"Parkinson, I swear to god if I hear that banshee cackle you masquerade as a giggle one more time, I'll break your bloody arm!"
Pansy's thin lips clamped together so loudly that Draco heard them clack. Blaise Zabini quickly followed her lead.
"You think this is a game? You think if Dumbledore or McGonagall gets wind of this we won't be joining your mum for a spell?"
"I know the risks, Draco, and I remember what happened to my mother," Pansy said in her sweetest voice of apology. "I just didn't realize you were beginning is all. I'll be quiet now."
Draco turned his back to hide the roll of his eyes. When would Parkinson learn that no matter how much she sucked up to him, he wasn't having any?
"I'm ready, too, Draco. Go on, tell us," Blaise said. "What's the plan going to be?"
He sighed and spoke over his shoulder. "First of all, I want it explicit. No one gets hurt badly. Cuts and bruises are fine, but no serious damage."
"Aww," Pansy whined, "they're only mudbloods, Drake. Who cares if …"
"The Dark Lord cares."
The use of Voldemort's honorific brought silence to Snape's classroom.
"Surely our lord doesn't mind hurting a few mudbloods," Ted Nott said seriously. His thin, pointy nose bobbed up and down as he spoke, but his dark eyes revealed his inner gravity. Of all the Slytherins who had crossed over, Draco knew Nott was the most loyal to Voldemort's cause. The rat-faced boy made him nervous; Nott would kill him in a heartbeat if his treason came to light.
"Of course he doesn't. Isn't it obvious, though?" Draco turned and met the boy's beady eyes. "He has grander plans than stirring up trouble in Hogsmeade. We are a distraction, nothing more. Severe injuries will bring Ministry attention, and I, for one, seriously doubt we could hide our involvement from an inquiry. Or perhaps you'd like Robert Grey or Kingsley Shacklebolt to have a turn pumping you for information?"
"Certainly not."
Draco pointed to three brown packages laid out on Snape's desk.
"Your robes for the day are in those. I presume all of you know a concealment spell for sneaking them into Hogsmeade?" They nodded. "When we get there, we'll find a place to change and stash the packages there. We'll start things off at eleven sharp. Everyone'll be there by then. We can cause the most chaos that way."
"We can fade into the crowd afterwards as well," Nott said.
"That's right." Draco quickly sketched out everyone's role in his plan. Though it took several more threats before Pansy paid proper attention, and Draco's temper nearly boiled over again, they eventually understood what to do. "Just like that," he said at the end. "As I said, we'll start at eleven at the Three Broomsticks. Clear?" They nodded. "Now, what do you do if you get caught?"
"Deny everything," Blaise offered. "Protect the Dark Lord at all costs."
"Yes to the second, no to the first," he answered.
"What? Surely we should deny it?"
"If they catch you with your mitts in the cookie jar, Blaise, denial comes a little tough. Don't bother. Tell them it was a prank that I put you up to."
"You can't be serious," Pansy said. "Give you up? For god's sake, why?"
"Because I have had special training from my father," Draco lied. "They won't squeeze much out of me beyond that I thought it would be a bit of sport. Better I fall than the Dark Lord."
"Much better," Nott agreed.
"We wouldn't give you up if you didn't force us to, Drake," Pansy said in her oily voice.
Malfoy, who knew she would turn on him in a heartbeat, had endured as much of her company as he could stand.
"I am, Parkinson, so don't even consider the alternative. Now take these two back to the common room – I have a patrol to do. And Pansy?"
"Yes, Drake?"
He gave her his sweetest smile. "Call me Drake one more time and I'll cut out your bloody tongue."
"Hermione?"
She looked up from her History of Magic text. Neville was milling halfway between her couch and the door. They were alone in the common room, and he had a look on her face she had never seen before, a mixture of fear and determination. The hair on the back of her neck started to rise.
"Hello, Neville. What's going on?"
He edged closer.
"Oh, not much, um, you?"
She held up the textbook. "Reading about the first extinction of the orcs by Marvin the Morose. Did you know that he claimed to want to wipe out the orcs because one of them killed his favorite pony as a child?"
"That's nice." He was looking all around the room, everywhere but at her.
"Are you alright, Neville? You seem a little distracted."
"What? Oh, distracted, um, sort of." He finally looked at her. "I … there's something I need to speak with you about, if that's okay?"
Hermione's stomach rolled over. She was too smart and too good at understanding people not to know what Neville's question was leading to.
"Sure." She put the book aside with trembling hands, fearing what was coming. She didn't want to hurt him, but if he said what she thought he was about to, it could be problematic. "What's up?"
"I-it's sort of complicated," Neville said shakily. He sat down on the edge of an armchair. "See, there's this thing going on in my head, and I thought maybe if I talked to you about it, and since you're …"
"Neville," she cut him off, "before you say anything else, you should know that I'm still with Ron, and I'm really committed to him. I think you're nice, but …"
"What?" He met her eyes, with his full of confusion. "Of course you're with Ron. What does that … oh. Oh," his face broke into a timid smile, "you thought … it isn't about you, Hermione. I just – there's this girl, an' I know you're really good about people things, you know? I thought you could help me. But the girl isn't you."
The knot in her stomach unraveled itself. She chuckled as the wave of relief passed through her.
"Of course I'll help, Neville. Sorry about that."
"No trouble. I like you a lot, you know that, but not that way." He frowned again. "Before I say anything, I need to know, though – can we keep this between us?"
"Definitely." Her brow furrowed. Suddenly it hit her. "It's Dawn, isn't it?" Neville, never the chatterbox, had been as silent as a corpse at meals since Dawn began eating with them.
He gulped and nodded. "Uh huh. I've been kind of obvious, I'm sure."
"You do get rather quiet when she appears," Hermione agreed.
"It's just … she's a muggle, you know? And I kind of get the feeling she's a little odd, even for a muggle. I like it," he added quickly, "it just throws me off. I don't know what to say without sounding stupid."
"Do you talk to her at all?"
He shook his head. "Too nervous. We talked a little last year, after You-Know-Who attacked, and a little the night she got here, but not really since then. I'm not even sure I feel anything real, either – I just know that she seems really nice and I think she's beautiful. I want to get to know her a little, but it's really not going well," he said with a shrug.
"She's only been here a little while, Neville. I'm sure boys are not high on her priority list right now."
"I know. I'm not about getting her to fancy me or anything. Not yet. I just want to talk to her, but …" He shrugged again. "I hate being shy, even though I can't help it."
"So what are you asking me?"
"I guess … I dunno, I want to be in a position to, y'know, hang out with her more. I thought you might be able to help. And," he said sheepishly, "I kind of wanted to talk to someone about it. Usually I handle this stuff by myself, but … Dawn's sort of different."
Hermione nodded, grinning. "She is that." She paused in thought, then widened her grin. "You're going to Hogsmeade on Saturday, right?"
"Uh huh."
"So are we. Dawn needs a costume for the Halloween Ball, and so do Ginny and I. Harry and Ron are tagging along just because. You can, too, if you want. That way we'll all be there, no pressure or anything."
"That would be nice," he agreed. "Isn't it a little obvious, though?"
"No, I don't think so. I'll get Ron to ask you along because I heard you say you were going costume shopping. Are you?" Neville nodded. "She knows you hang out with us. It shouldn't even be a consideration for her," Hermione said, knowing in spite of her words that it would be fairly obvious if Dawn was looking for it. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, to her way of thinking. It would also let her and Ginny sound Dawn out on the possibility. Hermione had no idea how Dawn felt about Neville, or even what kind of boys Dawn might like, but she knew that Neville was as nice as they came. He was even sort of cute, now that he had grown some and lost a bit of his baby fat.
The more she thought about it, the better the idea sounded.
"Okay, if you think so." The more Neville thought about it, the more nervous he felt.
"I do." She put a comforting hand on his arm. "It will be fine, Neville. Just come with us and be yourself. No pressure, remember?"
"Right. No pressure."
"Postponed," Mel said, dropping heavily into the seat next to Harry at Friday dinner.
Ron leaned around his friend. "Postponed? What d'you mean? Why?"
"Hufflepuff's got the measels. The whole team."
"So they forfeit, yeah?"
She shook her head. "They asked Hooch for an exception, since the disease has only a three-week life. Said they'd play without practice when they're better. With the schedule, she couldn't sub one of the other teams in." The opening matches had been lined up as a doubleheader for the first time in fifty years. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were supposed to play first, followed by Slytherin and Ravenclaw.
"Did you argue it?" Harry asked.
"No. Hopkins an' I talked through the quarantine wall. Neither of us really wanted to miss a match, is what it came down to. We can use another three weeks of practice anyway."
Harry and Ron nodded. They didn't have enough matches left to skip one, even for a victory. Besides, they knew Hufflepuff would be an easy win without any practice time.
"Sounds good to me," Harry said.
"It stinks that we have to wait three more weeks," Ron complained, "but at least we get to play. When's the next one after that?"
"January. Slytherin."
"We need a match before Slytherin," Harry said.
It was Mel's turn to nod. "Two beaters and two chasers, all green? Yeah, I thought of that, too."
"Thought of what?" Hermione said as she, Dawn, and Ginny sat down.
"That the Quidditch team's mostly new, and we don't want the first match to be a thrashing by Slytherin," Ron answered. "First Quidditch match is postponed 'til November."
"Oh, that's unfortunate."
"Quidditch?" Dawn asked.
"Think football, er, soccer," Harry amended, remembering that Dawn was American, "but in the air with hands and on broomsticks."
"That cleared it right up. Sure." She rolled her eyes. "Sounds like something I need to see before I get it."
"Yeah, but you'll see what I mean right quick."
Mel was staring at Dawn and blinking. "Not sure we've met. You're the muggle, right? The one Dumbledore introduced?" Her tone was strangely neutral.
Dawn nodded. "Uh huh. Dawn Summers."
"I'm Melissa Norton. Call me Mel – everyone does."
"Sure. You must be a Gryffindor, if you're here."
"Uh huh. Fifth-year, though. I'm the Quidditch Captain."
"Oh. That must be nice."
Mel nodded. The two girls settled into an awkward pause.
What's her deal? Dawn wondered. She was getting a very weird vibe from this girl.
Neville chose that moment to sit down and join them. Ron picked up the slack in the conversation.
"'Ey, Neville."
"'Ey, Ron. "
"Mione said you were costume shoppin' tomorrow, right? Harry an' I are going with the girls if you want to come with us."
"That'd be good. I just need something simple," he added, studiously not looking at Dawn.
"What say we meet outside the Three Broomsticks at eleven?"
"A'right."
"On that note," Mel said, "I've gotta run. Essay for Snape that I haven't done yet."
"Best finish that," Harry said.
"Definitely. See you all later. Nice to meet you, Dawn," she added in a voice Dawn thought was rather cool. She got up, gathered her things, and left.
Dawn looked at Hermione. "What's that girl's damage?"
"What do you mean?"
"You didn't think she was a little, um, unfriendly? Usually people know me for awhile longer before they don't like me."
"I didn't notice anything."
"Me either," Ron said. Harry shook his head, too.
"I'm telling you, something's up there."
"Y'know what is weird? We don't have an essay due for Snape," Ginny said. "Unless she means the one from Tuesday, but I thought I saw her hand it in."
"Maybe he made her redo it," Neville suggested. "I've had to do things three or four times for him."
"That's probably it," Ginny agreed. "Still odd, though."
Ron shrugged and changed the subject. "So we're all set, then? Tomorrow, Three Broomsticks, at eleven?"
The other five heads nodded.
