Chapter 42: Debate and Distraction

Disclaimer: There's a riddle: He who makes it does not need it, he who buys it does not want it, and he who uses it does not know it. What is it? A coffin.

Variation: She who makes it gets very rich and famous from it, she who buys it loves it, and she who uses it does not own it, so please don't sue her. What is it? Harry Potter.

Thanks for 1921 reviews goes to: MistressMaliceMalfoy, samhaincat, CurlsofSerenity, PsYcHoJo, alexix, ablakevh, Chuba, CrystalDragonfly, your illusion 02, Danfred, Madam Midnight, ToOtHpIcK, jules37, BlackSlytherinGirl, Perinnath, FalconWing, Indygodusk, RedWitch1, Alexi Lupin, Ce'Lyra, elloodd, Stoneage Woman, Plaidly Lush, BouncingDelta88, Medea Callous, Lisi (x2), Crown-V-Lyn, Janie Granger, Go10, Nikki, draconas, Lyannie, Karma Chameleon, WWJD4mE2LiVe, insipid-paragon, Queen Kat (x3) willowfairy, Genevieve Jones, FromHereToThere, LittleGreenPerson, Devon Jase Colm, (x8) Megan, ducksiesayxmuahx, PinkTribeChick, NotreDamegirlie, Sever13, Slytheravengryffinpuff, Riast, 9nine, cloud, The Samurai Pizza Cat, auracle, hyperactive-child, whereintheworldaremyshoes, heavengurl899, Kaylee-angel, Aeriel-Ravenna, leafsfan4eva, chasteaeon (x2), morningflower (x2), anata no egao, Marti Is So Cool, madame Malfoy, threepastmidnight, Anna.

A/N: Macbeth and Cursed have been nominated for awards on Dangerous Liaisons, the link to which is on my profile. Voting starts on the second of February, and all the nominated fics are amazing. Vote for your favourite!

Oh, and I don't appear to be able to add anyone to my update list at the moment… apologies!

I live on a main road, on the opposite side of which is a bus stop. When going out to the bus stop with my father, who luckily gets the bus at the same time as I do so I have someone to keep the blood in my hands from freezing solid, we invariably have to wait, patiently, for five minutes in rain, sleet or ice-laden winds by the roadside, waiting for a gap large enough for us to slip through. Whenever a gap appears, a car always appears from a subtly placed side-road and takes this gap. Dad and I have decided that there is a conspiracy at work here: some evil branch of the Death Eaters, the Lords of Traffic, are obviously busying themselves with preventing people getting across the road to the bus stop. (Further proof of this is given by the fact that a new dustbin, in bright magenta with gold detailing, was recently installed near said bus stop. Seriously. I have photos.)

The point of this anecdote is that they have clearly decided to branch out from merely controlling cars, and are now controlling g events in my life so that whenever a gice gap of Time To Write opens up, they send along a metaphorical Car of essays, homework, little pieces of computer which melt, and mother giving up smoking, which is good in principle but means I have to spend time making coffee, stopping parents from fighting and removing knives from there they have been stabbed brutally into the chopping board. (One of them managed to get an eating knife half an inch into solid wood. Am being very careful around them at the moment.) Mum also decided that I needed my split ends trimming and sheared three inches off me while I was innocently texting. Nicotine deprivation is a terrifying thing.

To summarise: I apologise for the lateness.

In more cheerful news: I know quite a few of you were on Fawkes' Ashes, the HP forum on my profile, which has now closed (sadly. This isn't the cheerful part; that's coming in a minute) And a good few of you have been asking if I know of any other forums, and I don't, but you have set me off thinking, which is a decidedly dangerous pastime. About how I enjoy forums, and I'm generally good at setting things up on the web that have, for example, bearable colour schemes, and how I've run forum-like things before, and how I really would like somewhere I can talk to everyone a bit better than in ANs… do you see where this is going?

So yes, I'm considering setting up a forum, to which you shall all be invited. I'm still considering what kind of forum I should start; so I'm open to your input. Should it be mainly Harry Potter based with sections for general chat, or a more general forum with sections for Harry Potter? What kinds of sections do we need? Am throwing the questions open to any kind of input you have. Go wild.

But for now, onto the chapter. Enjoy!

All successful newspapers are ceaselessly querulous and bellicose. They never defend anyone or anything if they can help it; if the job is forced on them, they tackle it by denouncing someone or something else.

H. L. Mencken (1880 - 1956)

Diagon Alley was packed. Of course it was always packed, but the temporary podium set up for the debate was drawing more attention than usual. Quite a lot of it was from casual shoppers, wandering past on their way to Gringotts or Madame Malkins or Flourish and Blotts, but there were a significant number of wizards and witches who appeared to be gathering specifically for the debate. People were conjuring chairs, or transfiguring them, and a haphazard array of seating was growing in clusters around the stage.

Claire Connor, reporter for Witch Weekly, surveyed the growing crowds with pleasure. She was fairly new to the magazine, having only passed her NEWTs a year or two ago, but after half a year of serving tea, duplicating documents and checking grammar, they'd started letting her write articles of her own, and from there her career had well and truly taken off.

And today was her big break, her chance to shine. The boss had called her into his office a few days ago, told her all about the positive discrimination laws – the Ministry had just notified him – and told her that they were planning on sponsoring a public debate on the topic. Then, a slight grin on his face, he'd told her the real gold. 'We'll be covering it on the Wizarding Wireless, of course, but our usual presenter is – ah – unable to make the debate. So we need a stand-in, and I think you're up to the task. How about it?'

She'd been smirking for the rest of the day. The debate was big news, and if she covered it well, who knew what the future had in store? Plus, it felt wonderful to be usurping Emily, the usual reporter, from her throne. Emily was Muggleborn, and carelessly cosmopolitan about it, mixing Muggle and Wizard, English and continental as easily as mixing verbs and nouns in a sentence, with a cultured, easy manner which had all the wizards practically eating out of her hand. It was disgusting, and Claire was more than happy to knock her off the top spot.

Her wand gave a brief crackle at that moment, and she pulled it out of her robe. Right now, the wand was connected up to the Wizarding Wireless network, a magic-based system that mimicked the Muggle radio. What the Muggle system was like, she couldn't care less.

'Hey, Claire here,' she said into the tip of her wand, trying to look as if she did this every day and didn't feel incredibly stupid.

'Hey,' came the voice of her boss. 'How's it going down there? You almost ready to start?'

Claire nodded, before realising he couldn't see her. 'Five minutes or so,' she replied. 'The debaters are here and just finishing getting ready.'

'Great,' came the reply, 'Have fun, Claire, and remember the angle.'

All stories had an angle. A bias, if you wanted to call it that, although that was too negative. An opinion. The media presented a topic in a certain light, based on pressures from various powers, such as the Ministry, and pressures from the public. Annoy the first and you got in trouble, annoy the second and people abandoned your paper, magazine or station in droves – depending on how seriously you annoyed them, of course.

Oh, some of the others might say that your coverage should be completely honest, unbiased, but Claire was a Slytherin and she knew better. You said what would please people. Oh, you were truthful, of course, but it was so impossibly easy to make the truth say what you wanted it to.

'Miss Connor?'

She recognised the face immediately when she turned to look, of course. There was hardly a person in the wizarding world who didn't – Hestia Bennett-Edmonds, Pureblood celebrity, whose name never appeared in an article without the words charitable, generous and kind lurking somewhere nearby. 'It's a pleasure to meet you,' Claire replied, genuinely meaning it. Hestia was the one mothers held up to children as the height of virtue; it was impossible not to admire her.

Even if, on matters such as these, she may be slightly… misguided. 'I hear you're supporting the side against the law?'

Hestia nodded, an earnest look in her eyes. 'Yes, I am. Which side do you support, Miss Connor?'

'Me? I'm for it, myself,' she said, considering whether or not to say the thought which had just entered her mind. It could do no harm, she reasoned. 'A lot of the wizarding world is for it, you realise?'

'In my experience, the Muggleborns are for it, the Purebloods are against. With half-bloods in between,' Hestia said, and laughed. 'Myself being an exception, of course.'

'Well, it's the Purebloods who are going to be concerned about their jobs being taken over,' Claire remarked, thinking of Emily. 'The Muggleborns won't care. And the Wizengamot is mostly Purebloods, and they're the ones voting on the law, so…' Claire shrugged. 'It's pretty much a foregone conclusion.'

'Interesting, that. The Purebloods are afraid of their jobs being taken over, yet they're still in the majority on the Wizengamot,' Hestia mused, tilting her head on one side with an abstracted expression, though her eyes were sharp and alert. It was a very Slytherin thing to do, Claire thought. 'Well. I believe the debate is beginning soon; I should leave you. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Connor. You seem like a very honest person, if you don't mind my saying so; I'm sure you won't let your own opinions colour your reporting.'

That was Slytherin: it was an implicit command. Claire replied with a half-truth. 'My reporting will be as honest and unbiased as I can possible make it,' she assured Hestia. 'Good luck in the debate.'

It would be as unbiased as she could make it. After all, she didn't have the power to override her boss's orders; she was obliged to follow those, and thus couldn't have been utterly unbiased if she'd wanted to. Hestia simply smiled warmly, thanked her and headed for the stage.

Two minutes later, Claire was live and on air. 'It's one minute past twelve and this is Claire Connor, speaking to you live from Diagon Alley…'

'… so thank you to both our guest debaters, as well as our audience both here and at home. The Wizengamot will be voting on the important issue of Muggleborn dominance in wizarding jobs next Monday; so if you want your chance to make your views known, owl the members with your views in the next few days. Next up on the Wizarding Wireless: Magical Meringues and Transfigured Trifles, the popular cooking show starring Vicky Spunge. For Witch Weekly on the Wireless, this was Cl-'

Hermione reached out and snapped off the wireless, suddenly and with a precise motion that was almost vicious, plunging the room into a sudden almost-silence. The only sound was the muffled rattle of the rain against the windows. It even sounded cold.

Hermione took a sharp breath, raised her eyes. 'They're going to pass it, aren't they?' she asked. Her voice was low and level, outwardly calm, but Draco had spent years as a Fallen having to pick up and interpret things he'd never felt himself, and he noticed her hand on the table, clenched tightly around her quill into a tight fist with the sharp nib sticking out, as though she were about to stab someone.

Still, lying would do no good; she wouldn't believe him and it would only upset her more. 'Yes,' he said. 'They are. They… the Wizengamot is mostly made from Purebloods, the conservative kind. They'll vote for it, and you can be certain that Voldemort will bribe or blackmail those who wouldn't, or who aren't sure.'

Hermione's shoulders slumped, and she leaned forwards, resting her hands on the table with her forehead in her hands. Her hair fell down around her face, in dense strands that were the beginning of curls, surrounded by an aura of frizz. 'It's starting,' she said bleakly. 'In earnest. First it's our jobs, then it's our homes, our magic… how long do you think it'll be before they throw me out of here?' she asked, with a dark laugh that sounded half hysterical, half black humour.

Draco didn't laugh. He didn't know what to do, what to think, except that Hermione was upset and there weren't any easy solutions. Just comfort, which he didn't understand and didn't know how to offer, and somehow that made it feel worse. 'They won't throw you out,' he told her firmly. 'They might try, but do you think there's any way Dumbledore will actually let them?'

'He might not get much of a choice,' Hermione replied quietly. 'I hardly think Voldemort's going to… going to just let him stay. The Ministry took him away before, remember, they could do it again, or pass laws or put interfering menaces like Umbridge in the school and then there isn't much he can do, is there-'

'Hermione,' Draco interrupted, gently, because while he wasn't certain what to say, he was fairly certain about the fact that she needed to breathe at some point. 'Dumbledore would hardly sit back and let Voldemort take over, would he? Even if they did manage to stop the school taking Muggleborns, I bet he'd start up something unofficial. Or if worst comes to worst, I can owl you all the work. Secondly, it's not exactly going to be top of his list. Hogwarts is going to be the hardest place to infiltrate and influence, and you don't attack your enemy at its strongest point. So it probably won't happen until after you leave school.'

'I suppose,' Hermione replied, raising her head and looking slightly mollified, though her forehead was still creased with worry. 'It still isn't good though. I'm… I'm terrified of what they'll do next. I just don't know. It's like reading a horror story when you know something horrible is going to happen, except that you can't put real life down when it gets too scary.'

She sniffed a little, looking up at him, and Draco felt an absolutely horrible feeling. Part of it was a horrible hollow, desperate feeling like having two small hooks attached to his stomach and tugged, gently but insistently. That was wanting to help but not being able to, and then there was fear, an acid undertone from somewhere. And worry, and lots of other little things he didn't know the names of which coiled and twisted inside him.

He took a deep breath, and said, 'I don't know what to say. To help. I… I'm sorry.'

To his surprise, Hermione glanced up at him and smiled. 'Don't be. It's not your fault. And most people find it hard to know what to say, when there… when there aren't any easy answers.'

She frowned again, appearing distracted, until Draco spoke. 'Is there anything I can do?'

'What? Oh, no. Thank you, but…' She brushed her hair back behind her ears. 'I'm fine, don't worry. We should… did you pick up on anything in the debate?'

He gave her a very careful look, not sure if she was lying about being alright or telling the truth. Hermione must have noticed, because her mouth immediately split into an amused smile.

'Draco, I was being serious. I'm fine. Well,' she amended, seeing his disbelieving look, 'as fine as can be expected. If you want to do something, you can talk about the debate with me.'

'And thinking about the debate will help you stop worrying about the debate?' Draco asked, reaching out and toying with the edge of her parchment. 'Besides, you were the one who took all the notes.'

Hermione had taken notes on the debate, in neat and careful script, with direct quotations in red ink and her own comments in black. She'd needed two quills for that, and two inkpots; it had been rather difficult.

'I guess you're right,' Hermione said, frowning at the place where his fingers were worrying the parchment. 'It certainly won't help get my mind off the topic.'

'Why did you use different ink colours?' Draco asked, trying to get off the topic. 'It's too… complicated, messing around with different quills.'

'I got into the habit at my old school – before I came to Hogwarts,' she replied. 'Muggles don't write with quills, not any more, and it's easier to write in different colours with pens.'

'Pens are the Muggle version of quills, right? Draco asked, feeling as though something heavy in his chest had just been removed. It was quite a disconcerting feeling, really, which had him surreptitiously touching his wrist to check that his pulse was still there and his heart hadn't been somehow magically removed. There were Dark Arts spells to do that. He knew them.

Hermione nodded. 'They're like… imagine the shaft of the feather, without the feathery parts on. And the nib… well it's the same kind of nib for fountain pens, but biros have a rounded, blunt point. And the ink's inside the pen, you don't have to keep dipping it in an inkpot. Which is why it's easier to change colours with a pen. I still do it sometimes if I have time, it makes it look better.'

'Ink inside the pen? Draco asked, trying to understand the concept. 'Isn't that messy?'

'No, with fountain pens you have ink cartridges, and with biros you have a kind of plastic tube…' Draco hadn't a clue what she was on about, and she must have realised that, because she drifted off in mid sentence, shaking her head. 'I'll ask Mum and Dad to send some in their next letter, you'll probably understand better if you see them yourself.'

'Probably,' he repeated, and for the sake of continuing the conversation – Hermione's eyes were drifting to her notes again – he said, 'I can never understand all the Muggle stuff, you know. The only time I go near them is at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, and that's… well, confusing. I never understand what's going on.'

'In what way?' Hermione asked. 'Though a train station is probably one of the most confusing Muggle places there is, so…' She left the sentence hanging, giving him an amused shrug and a small laugh, which made him smile in return.

'All these… these things that look like magic, but can't be,' he told her, after a moment's thought. 'Like the lights. They can't be fire because they're too steady, but they can't be magic because Muggles don't have it, and all I can find out is that it's something called… what's the word? Electric.'

To his surprise, Hermione's smile actually grew wider, as though laughing at some private joke. 'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic,' she said, the tone of her voice suggesting it was a quote. Draco felt disconcerted, as though all of the thoughts which made sense had been broken into pieces and scattered around his mind - like a jigsaw, or an anagram with the letters mixed up and in the wrong order. Puzzled, he thought, and almost laughed. The word was far too apt.

Shaking the thought out of his mind, he asked, 'What does that mean?'

'It means that any technology – that's the Muggle word for, oh, tools and machines and things like that – which is far enough advanced looks like magic. In the sense that you don't understand how it works. If wizards want light, we use a lumos spell; if Muggles want light, they press a light switch and it comes on. Wizards don't know how the magic works, and Muggles don't know how their technology works, apart from a few people in both worlds who are the best of the inventors, the creators. Muggles and Wizards aren't that different after all.'

'Perhaps any sufficiently advanced magic is indistinguishable from technology,' Draco suggested, hoping it would make her laugh, and it did. For some reason, he liked to make her laugh. He hadn't a clue why, emotions being as bizarre and unpredictable as always, but he did.

'Perhaps,' she agreed. 'I remember starting Hogwarts and thinking that really the wizarding world isn't too dissimilar to the Muggle world. I mean, wizards have magic and Quidditch and Floo powder and moving pictures, and Muggles have technology and football and telephones and films, but that's just… magic and technology. We both have literature, art, medicine, education, politics, money, philosophy… And people act the same,' she finished, a slightly distant look on her face that made Draco feel as though she was speaking to herself, thinking aloud.

'I wouldn't really know, I've never met any Muggles,' he replied, shrugging. 'And there are a lot of differences. Different values, different societies…'

'There are liberally-minded Purebloods,' Hermione pointed out. 'Like the Weasleys. And Muggles can be conservative too. Or prejudiced.'

Draco sighed, leaning forward on the table and stretching slightly. 'People would say that families like the Weasleys have been 'tainted by Muggle beliefs'. Muggle-lover is an insult, after all. And Purebloods don't really care about whether Muggles have art or similar values, they focus on blood purity. That's all.' Belatedly, Draco noticed Hermione's expression; pale and frowning, staring at her noted without seeing. He put out a hand to cover them. 'We shouldn't be talking about this, let's discuss something else.'

But Hermione shook her head, looking so miserable that Draco wanted to do something, though he didn't know what. 'If everyone just keeps ignoring it and refusing to talk because it upsets them, we'll never get anywhere,' she said, her voice sounding firm unless you were listening closely. 'I hate this, I hate people not… not thinking, just doing what their parents do and hating what their parents hate and it's silly, because we aren't different at all, not in any way that matters.'

'I know,' he said gently, tugging the parchment with her notes on away from her. His liking of making her laugh seemed to be coupled with a disliking of seeing her cry, which sat uneasily around his lungs, tightening when he breathed in. He frowned, watching her, trying to think of something he could do.

'But you aren't going to do any good by getting upset, either,' he added, almost to himself. Hermione's fist was clenched tightly around one corner of the parchment, creasing it slightly. She was looking down at the table, a few strands of hair falling in front of her face, failing utterly to hide her expression.

What she needed was a distraction. That was something Draco had realised lately; emotions were like pain. If you stopped yourself thinking about them by reading a book, doing work, or talking to someone, you tended to forget about them, in much the same way that distracting yourself when in pain often made you forget it. Depending on the intensity of the pain, or the emotion, of course.

Of course, simply changing the subject wouldn't work, she'd see through that. Instead, after a moment's thought, he sighed a little, let himself slip forwards on the desk and half-buried his head in the crook of his arm. From the corner of his eye, he could just see Hermione. A moment passed with no sound other than the rain thundering at the window, then Hermione glanced up at him. He quickly flicked his eyes down to the table, downcast.

Her hand found its way to his, and gave it a gentle squeeze. 'What's wrong?' came Hermione's voice, and Draco had to work very hard to prevent himself grinning. It was working.

He gave another sigh and lifted his head slightly to look at her, then shrugged awkwardly. 'I don't know,' he replied. 'Everything, I suppose. The debate, and worrying about people attacking Ellen, and whether the Slytherins or your friends are going to be first to slip arsenic in my food.' He let himself laugh then, a hollow laugh at black humour. Inside, he was rather amused. Hermione looked concerned, but no longer depressed. What better way to get her mind off the problem of the debate than to get it onto some other problem? She'd spend so much time reassuring him that she'd forget to worry about the debate, and from there, he could easily pilot the subject onto something more cheerful.

'My friends won't,' Hermione told him firmly. 'Not if they want to keep all their teeth.'

He smiled. 'Thanks. Are they… are they staying for the holidays?'

Hermione frowned, as if she didn't understand the question's relevance. 'Yes, but… Oh. You'll be staying too, won't you?'

'I can't exactly go home, so yes. Trapped in the Slytherin dungeon with whoever stays behind, which will probably be very tense, and Potter and the Weasleys glaring hexes at me whenever I want to spend time with you. I'm not particularly looking forward to it. You are staying, aren't you?' He knew perfectly well she was, but anything that gave her a chance to be reassuring…

'Of course I am,' she told him firmly. 'I usually stay for Christmas, to keep Harry company. And I won't let them do anything. I bet if I got you to actually talk to each other, you'd get on well, actually…' She drifted off, a distant, thoughtful look on her face.

'Me and Weasley?' he asked, raising a sceptical eyebrow.

'Well, you get on fine with me,' she pointed out. 'Besides, I won't let you spend the holidays alone, even if I have to feed everyone in Gryffindor Dreamless Sleep potion so I can sneak out without being noticed.'

He grinned at her. 'Thanks. What do you usually do at Christmas?'

'Well, in my family we have a tradition of…' She broke off suddenly, blinked, and stared at him in suspicion. 'Hang on. You were just changing the subject, weren't you? Trying to distract me. You weren't really upset at all!'

Feeling utterly amused, and quite proud of her for realising – Potter and Weasley wouldn't – he smirked and nodded. 'It worked, though,' he remarked. 'And you aren't upset anymore.'

Hermione shook her head, in a mixture of amusement and indignation. 'You absolute Slytherin,' and there was more affection in her voice than annoyance. Draco grinned in reply.

A/N: I must apologise to the real Claire Connor, who is actually very nice, for stealing her name. Hermione's multicoloured note-taking was inspired by Hannah Darke, who is very much like Hermione only shorter, blonder and more fanatic about Monty Python. Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic' is a real quote by Arthur C. Clarke.

The review question for this chapter shall obviously be: what do you think about a forum? Should I start one? What kinds of things would you like to see in it? Games, contests, fanfic sections, Harry Potter discussion… should it be Harry Potter based or not? Something else? Any suggestions will be welcomed, along with your thoughts on the chapter, of course. Review!