"A well balanced person has a drink in both hands"
Billy Connolly
"That was something I never want to see again!" Gregory Pierce dragged himself through the portrait hole, images of four hundred pairs of pink fluffy bunny bathers surely permanently burned to the back of his eyelids. "Hagrid in a Speedo is a vision I will never get over."
"At least you weren't sitting on a broom directly under Snape when it happened to you," Ginny Weasley said, shaking her head as if it would send away the mental image. She had dispelled the tieback charm she performed on her hair in an attempt to hide the fact she was in a rather small bikini with strategically placed rabbits. It hadn't really worked at least Neville had stopped staring. Hermione Granger and Greg's sister Lucy had done much the same, though Lucy was in a plain boy-leg one piece and Hermione was in what appeared to be an eighteenth century bathing costume, though he couldn't be sure, they never showed them in Inside Sport. Greg absently flicked his wand to right a jumping record playing in the corner. Lucy always played music when she painted and it drove him nuts. She'd have his balls for earrings if he turned it off, and Greg preferred them where they were. Harry Potter- who was one of the few who was in board-shorts and had managed to tear off some fabric from the Quidditch stands to wear, wriggled straight through the crowd and up the dormitory stairs. It seemed pretty rude that he could get dressed; the Ravenclaws had decided they were going to turn it into a bubble-party. They had technically won, since Harry had rammed head first into the snitch trying to dive for cover. Greg smiled to himself and took hold of his sister's wand- the clothing was waterproof, the common room wasn't theirs, there was fun to be had. Greg and a few other Ravenclaws began filling the air with bubbles. A few Gryffindor giggles heralded their beginning too. Lavender Brown bounced around the common room, her wand flew around in her hand. Bubbles in the shape of dogs emerged in rainbow glory, chasing Greg's rat shaped bubbles.
Unfortunately for Greg, though bathers were waterproof, book-bound parchment wasn't.
"GREG!" Hermione yelled out. She pulled her wand from among her possessions and aimed straight at her book. Casting a quick drying charm and slamming the book closed. She gathered her legs and sat on the couch in a huff.
"I wish I'd had a camera for that look on Snape's face though, it was classic!" Ron sat down beside Hermione with an ungraceful thud. "And I'd have paid even Crabbe for a picture of Malfoy's face.' He swatted at a bubble in the shape of a rat, it burst in a showed of green watery substance.
Greg couldn't stop himself laughing, emitting more bubbles in a long stream from the end of his wand.
"What do you think did it anyway? Do you think it was that McCallum kid?" Hermione asked. Always the little questioner.
Luna Lovegood, ready with an answer she was incredibly confident over, spoke up in a know-it-all tone; "Ah, the South African Cotton Brownies strike again."
Greg chose, quite consciously, to ignore her.
"Malfoy's face probably would have been interesting. Mainly because the bikini would give away his little secret."
Greg would have been forgiven for believing the wand in his face was a joke. He would have been forgiven for assuming bubbles would soon fly out of the end straight at him. He would have been forgiven for thinking that over-serious look on Hermione's face was about to collapse into a fit of giggles. He could also have been forgiven for guessing what was really going to happen…
"Semper Ponerum!"
"MCCALLUM!" Draco stormed through the Slytherin common room, knocking people and furniture out of the way at random. "McCallum, when I get my hands on you, you'll wish you were born Muggle! McCallum!"
"What?"
Draco did a full ninety-degree turn with a throat grip in one movement, "You did this you little bastard!"
Timothy McCallum looked as if he feared for his life. He had hold of Draco's tightening hands, and was wriggling feverishly. "Did what?"
Draco roared and grabbed at the nearest pair of bathers he could find. Crabbe winced as the fabric was dragged uncomfortably forward. "THIS!"
McCallum looked like he desperately wanted to laugh, but the pulsive shaking beneath Malfoy's fist suggested that his instinct to survive was in fact a lot stronger than any other force.
"I didn't do it, I swear, Draco, please, I swear I didn't do it!"
"I don't believe you," Draco said, the anger having shorted the raging circuit in his brain and switched to 'eye of the storm' mode. "In fact, I am going to give you thirty seconds before, not only will you wish that you were born Muggle, but you will wish that you and your entire family had never existed at all. In fact, if you don't tell me before I finish this sentence, when I'm done with you, I'll feed you to Millicent's pet cat!" Draco ignored the pleas of the boy as he tried to announce his innocence.
"Oh dear, I believe that…"
"Let him go Malfoy, he's not done anything wrong." Blaise said, sounding anxious and protective. He'd stripped one of the beds and now wore a sheet as a toga. The idea had merit. Draco released the boy with a hefty push.
"You aren't worth the trouble anyway."
"Draco, why would you think he did it, if he's wearing a bright pink skin suit?" Pansy Parkinson, who had opted for a sarong made of the finest serpent wall hanging, asked, a slightly shaky undertone in her voice.
"Because he's just doing it to look innocent, that's why. That's what I'd do. Why doesn't everyone just get dressed?"
Pansy checked the knot on the wall hanging she wore. She spoke quietly, "Because all the clothes are gone."
"They're what?"
"All the clothes, they've all gone, each and every one of them."
Hermione tried one last thing to get up. She kicked up with her hips, bouncing Ron off her. She tried to kick up a leg, but Ginny had been sitting on it so heavily the circulation was cut off. Her other leg was occupied by Neville Longbottom so she had no hope. She had no idea what had come over her. She had just snapped. The book wasn't all that important anyway, not really. Yes she would have liked to see what the heck was going on, but it wasn't even like he'd smudged the ink.
"Let me go!" She cried, trying to pull her left arm from Harry's grasp. She was spread-eagled on the floor, with Ginny, Neville, Luna, Ron and Lucy pinning her down. Her wand had been long since taken away from her, and behind her thrashing head, Dean and Seamus were trying various pronunciations of finite incantatum to unstick Greg from the floor.
"We're not letting you go Hermione, not until you tell us what in the name of Merlin's French knickers you were doing!" Ron yelled, retaking his place sitting heavily on her pelvis, her wand shaking violently in his hand. He was sitting the pointy part of her hips, and her skin ached.
"I don't know, something just came over me, I don't know what it was."
Ron slid off her, allowing Harry and he to swap positions, "Now Hermione, there must have been a reason."
Hermione never quite understood why, as much as she loved Ron, Harry was always the one who could wheedle almost anything out of her. She turned her head away from him. "My theory is it's something to do with that."
Harry turned his head to where she was facing, toward the fireplace. He turned his head back.
"Hermione, I…"
"Oh dear," A small, exhausted voice said from somewhere in the direction of the portrait hole, "If this is an inconvenient time, sir, Dobby could return later."
"All teachers to the North Tower stairs, immediately!" The sonorous charm echoed through Hogwarts' stone halls. Minerva McGonagall, yanking the inconvenient white bathing bonnet from her head as she ran, raced through the corridors. She ignored the questioning shouts of the Huffelpuffs she ran into. Her bathing costume, though most likely considered particularly racy in the seventeenth century, wouldn't be considered anything less than overdressing by most of the Hogwarts students' grandparents. She hadn't found her clothes, and when Dumbledore's announcement had come through, she hadn't even bothered to find any kind of covering. She regretted it somewhat, as the slowly cooling September air dropped quite a bit in the Hogwarts stone halls. She took hold of the first loose tapestry she could find, and wrapped it around herself as she approached the corridor beneath the North Tower. Professor Sprout was already there, as were Filch and Dumbledore. They were all staring dumbfounded at the long, spiraling stairs. Minerva followed their gaze, her eyes following the stairs up into the misty darkness. The midday sun gave the unearthly fog a yellow glow, before the fog went up beyond the light's reach.
"What is that?" She said, weaving her way between the other professors.
"That remains to be seen." Dumbledore watched the mist studiously. Minerva watched too, swirling in a pattern like a whirlwind, moving around the windows. With a sudden musical howl, the fog dropped in thick, crystalline droplets. Minerva reached forward and took a handful. They were red, each and every one of them. She looked at the tiny stones in her hand.
"Rubies." She wriggled her palm so that the rubies turned in her hands. Almost as soon as she'd identified them, the rubies melted, slowly at first, and then in a sudden gush as the stairwell erupted into a waterfall of…
"Blood. Vampire blood if I'm not very much mistaken and I'm usually not," Severus said coldly. He was the only occupant of the corridor with his nose not unattractively wrinkled. Minerva sniffed; the blood smell at least was a change from his hair.
She turned her hand over, studying the droplets as they left she hand and splashed onto the floor. "What is going on in this school?"
"What do you mean gone?" Draco rushed past Pansy like a crazed Hippogryph, knocking her shoulder roughly. The knot in the tapestry sarong she wore came loose, and had dropped off before Draco had reached the stairs. Pansy retied it at her waist, with Blaise out of the picture; there was no need to be subtle when it came to trying for Draco Malfoy.
"What are you staring at Zabini? Wishing you could have it all back, or are you just wondering what that little Gryffindor slut would look like in this?"
Blaise snorted, almost a sobbing snort, but he hid it well, "Oh come on Parkinson, my little sister looks better in a bikini, and she's fat."
"Yes," Pansy said, trying to sound less offended than she really was. No holds barred Zabini. "And she also looks like a Weasley. Was there something your mother wasn't telling you? Long business trips for the ministry perhaps?"
Blaise clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. "I'd kill you if you weren't a girl."
"Oh, you scared a girl would beat you?"
Blaise was turning an incredible shade of red; it clashed horribly with the wetsuit thing he was wearing. The tiny white rabbits, all adorned with glorious blue ribbons, fought for places to hide behind his knees.
"Are you two at it again?" Draco came down the stairs, looking dejected and tying himself in a sheet toga. Draco threw himself onto the nearest overstuffed chair to the boy's dorm corridor. "You're right, they're gone. What in the name of Merlin's balls is going on here?"
"Maybe the House Elves are back and took the clothes to wash them?" Millicent Bulstrode suggested, eating one of the chocolate bars she'd smuggled from Hogwarts' dwindling supplies. Pansy's stomach growled in protest.
"Don't mention House Elves, those shitty little vermin. I'm bloody starving! We'll all end up as fat as you if we live off the chocolate bars and things they're feeding us!"
"At least they are feeding us!" Draco said, rubbing his temples absently. "And could you please cover yourself up Parkinson, you're getting goose bumps."
Pansy frowned, "No I'm no… oh." Pansy pulled the hanging up over her chest, covering her 'goose bumps'.
"All I'm saying, Pansy, is that it wasn't me who ran off crying to a Gryffindor when we broke up." Blaise was never good at giving up unless the last word was his. It made for long conversations; she wasn't good at it either.
"Look who's talking, at least I didn't steal Granger's knickers!"
"Actually, that was Malfoy," Timothy McCallum offered with a smirk. A pillow slammed him in the side of the head.
"One more word out of you McCallum and I'll throw something sharper and much more deadly than a pillow at you." Draco groaned as he sank deeper into the chair, lost behind the thick Victorianesque green velvet back. "Could you please turn off that bloody music?"
Pansy turned toward Draco, not bothering to get up from her desk corner, giving Blaise a view he'd writhe over for days. "What music?"
"I'm surrounded by complete idiots. That bloody music; guitars, drums, violins, piano, some woman droning about never being good enough. It's so bloody loud it's giving me a headache!"
"Oh come now Draco, I thought you'd be all for other people being put in their place. Hufflepuff no doubt, but there is still no music." Pansy turned away, picking at her nails. This had worried her at first, him always talking about there being music, but now it was just normal. He complained all the time. He was going insane. His mother's side of the family obviously, the Blacks had been a load of Gryffindors after all. Pansy took her wand from where she'd stashed it and aimed absently at her fingernails, fading them through various shades of green, until Draco shoved his way past her again, took hold of a book that sat on the desk beside her and charged to his dorm, his two cronies following him like lost puppies.
"Draco!" Pansy yelled as she lost her balance. The tingling in her fingers grew to a piercing feeling before her nails erupted into dragon claws, teeth, ridges and various other draconic body-parts.
Imogen Taylor looked up from her book absently, pillows strategically placed on her body, "Don't you just hate when that happens?"
Dumbledore pushed the door to his office closed and rattled the handle to be sure it was most definitely closed. "It seems we have a problem."
"You don't say." Professor McGonagall had been scrubbing at her hands for a while now, and though she'd gotten rid of every trace of the ruby liquid, she didn't seem convinced at all. "That fact would seem obvious, Albus, but what are we to do?"
"We could keep the students in their dorms until we figure it out, that way if it is a student doing it…"
"…like that McCallum boy…"
"… yes, as Professor Flitwick said, if it is the McCallum boy he can't do any more harm until we have rectified the problem."
Snape stood up, looming darkly over professor Sprout, who cowered in his shadow. "That's your solution to everything isn't it Sprout? 'There's a troll, all students to the dorms', 'there's a criminal loose, to the dorms' or 'there's a shortage of marmalade for my toast, to the bloody dorms!'"
"Now Severus if we fight among ourselves…"
"Oh shut up Flitwick you aren't much better. Every time something goes wrong, it has to be a Slytherin. Merlin forbid a Ravenclaw could do as much as leave a hair in the Great Hall to clean up! Why don't you blame Professor Eddington? She is the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher after all, aren't they all raging lunatics or monsters or something!"
McGonagall put down her cloth and looked pleadingly at her colleague. "Do you think it's some kind of dark force, Severus? Could You-Know-Who be behind this?"
"Changing our clothes into rabbit covered swimmers is a little petty for his master plan for taking over the world don't you think?" Snape sat back down. "Unless he opts to monopolize the world's clothing market by being the only store that stocks non-bather type items of course."
Dumbledore watched the little squabble as he twisted open a vanilla fudge from its wrapper. When Berty Bott had gotten into fudge there had been an uproar from almost everyone in the Wizarding world, and instead of "Every Flavor Fudge" there was born "Berty Bott's Fudge For All Occasions" which predicted what kind of fudge you'd like at that point and makes itself that flavor. Vanilla was predominant for Dumbledore, the peppermint tended to taste like Muggle toothpaste.
"It isn't Voldemort."
The heads of houses were silent with a collective cringe. "Albus, please don't do that."
"I know this because, not only is it not his style, but because if it were him, Harry Potter would be dead." Dumbledore leant back in his chair, reaching for fudge from the rather large box. Hazelnut I think, this time.
McGonagall closed the formerly red hand around the wrist of the other, whatever she would have said caught in a haze of confusion. "Then what is doing it?"
"That, I think," Dumbledore said, spitting the fudge into his hand, "will be the biggest test of them all." He looked down into his hand. Among the spit and a little vanilla fudge, were the crushed bits of a beetle. "Yes, this is indeed something beyond even me."
Harry flung himself off Hermione so fast he didn't really notice when he kicked Ginny in the shoulder. He shoved his glasses further up his nose and stood quickly. "Dobby! Dobby, no, wait!"
"Why does Harry Potter hold Hermione Granger so? Is this a kind of game sir?"
"Dobby, where have you been? Let me go!"
"Can we let her go, Harry?" Ginny asked, struggling against Hermione's wriggles and attempts to get out of her grasp. Harry answered with a dismissive gesture that Ginny had always taken as a yes. She released Hermione, who thanked her by knocking her over in the rush to get to Dobby. You're welcome, Hermione.
"Dobby did not know where else to go, sir."
Harry knelt down to Dobby's height. "It's alright Dobby. Just tell us where you've been." Harry gestured to a cushion, Dobby looked at it, fluffed it, and put it back on an armchair.
"Dobby cannot say sir."
Harry rubbed his face, a groan escaping him indicating he'd been through this all before. "Dobby, now that you are free you can say whatever you like."
Dobby hopped off the armchair and started to absently tidy up. "It is not that Dobby cannot say, sir, but that it is impossible for Dobby to say because Dobby does not know." Dobby started to collect dishes and stack them on the nearest table. He blew carefully at any bubbles that came his way.
"Impossible?"
"Yes, sir. Dobby started to go into the Laundry, Sir, and came out in a very cold place with lots of mountains. Dobby almost froze to death, sir, and began immediately to apparate toward Hogwarts." Dobby closed some nearby books and handed them to Emma Dobbs, who thanked him quietly. Harry grabbed him by the back of his t-shirt; an old t-shirt of Dudley's Harry had given Dobby for Christmas. Hermione had been annoyed, but Dobby was ecstatic.
"You aren't going anywhere, Dobby, until we find out what's going on."
"Dobby is sorry, sir, but it is close to dinner." Dobby snapped his fingers, and was gone, leaving Dudley's shirt behind.
"Ron, pass on the message, students be warned, naked House-Elf on the loose."
Draco watched Professor Eddington drag the heavy looking trunk into the room. She was only a small woman, and looked like she'd snap with too much effort. She really didn't look old enough to be teaching, but then small people never did. Draco yawned and settled into his chair as Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom, ever chivalrous and insatiably dull stood to help her. Draco bit into his apple. They'd received small meals now, house-elf standard. It was, however very much on the small and of the least prepared variety. The common room found itself a little tidier too, though no clothes were cleaned. Draco had resorted to telling Crabbe to wash his robes for him, and he'd done his usual screwed up job. Draco, for the first time in his life, envied Weasley. The lot of them always managed to be cleanly turned-out.
"Ah, thank you boys. Now class today we'll be looking at a creature that nobody knows what…"
A hand shot up from the Gryffindor side of the room. Draco felt a brush along the side of his arm. He ignored it, probably Goyle pointing out Granger's openness to be laughed at. He wasn't in the mood.
"Professor, we did Bog…"
"In third year, I know. These are far worse than Boggarts Miss Granger."
Draco rolled is eyes, he knew what was coming. "Bloody Mimickers!" Dark arts of the worst kind- unless they've been properly pacified, they'd tear anything to shreds just to take its form. Vicious bastards.
"Yes Mr. Malfoy, ten points to Slytherin, though the swearing could perhaps be done without. Today we are studying Mimickers- and don't worry, this has been pacified. Can anybody tell me where it is exactly?"
Mumbling filled the room as quite a few theories flew about the place. Lavender Brown squealed as her quill flew across the room. The Irish guy laughed loudly. Draco looked back at Professor Eddington. Something had caught his attention that was very amusing, and would give him the greatest amusement in the information. He raised his hand slowly. For once he wasn't surprised Granger hadn't noticed.
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Hermione has it." The class was silent. All eyes were on him, including Hermione's. Potter and Weasley had their mouths open in something resembling a guppy-fish.
"What? She does have it!"
"Did-did you just call her Hermione?" Crabbe asked. His jaw almost as far open as Weasley's. Draco opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Had he just called her Hermione?
"Thank you Mr. Malfoy, but you are quite incorrect." Professor Eddington said, tapping her foot impatiently.
Draco spluttered. He was not to be told he was wrong when he so clearly right! "Oh, I beg your pardon Professor. She doesn't have it so much as she's wearing it." There was definitely something suspicious about that robe. It was too clean, too fresh, and the red bits were just too red. No one else had robes that clean. Hermione was gripping frantically at various parts of her outfit, as if she could wring the Mimicker out of her clothes. Draco was sure she was about to have a panic attack.
"I totally agree with you on that one Malfoy, her robe is just far too fresh."
"Exactly! Thank you for noticing my… Hang on." Malfoy twisted in his chair to stare into a pair of murky green eyes.
"Hello."
"You!" Selena was staring back at him. She was dressed in a rumpled Ravenclaw uniform.
Professor Eddington grabbed him by the shoulder, "Mister Malfoy! I suggest you stop talking and pay attention! Miss Granger certainly does not have the Mimicker, and if you upset one of my students one more time, I'll send you to professor Dumbledore!"
Granger squeaked from the other side of the room. "He-he's right Professor. Y-you see?" She held her robes a little out from her chest. She whispered toward the front of the class, "I can't get it off."
"What do you mean you can't get it off? And besides, the Mimicker is right here…" Professor Eddington kicked open the chest and held out a sock. She was waiting, Draco knew, for another sock to appear right beside it. It didn't.
"I told you."
"Yes, I'm well aware of that. Don't panic, Miss Granger, I've used three slowing potions and a benignus charm on it."
Weasley looked between Hermione and the Professor. "When did you do that?"
"This morning, Mr. Weasley. It's quite harmless at the moment."
Draco felt something brush by his ear. "Is she sure about that? Just a warning."
Draco turned to ask what she meant, but was instead accosted by music. Music from all directions. It was that bloody song from the wedding again. It was really getting beyond a joke. That bloody music! And a scream.
"Hermione!" More screams, and the room suddenly became devoid of all life, but for himself, Weasel and pothead and Hermione. Hermione, whose shirt had crawled up and was covering her mouth, the torn remains of another set of robes and the start of a torn under-tunic were revealed to the world. She was turning blue. Never a good sign. Draco winced, as the music got louder.
"What do we do?" Ron yelled at the Professor. Potter was trying to pry the thing off with his hands. Bad idea Potter. He could feel his heart slam against his chest in panic. She couldn't die! Stupid Selena, it was all that bitch's fault!
"Selena! Make the bloody thing stop!"
"Malfoy could you stop talking to your invisible fucking friend and help! Be less of a wanker for a change!" Potter yelled.
Draco stood up, gripping his DADA book for dear life. He moved to the other side of the room as best he could through the fallen chairs. Professor Eddington was shouting useful information such as 'don't panic' and 'it isn't supposed to be like this!' Note to self- get her fired.
"Out of the way Potter." Draco kicked Weasley roughly out of the way, taking his DADA book in one hand and the Mimicker in the other. It was turning flesh colored, and Hermione's screams were becoming more of pain than fear. Draco slammed the book under the Mimicker as far as he could.
"What the fuck are you doing Malfoy?" Weasley grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked it away from the screaming girl. The book clattered to the floor. The Mimicker was growing hair. This is not going well.
Ginny poked her head out of the Potions room door. Seamus Finnegan had rushed in earlier, yelling something about a Mimicker in DADA. Professor Snape, after taking points, had told them to read half the potions book and had left the room as fast as Ginny could have imagined.
"Miss Weasley, has Professor Snape been informed of the accident?" Professor McGonagall asked her as she headed along the hall. Ginny nodded.
"Good, he'll know what to do. Can you please go to the infirmary and fetch Madam Pomfrey. Did anyone say how many were involved?"
"I heard it was just Hermione, Professor."
"I heard more than that. Run up and fetch Madam Pomfrey, and send someone for Professor Dumbledore. Gather as many stretchers you can levitate when you get to the infirmary. Hurry!" Professor McGonagall started off again. Ginny looked into the classroom again. Everyone was staring at her; she probably looked as panicked as she felt. "Um, Luna, could you get Professor Dumbledore and take him to the DADA room please, now would be good." Ginny walked out of the door. Calm was the key. Calm, she told herself, as she pelted down the corridor at full speed.
"Listen Weasley, if you want her face torn off, I suggest you do that again. Otherwise, give me that book." Draco felt a sharp pain in his fingers. The Mimicker was starting to grow fingernails amongst the hair. Draco took the offered book and jammed it back between Hermione and the Mimicker.
"Her nose is going to be mangled, but I'm sure you won't notice." Draco yanked his hand from the Mimicker and looked at it quickly. There was blood streaming from his fingertips, and bits of flesh. He wasn't exactly sure whose it was. He pushed harder on the book. Hermione screamed again.
"What is that supposed to do?" Potter yelled, dropping to his knees beside Draco.
Draco gave another push on the book, "If we can get it to eat the book instead of Hermione we can get the little bastard."
"Can't we just petrify it?"
"Yeah, good idea Weasel, it'll kill her while she doesn't struggle." Draco grabbed Hermione's hand and took it from the Mimicker. It would just be in the way. He put it on his shoulder quickly, returning to the pursuit. The door swung open. Professor Eddington cried out the name of Draco's head of house.
"Can't you do anything?" She screamed. Professor Snape told her outright to leave them alone. He called the other two back too. Malfoy privately praised Merlin. He tried to coax the thing to latch on to the book. Hermione's fingers dug into his shoulder as she gave another muffled scream. He groaned against the pain and endeavored on. There was some kind of liquid escaping onto his hand. He assumed blood, and looked down. No, they were tears. If she could cry it was starting to try to take the book. With a yell he slammed the book through the Mimicker as it took the form of the blue covered manual. Bits of paper and blood shot everywhere as it dropped to the floor. Draco threw it away quickly toward the doorway.
"Excidium!" Snape yelled. The thing squealed and burst in a shower of sparks and paper. Hermione was jammed up against him hard. He didn't think she realized who it was yet. He wasn't going to stop her. He didn't mind who she was. He didn't mind the blood on his robes… wait, blood?
"You can let go now Granger, you're bleeding on me." Draco pushed her away. She looked like a really angry Griffon had attacked her. Her face was a mess, some of her hair was missing and she was whimpering. He held her at arms length for a moment, waiting for one of the others to take her. Potter and Weasley were by her side in a second. Draco stood and headed toward the door, holding his torn fingertips in his robes. The room was crowding with more professors, the little weasel and that nutcase Lovegood. He nudged past them roughly, looking back only to check the group hug with Hermione in the middle, and to growl at Eddington. "You had better reimburse me for the book Eddington. And buy Hermione a new set of robes." Draco continued walking. He ignored the protests of Madam Pomfrey, and of Dumbledore. He ignored the music in his head, and he really tried not to remember that she was wearing a black undershirt.
Harry rushed through the infirmary door. It wasn't that he wasn't used to seeing disgusting things. When Dudley cut his leg and it went festered it was actually kind of cool, but Hermione was oozing purple. Not just any purple but really sick purple. He found the boy's toilets just in time for him to loose the miniscule dinner he'd eaten. Twice. Harry felt awful, really awful. He was meant to be there for Hermione, not stuck in the toilets throwing up.
"Is she going to be alright?" A female voice, flat and lifeless, said from behind him.
"You aren't meant to be in here."
"I just wanted to know if she'll be alright." The voice continued.
"She'll be fine in a couple of days, she's just healing." He threw up again.
"That's good. I wouldn't want to feel responsible."
Harry spat into the bowl and flushed it. "Why would you feel responsible?"
"I have my reasons." Harry heard her walk away. "Tell her Laura sends her regards."
Harry acknowledged, leant over, and threw up again.
