Disclaimer: Did I start the Harry Potter series on a napkin in a cafe shop in London? Uh, no. Therefore you all can figure out that I do not own the Harry Potter characters or Hogwarts.
A/N: Hey peoples! I might be getting a tattoo soon! My parents are thinking about it because they dont want me to get my bellybutton pierced (ok? weird way of thinking). But I'm soo excited about that. Also this chapter is shorter than the first. My chapters are going to vary in page length from about 7-9 pages.
Anywho, there isn't any Hermione/Draco contact yet, but as I said before this story is going to be drawn out, so just be patient. It'll be worth the wait.
Thank you to madam loon for reviewing. You're the only person that reviewed ( but hopefully more people will get interested in "Tempest Love." And can I ask a favor? If you like my story enough, would you please recommend it to some of your friends that read FanFic? The more readers the faster the chapters will be written.
Well, that's enough of my babbling. Here's the latest chapter of "Tempest Love." Enjoy!
Chapter Two: Too Many Tears
Ginny was summoned by her mother and told to go retrieve everyone from their rooms, and bring them to the study on the third floor. Being the good daughter that she was, Ginny did so. As she passed the severed heads of the house elves that had once served the Black family, Ginny began to think about Harry.
She felt bad for him. Who wouldn't? His parents had been murdered before he could even get to know them, and then he had almost been wiped from existance. Then he had to spend ten horrible years with those muggles, always being picked on by his lump of a cousin. And finally, he begins to make some new friends in wizarding school and begins to feel like he belongs somewhere, and You-Know-Who nearly kills him again. Who deserves that? And now, his godfather was dead.
He doesn't look half-bad considering he's been through so much, Ginny thought to herself. His eyes were still bright with life, still had the ability to make her feel all warm and fuzzy, and Ginny remembered back to her first year, when she had fancied Harry. A door opened and shut, but she didn't notice. 'His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad...' Ginny giggled.
"What's so funny?" someone asked.
She stopped laughing and looked up to see her brother gazing down at her. When she didn't answer right away, Ron repeated the question. "Oh, nothing. Just remembered something from first year. Anyways, Mum wants all of us in the third floor study," Ginny said.
"Alright. I'll go get Harry and Hermione, then." Ron began to walk away, but Ginny said "That's okay. You go on up to the study. I'll grab Harry and Hermione. Mum did send me after all." Ron shrugged and headed up the stairs.
Ginny headed over to Hermione's door and knocked three times. After about a minute, Hermione came to the door; her face was pale and her eyes were red and puffy, and Ginny knew instantly that her friend had been crying.
"Oh, 'Mione, what's wrong?" Ginny asked, reaching out and resting her hand on Hermione's upper arm for a few seconds. She sniffed and replied, "It's nothing, really. I just got a bit upset, that's all. Don't worry about it. But is there something you needed?" When she spoke, Hermione sounded like her nose was stuffed and she looked so helpless...
"Mum wants us all up in the third floor study. But I can tell her you aren't feeling well if you'd rather stay here." A look of gratitude swept over Hermione's face and she launched herself at Ginny, giving her a hug. "Thanks so much, Ginny. I owe you one." "It's no trouble at all," Ginny said, looking at her forlorn friend. "I'll see you at lunch, then." Hermione nodded and she shut the door with a sharp click.
Ginny walked down to Harry's room and knocked as she had on Hermione's door. It took Harry a little longer to answer, but she waited patiently. When he appeared, he looked tired. "Hey, Ginny. What's up?" he asked, rubbing his eyes with the bottom of his palm. Oh, he looks so adorable, Ginny thought, noting his unruly hair and slightly pink cheeks. He must have been sleeping.
She repeated the same message she had told Ron and Hermione. "Hermione's not feeling well, so it's just going to be us three," Ginny added, gazing into Harry's gorgeous eyes. "Alright, then," he said, stepping into the hall and closing the bedroom door behind him.
The two friends walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Ginny shot Harry furtive glances every now and again, but he always looked the same. She really wanted to ask him how he was doing, but thought that it would be insensitive to intrude anymore. Everyone had been asking him how he was feeling, and everytime he replied with a defensive 'I'm fine,' or 'I'm ok,' something along those lines.
Instead of prying further, Ginny looked around at the hall they were now in. She had never had the need to come up this far into the house, so she found everything interesting. On the walls hung pictures of the deceased Black's. Many were as unpleasant as Sirius' mother, but others were quite charming. A witch in a midnight blue dress nodded and welcomed the two of them to the Black home. The other paintings began protesting this act of kindness and began to reprimand the pretty brunette.
Harry and Ginny walked on, but she couldn't take the silence any longer. "Harry?" she asked timidly. "Hm?" he mumbled back. "I know you probably don't want to hear it again, but...are you doing alright?" He looked over at her and saw that genuine concern had etched itself firmly on her face. Harry gave her a warm smile, and said "Honestly? I don't know."
They fell into silence again, but Ginny's mind was anything but still. She was thinking of Harry and how he had opened up to her, telling her the truth of how he was feeling. Ginny wished he had gone into it in more depth, but she wasn't going to press him.
Ron was already in the study when they arrived, along with his mother. Next to her were four buckets filled with a solution that smelled strongly of gasoline. Harry scrunched up his face a bit because of the fumes.
It was quite a large room that these three had to clean. Book shelves lined the walls, filled to burst with texts about the Dark Arts, ancient wizards in foreign lands, muggle chemistry. Whomever had used this study certainly had wanted to know as much as possible, and this reminded Ginny of Hermione, lonesome in her bedroom one floor below. There was a large Persian rug that covered most of the wooden floor. It had affixed a lot of dust to itself and Ginny sighed, thinking of all the work that needed to be done in the room.
"All right, you lot come here," Mrs. Weasley chanted, waving the three of them towards her. When they had all gathered around her and the buckets of smelling cleaning solution, Mrs. Weasley began to give them their duties for the day. "Now, this is just a very strong cleaning potion, Harry. You don't need to worry about the fumes, they aren't toxic. But you do need to wear gloves," she handed all three of them a pair, "and be careful not to spill a lot in one place. Now, Ron, since you're the tallest, I want you to take all the books off the shelves and polish the wood, then replace the books." Ron's mouth fell open.
"That'll take ages!" he exclaimed, waving his arms at the bookcases. "Then, you'd better get started," she snapped and turned to Ginny. "Ginny, you'll be doing the curtains. There're doxies in there, so be careful. You know what they're like. And Harry, dear," she said, "I want you clean out those cabinets in the corner and then wash the floor. Just use a levitation charm to keep everything up in the air." Harry nodded in understanding, picked up a bucket and washrag and walked over to the cabinets.
"And if any of you finish early, I want you to help each other out. We need to get this house decontaminated as soon as possible. Lunch will be in about three hours. I'll come fetch you." Mrs. Weasley flashed them a parting smile then closed the doors to the study.
So the three of them got to work, Ron grumbling all the while.
One floor below, Hermione was sobbing into her pillow, still analyzing the article in the Prophet. It just hadn't made any sense.
The Ministry of Magic have been searching fruitlessly for missing witches and wizards. Unfortuneately, none have been found. "We have all of our best aurors on the case," said Jezill Macintosh, another auror whom has been searching tirelessly for our missing brethren. "I'm a pureblood myself, but I think abducting and possibly murdering muggleborns is taking it to a ridiculous extreme."
Family members of the missing have been protesting the Minister's methods of searching for their sons, daughters, husbands and wives. "Letters have been coming in daily, complaining to the Minister. He is under a lot of stress with these abductions continuing, and I really don't think he needs more on his shoulders," said the Minister's assistant, Percy Weasley. "He's got enough to be getting on with. The families of the missing do have cause to be upset, but to try and corrupt Ministry procedures? That's nonsensical, and its only delaying us more. If they want their family members found, I suggest to them that they leave the Ministry in peace and let us do our job."
The Daily Prophet has been doing it's own research, however, and we have uncovered something the aurors have not. While digging around for information, we came across a pattern that all victims have in common: One of their family members was a servant of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. For example, Varna Peterson (who was abducted last week) has a brother who is known to be a Death Eater. While in the service of his master, Orion Peterson deliberately defied him by telling his family to run, that abductions of muggleborns were about to begin. We suspect, that as punishment, You-Know-Who abducted his sister in an attempt to show Orion his wrong-doing, and to teach him to never disobey the Dark Lord again. Muggleborns don't know what they're up against.
The Prophet cannot assure anyone protection. All we can do is advise you all to take extra precautions at night, when the abductions are known to occur. We're wishing those missing a safe return to their families. (For more information on the abductions, and a list of those missing, turn to pages five and six.)
Hermione had read all of the articles, and found prejudice in each one against muggleborns, no matter how subtle it may have been. The Sorting Hat was right last year, she thought, gazing at a blank wall. Inter-house companionship - yeah, right. Like those Slytherins would ever want to consort with muggleborns or halfbloods...
This revelation only made her cry harder. Why did she care so much?
"Where's Hermione? Didn't you go and get her?" Ron had been dusting off one of the bookshelves when he finally realized that Hermione was not among them. Considering how much time they spent together, you would think that he'd have felt the abscence of her presence long before now, but the work had kept him fairly busy.
"Yes I did go and get her. But she wasn't feeling well at all so I told her I'd let Mum know." As she spoke these words, she remembered that she hadn't told her mother where Hermione was. "I'm surprised Mum didn't ask about her. Normally she's so nosey about everything."
Harry hadn't said a word the entire time they had been working. He'd been silently cleaning out the cabinet in the corner, carefully replacing the items that weren't dangerous back in the glass escritoire. At this, Harry inquired, "Did she say what was wrong?"
"I'm afraid not. And she looked so distraught, I didn't want to get her even more fussed by having her explain her problems. She's best left alone, if you ask me. She'll get through it all right."
"Maybe I should go and see what's up. I can be quite comforting at times and she may need a shoulder..." Ron said feebly, climbing down from the ladder on which he had been perched.
"Oh no you don't!" Ginny asserted. "You're just trying to get out of your share of the work, and you know it! You don't really want to see what you can do for Hermione. And besides, men don't have as good a sense about emotions as we women do and if anyone were going to help 'Mione it would be me. But I'm not leaving am I? So get back to work or I'll have Mom all over you."
Ron hastily climbed back up the ladder and got back to work. Meanwhile in his corner, Harry had discovered a battered photo album, with the Black crest and name enscribed in gold upon it. He knew he shouldn't dally about when there was work to be done, but his curiousity got the better of him, and he slowly opened the dusty volume.
There were tabs on the sides of pages, foretelling the year, and occassion. Harry first read the inscription on the inner cover:
We present this album to the noble house of Black, whom have been so gracious to our family.
It was signed 'The Malfoy family.'
Harry flipped to a page that was tabbed with 'Sirius' and was surprised by what he saw. It was his godfather as a baby. He was wriggling and squalling, tears coming down his face. But when he opened his eyes and saw Harry, Baby Sirius plastered a smile on his lips and began to giggle silently in the photo.
Tears came to Harry's own eyes, but he held them back, a fierce determination to remain collected creating a dam. Underneath that photo was one of Sirius a few years older, about three or four, opening a birthday present. It was a toy broomstick and Harry laughed when Sirius toppled off on his first try on it.
He continued to look at the pictures, tears still stinging his eyes, blurring his vision. He finally came to the last of the photos of his godfather, and to the beginning of a section called 'The Malfoys.' The first picture was rather large, with a younger Lucius and Narcissa, and a man Harry didn't recognize. Narcissa's stomach was protruding under her summer dress, and Harry knew that little Draco was residing in his mother's womb.
However, he didn't flip to any of the other pictures and only skimmed the Malfoy photo. He tossed it aside, while cleaning. But now, the cleaning solution was diluted with his free flowing tears...
"Well, Rookwood. What have you to say for yourself?" A trembling figure kneeled before Voldemort, robes torn in random places. "M-master, I apologize profusely for my behavior. I-I-I shouldn't have acted upon m-my impulses."
"Crucio," whispered Lord Voldemort, before Augustus Rookwood had a chance to prepare himself for the pain. His scream pierced the still night air, and birds took flight at the sound. The Dark Lord smiled at the sight of the twitching body that lay before him. Seeing pain had always pleased him. He lifted his wand, and Rookwood stopped screaming.
"Maybe now, you will understand you do not murder because you have impulses. You are my servant and you obey my commands."
"Yes, Master, I understand, Master," Rookwood said breathlessly.
"Now, go fetch Lucius for me." The shaking Rookwood got to his feet, bowed to Voldemort and tottered away in search of Lucius Malfoy. Voldemort, however stayed where he was, surveying the beautiful scene before him.
They had had another training session for the new recruits that night, and the pile of remains was about to be lit. The Death Eaters surrounding it were laughing jovially. Though the Dark Lord did not approve of alleviation in his presence, he allowed it. He knew how others thought about such things, and by allowing them to be jubilant every now and again, they would believe he wasn't as bad as others thought, and that would gain and preserve their loyalty to him.
From behind him came a strong voice. "You asked for me, Master." Voldemort slowly turned and gazed upon the head of one of his most loyal servants. Lucius' head was bowed in respect, but Voldemort said "You may raise your head, Lucius." As Mr. Malfoy raised his head to look at the Dark Lord, he requested "What is your wish, my Lord?"
"Is he ready?" Voldemort asked. Lucius stuttered, and then answered. "He may need a bit more work, but he is a promising youth. However, it is not my judgement that is esteemed, but yours." Voldemort smiled. "Bring him to me."
"Alright, dearies, lunch time!" Mrs. Weasley had returned to the study, levitating a tray of sandwiches in front of her. "Finally," Ron groaned, and jumped off the ladder. "I'm starving."
"It seems like you're always starving," Ginny teased, grabbing a sandwich for herself. While the Weasley children were eating their lunch, Harry hadn't moved from his corner. He was no longer crying, but he kept losing himself in thoughts of his godfather and he hadn't noticed that Mrs. Weasley had brought lunch.
"Harry, dear, go get some food. You can finish this later." Mrs. Weasley's voice was oddly low and consoling, like she knew what Harry had been thinking about. Of course, it wasn't rocket science to figure out exactly what it was that occupied his mind. Harry got slowly to his feet and walked over to the table where Mrs. Weasley had set the plate of food.
Ginny gave him a concerned look, but didn't ask any questions. Ron didn't notice Harry at all, he was too busy stuffing his mouth full of the sandwiches. "Wud dwee ga doo til?" Ron asked his mother. "Ron! You know better than to talk with your mouth full."
Swallowing, Ron asked, "What do we gotta do still?" "Looks like you're just washing the floors. Harry's almost finished with the cabinet and once thats done, you can all do the floors. But I must be getting off. When you're done come down to the kitchen." She left again, and silence reigned over the three friends.
Once the plate was empty, Ron and Ginny helped Harry finish cleaning out the glass case. "Woah, there's some wicked stuff in here," Ron exclaimed, picking up a severed talon which had the tendon sticking out. He pulled it and the talon clenched together as if it were clutching a fish. "Ron, thats disgusting!" Ginny squealed, backing away from her brother. "Come on, guys, lets just get this bloody room finished," Harry said agitatedly, dusting off a small box decorated in gold trimming.
For the next half-hour, they worked in silence. The occassional grunt or deep intake of breath was heard, but nothing was said to stimulate conversation. Ginny was up against the wall, keeping everything in the air while the two boys scrubbed the floor.
After they'd finished, the three of them sauntered down to the kitchen, which was quite full. Harry recognized a few of the people that were seated at the table: Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, his glass eye spinning in it's socket, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mr. Weasley and other members of the Order. Hermione was there too. Her eyes were still a bit puffy from crying, but she looked almost normal besides.
Albus Dumbledore was speaking to Professor Snape in hushed tones. Snape looked absolutely livid, and was disagreeing with the headmaster profusely. They all caught bits of the conversation. "This isn't rational!" Snape was saying, his black eyes glowing maliciously. "Now, Severus," Dumbledore was saying, but Snape cut him off. "You're going to regret this, Albus!" And he swept out of the kitchen.
Professor Dumbledore turned around and spotted Hary, Hermione and Ron. "Harry, Hermione, Ron, if you wouldn't mind stepping up here please." They glanced at one another with baffled looks on their faces, and slowly made their way up to where Dumbledore was standing.
To the room at large, Dumbledore said, "Thank you all for coming. The Induction Ceremony is about to begin." He clapped his hands and the lights fell; candles appeared in the air and lighted themselves, radiating a pleasant golden glow upon the faces of the observers. Moody's eye was spinning faster than ever and anticipation was etched in every wrinkle and shadow of everyone's face.
A slow hum began to fill the room, coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Dumbledore's face was crinkled in a smile, and Mrs. Weasley was bouncing up and down next to her husband. "Oh, look at our little Ronniekins!" she squealed in his ear, and Ron's own ears reddened. Dumbledore began to speak.
"We are all a part of the resistance against Lord Voldemort, and only united with all of our wizarding brethren shall we succeed in conquering the mounting evil. The young and the old, we all have something to contribute to the effort of the Order, and it is with this in mind that we would like to invite you Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley, to become members in the fight against Voldemort; to become members of the Order of The Phoenix."
All three friends' mouths dropped open. Could they believe what they were hearing? Applause echoed loudly from everywhere in the kitchen, and Ron's mother dissolved in tears, his father patting her on the back, trying to calm her down, but glowing with pride himself.
"Do you accept this offer?" Dumbledore asked, after a minute. Hermione bit her lip apprehensively. She could get killed and she was still so young...but Harry jumped at the chance. "I would be honored." This is my chance to avenge Sirius' death, he thought. Another round of applause rang throughout the room, and appreciative whistles were heard every few seconds.
"I'm in," said Ron, and his mother collapsed in a new wave of tears onto the stone floor. "Come now, Molly," said Mr. Weasley, but there was a glint of tears in his eyes as well. The applause continued and Hermione still had yet to come forward. Her mind was reeling. I want to do something good for the entire wizarding community, but I'm too young to die and my parents...oh, what would Mum and Dad say?
"Hermione?" Harry gave her a look that told her straight away that he couldn't believe she even had to think about it. She shouldn't have to think about it. "I'd be glad t-to be of help to the Order," Hermione finally said after a few more seconds in a very small voice. She was about to burst into tears again, she knew it, but she refused to break down in front of all these people at a ceremony to conscript her into an elite group that was organized to fight the Dark Lord. She repelled the urge to let the tears slide down her cheeks and flashed a warm smile.
"Welcome to the Order," Dumbledore said. He waved his hand and three silver pins appeared in the air. "Unlike Voldemort, we show that we are members of the Order by wearing our pins, not tattooing skin." He smiled and said, "Let the celebration begin!"
"Here he is, my Lord." Lucius' voice echoed from behind Voldemort. He turned and was pleased to see them both. "You are free to go, Lucius." Voldemort hissed, staring at the boy. "As you wish, my Lord." Lucius whipped around and walked over to the pile of slowly rotting flesh that was about to be set ablaze.
"Walk with me," the Dark Lord commanded, turning away from the bonfire. "How old are you. boy?" "Sixteen, seventeen next month, my Lord." The two of them were walking along the edge of a forest of deciduous trees, crunching leaves under their feet. "Why do you wish to come into my service?" Voldemort asked. No answer came from beneath the hood. "Very good, my son. You know that there is no answer that would be a sufficient explanation. I'm impressed."
"Thank you, my Lord." Silence accompanied them to the edge of the forest, at which point Voldemort turned and gazed upon the burning and blackening remains of the the mudblood filth. "You may lower your hood. I'd like to speak with you face to face." The boy slowly lowered his hood and a blonde head of hair was reflected by the light of the moon.
"If you are ready to serve me faithfully, I have a job for you." "I am ready, Master. I'll do anything you wish!" the boy said excitedley. "I want you to inform me of the happenings at Hogwarts. Especially of Harry Potter's activities. He must not foil my plans again. Do you understand?" Voldemort asked in his silkily dangerous voice.
"Yes, my Lord. I understand."
"Go and enjoy yourself at the fire," the Dark Lord ordered, and the blonde boy gave a last grateful bow and hurried off to the festivities surrounding the charring flesh. The sunset was casting off colors of blood, and it only improved the Dark Lord's mood as he himself trudged over to the flaming pile of bodies.
A/N: Well, I hope you liked the chapter! Any suggestions or criticisms would be welcome. Chapter three should be up next Sunday, but until then, please review and recommend to friends!