Reaching Maturity
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never were, never will be.--sulks--
A/N: I need you to remember that I am not complying with all the events in OotP (as this was written 2 years ago) and certain event are thus to be overlooked and belief suspended (you'll know what I mean when you reach the relevant parts)
A/N 2: my flatmates and I had a Hallowe'en party at our house. I went as Hermione. I spent most of the weekend making the robes (didn't get the hood on in time but I'll do that for future use). It looks really good!!!
Important A/N: I'm away on placement for 6 weeks now. I probably won't have Internet access (although it would be great if I did!) so I'll be updating every Saturday until further notice. I'm doing community neurorehabilitation, if you're interested.
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Chapter 4: Hallowe'en Ball
Neville arrived back at school the following Wednesday, as September gave way to October. Harry had sent him an owl giving him a move-by-move report of Gryffindor's massacre of Hufflepuff. Neville had replied, informing him that his parents were the same as ever, but that his grandmother was looking frail and ill.
Harry and Malfoy still weren't speaking to each other, even to exchange insults. Malfoy's face had healed, although there was still a mark where Lucius had struck him. He wasn't quite as forthcoming with his standard set of put-downs, either. His self-confidence and arrogance both seemed less than they had been before his father's visit. Harry didn't care; it made his own life, and those of his friends, much better. Unfortunately for the Gryffindors, though, Snape was getting moodier than ever, and even Slytherin students feared for their schoolmarks and housepoint totals.
Hallowe'en was just around the corner, with a Hogsmeade weekend two days before it – an event looked forward to by all from third year and above. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville spent a long time in Honeydukes before going into The Three Broomsticks for hot Butterbeer to warm them up. When Harry went to get the drinks from the bar, he bumped into Malfoy, who grabbed his arm tightly. "Owlery. Quarter to twelve tonight," he hissed while Harry paid.
"Why should I bother?" retorted Harry irritably.
"Just be there." And Malfoy was gone again, melted into the mass of people in the pub.
Harry rejoined his friends, who were still discussing Hufflepuff's win over Ravenclaw (just) the previous day. Malfoy was quickly forgotten about until that evening.
Ron, Hermione and Neville, along with the rest of their house, full to bursting with sweets, retired early to bed, for which Harry was immensely grateful. He went up with the other seventh-year boys and drew the curtains around his bed, listening closely to their breathing to ascertain as to when they fell asleep – something that took a very short time indeed. At eleven-forty, under the safety of his father's Invisibility Cloak, Harry slipped out of Gryffindor's quarters and up to the Owlery.
Malfoy was already there. Harry dropped the Cloak on the floor and folded his arms across his chest. "Well?" he demanded impatiently.
Malfoy stared out of the glassless window. "I don't know what to do, Potter. As soon as I leave here I'm due to become a Death Eater and I'll be forced into marriage with Pansy Parkinson. Nobody knows anything about my mother's disappearance – or if they do, they're saying nothing – and my father doesn't care." His voice was flat and monotonous; weary, even. He absentmindedly fingered his face where his father had struck him.
"And he hits you," stated Harry.
"That's not important!" Malfoy hissed. He paused and gripped a nearby owl perch. "I just want to know where my mother is. And I wish I could tell my father to stuff his plans for me. I won't do it. I won't!"
Harry took a step back. "Calm down, Draco!" He resisted the temptation to make a rather snide remark about anyone wanting to know the whereabouts of Narcissa Malfoy.
Draco snorted. "Like I can really do that, Potter!" He shook his head sadly. "I have no control over my future. My father tells me what to do and I can't rebel; he's impossible to argue with, and it's never a good idea to try. You can't change his mind. Believe me, I've tried." His voice was full of bitterness; bitterness and hatred.
"And what exactly do you plan to do about your mother? Go looking for her by yourself?" Harry demanded sarcastically.
Draco shrugged. "Might do. Might be the only option."
"That's crazy and stupid and you know it! You could be putting yourself in massive danger, especially when you don't know what you could be up against!"
Draco stared at him is disbelief. "Isn't that a bit rich, coming from the person who's fought You-Know-Who on an almost annual basis since coming to Hogwarts?!"
"You think I enjoyed those battles?!" Harry almost shouted, so angry was he.
Draco grabbed Harry tightly around the arm. "Keep your voice down! Do you want Filch to show up again? Well, do you?" he hissed.
Harry yanked his arm away, but realised at the same time that the Slytherin was probably right. "Just don't do anything, Malfoy. You have absolutely no idea where your mother is, nor who's behind it. We don't know if it's the Ministry of Magic, Voldemort, someone else entirely…" He lowered his voice to just above a whisper, just in case Filch was still prowling around nearby.
Draco leaned wearily against the wall. "There has to be some evidence. Something that will tell me where she is or who's got her!" He sounded frantic, desperate. Although he would be the last person to admit it, he did care a great deal for his mother.
Harry thought for a moment. "If I were you, I'd wait till the Christmas holidays. Go home and do some detective work. Send me an owl if you find anything."
"I will." Draco held out his hand hesitantly. "Are – are we OK again?"
Harry nodded and shook the outstretched hand. "Looks like it."
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Hallowe'en was a spectacular event, as befitted Hogwarts tradition. Because it fell on a Monday this year, lessons were cancelled. Hermione grumbled about this, of course – she was the only one to have actually done Flitwick's Charms essay. Ginny was celebrating because she didn't have Potions that morning.
The house-elves yet again excelled themselves in producing an evening feast of "epic" (to quote Ron) proportions. Black and orange decorations bedecked the entire school (except for Snape's dungeons, of course), and the Great Hall was breathtaking, the enchanted ceiling showing a clear sky scattered with stars glittering like tiny diamonds. Before the students ate, the ghosts appeared through one wall and circled the room before seating themselves at their respective House tables. Nearly Headless Nick joined the Gryffindors and put his mouth by Harry's ear. "They still won't let me join the Headless Hunt," he grumbled mutinously.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Are you still sore about that?" he asked wearily.
"I am nearly headless!" said the ghost huffily. "Details, details. Hmph." He turned to talk to Seamus about Quidditch and the World Cup, which was due to be hosted by Ireland (the current holders) the summer after Ginny was due to finish her seventh and final year. Harry was engaged in a discussion about Quidditch tactics with Ron, Ginny and Dean, with Hermione and Neville listening as well.
While they were eating dessert, Nick spoke quietly to Harry again. "Some interesting excursions to the Owlery late at night, wouldn't you say so, young Potter?"
Harry almost choked on his pumpkin pie. "How – how do you know?" he spluttered furiously. "Does anyone else know?"
"Not to worry. Nobody else does; I made sure of that. Don't you think it's rather a coincidence that just when Filch needed distracting, Peeves just happened to choose that moment to cause havoc?"
Harry shrugged. "He's forever doing that without encouragement. Snape still hasn't forgiven him for that cauldron business last May."
"Snape never forgives anyone for anything," Nick pointed out. "Ta-ta for now." He rose and joined all the other ghosts leaving the Hall.
Ron leaned across the table. "What was all that whispering about?"
Harry groaned. "I'll give you three guesses."
"The Headless Hunt? Talk about a grudge!" exclaimed Ron. "Still," he added, lowering his voice, "it's better than listening to Myrtle."
Harry nodded. "Although admittedly only just. At least Nick doesn't flood toilets."
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Draco slowly smoothed out his new dress robes (it was his old ones that had been shrunk). These were dark green and black, simple in design but clearly of the highest quality and tailor-made. Last year, Dumbledore had decided to hold an annual Hallowe'en Ball for the entire school. Draco had enjoyed last year's, as it had been a strictly no-partners event, but this year, Pansy had practically ordered him to be her partner. So much for the 'no-one tells a Malfoy what to do', he thought glumly, casting a final, fleeting glance into his mirror.
He dawdled as he made his way down to the Slytherin common room. Pansy was already waiting (somewhat impatiently) for him, in almost fluorescent pink robes with brown trimmings (a sight that forced Draco to muster all of his Malfoy composure – which was a heck of a lot – to hide his revulsion). She had scraped her hair back into a tight bun and put a pink flower in it. She didn't look at all attractive, but Draco swallowed his true feelings and pasted a smile onto his face. "You look nice," he lied smoothly, offering her his arm (albeit reluctantly). He wondered where she'd bought her robes and vowed that, if he found out, he would never, ever shop there. Perhaps I should go a step further and burn the place down, he mused. After all, I'd be doing the world a huge favour…
Pansy giggled (at least, Draco thought it was meant to be a giggle). What's so funny? Draco wondered in confusion as Pansy took his arm, simpering. "You look simply dashing," she told him as they headed towards the Great Hall.
Draco felt sick. Dashing? Where the heck had she unearthed that word from? He didn't think that it was part of her everyday vocabulary – Pansy simply didn't use words like that. He'd never been described as 'dashing' before, and he wasn't sure he liked it, particularly coming from Pansy. He kept the smile on his face, although how Pansy couldn't detect its complete falseness, he didn't know. Years of practice, he supposed, as nobody else seemed to see this, either.
They entered the Hall. The tables were up against the walls, creating a dancing area in the middle, and there were a number of smaller tables with chairs around them, dotted around the Hall. Draco saw his chance and, being Draco, seized it firmly with both hands. "I'll just get us some punch," he told Pansy. "I won't be long, so wait here." He couldn't get away from her fast enough, though he was careful to not let it show. Hopefully, because there were so many students here and he was most definitely not ranked among the tallest, he would be able to keep out of Pansy's way (and her hideous outfit that, quite frankly, made his eyes hurt every time he looked at it) for as long as possible.
Unfortunately for him, Pansy was determined to not leave his side. Draco didn't listen to her chatter (it had never been interesting in the past, so why, he reasoned, would it be any different tonight?) but he was dimly aware of the words 'reception', 'dress', 'ceremony' and 'rings'.
He abruptly stopped walking as the full horror of Pansy's words finally registered. "S – say that again," he croaked, desperate for confirmation that he had not had a sudden hearing problem develop.
Pansy looked at him oddly. "Next November," she prompted. "We're getting married, remember? It's practically all sorted between our families. I can't wait." She gazed dreamily up at the ceiling, which had clouded over, the clouds a barrier between the students, and the moon and the stars. It matched Draco's mood perfectly. "I never agreed," he protested.
Pansy tittered irritatingly (Draco was starting to realise that just about everything about Pansy irritated him, in varying degrees) and hung on to him even more tightly. "Nervous already? I don't blame you – I have to admit that I am as well. Just a bit, though."
This is not happening, Draco thought desperately. It can't be. He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at Pansy's face – or her horrible robes.
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The band (Dumbledore had, once again, booked The Weird Sisters) were playing extremely fast music. Harry occasionally danced with Hermione and Ginny as they were his close friends, although he spent most of the evening with Cho, who had come up to Hogwarts specially. Hermione, Harry couldn't help noticing, seemed glued to Anthony. Harry couldn't work out why it was bothering him so much. He couldn't talk as they danced, though, as Cho was far too busy telling him what he should be doing. Dancing had never been one of his talents, and he suspected that it never would be.
After a while, Harry had had enough – and he was sure that Cho had probably had enough of his incompetence on the dancefloor – and suggested a break. Cho agreed, and they sat watching the others for a while. Lupin and Arabella Figg were hopelessly out of time (and didn't seem particularly bothered about that fact), and Professor Trelawney was nowhere to be seen. Harry just caught sight of tiny Professor Flitwick slipping between the dancers and subtly performing a Dancing Feet Charm on Snape as Professor Vector, her patience clearly wearing thin, struggled to get the Potions Master to dance properly. Snape clearly didn't want to be there, judging by the scowl on his face that was more intense than usual, which only intensified when he realised what Flitwick had done. Harry also saw Pansy Parkinson talking to Draco, seemingly oblivious to the expression on his face, which could easily rival Snape's.
The music suddenly slowed and Cho stood up. "I think even you can manage this one, Harry!" she teased lightly, pulling him to his feet. Harry put his arms around her (somewhat awkwardly, it has to be said) and they swayed to the music. The younger students promptly sat down, pulling faces at each other. Harry was just beginning to relax when the ceiling started flashing and rumbling loudly. The Weird Sisters stopped playing and the students froze, all looking up at the storm developing overhead. Moments later, the Hall doors burst open and McGonagall raced in, her hat askew. "Albus!" she called anxiously.
"Minerva?" Dumbledore stepped forwards. "What's happening?"
"This," McGonagall announced grimly, indicating the ceiling, "is no ordinary storm. I received an owl just now. V – Voldemort is apparently Hogwarts-bound."
Gasps of horror, dismay and disbelief rang out across the Hall. A first-year girl fainted.
"Where was he last seen?" asked Dumbledore urgently.
"Near Sheffield, earlier today. He's heading north. The owl was anonymous."
Dumbledore caught Harry's eye briefly. Sirius, Harry thought. He knew Dumbledore was thinking the same. He watched the headmaster step up onto the front platform. The headmaster cleared his throat and silence fell. "I must stress that there is no need to panic. You all heard what Professor McGonagall said. I cannot hide it, nor deny it." He paused, as if considering something. "If there are reported sightings in the near vicinity of Hogwarts –" here he glanced at Harry again "–you will, of course, be free to leave the school and return home, if your parents inform me that they wish you to do so. I do not want any scaremongering." He looked pointedly at the Slytherins as he said this. "Do not believe anything unless you hear it directly from either myself or Professor McGonagall." He nodded at her. "Thankyou."
McGonagall glanced around the room. "It's getting late and you have lessons tomorrow. The Ball is now over."
The students began grumbling – they knew full well that if that owl had not come, they would still be enjoying the Ball.
Harry took Cho as far as the guests' lodgings. She reached out and squeezed his hand comfortingly. "You're safe here," she reminded him, kissing him before heading into the guestrooms. Harry smiled to himself.
Meanwhile, Draco was relieved to finally be rid of Pansy as he left the Hall. Much as he didn't want to admit it, he was scared of what might happen to him if or when it came out that he was unsure about where his allegiances lay.
He was suddenly aware of Snape at his shoulder. "P – Professor," he stammered.
"Make your choices wisely, Mr. Malfoy," the teacher advised quietly. A moment later he was gone, once again giving the impression that he was able to read minds.
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TBC
Author thanks:
Lucidity: right now, Harry doesn't really know what to believe. After all, Draco's always been really unpleasant to him, so he really doesn't know what to make of it all – and you can hardly blame him for being a little suspicious, can you? As for the first two questions, you'll find out in due course – but it may well be a while! Remember this is a 32-chapter fic, and this was only chapter 3! And can you really be sure that Lucius is being completely honest with Draco?
Scribe of Gryffindor: (blushes) Good to know I can evoke such emotions in my audience – even if it is making them cry! It means I'm doing something right! I'm not going into great detail about romantic relationships in this fic – mainly because when I was writing this 2 ½ years ago, I had no idea where it was going or who would end up with whom until it happened! Besides which, I'm enjoying seeing where my reviewers think the relationships are going!! ;)
MagickalStar135: I've never been trick-or-treating as my parents generally don't like it and also didn't want me being out at night and certainly not in our area – it's a fairly rough area. This year my housemates and I had a party. As mentioned above, I went as Hermione (even had the bushy hair!) And Narcissa's disappearance my well be significant to the plot as a whole…
The Lady Quotes: Yay! A new reviewer! And I completely agree about the whole "What if?" thing! It's why I'm a fanfic author!
Samhaincat: I am a Draco fan, in case you hadn't gathered by now! I don't think he has an easy time at home (would you if Lucius Malfoy was your father???) but I also don't think Harry quite realises this; he's not exactly the world's most perceptive person! And you updated! Yay!
TinorialPeredhil: of course Harry and Draco had to fight – it would be way OOC for them to have fought bitterly for 6 years and then suddenly become best friends. Regarding the whole turning-into-Oliver-Wood thing, I seem to recall Angelina doing a similar thing in OotP!!
AshleyPorter: Yay! Another new reviewer! Hope you continue with this and that you continue to enjoy! (And review!)
