Title – One Day to the Next
Author Name and E-mail – Porcelain Toast
Pairing(s) – Harry/Draco, Hermione/Ron
Disclaimer – I do not claim any rights to the characters or situations created by JK Rowling.
Rating – PG-13
Summary – Sometimes, life can take you in unexpected directions - Harry Potter knows this as a fact. Nothing in his life has happened the way he thought it would, something he sees now, more than ever. But when a Death Eater walks into the Ministry of Magic, intent on turning to the Light, Harry realizes that life never really stops changing.
Category(s) – romance, humour
Spoilers – Any of the books, PS/SS, COS, POA, GOF, OotP
Chapter 4
Yesterday's Trust
Sometimes, I wonder what keeps us here – living from day to day lives that hardly seem worth it. But maybe that's just me. Maybe, underneath it all, everyone else is really and truly happy. It's an odd thought, that people can be that unwaveringly happy, even in times like this.
But then, it's strange how easy it is, to ignore the reality of this world. To ignore the fact that around you, people are dying, are in pain. What you don't see, what you're not directly involved in, shouldn't affect you – should it?
That seems to be the attitude these days. It's what keeps people going, the illusion that life is still the same as it once was. And for all intents and purposes, it might very well be. No clear battle lines have been drawn in this war, yet. Neither side is willing to be the first to make the challenge that will send the wizarding world back into the darkest days of Voldemort's first rise to power. Each side is biding their time, waiting for the advantage.
And meanwhile, everyone else tries to forget…
I only wish I could forget things as easily as "everyone else".
---
Angrily, I shove my chair backwards, and sit down with an audible thump. Paul looks up from his desk, wary of one of Harry Potter's famous temper tantrums. Because I am, after all, a child.
"What the BLOODY HELL do they think they're doing?" I demand. "They're going to get him killed."
"Who's that, now?"
"Never mind," I bite out. Paul knows nothing about this Malfoy business, and it's not my place to tell him. The information is somewhat classified, after all. I vow to simmer quietly.
A minute passes.
"Why does no one listen to me? I am NOT some STUPID CHILD!"
I slam my hand down on the table, and feel a satisfying twinge of pain travel up my arm. As I flex my hand, I wince, and the corner of Paul's mouth turns up in a smirk.
"Maybe not a child, but that wasn't exactly what one would term intelligent, now was it?"
I give him a dark look, then rise abruptly and leave the office – still cradling my now aching hand.
---
"You're looking kind of peaky, there, Harry…you alright?"
I glance over at my…dinner date… and raise an eyebrow defensively. "Thanks for the compliment."
"I didn't mean anything by it."
"I'm fine."
A moment of uncomfortable silence passes, then she adds, "It's only that you look rather pale. Is something wrong?"
I immediately feel bad for being short with her, and sigh, "I'm just a bit tired. I can't sleep at Ginny's, you know?"
She giggles lightly, then nods. We have reached the door of my flat, and I hesitate before knocking. Forcing a grin onto my face, I state seriously, "Your mission – retrieve my toothbrush. Do you accept?"
She smiles back at me, and I knock.
The sound of quick footsteps greets my ears immediately, and within seconds Ginny has flung the door open.
It's nice to see she's made herself at home.
"Kennedy!" she squeals, in the manner that most girls do when faced with such an unexpected situation as a surprise meeting with a friend. They hug briefly, and then we are being ushered into the main room, where I see that the coffee table has been moved back into the center of the room.
Hmph.
Hermione is sitting in between her parents on the couch, frowning at me. It occurs to me that she might be somewhat afraid that I have finally decided to exact my revenge upon her for kicking me out of house and home. I wave at her and smile sweetly, and the frown fades.
Ever heard the phrase 'lulling into a false sense of security'?
"Mum, Dad, this is Harry… you remember him, don't you?" Hermione asks, standing up in order to play the hostess.
"Harry," her father says, tilting his head briefly in greeting. I nod back, resisting the urge to salute him instead.
Ginny adds, "And this is Kennedy, one of my best friends. She lives in the apartment next to me."
I can't help but notice that her reception is considerably warmer than mine. Ouch. Mr. Granger is staring at me again, and I shift slowly from foot to foot. A silence so heavy that I almost can't breathe settles over the room, and tension thickens. I find myself scuffing my toe against the carpeted floor.
"We, uh… Kennedy just forgot her toothbrush…" I look meaningfully at Hermione and Ginny, "last time that she stayed over here, a couple nights ago. So we thought we'd come over and make it a bit of a dinner party tonight."
"That sounds great, Harry," Hermione responds. "It's been so long since we've gotten together, we haven't met for lunch in ages."
I see Mr. Granger staring back and forth between us out of the corner of my eye, and I decide that a look of suspicion such as that is never a good thing. Luckily, Ginny drags Kennedy off to get 'her' toothbrush. Hermione's eyes follow their exit, but once the girls are out of sight, she turns back to be questioningly. An eyebrow is raised.
I shrug, and shake my head, knowing she is wondering why exactly Kennedy and I have shown up together. As I'm not sure myself, I hope the subject drops.
"So, – Harry. How is work going?" Mrs. Granger asks politely. Hermione squeezes her eyes shut and puts a hand to her head.
And suddenly, just like that, Malfoy is back in the forefront of my mind.
"It's fine," I say, although a cold feeling is slowly settling in the pit of my stomach. A feeling of helplessness, and the knowledge that I – who I am, everything I symbolize in the wizarding world – am useless when it comes to things that really matter.
"Harry?" Hermione asks quietly. "Are you all right?"
Her parents are watching the exchange, heads moving back and forth like a tennis match. Carefully, I try to erase any emotion from my face – something I've perfected in the last little while.
"Fine."
---
"This is delicious, Hermione," Kennedy says, as she raises another forkful of spaghetti to her mouth.
Yes, spaghetti. Again.
Ginny and I share a glance and continue eating in silence. Or rather, she continues eating, while I continue twirling the noodles around on the plate. I haven't been able to eat more than two mouthfuls since sitting down, my stomach preferring to do flips rather than accept food. Out the window, I can see darkness beginning to fall, and I know that at any time, Malfoy could be leaving for the Death Eater meeting.
I don't know why I care, but I do. He came to the Ministry for help, he came to the Ministry to fight against Voldemort – and what have we offered him?
Death.
If they carry through that plan… and Moody allows Wilson – the most incompetent handler I have ever known – to place charms on Malfoy…
The Ministry betrays him.
And there's nothing at all that I can do.
"How's Ron?" Hermione asks. All eyes turn to me.
The confusion…
"Did I have dinner last night with a group of clones, or something?" I demand.
"Clones?" Ginny and Kennedy ask simultaneously.
I wave my hand in dismissal, and continue staring at Hermione blankly.
"What are you on about?" she asks, suddenly sounding quite cross. "I only asked - ,"
"You only asked how the person you and I BOTH ate dinner with last night was doing."
"I thought they said they hadn't seen each other in a while?" I hear Hermione's mother whisper to her husband. I would have been amused if not for the all-consuming annoyance I was feeling at Ron and Hermione both.
"What is your POINT, Harry?"
"My POINT, Hermione, is that you and Ron are both fully capable of speaking with each other. You don't need to do it through me. If you wanted to know how he was doing, you could have asked him."
"Well, I was busy."
"What, making spaghetti? At this point I think you could make it blindfolded and in a full body bind."
"Harry!" Ginny hisses. She jerks her head in the direction of Hermione's parents. I almost feel ashamed for picking a fight.
"Sorry," I say shortly. "But you two need to get over whatever it is that has you fighting this time, before you don't have a chance to make up. Excuse me."
Dead silence settles over the table as I push my chair back and leave the room.
It is when I am settling on the couch that conversation finally starts up again, a bit awkwardly at first. Consequently, no one but me hears the small tap tapping on the window. I glance over, and see a brown barn owl on the sill. Frowning, I rise and retrieve the letter, giving it a small pat on the head before sending it once more on its way.
---
After making hasty excuses, I am running through the Ministry of Magic at top speed. It seems like ages before I have reached the designated meeting room, and I skid to a stop outside the door. I pause for a minute, attempting to catch my breath, and then push the door open.
"It's about time someone competent got here," a familiar voice drawls.
Shocked, my eyes widen, and I take in Moody and none other than Draco Malfoy – the only two occupants of the room – sitting at the far end of the long table.
"What happened to Wilson?" I ask, the only coherent thought that I can form at this point in time.
"Who, that imbecile that they assigned to me? The one who was trying to get me killed?"
Thank you
I clear my throat. "Yeah…um, that one."
"I made it clear that if I were to be sent into a life and death situation on a regular basis, it would be with someone I trust watching my back. Seems a reasonable request, don't you think?"
I nod, still unsure as to why I am here.
"Mr. Potter," Moody says gruffly – and not without a bit of annoyance in his voice. "From this point forward you are in charge of Malfoy's case."
Oh.