Black Eyes
Chapter One: Eight Forty
by Capella
A/N: Yay! Sequel to Shadow of a Doubt finally here!
Jeez, I thought I wasn't going to even START it until July -- but here it is. I just got blindsided by the inspiration express and I had to write it. And good Lord, am I excited about it. As soon as I figured out the entire plotline I called my friend to squeal like a schoolgirl about it. XD
Just so you guys know, 8:40 refers to Dickens's Great Expectations -- the character of Miss Havisham, when she received a letter on her wedding day from her fiance, telling her that he was not going to marry her, stopped all her clocks at the exact moment she got the letter. You guessed it -- 8:40. It intrigued me so I figured, hey, that sounds like a cool title and it's sort of relevant.
I finally saw Moulin Rouge and I have fallen deeply in love with Ewan McGregor. That man is gorgeous. *melts*
Well, I'm off like a prom dress. Read and review, feel free to express your shock/joy/screams of anger.
____________________
"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. "
-Oliver Wendell Holmes
____________________
"What exactly do you mean by gone?"
He took an almost inordinately large amount of pride in the fact that he'd managed to keep his voice calm, steady, Slytherin. It would have made his father proud, if his father had not disowned him at the end of fifth year for dating Voldemort's hated rival. He'd had to rely on the Dursley's obliviousness and quite a few of Harry's Galleons to keep him fed and clothed that summer. Since their sixth year, Dumbledore had let him stay the summer at Hogwarts.
Hermione sighed, obviously at the end of her rope. He would have enjoyed it any other time.
"Draco, look. I don't really want to explain it all again."
"And isn't it a little late for you to be telling me this? He disappeared four days ago!"
Hermione got that stubborn mule look on her face, and she obviously lathering herself into a rage. Her voice was testy when she spoke. "As you can imagine I've had a very hard time with this --"
"What, and I haven't?" Draco snapped, loosing a bit of his cool and more of his patience. "You come in here, give me this complete rubbish about elves and alternate dimensions, and that's it? And here I thought you were the embodiment of the perfect witch, Granger. Looks like that's the first time you've ever proven me wrong."
"Oh shut up, you jerk," Hermione muttered. Draco raised an eyebrow, and she looked away and blushed a little. "Give over, Malfoy. I hope you realize the only reason I would ever be in here --" She waved her arms around, gesturing vaguely to the Slytherin's room "-- is because Harry asked me to tell you before he left."
That pricked Draco's attention a bit. "He asked you to tell me?" he asked, intrigued. She gave him a withering glare that he returned, full force and with an added sardonic raised eyebrow. "Look, Granger, just tell me the truth already. It can't that horrible of a story, even if you insist on covering it up with fairy tale nonsense. Did he elope with the Weasel? Finnegan? Flich? Spit it out, Granger."
"I told you the truth, Malfoy!" It appeared she'd reached the end of her questionable patience. "If you don't like it, fine. I don't really care. I never realized why he dated you in the first place, you ignorant ass."
That stung just a bit. It hit a little too close to a very sensitive place he'd had ever since fifth year -- when he had wondered the exact same thing himself.
"Do you really want to know why?" he purred, getting up from his chair smoothly. He'd grown a good few inches, and now he towered over her. Now she glared up at him, but she knew as well as he how intimidating he could be. "It could be the night I found him behind a suit of armor -- crying about how you and the Weasel had finally started dating, and how he just knew that he would end up being left behind, the third wheel, the extra. Well, guess what, Granger? Do you know who was there to kiss him and make him feel all right again? Not you, for sure. You never even knew he'd been out of his dorm in the first place. God, and you think you were his closest friend." He looked down his nose at her, watching how her expression changed from anger to shame to anger again. At his presumptuousness, he supposed.
"I don't even know why I came here in the first place," she ground out and turned around, all set to retreat from their little spat. "I should have known better."
After she'd left, Draco sat down again heavily in his chair, mind occupied with something that had been on his mind since Granger had come in there spouting her foolish fantasy stories.
He still had Harry's invisibility cloak.
It shouldn't have mattered as much as it did. He and Harry'd had a level of coolness between them ever since the split in sixth year; Harry had kept his distance from supposed self-righteousness, Draco had kept his from a large amount of hurt and larger amount of anger. They'd talked since that day, trying to hang on to a bit of the friendship they'd had, but it hadn't worked. He wondered why Harry had asked Hermione to tell him that Harry had left.
Before Harry had disappeared, Draco had asked for Harry's invisibility cloak. It had been a matter of pure spite -- Draco had wanted to get Harry jealous, had not-so-subtly implied that the use of the cloak would be to sneak out to the Astronomy Tower with Blaise. He hadn't expected Harry to lend it to him.
Draco sighed, and got up again, heading for the common room door. He'd have to catch Granger before she got too far ahead. Damn, but he hated being wrong.
"Granger!" he shouted down the dungeon hall, attracting some startled glances his way from the few Slytherins heading to bed. "Come back, damn it! Come ba--hey, watch it!"
The small student who had bounced off his back and onto her own blinked up at him from the floor, hazel eyes owl-huge from behind her glasses. Freckles liberally dotted her cute, upturned nose.
"I'm sorry," she squeaked with a strong Irish accent. She smiled tentatively, showing a gap between her two front teeth. "I didn't think anyone would be down here so late -- I -- "
He held up a hand to stop her and adopted his harassed, irritated prefect tone. "It's getting late. Unless you have to talk to him right this moment, I suggest you get back to your common room." The girl showed no sign of movement, only continued to stare in his direction. He sighed, feeling a little guilty.
"What did you have to talk to him about?"
"I'm having trouble with my boggart report," she whispered, sounding a bit scared. "We didn't get through the lesson because Harry Potter -- you know --"
Draco blinked in surprise. This was new. "No, I don't know. Harry Potter what?"
The girl squirmed a little where she stood, uncomfortable. "We were working on boggarts in class and Harry Potter was there to help us -- the boggart came out of the closet, but it wasn't what everyone said it would be. It was this -- tall man with black hair, and he had pointed ears!" Her talk had begun to get faster and faster, and her accent became more and more pronounced until he could barely understand a word she said. "And Harry didn't do anything and I think it was because he couldn't! And the elf said, he asked Harry if Harry had forgot him and the elf called Harry sweet and the elf had a whip. I've never met an elf before. He looked pretty but he looked really cruel, too. And I --"
"Stop," he said, head whirling a little. This -- cruel elf was what Harry had disappeared with? Damn it. He'd always know that Harry had the sense of a mailbox.
"What's your name again?" he asked, for no other reason besides that he couldn't think of anything else to say. His head was feeling strangely fogged.
"Fiona Thatcher," the girl said, a bit more calmly this time. Only a bit. "I'm a second year."
"Your surname doesn't sound Irish," he murmured absently. She sniffed a little.
"Well, maybe my great great grandfather thatched roofs," she said, obviously a little offended. He didn't feel like soothing her hurt pride at the moment.
"Maybe," he agreed. "I'm sure Professor Lupin won't mind if you ask him about your lesson tomorrow. It's getting late. Return to your common room, Miss Thatcher."
He heard her footsteps echoing down the nearly empty hallway but ignored them, his mind on other, more important things.
_____________________
"Granger! Slow the fuck down!"
Hermione whirled round, glaring poisonously at the blonde walking up to her. "Watch your language," she hissed. "You're a prefect! Who do you think the first-years look at to be their role model?"
Draco looked down at her with veiled contempt and irritation. "Don't push me, Granger. I couldn't care less what the babies think. Look, I need your -- your help." He spat the last word out, as if it were disgusting. She almost felt like rubbing her hands together and cackling.
"Well, isn't that just a coincidence?" she asked, watching as his lips twisted with anger. "I --"
"Draco! You dropped your wand!"
Hermione turned around and watched a curly haired girl bounce cheerfully up to them. She turned to Draco. "You know her?"
"We ran into each other in the hall," he replied dryly, and looked at the young girl, who was staring up at Draco in something that looked like awe and fright. Hermione couldn't blame her; she'd been on the receiving end of that silver cold glare often enough to know its effects. "What did you want again, Miss Thatcher?"
For some reason, that name jarred something in her memory. She frantically tried to recall where she'd heard it.
"You dropped your wand," the girl said, her accent jumbling the words almost unintelligibly. "I tripped over it." Hermione looked at Draco's face just as it got a little panicked, a little frightened. He slapped his hand to the pocket of his robe and then stared at the girl.
"Let me have it," he said quickly, and held out his hand. The girl held out her own to him. Draco's fingers closed over the wand and he gave a little sigh of relief before pocketing it. "Thank you, Fiona," he said, and Hermione was surprised to hear honest sincerity in his voice before he turned back to Hermione. "If that's all?" he threw over his shoulder to the girl, and she turned around, walking slowly away.
Draco took a deep breath and then released it. His gray eyes were filled with conflicting emotions, none of which Hermione even could begin to decipher. "Look, Granger -- Hermione -- I'm sorry." The words seemed to be torn from his throat reluctantly. "I suppose I have been a bit on edge since Harry's disappearance. Please, help me."
Hermione hesitated for a few moments, and Draco's liquid gray flickered dangerously. His lips thinned out in anger or irritation.
"All right," she said quickly. "What do you need me to do?"
Draco paused. "Harry left his Invisibility cloak with me," he drawled, his previous emotion gone. "I want to return it to him. As you can imagine, if he's in a different dimension, this could be difficult."
Hermione blinked. She had rather thought it to be something life-threatening. It came as an incredible suprise that Draco was actually trying to help someone. Especially since that someone was Harry.
"Whatever happened between you two?" Hermione asked, her voice gone soft with sympathy. Draco face got angry and closed-off.
"Morbid curiosity, Granger?" he hissed dangerously. Hermione saw his fists clench at his sides. He looked ready to do violence.
"No," she answered. "But Harry refused to tell me, and I think I deserve to know. He is one of my best friends."
If possible, Draco looked even more coldly furious than he had been. "Fine," he spat. "I'll find someone else to help me. I should have known better than to ask for help from you." He whirled around and started to stalk off.
Hermione tsked and shook her head. "Touchy subject, Malfoy?" she muttered under her breath. When he didn't stop or turn around, she sighed, and started walking after him. "Wait, Draco. Look, I'll help you. You don't have to tell me."
He stopped but didn't say a word or turn. She started to get annoyed. "What do you want, an apology letter?" she asked, irritated.
"Got any bright ideas, Granger?" he asked, still turned away from her.
"Dumbledore knows about Harry," Hermione offered. "In fact, he's the one who came here from Middle-earth in the first place."
"I know that," he snapped. "I was listening to you the first time. So, what, you think we should go talk to him?"
"That would be what I was implying, yes."
"Fine. Let's go, then. As stimulating as this conversation is, I don't have all night to sit around talking to you." With that, he simply started walking forward again, forcing Hermione to run in order to catch up with him. She sighed. The rest of the walk to Dumbledore's was spent in an uncomfortable silence.
"Black licorice," Hermione muttered as they came up to the statue in front of Dumbledore's office. However, as she and Draco stepped on and the statue's stairs slowly started to move upwards, she heard something she had not expected to hear: raised voices. She motioned for Draco to be quiet and tiptoed up to the door. While the voice sounded reasonably serene, it took obvious effort to keep it that way.
"No, I do not know what happened. It happened almost immediately -- it only took a few days before he completely as you see him now. The effects took place nearly a day after we arrived."
Hermione gasped. That voice -- she'd heard that voice before!
"Why the hell are we waiting out here?" Draco hissed in her ear. "I don't have time to eavesdrop. I'm going in." Before Hermione could stop him, he knocked on the door. All conversation on the other side stopped.
"Come in."
Draco pushed open the door, and Hermione had no choice but to follow him into the room. She looked to her left and saw Legolas sitting in a chair, looking surprised and a little bit annoyed. When he saw her, he gave her a little smile. Draco, however, didn't notice any of this and simply marched up to Dumbledore's desk.
"Professor, I know this probably isn't the best time, but this is urgent. Hermione said you were the one who could help me. Harry left his invisibility cloak here, and I must return it to him. Please." Hermione realized with no small amount of shock that she had never heard Draco say 'please' in all her years at Hogwarts, and he had said it twice in the same day. He still had not seen Legolas.
"Do you have the cloak with you, Draco?"
Draco blinked in surprise. "What?"
"Do you have it with you?" Dumbledore asked again, a twinkle in his eye.
"No, of course not," he said. "I didn't think that I would need it right away." He frowned, raising an eyebrow. "Do I?"
Dumbledore smiled. "I only thought it would have been quite convenient if you had happened to bring it along, since Harry is already here."
Draco's mouth fell slightly open in disbelief, and Hermione was almost positive that she had the exact same shocked expression on her face as he. "What?" she stammered. Dumbledore gestured to a chair in the shadows, off to their right, that neither Hermione nor apparently Draco had noticed. Harry sat there, in a black tunic, green leggings, and brown boots, his head bent and his hair obscuring his face.
"Harry!" Hermione said, grinning. Harry didn't look up.
"Hey, Hermione," he said, still looking at the floor. Hermione frowned in confusion. "Draco."
"Harry?" Draco asked, cautiously. "Is something wrong?"
"No." The hair over Harry's eyes swayed slightly as Harry shook his head negatively. "And you can keep my Invisibility cloak, Draco. I gave it to you. Remember?"
Hermione glanced at Draco and saw Draco's eyes widen. "But you -- you didn't say you were giving it to me. Harry, it's your father's!"
Harry shrugged and didn't respond or look up. Hermione began to worry. But before she could say anything, Draco spoke up for her.
"Harry, there's something wrong. Why won't you look at me? Harry, God damn it!"
"Fine," Harry whispered almost inaudibly. He looked up, and it took a moment for Hermione to notice. When she did, her gasp was drowned out by Draco's "Oh, my God!"
His eyes were a milky white and focused on a point somewhere over Hermione's left shoulder.
"I'm blind, okay? I'm blind."
___________________
A/N: Heh, heh, heh.
Chapter One: Eight Forty
by Capella
A/N: Yay! Sequel to Shadow of a Doubt finally here!
Jeez, I thought I wasn't going to even START it until July -- but here it is. I just got blindsided by the inspiration express and I had to write it. And good Lord, am I excited about it. As soon as I figured out the entire plotline I called my friend to squeal like a schoolgirl about it. XD
Just so you guys know, 8:40 refers to Dickens's Great Expectations -- the character of Miss Havisham, when she received a letter on her wedding day from her fiance, telling her that he was not going to marry her, stopped all her clocks at the exact moment she got the letter. You guessed it -- 8:40. It intrigued me so I figured, hey, that sounds like a cool title and it's sort of relevant.
I finally saw Moulin Rouge and I have fallen deeply in love with Ewan McGregor. That man is gorgeous. *melts*
Well, I'm off like a prom dress. Read and review, feel free to express your shock/joy/screams of anger.
____________________
"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. "
-Oliver Wendell Holmes
____________________
"What exactly do you mean by gone?"
He took an almost inordinately large amount of pride in the fact that he'd managed to keep his voice calm, steady, Slytherin. It would have made his father proud, if his father had not disowned him at the end of fifth year for dating Voldemort's hated rival. He'd had to rely on the Dursley's obliviousness and quite a few of Harry's Galleons to keep him fed and clothed that summer. Since their sixth year, Dumbledore had let him stay the summer at Hogwarts.
Hermione sighed, obviously at the end of her rope. He would have enjoyed it any other time.
"Draco, look. I don't really want to explain it all again."
"And isn't it a little late for you to be telling me this? He disappeared four days ago!"
Hermione got that stubborn mule look on her face, and she obviously lathering herself into a rage. Her voice was testy when she spoke. "As you can imagine I've had a very hard time with this --"
"What, and I haven't?" Draco snapped, loosing a bit of his cool and more of his patience. "You come in here, give me this complete rubbish about elves and alternate dimensions, and that's it? And here I thought you were the embodiment of the perfect witch, Granger. Looks like that's the first time you've ever proven me wrong."
"Oh shut up, you jerk," Hermione muttered. Draco raised an eyebrow, and she looked away and blushed a little. "Give over, Malfoy. I hope you realize the only reason I would ever be in here --" She waved her arms around, gesturing vaguely to the Slytherin's room "-- is because Harry asked me to tell you before he left."
That pricked Draco's attention a bit. "He asked you to tell me?" he asked, intrigued. She gave him a withering glare that he returned, full force and with an added sardonic raised eyebrow. "Look, Granger, just tell me the truth already. It can't that horrible of a story, even if you insist on covering it up with fairy tale nonsense. Did he elope with the Weasel? Finnegan? Flich? Spit it out, Granger."
"I told you the truth, Malfoy!" It appeared she'd reached the end of her questionable patience. "If you don't like it, fine. I don't really care. I never realized why he dated you in the first place, you ignorant ass."
That stung just a bit. It hit a little too close to a very sensitive place he'd had ever since fifth year -- when he had wondered the exact same thing himself.
"Do you really want to know why?" he purred, getting up from his chair smoothly. He'd grown a good few inches, and now he towered over her. Now she glared up at him, but she knew as well as he how intimidating he could be. "It could be the night I found him behind a suit of armor -- crying about how you and the Weasel had finally started dating, and how he just knew that he would end up being left behind, the third wheel, the extra. Well, guess what, Granger? Do you know who was there to kiss him and make him feel all right again? Not you, for sure. You never even knew he'd been out of his dorm in the first place. God, and you think you were his closest friend." He looked down his nose at her, watching how her expression changed from anger to shame to anger again. At his presumptuousness, he supposed.
"I don't even know why I came here in the first place," she ground out and turned around, all set to retreat from their little spat. "I should have known better."
After she'd left, Draco sat down again heavily in his chair, mind occupied with something that had been on his mind since Granger had come in there spouting her foolish fantasy stories.
He still had Harry's invisibility cloak.
It shouldn't have mattered as much as it did. He and Harry'd had a level of coolness between them ever since the split in sixth year; Harry had kept his distance from supposed self-righteousness, Draco had kept his from a large amount of hurt and larger amount of anger. They'd talked since that day, trying to hang on to a bit of the friendship they'd had, but it hadn't worked. He wondered why Harry had asked Hermione to tell him that Harry had left.
Before Harry had disappeared, Draco had asked for Harry's invisibility cloak. It had been a matter of pure spite -- Draco had wanted to get Harry jealous, had not-so-subtly implied that the use of the cloak would be to sneak out to the Astronomy Tower with Blaise. He hadn't expected Harry to lend it to him.
Draco sighed, and got up again, heading for the common room door. He'd have to catch Granger before she got too far ahead. Damn, but he hated being wrong.
"Granger!" he shouted down the dungeon hall, attracting some startled glances his way from the few Slytherins heading to bed. "Come back, damn it! Come ba--hey, watch it!"
The small student who had bounced off his back and onto her own blinked up at him from the floor, hazel eyes owl-huge from behind her glasses. Freckles liberally dotted her cute, upturned nose.
"I'm sorry," she squeaked with a strong Irish accent. She smiled tentatively, showing a gap between her two front teeth. "I didn't think anyone would be down here so late -- I -- "
He held up a hand to stop her and adopted his harassed, irritated prefect tone. "It's getting late. Unless you have to talk to him right this moment, I suggest you get back to your common room." The girl showed no sign of movement, only continued to stare in his direction. He sighed, feeling a little guilty.
"What did you have to talk to him about?"
"I'm having trouble with my boggart report," she whispered, sounding a bit scared. "We didn't get through the lesson because Harry Potter -- you know --"
Draco blinked in surprise. This was new. "No, I don't know. Harry Potter what?"
The girl squirmed a little where she stood, uncomfortable. "We were working on boggarts in class and Harry Potter was there to help us -- the boggart came out of the closet, but it wasn't what everyone said it would be. It was this -- tall man with black hair, and he had pointed ears!" Her talk had begun to get faster and faster, and her accent became more and more pronounced until he could barely understand a word she said. "And Harry didn't do anything and I think it was because he couldn't! And the elf said, he asked Harry if Harry had forgot him and the elf called Harry sweet and the elf had a whip. I've never met an elf before. He looked pretty but he looked really cruel, too. And I --"
"Stop," he said, head whirling a little. This -- cruel elf was what Harry had disappeared with? Damn it. He'd always know that Harry had the sense of a mailbox.
"What's your name again?" he asked, for no other reason besides that he couldn't think of anything else to say. His head was feeling strangely fogged.
"Fiona Thatcher," the girl said, a bit more calmly this time. Only a bit. "I'm a second year."
"Your surname doesn't sound Irish," he murmured absently. She sniffed a little.
"Well, maybe my great great grandfather thatched roofs," she said, obviously a little offended. He didn't feel like soothing her hurt pride at the moment.
"Maybe," he agreed. "I'm sure Professor Lupin won't mind if you ask him about your lesson tomorrow. It's getting late. Return to your common room, Miss Thatcher."
He heard her footsteps echoing down the nearly empty hallway but ignored them, his mind on other, more important things.
_____________________
"Granger! Slow the fuck down!"
Hermione whirled round, glaring poisonously at the blonde walking up to her. "Watch your language," she hissed. "You're a prefect! Who do you think the first-years look at to be their role model?"
Draco looked down at her with veiled contempt and irritation. "Don't push me, Granger. I couldn't care less what the babies think. Look, I need your -- your help." He spat the last word out, as if it were disgusting. She almost felt like rubbing her hands together and cackling.
"Well, isn't that just a coincidence?" she asked, watching as his lips twisted with anger. "I --"
"Draco! You dropped your wand!"
Hermione turned around and watched a curly haired girl bounce cheerfully up to them. She turned to Draco. "You know her?"
"We ran into each other in the hall," he replied dryly, and looked at the young girl, who was staring up at Draco in something that looked like awe and fright. Hermione couldn't blame her; she'd been on the receiving end of that silver cold glare often enough to know its effects. "What did you want again, Miss Thatcher?"
For some reason, that name jarred something in her memory. She frantically tried to recall where she'd heard it.
"You dropped your wand," the girl said, her accent jumbling the words almost unintelligibly. "I tripped over it." Hermione looked at Draco's face just as it got a little panicked, a little frightened. He slapped his hand to the pocket of his robe and then stared at the girl.
"Let me have it," he said quickly, and held out his hand. The girl held out her own to him. Draco's fingers closed over the wand and he gave a little sigh of relief before pocketing it. "Thank you, Fiona," he said, and Hermione was surprised to hear honest sincerity in his voice before he turned back to Hermione. "If that's all?" he threw over his shoulder to the girl, and she turned around, walking slowly away.
Draco took a deep breath and then released it. His gray eyes were filled with conflicting emotions, none of which Hermione even could begin to decipher. "Look, Granger -- Hermione -- I'm sorry." The words seemed to be torn from his throat reluctantly. "I suppose I have been a bit on edge since Harry's disappearance. Please, help me."
Hermione hesitated for a few moments, and Draco's liquid gray flickered dangerously. His lips thinned out in anger or irritation.
"All right," she said quickly. "What do you need me to do?"
Draco paused. "Harry left his Invisibility cloak with me," he drawled, his previous emotion gone. "I want to return it to him. As you can imagine, if he's in a different dimension, this could be difficult."
Hermione blinked. She had rather thought it to be something life-threatening. It came as an incredible suprise that Draco was actually trying to help someone. Especially since that someone was Harry.
"Whatever happened between you two?" Hermione asked, her voice gone soft with sympathy. Draco face got angry and closed-off.
"Morbid curiosity, Granger?" he hissed dangerously. Hermione saw his fists clench at his sides. He looked ready to do violence.
"No," she answered. "But Harry refused to tell me, and I think I deserve to know. He is one of my best friends."
If possible, Draco looked even more coldly furious than he had been. "Fine," he spat. "I'll find someone else to help me. I should have known better than to ask for help from you." He whirled around and started to stalk off.
Hermione tsked and shook her head. "Touchy subject, Malfoy?" she muttered under her breath. When he didn't stop or turn around, she sighed, and started walking after him. "Wait, Draco. Look, I'll help you. You don't have to tell me."
He stopped but didn't say a word or turn. She started to get annoyed. "What do you want, an apology letter?" she asked, irritated.
"Got any bright ideas, Granger?" he asked, still turned away from her.
"Dumbledore knows about Harry," Hermione offered. "In fact, he's the one who came here from Middle-earth in the first place."
"I know that," he snapped. "I was listening to you the first time. So, what, you think we should go talk to him?"
"That would be what I was implying, yes."
"Fine. Let's go, then. As stimulating as this conversation is, I don't have all night to sit around talking to you." With that, he simply started walking forward again, forcing Hermione to run in order to catch up with him. She sighed. The rest of the walk to Dumbledore's was spent in an uncomfortable silence.
"Black licorice," Hermione muttered as they came up to the statue in front of Dumbledore's office. However, as she and Draco stepped on and the statue's stairs slowly started to move upwards, she heard something she had not expected to hear: raised voices. She motioned for Draco to be quiet and tiptoed up to the door. While the voice sounded reasonably serene, it took obvious effort to keep it that way.
"No, I do not know what happened. It happened almost immediately -- it only took a few days before he completely as you see him now. The effects took place nearly a day after we arrived."
Hermione gasped. That voice -- she'd heard that voice before!
"Why the hell are we waiting out here?" Draco hissed in her ear. "I don't have time to eavesdrop. I'm going in." Before Hermione could stop him, he knocked on the door. All conversation on the other side stopped.
"Come in."
Draco pushed open the door, and Hermione had no choice but to follow him into the room. She looked to her left and saw Legolas sitting in a chair, looking surprised and a little bit annoyed. When he saw her, he gave her a little smile. Draco, however, didn't notice any of this and simply marched up to Dumbledore's desk.
"Professor, I know this probably isn't the best time, but this is urgent. Hermione said you were the one who could help me. Harry left his invisibility cloak here, and I must return it to him. Please." Hermione realized with no small amount of shock that she had never heard Draco say 'please' in all her years at Hogwarts, and he had said it twice in the same day. He still had not seen Legolas.
"Do you have the cloak with you, Draco?"
Draco blinked in surprise. "What?"
"Do you have it with you?" Dumbledore asked again, a twinkle in his eye.
"No, of course not," he said. "I didn't think that I would need it right away." He frowned, raising an eyebrow. "Do I?"
Dumbledore smiled. "I only thought it would have been quite convenient if you had happened to bring it along, since Harry is already here."
Draco's mouth fell slightly open in disbelief, and Hermione was almost positive that she had the exact same shocked expression on her face as he. "What?" she stammered. Dumbledore gestured to a chair in the shadows, off to their right, that neither Hermione nor apparently Draco had noticed. Harry sat there, in a black tunic, green leggings, and brown boots, his head bent and his hair obscuring his face.
"Harry!" Hermione said, grinning. Harry didn't look up.
"Hey, Hermione," he said, still looking at the floor. Hermione frowned in confusion. "Draco."
"Harry?" Draco asked, cautiously. "Is something wrong?"
"No." The hair over Harry's eyes swayed slightly as Harry shook his head negatively. "And you can keep my Invisibility cloak, Draco. I gave it to you. Remember?"
Hermione glanced at Draco and saw Draco's eyes widen. "But you -- you didn't say you were giving it to me. Harry, it's your father's!"
Harry shrugged and didn't respond or look up. Hermione began to worry. But before she could say anything, Draco spoke up for her.
"Harry, there's something wrong. Why won't you look at me? Harry, God damn it!"
"Fine," Harry whispered almost inaudibly. He looked up, and it took a moment for Hermione to notice. When she did, her gasp was drowned out by Draco's "Oh, my God!"
His eyes were a milky white and focused on a point somewhere over Hermione's left shoulder.
"I'm blind, okay? I'm blind."
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A/N: Heh, heh, heh.