A/N: Thanks to all those who have read and reviewed so far. A special thanks goes to my Beta Missybewitched mwha. Thanks for fitting this is when you have so much going on!
See another of my A/Ns at the end of this chapter for a little more information - after you have read this chapter of course - I don't want to spoil anything.
This chapter has been edited and posted again due to a mistake. Never mind though! Chapter 11 has been started, and should be up soon - as I have just about finished all my homework! Yay!
Chapter 10 – Mischief Uncovered
Harry found Hermione in the common room mid-morning, curled up in an old comfy chair that she had turned to face the window. An ugly crocheted blanket (which Harry suspected was of her own creation, formed sometime last year judging from the untidy stitching) covered her legs on which a large, furry, ginger lump sat. Her face was buried behind a large book, and she was oblivious to all that was going on around her.
The Gryffindor common room was filled with a buzz of excitement. Students were collecting their cloaks and gold before heading to the all-wizarding village of Hogsmeade. Some students lingered, conspicuously watching Harry and Hermione.
Overnight, the wizarding population of Great Britain and Wales had become annoyingly interested in the supposedly torrid love affair of Harry and Hermione. The Daily Prophet, much like the tabloids of the Muggle world, had arrived later than usual that morning due to a last minute change to their cover story. It was now assumed by all that the pair had made their relationship public knowledge by mistake, and the news of it had spread like a wildfire. Harry now believed he knew how the Muggle Royal Family felt, with things being invented by the press just to increase sales.
Harry perched on the edge of Hermione's chair. He did not see a reason not to physically distance himself from her; Harry didn't think that the gossip would ease if he avoided his friend. Instead, the rumours would probably flare merrily to mock his efforts and there would be headlines in the Daily Prophet the next day about the 'golden couple' breaking up.
"Coming to Hogsmeade?" Harry asked as he glared menacingly at a second year girl who dared to attempt to eavesdrop on them.
"What do you think?" Hermione bit out icily. "There's a whole media circus just waiting to snap photos of the happy young couple."
"You can't let this stop you from enjoying life 'Mione," Harry tried to reason with her.
"That's a no, okay Harry, I've already started to receive the hate mail again," she suddenly turned her eyes from the book in front of her to look into Harry's.
Harry gasped when he saw her face. An angry red palm print covered the left half of it.
"Those wenches are sending invisible limbs through the Owl Post now, I've already sent a letter asking Fred and George to pull them from the shelves until everything settles down," she sighed sadly. "But I don't think they will be too obliging seeming that I have been the cause of heartbreak in two of their siblings."
Hermione turned back to reading her book.
Leaning over, precariously on the edge of Hermione's chair, Harry took the book from her hands and placed it on the windowsill.
"Come with me," Harry grinned at her. "If you don't come I'll probably pick you out something awful for Christmas and then you won't be speaking to me either."
Hermione humoured him with a sarcastic smile, and a roll of her eyes, and retrieved her book from the windowsill, opening it to the exact page she was reading before Harry interrupted her.
Again he leaned over and placed his hands on the book.
Without warning Hermione snapped the book closed with a mad fluttering of pages. Harry jerked his fingers out of range of the pages, honed Quidditch reflexes saving him from agonising pain.
"You're not going to leave me alone if I don't go with you, are you?" she glared at him with a sullen, defeated expression. Her arms were crossed defensively across her chest, proof of her dislike at the idea of venturing beyond the safe walls of the common room. Beyond the portrait of The Fat Lady, lurked the students from other houses and a newly reinstated Rita Skeeter. Only the Gryffindors could bother her within these walls.
"Look," Harry bent down to whisper in her ear. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll go and get my cloak and map so we don't have to worry about running into anyone."
Looking slightly relieved, Hermione nodded her approval and stood up, tipping the large, furry, ginger lump unceremoniously onto the floor. Crookshanks hissed at them before bounding off towards the girl's dormitories. She whispered back, "I'll meet you in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom in fifteen minutes."
Harry watched as she gathered her blanket from the floor and disappeared through the door to the girl's dormitories.
"Where is it!" Harry exclaimed loudly as he searched underneath his mattress for the umpteenth time. He had looked everywhere and he couldn't find the Marauder's Map.
His trunk lay empty at the foot of his bed; his clothes were spread haphazardly all over the floor. Piles of books were in shambles, having been flicked through quickly and then dumped on the stone floor in exasperation. Harry ran his hands through his dark, untidy hair and glanced at his watch. He had already spent ten minutes looking for the map.
Bending down on hands and knees he looked under his bed. He pulled his wand from his waistband (he still hadn't lost a buttock yet as the fake Moody had warned).
"Lumos." A bright light emitted from the end of his wand, illuminating the space beneath his bed. Nothing but some odd socks, a pile of dust and what suspiciously looked to Harry like an adult magazine were under his bed. Harry lowered himself onto his stomach and reached out his hand, his fingers could just reach the magazine. He pressed hard down on the cover and dragged it towards him, curiosity filling every cubic centimetre of him. He knew of these kinds of magazines existing in the Muggle word – Dudley and his friends would often pour over them in the park after dark. He didn't know that wizards 'read' these as well. Harry suddenly realised just how much more interesting the wizarding versions could be. After all, Muggle pictures are just pictures, but wizarding pictures can move…
"Nox."
He lent back against his bed, knees drawn to his chest and wand discarded by his side. He turned the cover the correct way around and was instantly disappointed. It was only an outdated edition of the Quibbler, one of the first copies it seemed. A young pretty witch in a provocative pose winked at him. Wondering what it was doing under his bed, Harry flicked through the edition absent-mindedly. He was just starting to remember again that he should be looking for the map when the glossy picture in front of him caught his eye.
A young, voluptuous woman (the same one from the cover) in tight red and green striped robes was draped along a broomstick in an alluring pose, which she kept changing once she knew she had the handsome Seeker's attention. Beautiful, curled, shimmering, brunette locks slid along her shoulders and all the way down her back. As Harry was watching mesmerised, she transfigured her broomstick into a Unicorn. He turned to read the accompanying article.
Is Miss Wizarding World 1945 All That She Seems?
Miss Minevra has been proclaimed the most beautiful Witch in the recent Miss Wizarding World Pageant. She excels in her favourite sport of Quidditch, and despite all the knocks and tumbles still manages to maintain her natural beauty.
Or does she?
Sources who wish to remain anonymous claim that Miss Minevra (who is an accomplished Animagus and who received top N.E.W.Ts in all her subjects, including Transfiguration) has magically manipulated her looks in order to win this year's Miss Wizarding World Pageant.
Miss Minevra denies these allegations claiming that her looks are natural and the only magic she invests in to maintain her beautiful natural charms, are Mr Lillguster's Smooth Skin Lotion and plenty of beauty sleep (we of which think could be a term for a special magical spell).
Harry's eyes flicked back to the young woman on the other page, back to the article, and then back to the picture. In shock he threw the magazine across the room, it's spine hit the stone wall and it then crumpled to a heap on the cold floor. He squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds behind his dark frames, trying to calm his breathing. He was disgusted with himself. He was ogling his teacher!
He sat for a few more seconds in a traumatized silence, he couldn't shake the image of the broom from his mind….how she clung to it so elegantly….and then his pride and joy appeared before his eyes – his Firebolt.
"Accio Map!" Harry blurted out. He couldn't believe how forgetful he was sometimes.
A few metres away, the pillow on Ron's bed exploded in a burst of feathers that spread throughout the room covering it in a soft, downy layer. The map zoomed towards Harry, who held out both of his hands to catch it neatly. His surprise and elation at recovering his map and doing magic without his wand kept his mind occupied for a few moments before the realisation of what he had discovered dawned on him.
The map had come from Ron's bed. Ron had stolen it.
Harry jumped from the floor, in a furious temper, grabbed his cloak and flung it over his shoulders and pulled its hood over to cover his head. He bent down and retrieved his wand from the floor before rushing off to meet Hermione.
Harry mused to himself that if he ran into Ron…well Ron had better watch out. The misguided redhead had been spying on them, but coming to the wrong conclusions.
A/N: I spelt 'Minerva' as 'Minevra' on purpose – like a secret identity.