A/N: A thank you and a half to Claire Duckworth for reviewing. Yes, I agree with you on the whole lack of Ron issue. I myself think he's not in the story enough, seeing how he is my favorite HP character, but I don't exactly know how to change that. It's too late for chapters 1-24, and I know his precise role for the rest of the story, so it's kinda up in the air. I dunno. Also! I plan on having more Quidditch scenes in later chapters, for anyone who cares. I know I stopped showing it for the most part, but it'll definitely come back, what with the Quidditch Final and what not.
Lock and Key
Chapter 25
What Draco Malfoy had said in the library did not sit well with Harry. If he thought correctly, then the Head Boy knew about his relationship with Hermione, or at least had a hunch about it. Perhaps Malfoy was only curious nosy, and had been trying to get a rise out of Harry…. Whatever the case, it bothered Harry. He had resolved to not mention the encounter to Hermione; he knew her reaction might be worse than his. The second time Harry and Malfoy met to research their potion, Harry didn't say a word unless it pertained to the assignment. They managed to obtain all of the information they needed, and only had the most strenuous part left to do: brewing the potion. It would take all of the time they had left at their disposal to create, and they would have to come together roughly every other day to check it status.
Malfoy had been prudent as in returning to his typical insults and not bringing up Hermione again. However, this did not stop him from mulling it over in his brain; he was still convinced the two Gryffindors were hiding something. Ron and Luna's relationship appeared to be up in the air, due to the fact that he had not yet consented to going out with her.
"My last detention with Snape was last night—I am finally free!" Harry smiled at breakfast one morning, grabbing a scone.
"Now you have more time in your schedule again," noted Ron.
"Yes, and it's perfect for studying." Hermione clarified. Harry's mood fell just a little and Ron groaned. Her gaze fell sharply on him.
"I'll have you know, Ron, that NEWTs—" she shrilly prompted.
"Are in May. Yes, we know Hermione," he grumbled.
"Well that's less than two months away!"
"Actually, they're at the end of May, so it's more like two exactly." Hermione opened her mouth to reply but before she could get a word out, the post arrived. Hedwig had a letter for Harry (from Lupin), and Hermione had an issue of the Daily Prophet. There, on the front in blaring letters, was: Fickle Fudge: Minister of Magic Quits! There was a photograph of Cornelius Fudge with his bowler hat in front of his face, trying to escape the picture's boundaries.
"Oh my God!" Hermione exclaimed, happily. The boys looked at the newspaper.
"Bloody hell!" Ron weakly said. He turned to his left and snatched a second year's paper.
"Hey!" he shouted. Ron and Hermione eagerly commenced the article as Harry jumped into his letter so he could read the article next.
"Here, Harry," offered Hermione, when she had finished. The Great Hall was starting to liven up from the news.
"No need," he replied, shocked, "Remus wrote me all about it…. The Order couldn't be happier."
"Can you believe Fudge gave his post up? He willingly gave away his power!"
"Good—it's about time!"
"Sure is," Ron added, throwing the paper back to the boy, "No one liked the wanker anyway! He laid out a red carpet for You-Know-Who to come back on!"
"But to abandon the wizarding world during the current state of things," she remarked.
"We have Bones! At least she's competent!" Harry interjected passionately.
"I know she's an excellent leader, it's just…" Hermione sighed, at a total loss for words.
"Fudge apparently never came back to work after Michaels offed himself." Ron pointed out, glancing at Hermione's copy of the Prophet.
"Yeah, and the liar said he'd only need a month." Harry said.
"The fact that the Wizengamot member was murdered pushed him to do it. I think he was afraid… thought he might possibly be targeted next." Hermione explained.
"Not even Voldemort would waste his time on Fudge," snorted Harry. In Fudge's piece, there had been mention of a Wizengamot witch dying by the hands of Voldemort himself. There had also been an in depth article about it following the Minister's. The Ministry would be in a frenzy, trying to fill her position and cleaning up after Fudge.
The three were silent as they processed the information of such a prominent figure in the wizarding world dying, or better yet being killed. It was a definite travesty. All around them, students were ardently discussing the Minister's final bow. Harry looked to the Head Table. All of the teachers were in deep conversation and a few copies of the newspaper could be seen. Dumbledore was speaking gravely with Professors McGonagall and Sprout. Snape wore an amused expression while talking to Higgins.
"Well, I can say Fudge made the only smart move of his career: backing down." Harry determinedly stated.
"I agree with you in that Fudge was less than capable, Harry, I just don't know if the Ministry of Magic can afford to be in turmoil with V-Voldemort at large." Hermione said. Ron glanced sideways at the Potter boy, who seemed to be seriously considering her opinion.
Later that day in the afternoon, Harry was walking alone, and slothfully, to his classroom. His burdened thoughts consisted of Fudge, the prophecy, the Wizengamot woman, Voldemort, Hermione, and his Potions' project. He sighed loudly as he passed a broomcloset. The door of it suddenly flung open and he was dragged inside to the waiting darkness.
"What the—" he frantically started, trying desperately to quickly find his wand.
"Lumos," muttered a female voice. A beam of light illuminated Hermione's face and playful grin.
"Hermione, what are you doing? Why are you in a broomcloset," Harry smiled at the weirdness of it all, "Why did you force me in here?"
"I wanted to see you," she reported.
"And it had to be in here? Right! How'd you know I was walking by?"
"I knew you had class and that you always take this route."
"Well, I've got class."
"I don't. At least, not for some time."
"Well I'm not as fortunate as you. I'd really like to just stay here with you, in a… er… broomcloset, but I'll be late, and—" He reached for the handle.
"No!" Hermione exclaimed, covering his hand with hers.
"Hermione, what—" Harry began.
"I want to snog."
"Now? It can't wait!" As if to answer this, Hermione dropped her wand (thus settling them into blackness again) and grabbed the front of his robes, pulling his face down to hers. It was hard making out in obscurity and with brooms to fall over or bump in to, but Harry rose to the occasion, forgetting about his class or being tardy. He emerged a little while later dazedly, with a grin and definitely late for his lesson. Hermione walked out unscathed not long after him and went in the opposite direction. She looked back smugly after him. Harry had no idea why she had wanted to snog so badly, and spontaneously, in a closet, but didn't exactly care.
Gryffindor had a Quidditch game two days succeeding Fudge's acquittal of his domain. It was going to take place in the morning, a little after breakfast. The lion Quidditch team were the first people at the table that dawn. Ron seemed to be a little distant from them all and appeared to be speaking under his breath at moments, while wearing a determined expression. In fact, he had been acting in this fashion for the last couple of days. Whenever no one had his attention, he'd lapse into that state. Harry asked him once if he was okay, and the redhead had replied in the affirmative though it did not convince his best friend. After the meal, there was half an hour before the match began. Harry, however, wanted his team in the locker room right away to prepare.
"Good luck Ronald," Luna wished as she went in the direction of her common room, "I'll be wearing a crown!"
"Uh, thanks Luna!" he replied as his teammates walked out of the castle and down the stone steps.
"Hey, Harry." Ron said as Harry turned to leave.
"Yeah?" he responded.
"I really need to talk to someone. I'll be about ten or fifteen minutes. Is that all right?"
"Er… sure, Ron." Harry cautiously confirmed.
"Thanks mate."
"Who is it?"
"Just… someone. I'll see you in a little while." Ron then turned around back into the Entrance Hall and set off. Harry frowned before resuming his progress to the locker room.
Ron found Hermione (predictably) on a sofa near the fireplace with texts and parchment spread out before her.
"Oh, hi Ron," she greeted, looking at him arrive, "I'm just getting some quick studying in before the game starts." Hermione then doubled back, as if only seeing him.
"Ron! Shouldn't you be with your team?" she cried.
"Harry said it was all right," he explained, sitting down, "Listen, Hermione… can I talk to you?"
"Of course. What about?"
"Well, it's kind of about Luna."
"Okay."
"I like her and all, but I've got a… problem." Ron revealed.
"What is it?" questioned Hermione.
"I… I fancy another girl."
"Oh," she noted in a small voice, gazing at him caringly.
"That's kind of why I haven't asked Luna out yet or anything."
"Okay, well," Hermione began, shifting her position on the sofa, "Does this other witch know you like her?"
"I doubt it," he grinned sorrowfully, looking at her.
"Does she know you?"
"Yes."
"All right… so, how long have you been keen on her?"
"Longer than Luna, a lot longer," answered Ron, wringing his hands.
"Do you know her very well?" Hermione pondered.
"Quite well, actually."
"Well… as terrible as this sounds, maybe you need to ask yourself whom you like more."
"I'm pretty sure I know the answer to that," he remarked quietly, staring into the empty fireplace.
"Ron, if this other witch is standing in between you and Luna, and you think you may have stronger feelings for her, then maybe you should just tell her," she advised.
"That's the thing—I'm scared."
"I know it's scary Ron, but you'll never know how she feels if you don't say anything," Hermione said, earnestly placing a hand on his, "Isn't it killing you keeping it all in?"
"Yeah, it is…" Ron murmured, only fleetingly meeting her eyes. He pulled his hand from under hers and held it. Silence made its mark for a short while before he erased it:
"Can you do me a favor and not say anything about this to Harry? I… don't want to bother him with my little problems."
Harry walked grumpily into a vacant dungeon and caught sight of the Head Boy, which made him even more disgruntled. Dinner would begin in 45 minutes and Harry was meeting with Malfoy, for the second time, to continue the task of creating their potion. The blonde boy already had the jet black, with gold trimming, cauldron out and smoking from the small fire beneath it. (Malfoy had insisted on buying an entirely new cauldron just to brew their serum in; he claimed Harry's was tainted by stupidity).
"Do you have the mashed leeches Potter?" Malfoy roughly asked, slowing stirring the liquid and glaring at Harry.
"Yes," he snapped, bringing them out, "And the beetle eyes."
"Don't add them—I'll do it. You might put them in too quickly or too slowly and then mess up the whole concoction." Harry didn't take this gibe to heart. If Malfoy wanted to make the potion all by himself, he'd certainly have no objections. Harry moved to the furthest side of the table and began finishing their formal report.
"We need a name for it. Snape wants a name," he said.
"I told you, Malf—"
"No," Harry forcefully stated, not needing to hear the rest.
"Fine," shrugged Malfoy, throwing in white powder. It fizzled and turned a deep yellow. Harry started to pick his brain for a title. Well, it dealt with some of the five senses, more specifically by rendering them useless.
"What about… the Sixth Sense?" Harry said. Malfoy looked at him, an eyebrow raised, while starting to stir in the opposite direction.
"If that's the best you can come up with," he scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. Harry ignored him and wrote the name down, knowing that was Malfoy's unique way of agreeing.
"How many more hours do you think it needs before its ready?" he inquired.
"We're probably going to have to come back to it twice more, for about two hours, to finish adding the ingredients. Other than that, we let it fester on its own so it can perfect itself, but we do have to check on it," the Head Boy remarked, his eyes on the mush (or three leeches) he was carefully adding. Harry was surprised by the absolute lack of malice in that answer. For the first time in his time at Hogwarts, he found himself wondering what Malfoy wanted to do once out of school. Draco Malfoy was bright, exceptionally bright; last year Hermione had told Ron Harry that according to Professor McGonagall, she was first in the class and Malfoy was second. (Padma Patil was third). Harry was sure the pureblood could get any career he desired.
"Um… what are we going to test it on?" Harry questioned, returning to writing.
"Well…," Malfoy thoughtfully began, "I was hoping it'd be you!"
Hermione laughed at something Harry had said as they exited the common room. A day had gone by since Harry's second meeting with Malfoy, and he was currently on his way to the Head Room with Hermione. They had a charm they needed to research and didn't quite feel like going to the library, where gangs of students were bound to be.
"That's horrible, Harry," she assured him, smiling.
"Yeah, maybe for the first year!" he grinned. He wanted to throw his arm around her waist and pull her closer.
"So how is it with Malfoy?" Harry snorted, rolling his eyes.
"Horrid. Don't make me relive any of it."
"At least you're halfway through it," she observed.
"Hey Harry, Hermione!" Ron called, smiling and walking right towards them.
"Hey Ron," greeted Harry, stopping.
"Did you just get out of class?" Hermione wondered.
"Yeah, Care with Hagrid. He wants to see you two, by the way. Says you haven't visited him in awhile." Ron answered. They looked at each other, smiling guiltily.
"So where are you going?" he inquired.
"Oh, um, the Head Room." Harry responded.
"Well cool—we can play chess there. You up for it Harry?"
"Er…" He looked at Ron, lost for words, then glanced at Hermione. Yes, they were going to the Head Room in order to get work done, but they still wanted to glorify in the fact that they were alone.
"Ron," Hermione prompted, coming to the rescue, "We're going to do work for Charms. I… I don't know how fun it'll be for you." She sounded apologetic.
"Oh," he said, studying them. There was uncomfortable silence in which they didn't meet one another's gaze.
"Right," sighed Ron, "See you at dinner then." He moved passed them without a second glance. Harry turned after him, mouth open for words to pour out, but closed it when he realized he couldn't say anything.
Malfoy barked the password to the portrait and walked irritably into the Head Room, books under his arm. He had received a letter from his mother during breakfast and it did not hold good news. It dealt with his father, and any time he heard information about Lucius Malfoy, it put him in a foul mood state. Draco's seemingly everlasting good mood upon hearing about Fudge's forsaking his throne had evaporated. (The Malfoys could not longer stand the bumbling fool; Fudge seemed to have forgotten all the family had done for the Ministry and where he priorities lied). Why did Lucius have to be at the Department of Mysteries that day? Why did he get caught and thrown in prison? It was all Potter's fault!
Malfoy silently growled, damning Harry. He still had yet to make the Boy Who Lived pay, but he had not forgotten about it. Malfoy threw his books on a couch and then heard voices. He straightened up, brow furrowed. There was a female voice, no doubt Granger's, and a male… Potter. They sounded as if they were on the second floor. Malfoy left the sitting area and quietly headed for the staircase. His initial instinct had been to noisily make himself and his anger known, but now he wanted to spy on the two before doing that.
Malfoy stopped on the fourth step, crouching, and searched the floor. He saw them to more of his left, with Harry sitting on one of the two tables. He had his back to Malfoy, and Hermione stood right next to a bookshelf. The Head Boy lowered his head so as not to be seen by the Muggle born.
"I'm tired of doing this Hermione." Harry complained as she handed him a book.
"It hasn't even been 45 minutes!" she proclaimed, selecting a tome herself.
"I know, but I'm already sick of it. Can we take a break?" Potter's work ethic is amazing, Malfoy thought, rolling his eyes.
"Maybe when we've actually been researching for more than an hour!" Hermione said, her free hand on her hip. Harry made a sound of unwillingness.
"You are impossible!" she scoffed, smiling.
"Well, I suppose I could get back to working…" he pointed out, taking the book from her.
"If?" she wondered, eyeing him. Harry got off the table and stood in front of her.
"If…" he said, moving her hair from her shoulder.
"No Harry."
"Hey, you made me late for my class a few days ago. You owe me." Harry then caught Hermione around the middle and began happily, and expertly, kissing her. She shut her eyes and kissed him back with just as much gusto, arms circling around his neck. Draco Malfoy's mouth flew open and his grey eyes narrowed. He knew it!
Moving back down the stairs with the silent agility and determined will of a cat, Malfoy held his breath. He grabbed his books off the couch and stood in front on the entrance, praying for it to open faster. When it did, he flew out of the Head Room at neck breaking speed, zipping by students he was in danger of hitting. He was stunned, to say the least.
He was forced to feign off all of the Slytherins in the common room, who, like usual, wanted his attention. Normally he would have indulged them, and indulged himself with female attention, but he currently craved none of it. Back in his room, Malfoy sat on his green bed with a hand covering his mouth. Thankfully none of his roommates were present to question his behavior; Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott were all together. Malfoy stared ahead another minute before removing his hand from his face and giving a low, hearty laugh. His eyes began to glint madly with an ominous glee as he stood up, still laughing.
Finally, after so long: merciful, merciful vengeance. Draco had found a way to make Potter suffer at long last. What is the chance that Weasley, or anyone else for that matter, is completely oblivious to Potter and Granger?, the cunningly pondered, smirking. But he'd have to go about this carefully, and tastefully. Malfoy didn't want to announce to the whole school that he had a revelation regarding Harry Potter. No, he wanted to work like an acid, starting from the inside out. This was why he desired to speak exclusively with Ron first, hoping (and knowing) this method would have the best ripple effect.
Malfoy also knew he couldn't approach the Weasel until his potion with Potty had been turned in. if he blabbered too soon, Harry was guaranteed to not finish the assignment, too preoccupied with his newly founded shattered life. Malfoy still had his grades to think about, right? It did not matter however, the insignificant wait. He was perceptive, and patient. Just so long as he's miserable in the end.
"Finally!" the Head Boy murmured, clenching his fist in satisfaction.
A/N: Right. So, I need to explain something. This chapter, 25, was cut in half. I was writing, realized I still had a lot to add to it, and realized it was already long enough to be its own chapter. So, I cut it in half. Chapter 26 is one of the most pivotal chapters in this story. If it's all little short, that's all right 'cause I sort of want all that information by itself… let it sink in! Also, I'll post again much sooner next week, probably on Tuesday. I noticed it's been a tad while since I've posted. Kay. S'all. Never be normal!