Chapter 41: Imminent Danger

Disclaimer: Dear everyone who believes I own this, viz, the gullible or imperceptive: please send me £10. Yours, Cy.

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Special Notice: I'm planning on signing up for fandom aid; a livejournal community where fans of any fandom are invited to write, create icons, etcetera in order to raise money for the terrible tsunami disaster. I'll be writing a story for that which, for the foreseeable future, will be available only on that site – more on that when it's done. If there's anyone who wants to join up, the community name is fandom aid (with an underscore) and sign-ups close this Friday. The community will also be taking fic etc. requests in a week or so.

A/N: My computer died. Due to clogged-up cooling fans, which is absolutely infuriating, but the good news it's back now! The last bits were done in a bit of a rush, since I got it unclogged on Sunday evening, so it may not be the best chapter ever... Macbeth will hopefully be up on Friday, and if it isn't I'm probably dead, since Hannah has threatened to use my entrails to decorate the common room if she doesn't get the beta copy on Thursday.

Onto more positive news: 1. Fallen is now one year old. Anyone feel like singing Happy Birthday? 2. The alternating updates did win, giving me some much needed time for schoolwork and other projects – thank you so much to everyone who voted! 3. As to questions about Fallen genetics: since I get asked this quite a bit, I'll put some info on it in my profile. Or somewhere. As soon as I can get to let me change my profile… it's having issues with me at the moment. 4. When I said there would be wing-touching and further romance etc around Xmas, I meant Xmas their time. (Which is in a couple of chapters.)

Enjoy!

A danger foreseen is half-avoided.

Cheyenne Proverb.

Draco was in the habit of going to breakfast early; mainly because it got him away from his dormitory before the rest of the Slytherins could wake up and create awkward tensions and also allowed him to eat breakfast in peace. Ellen was sometimes there, which helped to relieve the monotony of eating breakfast in silence, but otherwise he generally ignored the other Slytherins and read his copy of the Daily Prophet, when it arrived.

He wandered in slightly later than usual that morning – only by a few minutes – and felt quite pleased to see that Ellen was there, sitting away from anyone else at the table, nibbling a piece of toast. She appeared to have been waiting for him, because her eyes were fixed on the doors, and she smiled with something like relief when she saw him.

Draco made his way over and sat down, reaching for the toast with a frown. Ellen was usually cheerful and chatty: this morning she was biting the inside of her cheek, looking tense and worried.

'Is something wrong?' he asked, before she could speak. She nodded, sighing slightly, and reached under the table, pulling a piece of parchment out of her bag.

'One of the school owls brought me this. Last night, around eleven. I don't know who sent it,' she said, handing over the parchment to Draco. Opening it, he recognised the handwriting immediately, from years of sitting together occasionally in lessons, sharing the same social circles and being what any casual observer would have deemed friends.

'It's from Blaise,' he muttered, frowning more deeply, and read.

Consider this your final warning: stay away from Draco. For your own good as well as his. You are playing a dangerous game, Mudblood, by attempting to win his – Blaise had crossed a word out with her characteristic thick double line; Draco couldn't make it out – protection. He does not care for Mudbloods and never will.

If you require any convincing, Mudblood, I suggest you wait until – another crossing-out; he could tell that this one had said 'tonight' – tomorrow night. Draco cannot protect you forever.

'Wait until tonight?' he repeated, glancing up at Ellen. She had her elbows on the table, both hands on the back of her neck with her wrists supporting her jaw. 'What does that mean?'

'I don't know,' she replied. 'All that's happening tonight is a DA meeting. I think… I think it might mean they're going to try to attack me. Again.'

Draco glanced over the second paragraph and thought she was probably right. 'The only question is when,' he said thoughtfully, placing it down on the table. 'They won't do it in public, where they can get caught easily. Of course, that doesn't count in the Slytherin common room, because no one there cares…'

'Except you.' Unintentionally, her voice rose slightly on the 'you', making the statement into an accidental question. She didn't meet his eyes. What was it Blaise's letter had said? He does not care for Mudbloods and never will.

'Except me,' he repeated, firmly, and she glanced up at him. 'And I know Slytherins are famous for not trusting each other, but I would hope that you'd trust me over some anonymous letter of threats.'

'Sorry,' she said, abashed. 'I do, it's just… well, it's hard not to be paranoid.'

'Don't worry about it,' he said, picking up the letter again and frowning at it. 'I suggest you don't go near any of the less-frequented corridors today. Or the Slytherin common room. They probably won't try it between lessons, though they might if you're alone. Lunchtime or evening are the likely times.'

'Well they can't do anything in the DA,' Ellen remarked. 'There aren't that many Slytherins there.'

'And Hermione and the other Gryffindors would be furious,' Draco mused. 'What about lunchtime? In here is safe, but avoid the common room. Where are there lots of people…'

Ellen thought for a moment. 'The library, she said. 'As long as I stay around the front where Madam Pince is.'

Draco nodded his agreement. 'And don't come out until the corridors are full of people on the way to lessons,' he added. 'I'll try and come there with you if I can.'

Ellen smiled. 'Thanks,' she said, warmly. 'What about evening?'

'You should be safe at the DA,' he said thoughtfully, biting into another piece of toast and chewing thoughtfully. 'And in the library. Getting from one to the other… and, of course, to the dorms to sleep…'

'The corridors will be pretty much empty,' Ellen said. 'That'll be a problem… anyone could attack then.'

Draco sat back and thought for a minute. Obviously, Ellen alone would be no match for whoever Blaise chose to send to attack her – it wasn't Blaise's style to do the dirty work herself; he doubted she'd come in person. Which meant she would need help, and there was, as usual, only one person who could do that.

'I'll escort you,' he offered. 'To the DA, back to the library, and to the dorms later.'

Her head snapped up at that. 'You would? That'd work…' she said, thoughtfully, then grinned. 'Thanks.'

'Don't mention it,' he replied, waving a hand as he took another piece of toast. 'Until after I've scared off whoever attacks you, that is.' He smiled at her, though she didn't smile back, frowning slightly.

'Draco…' she began, slowly. 'I've never really... I mean, I don't know why…'

She seemed slightly timid, or as though she was having problems thinking of the right words. 'Why what?'

'Why you're helping me,' she finished, her words coming out in a rush. She glanced up at him, appearing almost slightly guilty, then continued, 'I mean, I know I was the one who asked you, but… well. It was a bit of a long shot, to be honest, and I didn't really think you would.'

She watched him for a moment as he ate his toast in silence, her pale eyes slightly narrowed as though trying to work out whether he was thinking, or whether he was angry with her for asking. After a moment, she ducked her head to look at the table. 'Sorry, I shouldn't have asked…'

'No, don't worry about it.' Draco said, making himself sound casual, and giving her a smile for good measure. 'I was just… considering.'

He was used to having a logical answer when someone asked why he was doing something; here all he had was emotion, and that wasn't logical, and he didn't understand it. The simple truth was that he had no idea why he wanted to help her, other than what Hermione had termed compassion, which was still too complicated – though he was getting better at it. But not good enough to explain it to Ellen, and she wouldn't be satisfied with him simply saying 'Compassion.'

On the other hand… Draco frowned. He might be able to get away with saying he didn't know. After all, Hermione sometimes didn't know things either, and other people sometimes didn't seem to have any idea what they were feeling…

'To be honest,' he said with a smile and a shrug, hoping that a casual manner could hide any flaws in what he said, 'I don't really know. I suppose I simply don't like seeing defenceless first-years get attacked.'

To his surprise, Ellen grinned at him. 'I suppose I should have expected an answer like that,' she replied enigmatically, and dug into the rest of her breakfast. Draco knew what she meant, of course – Slytherins were well known for keeping their feelings closely guarded, and Ellen must assume that his offhand reply was a lie in order to hide whatever his real reason was.

Draco supposed it was better than having his emotional ignorance spotted, at least. He laughed a little before returning to his toast.

A moment later – as Ellen started chatting about her Charms homework – he glanced up and sideways, towards the teacher's table. Only three of them were there at this hour; Dumbledore and Snape were deep in conversation; Snape his usual sullen self, Dumbledore's forehead furrowed deeply as though worried. This didn't greatly concern Draco.

What did concern him was the third member of the table, Delaney, whose dark eyes were firmly and contemplatively fixed on Draco, one eyebrow raised in what seemed to be a mixture of concern and disgust. Because Draco was eating with a Muggleborn, a Mudblood? Draco's stomach turned, and he bit firmly into his toast, willing himself to concentrate on his food and Ellen's conversation.

The hall was half-full by now, and a sudden screeching and thunder-like flapping of wings announced the arrival of the post.

Hermione woke up to a perfectly normal morning: the darker-than-usual sky outside her bedroom window reminding her that winter was very nearly there. Hard to believe there were only a few weeks left of term, really, she thought as she got dressed before heading to the common room to see if the others were up yet.

They weren't – she was always the early riser among them – but fifteen minutes with a good book later and Ginny joined her, and a little while after that Harry and Ron joined them, half-asleep and yawning, and they went down to breakfast together.

There was never anything to indicate that it was anything other than a perfectly normal morning until they entered the Great Hall. Usually, at breakfast time, the room was one great mass of screaming, chatter and laughter.

Today there was less comfortable chatter and more intense conversations, and Dumbledore looked worried where he sat at the end of the room. Hermione's first thought, hitting her in the stomach like a physical blow, was: There's been another Death Eater attack.

But after Aberddewin, the Great Hall had been lifeless. Everyone had been shocked and upset, or frightened; everyone had been talking about it. Even the first years. But today the first-years were happily chattering as usual, and the second-years. And no one looked nervous or frightened.

'Has there been another attack?' Ron asked beside her, to which Ginny shook her head.

'No, people don't look upset…'

Hermione was only half-listening to the conversation; the rest of her attention was on the Slytherin table. Draco had caught her eye – he looked apprehensive – and he was holding what was clearly a copy of the Daily Prophet, indicating the front. She couldn't make out the headline, but she could see a big picture of what appeared to be Fudge on the front page.

'Come on,' she muttered to her friends, giving Draco a nod and heading to the Gryffindor table. An owl had already left the newspaper in the place where she usually sat – she'd asked Neville, who was an early riser, to take some of her Knuts down to pay the owl with. The others followed; Harry throwing a suspicious glare in Draco's direction.

Hermione shared her copy of the paper with Ron; Harry and Ginny borrowed Lavender's copy.

New Law 'To End Blood-Based Discrimination In The Workplace'

A proposed new 'positive discrimination' law, which will come before the Wizengamot next Monday, will hopefully put an end to the recent and startling blood-based discrimination in magical workplaces.

Purebloods, historically better able to find work due to their greater understanding of and dedication to wizarding culture and ideals, have found themselves facing unemployment in recent months. Belle Hayes, the Wizengamot member who proposed the law, has this to say:

'In the past six months, five new members have joined the Wizengamot, replacing old ones who left to pursue other commitments or to retirement. Of these five, only one was Pureblooded. My son, who recently passed his NEWTs, has had difficulties finding work – though his Muggleborn peers have had a far easier time.

'To me, this says that employers are unfairly favouring Muggleborns and half-bloods over members of the established Pureblood families. Many Muggleborns feel a prejudice towards Purebloods, perhaps feeling understandably intimidated by their lifelong connection to the wizarding world, and are reluctant to offer them work. To counter this discrimination, I fully believe that my positive discrimination law can and will put an end to this, simply and effectively.'

The law is a deceptively simple idea: a small Committee, set up by the Ministry, shall look at each company and branch of the civil service – places like St. Mungo's, which has one of the highest proportions of Muggleborns in the country – and set each one a target percentage of Purebloods and a time to reach said percentage.

Many notable voices in the wizarding community have supported this new law, including Lucius Malfoy, who informed the Prophet that he ' whole-heartedly supports this proposition'. Cornelius Fudge described it as, 'a sound move to end prejudice,' while Amelia Hodge, a prominent Wizengamot member, described it as, 'the only way to a happier, more tolerant wizarding Britain.'

One surprising voice of dissent was Hestia Bennett-Edmonds, daughter of the prominent Pureblood family, well known and loved throughout the wizarding world for her charity work and kindness towards Muggles. After the tragic attack in Aberddewin, she helped to raise thousands of Galleons for the survivors of the attack and for rebuilding the village. Witch Weekly recently commented that 'her generosity knows no bounds' – but her political views might be skewed.

'I don't believe the so-called discrimination against Purebloods exists,' she told the Daily Prophet, in a startling but, perhaps, naive remark. When shown the undeniable results of numerous surveys into the proportions of Purebloods and Muggleborns in the workplace, she was still peculiarly unwilling to believe the simple truth. 'Historically, Muggleborns have always been the minority group, discriminated against heavily,' she told us. 'I don't believe that these surveys reveal intolerance against Purebloods; they reveal increased tolerance for Muggleborns. I do not think that is a bad thing,

Which leaves us wondering if, perhaps, there can be too much tolerance. Preference of Muggleborns to Purebloods, especially in the name of some imagined tolerance, cannot be allowed to continue. This new law will, once again, restore the balance between the two groups to satisfactory levels.

(Witch Weekly is sponsoring a live debate on the topic of this law, to be held in Diagon Alley tomorrow at noon. Notable guest debaters have been invited, and all wizards and witches are welcome to watch. For details, please owl Claire Connor.)

Hermione stood up abruptly, flinging the newspaper onto the table as though it were something filthy, pulling her wand from her pocket and shaking with fury. 'Incendio!' she spat, and the newspaper burst into a small inferno, shrivelling to blacked ashes.

'Oy, Hermione!' shouted Seamus, who had been sitting beside her. 'Watch it, you almost got…'

She wasn't listening; a simmering pit of absolute burning fury had opened inside her and she wasn't paying attention to anything but the lies, the absolute lies. How dare they say that? How dare they? She had looked it up herself: Muggleborns were still being discriminated against, Purebloods still held more jobs, better jobs, on the same qualifications simply on the basis of a family, a name…'

'Hermione?' she dimly heard Ginny say, and dimly felt her catch hold of her hand. It was tempting to stay, but somewhere under the rage Hermione knew that if she sat back down and accepted sympathy she would burst into tears. Not in front of everyone; she didn't want to.

'I'll be fine,' she muttered, 'I just…' Ginny seemed to understand, anyway; she let go of her hand, giving Hermione a worried look. Hermione picked up her schoolbag – she always had great presence of mind – and stormed out.

She made it to her first lesson, of course, looking perfectly normal and smiling as though nothing was wrong, and continued like that throughout the day. Harry personally thought she'd spent a good half-hour after breakfast hexing something into pieces - and probably repairing it again when she was done.

'I really don't like this,' he said to Ginny later as they made their way to the DA. Hermione and Ron were coming in a few minutes: Hermione was doing homework and Ron was playing chess with Dean.

'The law? None of us does,' Ginny replied, shifting uncomfortably. 'I was half ready to burn that newspaper myself, to tell you the truth.' She bit her lip. 'It's going to… it's going to be bad, isn't it.' It wasn't a question.

'Yes,' Harry sighed, and scuffed a shoe along the floor, not looking up. 'It'll make it a hell of a lot harder for Muggleborns and half-bloods to get jobs, for one thing. And… and that'll have all sorts of effects.'

'Like making people think Muggleborns are stealing their jobs, because they need this special law to protect them against it.'

'Less contact with Muggleborns in the workplace,' Harry added thoughtfully. 'And less contact means they'll have fewer examples to see that their prejudices are all wrong.'

Ginny was impressed. 'How'd you come up with that one?' she asked.

'Something we did at my old Muggle school,' he replied, shrugging. 'Not with Purebloods and Muggleborns, of course, but similar idea…' he said, as they turned the corner into the final corridor. 'I don't think…'

They stopped dead.

Entering the corridor from the opposite side, deep in conversation, were Malfoy and one of the first-year Slytherins – he'd forgotten her name, but remembered her face from the DA. She must have said something amusing, because at that precise moment Malfoy laughed: a pleasant, genuine laugh, rather than the scornful ones Harry had heard him give so many times before. A genuine laugh from Malfoy was as absurdly incongruous as one from Voldemort would have been; Harry felt himself shiver.

Malfoy must have noticed them at last, because he stopped short, his expression oddly guarded. The little girl by his side smiled brightly at Harry and Ginny, then glanced up at Malfoy and frowned.

It was Ginny who spoke first; she was well and truly used, by now, to talking through awkward silences. 'Malfoy,' she said civilly, nodding in his direction; he nodded in reply. 'And you are... Ellen?'

'Yes,' replied the girl, giving Ginny a wide smile. 'Ellen Meyers.'

'One of the Slytherins threatened her last night,' Malfoy remarked, his tone aloof and formal. He didn't look directly at either of them as he spoke. 'An anonymous letter, implying she'd be attacked sometime today. Most probably either on the way to or from your Defence club. I doubt they'd attempt it during, but…'

Harry's eyes narrowed – he didn't trust Malfoy – but Ginny nodded again. 'Thanks for telling us. We'll keep an eye out,' she said, nodding, and turned to Ellen with a wider smile. 'Don't worry.'

'I'm not worried,' Ellen chimed back, and looked up at Malfoy with a grin. 'Thanks, Draco,' she said; to which he nodded in reply.

The door was already there – they'd told the DA members to walk past three times and think of the practice room, but hadn't mentioned the full extent of the room's power. Ellen walked over to the door and slipped inside; Ginny, glancing between the two boys, quickly said, 'I'll go in, make sure no one tries anything,' and went after her, leaving Harry and Malfoy alone in the corridor.

Harry did consider, for a minute, simply nodding a civil farewell to Malfoy and heading in, but Malfoy was watching him shrewdly, eyes never moving from him, and Harry found himself utterly unable to control his curiosity, his suspicion.

'What do you want with Hermione?' he asked, without ever consciously forming the sentence in his mind.

Malfoy's gaze was cold and glitteringly clear; his chin raised sharply, proudly. 'I might as well ask what you want with her,' he remarked. 'I doubt we want anything very different.'

'I don't know,' Harry replied, folding his arms. 'I don't know what you want with her. And I've never called her a… a Mudblood, or attacked her friends, or made her so angry she slapped me. I've certainly never wanted her murdered because her parents weren't magical. I've been friends with her since first year; there's nothing suspicious about me being friends with her. You, however…' he trailed off, giving Malfoy a grim stare, which the Slytherin met coolly and calmly.

'People change, Potter,' he said calmly, before stalking off down the corridor, straight past Harry with his head held high.

Harry pivoted on the spot, unbelieving, the words rising out of him and echoing off the stone walls before he'd even thought them through. 'Not this much. Not this quickly. You don't go from hating someone to being their friend in the space of a month or two, Malfoy.'

Malfoy stopped, halfway down the corridor, and glanced back over his shoulder, a bizarre mixture of annoyance and amusement evident in the precise and whip-like movement of his head, in the set of his shoulders and the glint in his eyes. 'If I told you that everything before this summer was my evil twin,' he asked, caustically, 'would you believe me?'

'Sarcasm won't get you anywhere,' Harry replied firmly, determined not to allow Malfoy to annoy him. 'Look, Malfoy, what do you want…'

'I want to be her friend,' Malfoy replied, turning his back and heading for the staircase. He paused for a moment, half turned back, then thought better of it. He simply added, in a firm tone of voice with some undercurrent that Harry had never head him use before, 'I am her friend,' half-speaking to himself, before carrying on. He turned a corner and disappeared, leaving Harry feeling decidedly confused.

A/N: I'm incredibly glad just to have got this up at last! Macbeth will, hopefully, be up next Friday.

Today's question: give me either 1. A joke that would make one of the Fallen characters laugh – who and why? OR 2. A riddle that is in some way connected to one of the Fallen characters – who and why?

Nope, this isn't for anything except general amusement. Review!