Chapter 29: Springtime

Dewey was sitting under a hedge. He wasn't doing anything except watching. It was something he was always good at but never had much use for. But now things were becoming interesting. The Quidditch match was about to begin and Draco had not yet shown up. Then he saw his target. The rope was pulled taunt, and the target tripped. Another tug, and the rope came loose and slipped easily back into the bushes before it could be seen.

Dewey remained in place as two friends helped their poor housemate back to the castle and to Madam Pomfrey. He waited until it was clear, and slipped out from under the hedge and made his way to the pitch where the Slytherin team was waiting.

The Slytherin captain was swearing when Dewey ran up. "Well?"

"I couldn't find Malfoy anywhere."

"What about Harper. Did you see him?"

"No."

A third-year girl from Slytherin ran up, gasping for breath. "Told to . . . tell you . . . Harper fell . . ."

"Let me guess. He's in the infirmary."

The girl nodded.

"This is great. We can't play with only six."

One of the chaser's pointed. "There's Dewey."

The team captain stopped short his rant, but Dewey spoke first.

"He doesn't want me to play. If I'm such a good Slytherin why is my brother in Gryffinsor."

"Let him play," one of the beaters said. "You're just mad you lost all that money."

"Money?" Dewey asked.

The chaser laughed. "I lost a fair amount, too. But I'm not complaining. But Malcolm won the Quidditch game for us by playing fair. And he is an honorary Slytherin."

The beater added, "Don't forget. Draco tried to warn us about Malcolm. Maybe he made us keep Dewey as backup for a reason,"

"Fine," the captain said, and turned to Dewey. "You're playing Seeker, and if we lose, you're off the team."

"And if I win, the spot's mine for keeps." He held out his hand. "Deal?"

The captain shook his hand. "Deal."

Dewey flew his broom high, scanning the field and watching Cho Chang as she flew a figure eight pattern across the field. As he watched, he slowly counted to 200. When he finished counting, he dove, then he started making zigzag patterns with his broom, finally shooting upward back to his original height. He smile at Cho Chang as she followed him.

"Had to get the kinks out of my broom. First time I used it."

Cho grinned, appreciating his ruse. She had used the same trick before. And she might use it again.

Dewey started counting again. This time to 300. The entire time he watched Cho Chang. He saw her look at him, then take off in a dive. Even the commentator was saying she was chasing the snitch. But Dewey knew better. If she had really seen the snitch, she wouldn't have looked at him first. And he was right. But Dewey never lost count. At 300, he dove again, did some of the same tricks, even reaching out his hand. He used a nearby bludger as an excuse for losing the snitch. He climbed back up to his original height and smiled at Cho Chang, who had hesitated but still followed, just in case.

"I was just practicing for when I catch the snitch."

Cho's smile was not friendly as she moved away from him.

Dewey counted again. This time he didn't look directly at anything. His eyes scanned the field but he was thinking about what he was looking at. He saw it. Something different out of the corner of his eye. Forgetting his count, he dived again, His eyes locked on his goal. His two fake runs and his refusing to fall for Cho's use of the same tactic had payed off. By the time Cho realized that Dewey had seen the snitch, she never had a chance to close the gap. But she came closer than Dewey had expected. When He held up the snitch in his gloved hand, the Ravenclaw Seeker was only two broom-lengths behind him and closing.

"What do you think?" Neville asked Anthony.

"It was a close game. I couldn't figure out what the Slytherin seeker was doing. Not until the end. I'm certainly glad they didn't use him in the first game, against your house. He is the clever one."

"That's Malcolm's brother."

Anthony laughed. "I should have recognized Dewey, but I didn't expect to see him."

"Come back in four weeks. We're playing Hufflepuff."

"If I can, I'll be here. And I think Dennis did a good job as commentator. He was a bit biased, though."

"Do you mean his last remark?"

"Where he said, 'I don't believe it. Those stinking Slytherins won'?"

"Yes, that one."

"I must admit, it wasn't my first clue."

Draco Malfoy was sitting outside enjoying the afternoon air. It was the warmest day so far and he wanted to enjoy it. With Hogsmeade weekend cancelled there was nothing else to do. And he was in the perfect situation to enjoy himself fully.

"Malcolm, hand me another butterbeer, and please open it first this time."

"No problem, O great provider," Malcolm said. He reached into the cooler and pulled out a bottle. Pulling the cork out, he handed the bottle over.

"Thank you, Malcolm. And these folding chairs were an excellent idea. It is a beautiful day."

It is. The sun's shining. The bushes block the wind and any chance of someone seeing us from the school. And Draco bought the refreshments.

"Do you think Hagrid will come? I rather like the man."

Malcolm shrugged. "He might, but I doubt it. It's one thing to have tea in his hut. It's another thing to sneak drinks behind some bushes with him."

"There is that," Draco admitted. "Everything is going wonderfully, by the way, with my little project. I fear I shall never be able to complete that task."

"And what task is that?" Ginny Weasley asked angrily.

"Learning to talk with my eyes open," Draco said warily. "Hello, Love. What's wrong?"

"My brother is in the infirmary."

"And you are angry because?"

"He was poisoned."

Talk about your mixed emotions. That what you get when you fall in love with the sister of the guy you hate the most.

"I will be honest," Draco responded. "For your sake, I am horrified. I have no fondness for your brother. And I did not try to poison him."

"And I should believe you? WHY?"

"Better yet," Draco snapped back, "tell me why you don't believe me."

"He was poisoned by drinking from a bottle of mead."

"Mead?" Draco asked cautiously.

"It's was Slughorn's."

"He was supposed to give that to Dumbledore for Christmas."

"Exact . . ." Ginny's anger reached a dangerous pitch. "How did you know that?"

Draco drew his wand in self defense. "Promise me you'll listen to everything. It's a bit involved."

"I promise," Ginny said as she slowly pulled out her wand and pointed it at Draco. "Let me know when you're done."

I'm enjoying this.

Draco swallowed hard. "I poisoned the mead and arranged for Slughorn to buy that particular bottle. I won't tell you how. That will make you an accomplis." Ginny raised her wand hand, and Draco shouted. 'THE BASTARD WAS SUPPOSED TO GIVE THE BOTTLE TO DUMBLEDORE."

"YOU WERE TRYING TO KILL DUMBLEDORE.?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

"You poison a bottle of mead that was supposed to be given to him. That was my first clue."

"Right. And with everything that has been going on, what do you think is the first thing he'll do. I know for a fact he has a spell that only opens a bottle if it's safe to drink. Slughorn's so full of himself, he never thought to check."

Ginny looked at Malcolm. "Does this conversation make any sense to you?"

"Yeah."

Draco sneered. "I think she wanted more than a one word answer. Thanks for the help, Malcolm. Ginny, maybe you should sit down and have a beer after all. You've just explained why my last plan didn't work."

"Maybe I should." She sat down in the chair that Malcolm vacated and pulled out a beer. "Draco, why did you want to be caught doing something like that. You're old enough. They'd send you to Azkaban."

"Which doesn't have any dementors, I would note. Ginny, you know about my family. My father. Can you guess who might have visited me over the summer."

"But Reese was . . . And he thought . . . and he would have . . .would he have?"

"He would and he did. And left me to deal with the situation, thank you very much."

"How could he?"

"First, he thought he was me. And second, if it was me I would have had to do the same thing anyway if I valued my life. Which I do. But both my plots failed, and with more damage than I expected."

"Then Katie Bell . . ."

"Her condition would have been discovered as well as the necklace when she went back to Hogwarts. They would have traced the imperious spell back to me. But no. Her friend had to see what was in the package. Your best chaser went to Saint Mungo's and I was left undiscovered."

Ginny nodded sadly. "And then Slughorn decided to keep his Christmas gift."

"And today we found out the results." Draco put his hand on Ginny's. "For you, I would gladly have changed places." He toasted her, and they drank.

Malcolm added helpfully. "For him, he would have offered a second glass."

"Ginny," Draco asked. "How are you?"

"I spit butterbeer through my nose. Tell Malcolm to shut up."

"That only works with Dewey."

After Ginny recovered, and was convinced to take another beer, she dared to ask. "What is your next great plan. It sounds like you need help."

"Remember, Love. My life is on the line, as are the members of my extended family. Having failed twice, I turned to the one person who was smart enough to solve my problem."

Ginny nodded. "And after Hermione turned you down, you went to Malcolm."

"Hey," Malcolm retorted.

Draco laughed. "Hermione must have told you. But to get to the point, I can't tell you what the project is although, thanks to Malcolm, it will fail on its own and I cannot be held to blame."

"You should know, Draco. Harry suspects you."

"Let him suspect. Even if he finds my secret hiding place, he won't know what to do. All of my secretiveness is simply a cover. I know I'm being watched. And not just by your precious Potter."

Draco looked at Ginny's wand.

"I'm done."

"Thank you, Draco." When she leaned over, Draco leaned over and they kissed. "I miss that."

"Hasn't Dean been filling in for me."

"He has."

"There's a 'but' in that sentence."

Ginny grinned. "There certainly is. Dean's been such an arse lately. It's like he expects more from me."

"Can I interrupt," Malcolm asked. "He knows about Draco. And I know Seamus Finnigan mentioned to him about . . . well, never mind."

"Don't stop there, cousin, You're just getting to the good part."

"You won't like it, cousin."

"Tell it anyway."

"Well, we've all noticed. Every time he sees you and Dean kiss, Potter gets this funny look on his face."

"Funny," Ginny asked.

"Funny?" Draco asked without humor. "Funny as in the way a foolish red-haired first year used to look at him?"

"Harry?" Ginny looked at Draco. "It's not . . ."

Draco lowered his eyes. "Yes it is, love. I told you years ago. I'm the forbidden fruit. I'm the one you can't have."

"But Harry . . ."

" . . . now knows that you're no longer his best friend's sister. When things fall apart between you and Dean, you'll know what to do. And if he doesn't take the hint, you can always force the issue."

"I should go now. And thank you, Draco. For everything."

Ginny left. Draco's look told her that no parting gesture was necessary. Their relationship, however tenuous, was at its end.

"Draco," Malcolm said sincerely, "That was a beautiful thing you just did."

Draco looked at Malcolm without emotion. The words he spoke were also without emotion.

"Go to hell."

"Why are you crying, Boy?"

"What? Oh, it's just a ghost. Go away."

"No. I won' be bossed around."

"Well, that's good for you. I'd get smacked down if I tried it to stand up for myself. This is the boy's bathroom, you know."

"I'm just visiting. I heard crying."

"It's just me hating life."

"I hated life when I was alive. Olive Hornsby always teasing me about my glasses. I used to go to the bathroom and cry all the time."

"Yeah, at least it's only one person. In my own house, I'd be nobody without Father's money. People are only nice for what they can get out of me. And the other houses. If I do something nice, they accuse me of hiding something. And if I do something wrong . . ."

"Please don't cry."

"It's hard. So hard sometimes. And what's worse, what few friends I have don't seem to understand."

"They never do."

"What?"

"I was thinking of my own life. The taunts hurt me so much and they laughed if I let them know."

"That's right. But I get tired of pretending to be the tough. But every time I let my guard down, I get hurt. I guess you know about that, too."

"In the end, it led to my death. I know."

"Thanks. It's funny, but I feel better knowing that someone does understand."

"You're welcome. You make me wish I was still alive, or that you were already dead."

"That was a compliment?"

"I'm a ghost. For me, wishing someone were dead means I like them."

"You like me? But you don't even know me?"

"A boy with few friends, who puts up a brave front, so that people won't know how much they're hurting him. Does that sum it all up."

"I guess you do know me. But it won't be me for long. I don't know if you've heard, but things are bad."

"All the ghosts know. Even I know. HE is back."

"And I may have to do something I don't want to do. People will get hurt. And if I don't, other people will get hurt. And I have to choose. How do you do something like that?"

"Are you with HIM?"

"My father. My mother too, I think. They were friends, long ago. I'm sorry. This is too personal. I need to go. I apologize for bothering you."

"It's never a bother. If you ever want to talk again just come in here and call out, 'Myrtle'."

"I will, thanks. I'm Draco."

"Can I leave you with a happy thought, Draco."

"You can try, for all the good it will do."

"You have one more friend in the world."

"That is a happy thought. I will come back to talk, Myrtle, if I can get the chance."

"You're back again?" Filch asked as Anthony can walking up to the main gate, Saturday morning.

"For the Quidditch match. I have an invitation."

"I'll walk you up to the school. Come along. I haven't all day."

Anthony was passed though the entrance after an Auror inspected him, then followed the sullen Caretaker up the path to the castle. Once they were far enough away, Filch dared to ask his question.

"Have they set the date?"

Anthony couldn't help but smirk. "They have, but you have the pleasure of knowing when before I do."

Filch took the letter from the boy and opened it. He read voraciously, then smiled.

"Tell my brother I would be delighted. And they've decided a June wedding would interfere with classes. The date is July the First."

"Would I be correct, Sir, that you are to be best man?"

Filch's dour complexion faded in a wide smile. "You would, boy. You would at that." He paused to compose himself. "But that's nobody else's business. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir. Completely."

"Good."

By the time they reached the castle, Filch had his sour demeanor back in place and ushered the boy inside as though he were any other recalcitrant student.

"I'm sorry to hear about your brother," Anthony said to Ginny as she went to leave for the Quidditch pitch. Will it hurt your team?"

Ginny smirked. "Asked like a true Quidditch fan. We'll be fine. Cormac McLaggen is taking his place. In tryouts, he was almost as good as Ron."

A wiry-haired boy who looked almost seventeen walked up to Ginny. "We need to get going. I want us to do some warmup before the match starts."

Ginny frowned. "I'm waiting for Harry. He IS the team captain, or did you change that."

"I'm only trying to do what's best for the team."

The boy walked away with a snarl.

Ginny smiled at Anthony. "He even has the same charming personality. And here's Harry. Enjoy the match."

"Good luck," Anthony called, then turned to Colin.

Colin smiled. "Ron doesn't like Ginny's new boyfriend." He pointed out the black boy who was walking out with Ginny and Harry. "On the other hand, Ron didn't like Ginny's old boyfriend either."

"Should I ask, then, do they know who poisoned Ron?"

Anthony walked back from the match in stunned silence. "That was terrible."

"You don't have to say it," Euan told him.

"Didn't we have this conversation last year?"

"You were commenting on Ron's skills last year."

"Then I'll be honest. I preferred Ron's game last year to his replacement's game. At least Ron never sent anyone to the hospital."

"He's right, Euan," the boy next to him said.

"You weren't here last year. How would you know?"

"I, uh, read about it. Somebody wrote a review of the match for one of the papers."

Euan gave the boy a patronizing smile. "Anthony, have you met our newest first year? He knew all about Hogwarts before he ever arrived, even though he never heard about it before."

"That's not true," the boy contended. "I spent a lot of time reading up on everything once I got here. It wasn't my fault I never read the books.."

"What books?"

"Are you done? 'Luna Lovegood asked as she walked up. "The ones I lent you. Did you finished with the back issues of the Quibbler?"

"All of them." This time the boy gave Euan a patronizing smile. "Even the ones with your articles in them."

Euan and Anthony looked at Luna in surprise. "You write for the quibbler?"

"Only about special events, such as the Quidditch games. My article for this one will probably be longer than for Ron Weasley's first game last year. This keeper is much more untalented."

The four of them walked back to the castle, the boys listened as Luna related the latest conspiracy theories to them, looking serious the entire time. As they approached the castle, Luna turned to the first year boy.

"You never answered Euan's question."

"Which one?"

"What books?"

The boy noticed the three watching him curiously.

"I never read the books. I always waited for the movies to come out."

"So do I," Anthony added. "Is it too early for dinner?