, at least when Pansy had smacked him in the head with the
rubber chicken that had previously masqueraded as her wand. Ron
had been heartily anticipating the rest. Too bad she couldn't
have cursed herself instead of beating him up with a toy.
Grudgingly, Ron had given Pansy her real wand back and he was
currently looking forward to three fun-filled days of detention
to accompany the fifty house points that had been taken away from
Gryffindor. No one minded too terribly though, after all, it was
an amusing way to end a hideous double Potions class.
At least it was Friday now, so there would be no more Snape until
Tuesday morning. Hopefully. Knowing Ron's luck, he'd step on the
man's foot sometime over the weekend and earn another three days
of detention for himself.
Ron saw Hermione rushing up ahead of him, free of Harry for once,
and he had the sudden urge to talk to her. All right, the urge
wasn't sudden. He had wanted to talk to her alone since the whole
mess started. His one attempt back at the Burrow had ended in
disaster. He still smacked himself every day for laughing when
her speech slipped. Well, it had been rather amusing at the time.
She was on her high horse, launching into one of her endless
moral tirades when there it was. Anyone would have laughed,
wouldn't they? At least a chuckle? Upon reflection though, Ron
realised that with that one action, he had cut himself off from
her more thoroughly than even the lies he had told her about
Harry.
He winced when he thought of calling them lies. But he had to
admit it to himself: they were lies. They were barely
even half-truths. Well, all right, so Harry was quickly becoming
a drunk at the time, and he did shag that one bird at
the Quivering Rooster one night, if Ron remembered properly. But
Harry wasn't going into Hogsmeade every weekend to get his
jollies like he'd told Hermione.
The thought of jollies led him abruptly back to where he didn't
want to go: Ginny. She was wrong when she had accused him of not
caring during their argument about Malfoy. It was just the
opposite. Ron did care, very much. Unfortunately, when he was
honest with himself, he realised that it was a very thin line he
walked between pride and love.
Harry had always shaken his head at the Weasley dramatics, as he
often called it. So was this whole thing with Malfoy going on
because Ginny wanted attention or because she really did care for
the prat? Malfoy seemed able to match the Weasley family as far
as dramatics went, so if she was looking for excitement, she had
probably found it.
Ron still hadn't had the chance to pull Malfoy aside since the
discovery and pound his brains into mush. And today he had been
curiously absent from classes. Perhaps someone else had already
beaten him to the job and cracked Malfoy in his bleedin' skull,
good and proper like the arse deserved.
He was interrupted from his violent musings by two feminine
giggles. Ron turned just in time to see a blonde and brunette
blur push him through an open doorway and into a musty, disused
classroom somewhere near the library.
"Oooh, Eloise, we've finally caught him!" a voice
whispered somewhere near his ear. Ron groaned. This was not
happening. Again. He had to get to Hermione before she
disappeared into the library and fell into one of her damn boring
books.
"Um, girls. I really have to be somewhere about now so if
you'd just---"
"Don't you want to play with us, Ronny?" another voice
cooed. "We'll make it worth your time."
"Honest engine." The first girl agreed and she began to
strip off his robes.
Oh God, this wasn't going to be easy, was it? He had to think of
something decidedly not attractive and warm and . . .
nice smelling. Um, Snape: in a dress, with a feather boa. Oh,
their hair felt like feathers against his thigh. No!
That was very bad. Um, umm. . .
"Girls, please. Can't we do this some other time? I really
need to be somewhere else right now."
"We've been waiting all week for the chance to get you! It's
our turn and you're not getting away."
"Too right," the other agreed as she ripped at his
trousers. He couldn't see it, but he could hear the coy pout in
her voice. "We have an appointment with Master
Longstaff."
Master Longstaff? How did they find out that's what he had named
his---oh, oh no. No, don't touch it! No! Um, pirates, with nasty
swords. Big rusty swords and rotting teeth and-and greasy hair.
Snape! Yes, Snape, all nasty and evil and---Snape-like.
"Oh come on, Master Longstaff! We'll give you a lovely kiss
if you cooperate with us."
One girl whispered something to the other before she stood up and
leaned over to tilt his head back. In the darkened classroom,
very little was visible except for her glittering eyes.
"Naughty Ronny. I know what you're doing and it
won't work."
He was about to tell her to naff off when she attacked his mouth,
sliding her tongue between his lips. Ron was so distracted that
he let his guard down, and Snape fled his mind just long enough
for Girl Number Two to get a rise out of old Longstaff.
"Oooh hello, Master!" said the girl kneeling before
him.
Bugger all, he was only human. Hermione could wait, he supposed.
After all, these girls had an appointment to keep.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Draco groaned as he sat in bed, counting his many grievances with
life in general. He was in hospital; cross; terribly thirsty;
he'd noticed a freckle on his nose that morning; and he couldn't
sleep. Blaise would pay for this, he and his new little
arse-lickers, Crabbe and Goyle. How dare they attack him? Didn't
they know that he was both a Malfoy and a Slytherin through and
through?
He was still thinking of ways to get revenge when he heard a
hesitant cough outside the curtains surrounding his bed. It
didn't take a genius to figure out who it was. Who else would
visit him in the Infirmary? He sighed. Why couldn't she leave him
alone?
Ginny's red head peeped uncertainly around the curtains before
pulling them back and stepping closer to his bed. She stared at
him for a moment, taking in his black eye and the bandages around
his ribs before sitting beside him.
"I had to ask Professor Snape where you were. I couldn't get
anything from your housemates."
"Did you really think they would tell you?" Draco
snapped peevishly. She could be so bloody dense at times. He
wondered why Professor Snape had told her where he was. There was
certainly no love lost between Snape and the Weasley brood.
Ginny shook her head and sighed. "No, I suppose not. Snape
said that Blaise and a few other Slytherins jumped on you last
night." She gazed at him and tilted her head to the side.
"Why did they do that? Why now? It's been ages since . . .
that day. And you didn't really do anything that bad. I mean you
were just looking out for yourself. Isn't that what any other
Slytherin would do?"
Draco chuckled quietly for a moment. It really was too funny. A
Gryffindor had grasped his motivation, one that was so very, very
Slytherin, while it had completely escaped his housemates.
"I think any one of them would have done the same thing I
did, but they would all rather die than admit it. We do have our
pride, you know."
Ginny nodded and leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead as
his lips were heavily swollen and bruised. She didn't seem to
notice his scowl, but then she rarely ever did. "Enough of
them. I came to cheer you up."
Draco lifted an eyebrow at her and looked down to where she was
pulling a mass of bulky, knobbled cloth out of her robes.
"What the hell is that?"
Her brows drew together and she seemed hurt for a moment before
unfurling the cloth to reveal that they were, in fact,
two very thick green socks. "I knitted you some socks.
You're always going on about how cold your feet are. Even though,
I don't know how they possibly could be, what with that hair all
over them."
Didn't she ever shut up?
She sighed before continuing. "But, I suppose the bottoms of
your feet get cold, right?" Ginny pulled the covers back
from his lower legs and slid a sock on one of his feet, still
talking all the while. "I made a right balls-up of my exam
in Potions today. I told you I needed to revise more and I only
had one chance this past week to do so. You know, with Hagrid's
disappearance and everything.
"Snape was terribly mean to me when I asked him where you
were. He told me that I should ask Neville to tutor me because my
marks were so wretched. Honestly!" she cried out while
pushing a sock down over his other foot with more force than was
strictly necessary. "Neville, of all people! Everyone knows
he does abysmally in Potions. I was so irritated that I almost
cursed the sarcastic bastard. I would have, too, if he wasn't a
professor."
Ginny was mumbling now and Draco was glad that he couldn't make
out her words. He wished that she would just go away.
"Oh." Ginny snapped to attention and covered his feet
with the duvet again. She scooted up close to him and started
tinkering with the pitcher of water on his nightstand. Yes, good,
I want some water, Draco thought to himself.
"I haven't had the chance to tell you since last I saw you
but, well, I had a row with my brother last week."
"And this affects me how?"
She scowled and poured some water into a glass before shoving it
roughly into his hand. Maybe she really was psychic. "Ron
found out about us."
Draco shrugged and took a sip of the water. That was so much
better really, his throat was feeling a bit scratchy and it
wouldn't do to sound like Longbottom's toad, would it?
"Who in their right mind would tell your brother about us?
I'd think that he would be just as eager to kill the messenger as
he would me."
Ginny cleared her throat. "Um, Pansy Parkinson told
him."
Draco nearly choked. "Pansy? Why would she---" He
narrowed his eyes and made himself think about it for a moment.
What was the girl playing at now? She had something to gain from
telling, obviously, since she wasn't in the habit of giving
information unless it benefited her in some way. Well, it seemed
that she had a lesson to learn when it came to crossing a Malfoy.
"I'll take care of it," Draco stated shortly.
"Take care of it? What are you going to do? Draco, please
don't hurt Ron. I know he's an arse sometimes, but he means well.
Er, I think."
"Shut up, you twit. I was talking about Parkinson."
Ginny sat up straighter and he could see that she was pulling her
pride together. He was surprised that she had any left after
catering to his every whim for so long.
"Don't speak to me that way, Draco Malfoy! I've had it up to
here with your attitude. If you can't speak to me like an equal,
then don't speak to me at all."
Draco shrugged. It didn't bother him. Maybe she would leave now.
"Are you quite done?"
Her amber eyes flashed, and Draco found himself suddenly longing
for a cup of tea, foamy from the sugar but no cream. He thought
that this was a bit odd, since he was quite fond of cream, but
ignored it as Ginny started to rant.
"I came here to cheer you up and---and I made you some socks
and---look, if you want me to leave then just say so instead of
being an arse!"
"Leave then."
Ginny narrowed her eyes and slapped him on the face hard enough
to make his head snap. She didn't seem to be so concerned about
his injuries anymore. "You're a cold bastard, you know
that?"
Draco managed a smirk, even though his head was still ringing
from her physical and mental blow. "So I've been told."
With one last glance, Ginny stomped through the Infirmary doors
and far away from him. It would have been good riddance except
that he still wanted a cup of tea and no one was around to get it
for him. Damn it.
There was no way in hell that he would be able to sleep now.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Harry trudged into the Gryffindor common room, thoroughly
exhausted. He was in a bit of a temper because practice hadn't
gone very well that afternoon. Their star Chasers, Ginny and Ron,
didn't come to practice and hadn't even bothered to notify anyone
that they wouldn't be there.
He found out later that Ron had caused a scene in Potions that
afternoon and was currently serving detention in the dungeons
with Snape. Harry chuckled quietly and sat down in a large chair
near the fire to warm up his feet. He wished that he had been in
Potions that afternoon just to see what Ron did to Pansy
Parkinson instead of with Madame Hooch and Professor McGonagall
going over strategies and rosters for the upcoming match against
Ravenclaw for the House Cup.
Harry realised, not for the first time, that he missed Ron. He
always seemed able to lighten the mood in any room and bring a
breath of fresh air with his patented Weasley histrionics. Aside
from when he was being a conceited bastard, Ron was a generally
pleasant person to be around and Harry felt the absence of his
friendship keenly.
Even more now though, since Hermione had spent most every waking
hour in the library for the past week. He didn't know what was
going on and as usual, she wouldn't tell him. It wasn't that he
didn't trust Hermione, he trusted her with his life, but she was
hiding something and he was anxious to know what it was.
Absently, Harry pulled a slightly damp cigarette out of his robe
pocket and put it to his lips. No one else was in the common room
aside from a few fifth years revising for their O.W.L's, and who
were they to tell him what to do?
Hermione was in trouble and she wouldn't let him help. It was a
bit frustrating, really. They had shared some of their deepest,
darkest secrets with each other, but she couldn't even let him
help her with this, whatever 'this' was.
It almost seemed as if Hermione wasn't the same person anymore.
Granted, she was still a bookworm as always and seemed to prefer
books over most people, but there was something that struck Harry
as terribly off about her behaviour of late.
He took another drag from his cigarette and let it dangle from
his fingers carelessly, staring into the fire while he attempted
to puzzle this out.
The new side of Hermione had at first seemed pleasant,
intriguing, exciting, and mysterious . . . arousing even. But now
it just seemed so wrong. Hermione wasn't supposed to
swear, she wasn't supposed to encourage rule breaking, and she wasn't
supposed to kiss him in public.
They'd both agreed that it was necessary to keep their
relationship as private as possible. Who knew when they were
being watched and photographed? They didn't need another scandal
similar to their fourth year.
It seemed like an eminently sensible thing to do, and it suited
their respective personalities. Their relationship was too
intimate, too personal to share with anyone else and frankly, it
was embarrassing to see other people snogging in public so why
would they want to do that to everyone else? Perhaps that's why
he'd been so shocked when she kissed him full on the lips in the
middle of the Great Hall at breakfast before racing off to
Arithmancy.
Ginny and Draco, they were the exuberant ones. Neither
cared anymore who saw them snogging or--- whatever else they did
while people were watching, which was quite a bit.
Harry threw his cigarette into the fire and hunted for another
one. He brought it to his lips and began the rhythmic process of
puffing and exhaling while he pondered.
Hermione was supposed to be a rock: solid, dependable, and
rational. Harry's duty was to keep the rock from breaking and
give it support. Lately though, the rock was crumbling and there
didn't seem to be enough glue to keep it together.
Hermione was disintegrating.
Perhaps it was the stress of everything that had happened at
Christmas; Hagrid's disappearance; N.E.W.T.'s coming up; and the
ongoing Ginny-Draco-Ron production.
Hermione ought to be outside of all this with him, not embroiling
herself in the middle of it. Or should she? Gah, it wasn't making
any bloody sense, was it?
And what the devil was she working on that had her so occupied of
late?
Harry pinched the cigarette in his hand lazily and tapped his
fingers on the arm of his chair. He needed to talk to her about
this, but she was always revising for either the N.E.W.T's or
that damn project. He'd have to go to the library and talk to her
there. Maybe he could pull her away from the books long enough
to---
He started a bit when he heard the portrait door swing open and
bang on the outside wall. Hermione came flying into the common
room, dishevelled and teary-eyed.
She seemed to be hunting for something until she caught sight of
Harry lounging in front of the fire and raced over to him,
throwing her body onto his lap and sobbing wildly. Her fingers
dug into his shoulders painfully and he couldn't see anything but
a cloud of fluffy brown hair.
"Oh God, Harry! Oh God, I don't know what to do, this is too
much and I don't think I can take anymore. I'm losing my mind and
this isn't real. Tell me it isn't real."
Harry took hold of her shoulders and gently peeled her face from
his chest. "Hermione, what's wrong? What's happened?"
She sniffed for a moment, her face blotchy and swollen from
tears. "You mean you haven't heard?"
"Heard what?" he asked, growing more panicked by the
moment.
Hermione took a deep breath and her lip trembled while she
searched for the strength to speak.
"They've found Hagrid."
Pssst . . . Reviewing
is good for the soul, pass it along!
