Sorry so late. Believe it or not, I actually had this completed last weekend, but I couldn't upload. Fortunately, things seem fine now. Yay for trouble tickets! Thanks for reading.
Albus Dumbledore looked up curiously as Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley entered his office. He eyed Harry, wondering what was so important that the boy would use the password given to him by the headmaster for his telepathy lessons.
He smiled broadly in greeting. "Good evening, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?" His look to Harry was pointed.
Harry squirmed uncomfortably under the scrutiny. "Er… Sorry for disturbing you, sir, but something rather odd happened earlier today and we thought you should know about it."
"I see. Well then, have a seat and tell me about it. Lemon drop?"
Hermione shook her head while the two boys accepted the proffered sweets. "Headmaster Dumbledore, this afternoon Harry had an… interesting encounter with Madam Trelawney. Apparently she slipped into another trance state and spoke another prophecy." The bushy-haired girl smiled. "Ordinarily, I would have told Harry to forget about it, sir, but what he said reminded me of something I read a few weeks ago." She opened her bag and pulled out a large tome. "This is the…"
"Founders Foretelling, yes, Miss Granger, I am aware of the prophecy. I must admit to a certain curiosity as to your point."
"Sorry, sir." She set Harry's notes next to the entry on Cassandra Trelawney. "This is my point. Harry copied what she said down and it matches the foretelling exactly for the first verse…"
"But the second half appears completely original." Dumbledore pinned Harry with a stare. "Is this accurate, Mr. Potter?"
"Yes, sir. Hermione taught me some tricks this year to improve my note-taking. Madam Trelawney was dictating some… er… things to me and I just wrote down everything she said."
Dumbledore glanced at the notes again, smiling amusedly at the words above the apparent prophecy. "I see that, Mr. Potter. It appears you are once again going to meet your death in a most gruesome manner."
Harry shrugged. "I'm used to it, sir. But that other stuff… It wasn't her normal voice. It was… disturbing."
"Yes, I imagine so." He looked up at the three students. "Is it safe to assume you have not mentioned this to anyone else?"
"No, sir," they chorused.
"Good. I would ask you to keep it that way. The last thing we need, at this point, is Voldemort getting word of this."
"Does this mean you're not telling Snape, sir?"
Dumbledore frowned. "Professor Snape, Harry, will be informed of whatever I deem necessary to tell him. But no, I do not believe Severus needs this burden of knowledge at this time."
Harry tried to hide his relief, but doubted the he fooled headmaster. "Sorry, sir."
"Perhaps the three of you might be better served returning to Gryffindor Tower. I understand your professors have been assigning a rather… significant amount of homework to be completed before the holidays." The old wizard was smiling again, radiating the friendly aura they were used to. "Go on. I will keep you informed." His eyes twinkled. "Ten points to Gryffindor for bringing this to my attention."
"Thank you, sir." Hermione shooed the two boys out of Dumbledore's office, unwilling to risk the headmaster's wrath. She knew he was not pleased with their continued distrust of Snape and the last thing she wanted was for them to have further opportunity to lose points.
Upon their return to Gryffindor, Hermione insisted they spend the rest of the evening in study, to the boys' dismay. Every time one of them tried to hint they were ready to quit, one stern look from her was enough to motivate them to further efforts. Ron, really, was the only one giving her trouble. Ever since Harry decided he wanted to keep the option of becoming an Auror open, he had been working harder than ever to get his grades up and learn the material well. If they kept to her schedule, neither boy would be doing any late-night cramming for the end of semester tests.
While they studied, Ron covertly observed the brown-haired girl, lost in thoughts of his current relationship with her. How did things go so horribly wrong, he wondered. Everyone always said he and Hermione belonged together. Even his mother thought they would make a great couple. So why was it that Hermione Granger, the one woman he ever loved, was head over heels in love with Harry Potter? He quietly snorted. That was easy. Despite her protestations, Hermione was still a girl and what did girls appreciate more than the interest of a handsome, popular, wealthy man destined to save humanity?
Bugger. He never had a chance. Hermione focused on Harry from the instant she met them on the train five years ago. While he was unsuccessfully trying to change that bloody rat yellow, Harry Potter was garnering the sympathy of a young and star-struck Muggle-born witch with his poor clothes and broken glasses. Had he been sitting there with crack in his spectacles, she would have thought him an idiot. With Harry, it was completely different. He glared at Harry. Ron was tired of being last. The youngest Weasley male. The sidekick. The one who always got into stupid situations. Last year he had the chance to prove himself at the Ministry of Magic and maybe, just maybe impress the girl he loved. Instead, he wound up having to be saved by Harry Bloody Potter after his own stupid actions. Hermione was severely injured and he was not even there to help Harry protect her.
What was so special about Harry Potter anyway? He had one of the most powerful dark wizards of all time after him. He was moody, brooding, and extremely selfish about nearly every aspect of his life. For five years he ignored the fact that his female best friend was female, and even after he figured it out, he spent his time chasing after Cho Chang, one of the most beautiful girls in school. He was no more studious than Ron and had a similar appreciation for Quidditch, which annoyed Hermione greatly. His own relatives hated him (through no fault of his own, admittedly), and he had few truly loyal friends. The only thing going for him was his wealth, fame, and good looks. Okay, so that was a lot. And he was an incredible Quidditch player. However, Hermione never cared about that before. How could she choose Ron over Harry when they both shared many of the same interests? The only guys with Hermione's bookish ways were Ravenclaws and she never gave them the time of day. It had to be his fame. And wealth. The two things Ron would never have.
He sighed. Who would have expected that Hermione was just as shallow as the rest of the girls in the world? She wanted fame, fortune, and someone to share it with. Just like him. Why could she not see how good they could be together? It would be a passionate relationship filled with arguments, yes, but making-up as well. He was used to her bossing him around so it would not take much to extend it to his personal life. His parents had a great marriage with lots of kids and look at them. His mother was the epitome of bossiness. She told her husband what to do, but it was because she loved him. Ron really wanted that.
He wanted someone who looked at him the way Hermione looked at Harry. Not that she ever would. He sighed. He really needed to find a way to get over her. This conflict between them was affecting their friendship, which he valued more than anything. Besides, she was not the only girl at Hogwarts. He loved her, sure, but there were many who were far more friendly, beautiful, and fun. Maybe it was time for him to go find himself a girlfriend. He nearly jumped with glee. Maybe that was it. That was how he could get her to notice the attraction between them. If he found someone else, then she might come to realize how much she loved him and not Harry. He smiled. Yes. She would be jealous and then he could valiantly come back to her despite her error in judgment. That could work. And then Harry would figure out he loved Ginny and they could all be one happy Weasley family. Perfect.
Satisfied he had a plan, Ron politely excused himself and went upstairs to consider who would be the first lucky lady. By the time Harry came up to bed, the red haired boy was asleep, dreaming of the wonderful future he had ahead of him.
The next day, Harry woke up to the odd sight of an already conscious Ron Weasley. His friend was already dressed, standing in front of the mirror meticulously combing his hair.
"Ron?" he asked groggily. "What's going on?"
Ron flashed his friend a grin. "Just getting ready to go down to breakfast, Harry. You should get moving if you're going to make it down in time."
Still confused, Harry glanced at the clock, immediately leaping out of bed at the time. "Ron! Why did you let me sleep so late?"
"Sorry, Harry. I was getting ready and lost track of time. I'll save you a plate, mate. You should hurry, though. Dean's going through a growth spurt and is probably downstairs eating his weight in food right now."
Harry gave Ron a cursory nod and headed into the bathroom. Maybe he would feel a bit more conscious after his shower. A short time later, Harry was ready to go downstairs and face the day. Ron was already long gone, but Harry hoped Hermione, at least, had waited for him. He wanted to speak with her about her plans for the Yule ball.
"Morning, Harry," greeted Hermione, her amber eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "I was thinking there are some books in the library we could take a look at today. I know Hemerson's History of the Founders is there… the unabridged version, and I think Madam Prince mentioned that Hogwarts had a copy of Iryna Ardenford's book, A Thousand Years of History. I think we might be able to find out more about the link between Merlin and the Founders in there, plus some information on how they structured the Wizarding world back then…"
Harry quietly listened as he and his best friend walked to the Great Hall, hand in hand. He could not help but think of how beautiful she was when she was expounding on some intellectual pursuit, and how she nearly danced with joy at the prospect of serious research. School really was quite simple for her, he knew, and only when they were trying to solve the problems of the world was she actually challenged. If anyone could find the meaning of this prophesy, it would be Hermione. He smiled. His Hermione.
The two Gryffindors entered the Great Hall and headed to their table. Harry continued to pay attention to Hermione as she outlined her research plans, completely missing the fact that his other best friend was currently sitting mere inches from Lavender Brown, feeding her breakfast.
"… and I think we may be able to find some advice on how to interpret things," she eyed him significantly, "and maybe gain some insight on hidden meanings."
Harry nodded distractedly, thinking that Hermione was looking particularly beautiful today. She had done something with her hair to tame it into soft curls, which were pulled away from her face to fall down her back. Even the school uniform could not detract from her beauty, something that Harry was learning to admire more and more.
"Oy! Harry! You gonna eat that, mate?" Ron gazed covetously at the generous helping of seasoned potatoes on his best friend's plate. The dark-haired wizard was ignoring the food in favor of his beloved – a fact that almost offended both Weasleys.
Hermione gasped. "Oh! Harry. You need to eat something. We have a test today in Professor Snape's class and you need to keep your wits about you if you're going to pass." She slapped Ron's seeking hand away and deftly placed two slices of ham on Harry's plate, giving him an encouraging smile. "Eat something, love," she whispered.
Her words registered almost immediately, snapping him out of his captivated trance. Tossing a quick smile her way, he dug in, ignoring Ron's frustrated grumble.
"Sorry, Ron."
"'sokay, Harry. I probably should take some time before class to… er… study my notes." He turned to the pretty girl at his side. "Care to join me, Lav?"
Lavender giggled as she allowed Ron to help her up. "Of course, Ron. I'd love to study with you!" The two left the hall hand in hand, prompting a number of curious and bewildered looks to pass between the Gryffindors. Ron? Lavender? Study?
Parvati smiled sweetly at Hermione. "Well. I guess you better hope things work out between you and Harry," she whispered to a startled Hermione. "It looks like you no longer have a sure thing to count on, eh Hermione?"
The brown haired girl turned to stare at the gossipy Gryffindor. "What?"
"Well, it appears Ron has finally gotten a clue and moved on. I guess you won't be able to count of having him there as a safety net anymore, right?"
Hermione's face flushed scarlet. "Not that it's any of your business, Parvati, but I am hardly in need of a safety net."
Parvati looked pointedly to Harry, who was speaking quietly to Ginny. "I can see that."
The bushy haired Gryffindor rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Parvati!" she hissed. "Don't you have anything better to do with your time?" Sick and tired of the sly looks and innuendo she kept suffering at the hands of the petty girl; Hermione rose, grabbing her book bag. "I'll be in the Library," she announced before storming out of the Great Hall.
Harry looked up, wondering what was something wrong, and then shrugged. She must still be upset about the rumours. Hermione would tell him if it was something else. Right now, he and Ginny had some plotting to do if they were going to win the next Quidditch match. Ravenclaw had gotten better since last year and Cho Chang was actually shaping up to be a true threat. Glancing over at their table, he noticed the Seeker eying him smugly, as if somehow she had already won the game. What the hell is that all about, he wondered.
"I think Ron is doing a lot better as Keeper, but his ego's still so fragile… Harry. Are you listening to me?" Ginny regarded the older student, irritated. It was bad enough her brother never listened to her. If Harry was going to start… Well, he did not want to find out how she would react. "Harry!"
His head whipped around. "What?"
"I said, we need to do something about Ron's confidence issues."
Harry shrugged. "I'd suggest stop humiliating him during practice. I know Warren seems to like the entire one on one practice with the team Keeper thing, but you're far too good to go up against. I'd suggest alternating between you, and Valerie. That way he might stand a chance, occasionally."
She chuckled. "Good point. I'll mention that to Warren tonight." Ginny turned back to her food while Harry glanced around the table.
"Hey, where's Hermione?"
"Not keeping terribly good track of your girlfriend, are you Harry?" He was startled by the maliciousness in Parvati's tone.
"What?"
"You'd think that if you two were so incredibly in loooove, that you'd notice when she left the hall."
"I did notice. "Harry's eyes narrowed. "What did you say to her, Parvati?"
She batted her eyes innocently. "Nothing but the truth, Harry."
He stood abruptly, startling the Great Hall into silence. Glancing around at the curious faces, Harry prayed no one would say anything. Without another word, he headed to the Library, where he knew Hermione would have gone to begin her research. Behind him, Ginny smiled sweetly at Parvati. "Perhaps you and I should have a bit of a chat about how you've been treating my best friend…"
Hermione was where he expected, nose buried in a ponderous tome of obvious antiquity. Sunlight streamed in from a nearby window, lighting the dust swirling about her head into a fiery halo. By Merlin, she was beautiful.
"Hey," he whispered.
"Harry," she said, looking up, a brilliant smile lighting her features. "What are you doing here?"
"I just came to see if you were okay. Parvati seemed to be in bitch-mode today." He sat down and took her hand. "So are you okay?"
Her smile, if possible, grew wider. "I'm fine, Harry. I just wanted to get some reading in."
He continued to eye her questioningly.
She sighed. "Okay, and I was tired of Parvati's innuendo and Cho Chang's glares. Happy?"
With a gently kiss to her fingertips, he shook his head. "Not yet, but give me a couple years."
She blushed. "Harry!"
"I'm sorry, 'Mione. It's my fault. Parvati's just…"
"I think you hit the nail on the head the first time, Harry. A bitch."
Harry gazed at her in shock. Hermione never swore!
She huffed in annoyance. "Don't give me that look, Harry Potter. You know perfectly well that I know how to swear. Thanks mainly to you and Ron, I might add!"
He smirked. "And the twins. Don't forget your birthday gift two years ago."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "How could I forget? I thought Professor McGonagall was going to have a fit when that book started swearing at me. Really. Like I need a book to teach me how to use vulgar language."
Harry shrugged. "It was probably better than what they originally planned. I seem to remember George saying something about your clothes and invisibility."
She shuddered. "Ugh. I don't want to think about it."
Feeling mischievous, Harry gave her a smirk, leering at her robed figure. "I do."
Hermione flushed, and then slapped at her grinning friend. "Harry!"
He shrugged. "What can I say, 'Mione? I find you incredibly attractive. And I'm a hormonal teen. Who would you rather I be lusting after?"
"Good point." She eyed him curiously. "So what did Parvati have to say?"
"More of the same. I think she's hacked off that she lost credibility with the other students after the fiasco yesterday."
"Not to mention the betting pool."
Harry was startled. "The what?"
"Betting pool. Dean started it the end of our second year. He and Justin got into an argument about you hugging me and it just escalated from there."
"How come I didn't know about this?"
She shrugged. "I suspect it has something to do with your virtually militant indifference to rumours about you. That and no one was going to tell you."
"But why…"
"I thought you already knew."
"So who won?"
"No one, yet. The pool's still open until you and I openly acknowledge a formal relationship between us."
"Well I'll be damned."
The library clock chimed, warning them class was to begin soon. The two Gryffindors quickly gathered the books and returned them to Madam Prince. On their way to class, Harry could hear Hermione muttering ingredients under her breath.
Ron was waiting for them when they arrived, but he was not in his normal seat. He and Valerie Hart had traded places and now Harry was sharing a cauldron with one of the few females in the school that did not drool over him. It was actually a bit of a relief.
The doors slammed open and Snape stormed in, eyes raking over the class as he strode by. "Weasley! Get back to your seat! And twenty points from Gryffindor for rearranging my seating chart." He smirked evilly. "I'm sure you and your girlfriend will have plenty of time later to play footsie. I suggest Trelawney's class."
Lavender gave an offended gasp.
"Another twenty points." The Potions master's dark eyes swept the room. "No disrupting my classroom! Now. I do hope you are all prepared for today's quiz," he said maliciously, eying the students in disdain. "It will be a bit… challenging. But I imagine some of you," his gaze fell on Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, "will probably find it routine. Which is why you will be working with a partner."
Snape quickly rearranged the class, placing Hermione with Neville ("Miss Granger, you'll be happy to know that you may legitimately help him for this."), and Ginny with Draco ("I trust we can all get along, Miss Weasley."). He never noticed her blush. Harry was stuck with Parvati, and Ron was paired with Pansy Parkinson. Needless to say, they all knew this was a recipe for disaster.
The first few minutes of class were peaceful. The students gathered their ingredients, following the instructions on the chalk board, and began preparing them for the potion. Hermione did as much as she possibly could, whispering directions to Neville when she was forced to ask for his help. Harry spent the entire quiz trying to do the potion himself while Parvati made snide comments about Hermione, and Ron was treated to an entire class of being called "blood traitor" instead of a mere moment in the hall. The only students, really, that had any positive experience as a result of this experiment, were Ginny and Draco.
Ginny fought to keep from blushing as Draco brushed past her. Sometimes it was easy to forget how attractive he was when he behaved like such a prat. This was not one of those times. He was flirting, subtly, making suggestive comments as part of their conversation about the potion.
"Surely you prefer your roots slightly larger than that, Ginevra," he commented slyly.
She flushed. "It's not the size of the root, Malfoy, it's how it's sliced." He winced as she chopped it in half. "Sometimes, it's better to have a… more proportionate ingredient."
That little minx. Careful to make sure no one was watching, he moved closer. "Proportion is nothing if one is not skilled." He breathed softly into her hear.
It was all Ginny could do not to sigh and rub herself against the teasing young man behind her. He was not going to win this one. "Skill is in the eye of the beholder. I suspect a master of Potions would have far different standards than, say, a student."
"True. Natural talent combined with skill makes for a very powerful experience," he breathed. "Would you like that, Ginevra?"
She batted her eyes guilelessly. "Why yes, Malfoy. I'd love to see your… slicing talents." She handed him the knife.
He took it with a smirk and then began deftly slicing the dragonsroot. He had almost finished preparing the ingredients when the first explosion occurred in the lab.
"MR. FINNEGAN!" Snape was across the room in an instant. "In what realm of reality could you possibly think that chewing gum is an appropriate item to bring to Potions class? Fifty points from Gryffindor," he roared. Vincent Crabbe backed away meekly, hoping to avoid the enraged professor's gaze. "Detention! Both of you! Two weeks with Filch." He whirled to face the rest of the class. "BACK TO WORK!"
The rest of the class passed surprisingly well, and despite several near catastrophic mistakes on Neville's part, Hermione still managed to turn in a perfect potion, along with Ginny and Draco, and Julian and Blaise. Harry had resorted to commanding Parvati to shut up and work, so their potion was not too badly made either. The rest of the class did a satisfactory job, except Seamus and Crabbe, of course, and Ron and Pansy, who spent the whole class arguing over blood relations and who should do the menial work. All in all, it went far better than Severus expected.
Later that evening, Harry and Hermione sat in the library, poring over book after book, looking for information that would help them decipher the prophecy. They had every book on the Founders sitting on the table, and each of them had skimmed nearly half of them, looking for anything. Finally, Harry decided enough was enough.
"Cor! That's it, 'Mione. We need to do something different. We're not going to find anything this way."
"We need to eliminate the ordinary, Harry…"
"'Mione, what about all this makes you think there is anything ordinary involved? We need to do our research elsewhere."
Hermione looked at him, eyes wide. "Are you…"
"Yes. Look, remember where we've gone to find all the other information we've needed before in the past. We can't spend the rest of the year looking through every book in the library when we haven't even had glanced at the Restricted section. Do you honestly think we're going to find anything useful on the public shelves of the library?"
She shook her head. "No, Harry, you have a point." Her face broke in to a mischievous grin. "I guess this means you're going to break out the old invisibility cloak, eh?"
Enraptured for a moment by the beauty of Hermione's smile, Harry was silent. "Oh! Sorry. Er… yes. I'll just … uh… get the cloak back from Ginny."
Hermione's amused eyes met his. "You do that. Meanwhile, I'm going to look at the Libellus Book Directory to see what books we might be interested in. It should even list books that are considered restricted."
"Handy, that."
"I thought so, yes. Go on, Harry." Hermione's eyes widened as Harry lunged for her and gave her a quick peck on the lips.
"Love you," he whispered before dashing out the door.
Suddenly, the day no longer seemed so unbearable.
While Harry and Hermione plotted to figure out the key to Trelawney's latest prophecy, Draco Malfoy was deliberating over the future of his relationship with his secret pen pal. He took it as an encouraging sign that Ginny Weasley had neither hexed nor insulted him during class today. She was even flirtatious, which thrilled him to no end. Now he just had to find out exactly where she wanted things to go. He was not hugely concerned – there were several months left to the Spring Ball after all – but he was hoping she would make things easier on her. He refused to admit there was another reason for his desire to hear from her.
The silver haired Slytherin was sitting in his room staring into space. For the first time in his life he was out of control of a situation. He did not like it. He knew that everything hinged on Ginny's ability to look past her prejudice against him and his family, and choose to give him a chance despite it all. Draco knew she was a fundamentally kind and caring girl, but he also knew that he had spent the past five years making her life hell with his attitude. He hoped today illustrated to her how different he was from the boy that used to mock her and her friends.
Aside from his flirtatious teasing of Ginny, the Slytherin prefect really had no desire to mock anyone any more. Except maybe Thanos. And Potter. But more often than not he was just tired of the crap. After talking with Ginny for all this time, he actually had found himself wanting a friend. Crabbe and Goyle were not friends. They were minions. Now they were not even that, having changed their allegiance to Acheron. He sighed. He had no idea what to do. What if Ginny refused to have anything to do with him? What if she showed Potter and her friends the letters? Draco beat himself up mentally for getting emotionally involved. This was supposed to be a simple project: persuade Ginny Weasley to go to the Spring Ball with him. Unfortunately, Ginny was a proud girl and would not tarnish her image for his benefit. No matter how much he paid. He was willing to pay of her parents' debts if she agreed to it. It would be worth it to put that peacock in his place and get some peace from his blasted mother.
But knowing how Ginny was, Draco realized she would have to genuinely like him to want to help him in such a manner. He secretly admitted that he enjoyed having a friend that was not trying to use him. His father always told him that everyone had their price, and they were always looking for something to give them a leg up. Draco was not so sure anymore. The Weasleys certainly did not seem to have that type of attitude. Ginny's letters made it quite plain they were happy with their lives just the way they were. He liked the idea of having Ginny as his friend for other reasons as well. She had a penetrating mind, was incredibly snide when she wanted to be, and was passionate, friendly, and independent. It sometimes disturbed him how protective he felt of her. He ruefully admitted that he set out to trap her, but she managed to turn the tables without even trying. He was afraid to explore his feelings for her any deeper. He knew that even if he wanted to get together with her, it was impossible. His father would have them both killed. He could not do that to her.
Blast, he thought. I really like the girl. He mentally slapped himself. What the bloody hell am I thinking? She's a Weasley! Yes, said the voice in his mind, but she's also the most extraordinary girl you've ever met. Compare her to all the other girls you've dated. Draco smirked. Not a single one of them could hold a candle to Ginny Weasley. She would blow them away with the sheer force of her personality alone. Compared to her, they were flat, faceless sketches of women. He could actually almost like the idea of spending his life with her.
Draco's eyes widened, and he shook himself mentally, freaking out. Bollocks! I can't have just thought that! Taking command of himself, he chalked it up to the desire to be with someone, anyone, but Pansy. Yeah, that's it. I don't necessarily want to be with Ginny, I just don't want to be with Pansy. He stood up. I need to get some fresh air. Draco jumped as an owl flew in his window. He recognized it as Icarus. Bloody hell, he thought. Do I even want to know?
Hands shaking, he gently took the letter from his owl and went over to his chair. He sat down heavily, dreading what was in the packet he held. Taking a deep breath, he opened the envelope and took out the letter.
Draco,
This letter is not easy for me to write, so bear with me if I ramble. I decided to just sit down and write to give you a more honest idea of what I'm thinking. I'll freely admit I'm confused. On one hand, I like the idea of being your friend and continuing to talk with you. Today showed me that there is definitely something there that I could very easily come to enjoy. But on the other hand, I simply can't bring myself to completely trust you. My instincts tell me that there is more to this situation that you have revealed to me. I hope I'm wrong, but your track record implies I'm not. This has nothing to do with your family name, Draco, but with the way you have behaved for five years. I want to trust you, but I don't think I can.
However, Professor Spellsinger says that we need to give people chances to prove themselves. How can we expect someone to want to change or to stay changed if they are always going to be thought of as the way they were? That is why I am willing to do this: let's keep writing for a while. I told you I wanted to get to know the person behind the letters. I wasn't kidding. If you are truly the person that you seem to be, then you have either changed a great deal, or have played for your father and everyone else very well for several years. Whatever the case, I feel I must give you a chance.
But I do not want you to think that this means I trust you. I have told Professor Spellsinger all about us, and will continue to keep her updated. If this is just a gambit to use me to get to Harry or some Death Eater initiation thing, then back off now, because she will be watching.
I hope you prove me wrong. I hope you really are the person in the letters and not the person that mocked me on my way to class during the past few years. I don't expect you to change for me, Draco. I expect you to be who you are. Either I can accept it or I can't. Be who you want to be. It's your life.
Ginny
Draco sat back in his chair, feeling guilty. He was using her to get his House back. Somehow, she suspected he was not being entirely honest with her. If this was going to work, he needed to make sure she never finds out about the bet. As a matter of fact, he would prefer she never find out. For the first time he actually considered the possibility of continuing their relationship beyond the Spring Ball. What am I thinking, he wondered. She's a Weasley, I'm a Malfoy and never the twain shall meet. He suddenly thought back to Romeo and Juliet, thinking that this was way too much of that type of situation. He had to give Ginny credit, though. She went to one of the few people at Hogwarts that would be able to protect Ginny without reacting irrationally. His spine crawled at the thought of what his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor would do if she found out he was just using Ginny. He never would have thought of it. Even he had confided in the Gypsy teacher. People all over the school seemed to have a confidence in her ability to help them and/or provide a sympathetic ear. Somehow he doubted she would be very sympathetic to him. He wondered how Snape would react. Yeah, right. He'd probably go running off to tell father that I'm sullying myself with a Weasley. I'd have to make up something else about using her to get to Potter.
Draco sighed. Now was the time to tell her about the bet and hope she understood. She would be angry, but he hoped she would still give him a chance. He pulled out a piece of paper and began to write. Several sentences in, he balled up the paper and threw it in the fire. I can't do this. This is just for a bet. Malfoys do not date Weasleys. He pushed all feeling for her aside, and strengthened his will. He and Pansy would be married one day and he was not going to jeopardize it for a meaningless relationship with the bottom of the pureblood barrel. She was a means to an end. That's all.
Taking out another piece of paper, he began to write again, having almost convinced himself of that thought.
Later that evening, Hermione returned to Gryffindor just before curfew and was surprised to see Harry sitting on the plush couch next to the fire, glowering. Ron was nowhere to be found, and the common room was deserted except for them. Harry's expression immediately lightened upon sighting her, and he got up to greet her with a light peck on the lips
She looked at him curiously. "Where's Ron?"
Harry frowned. "Snogging Lavender, probably. He basically told me to bugger off and take care of my 'midnight misadventure' myself."
"That's odd. Usually he's the one raring to go out and stalk about the school against the rules."
"True, but I think his recent association with Lavender has changed his priorities. Ron's thinking with is hormones now, Hermione."
She snickered. "And this is a change how?"
"Funny." He pulled out his father's Invisibility Cloak. "Well, let's get going. We don't have all night. Professor Sinistra is on patrol tonight, and I'm betting she'll be spending most of her time near the Runes classrooms." He winked. "Apparently Professor Futhark is going to be working on a translation tonight."
Hermione cast a Silencing Charm on them before they stepped through the portrait hole. The biggest weakness of the cloak was that it did not muffle sounds. Despite all their experiences sneaking around the school, there was still a large element of risk involved with what they were about to do. She had no desire to risk her Prefect status over this.
The trip to the library was surprisingly uneventful. She supposed it had something to do with the fact that Professor Spellsinger was in the Potions lab with Professor Snape tonight, so neither of them were roaming the halls. She thought she heard a giggle coming from one of the classrooms, but now was not the time to start enforcing the rules. Whoever was in there could go about their activities in peace, tonight.
"Okay, here we are. What are we looking for," asked Harry as he pulled the silvery fabric off them.
She handed him a list. "Search for these. The one at the top of the list is the one I really want to look at, but I'll be surprised if they have that book out where it can be accessed by anyone outside the headmaster."
"The Founders' Secrets?"
"According to the Libellus, that book was written by the Founders themselves, and detailed nearly everything about the creation and enchantment of Hogwarts. If there's anything about the prophecy, it should be in the annotated version by Regis Rembiltious." She lifted her softly glowing wand to study the shelves. "It's a green book with gold lettering."
"The annotated one?"
Hermione's nodded her head, causing her loose curls to cast odd shadows in the dim light. Harry found that his fingers itched to smooth them back into place, but now was not the time for indulgence. He turned his attention to the shelf before him.
An hour and a half later, neither of them had found what they were looking for. Hermione managed to locate a few of the books she had listed as "marginally helpful," but nothing in detail on the Founders or the prophecy. Harry threw himself into a chair, frustrated.
"This isn't working, 'Mione. There's nothing here. We can't stay here all night!"
"Well what do you suggest, Harry? The books are spelled against summoning and half of them have been enchanted so they can't leave the library." She frowned at his impatient scowl. "Look, why don't you keep looking while I copy down the information in these books. After I get that finished, we can call it a night and then come back tomorrow."
Harry looked at her like she was mad. "Are you kidding? You? Miss Prefect suggesting that we break the rules another night in a row to come search the Restricted Section? By Merlin, we should mark this day on a calendar!"
Hermione swatted at him. "It's important, Harry! Far more so than I think you realize." She took his hand. "This may hold the key to defeating Voldemort for all time, Harry. I think that's far more important that some school rules."
Brown eyes met green, and Harry found himself ensnared by her thoughts. She was worried about him above all, but behind that was love, friendship, and a determination to succeed. He could see her fears for him and their friends, and her sadness at the distance between them. The conviction she felt that their cause was right shone in her mind like a beacon, and attached to it was a fierce resolve that she would find a way to keep him safe. Drawn in by her thoughts are her gaze, Harry stepped forward and gently kissed her. The passion she felt at that small contact nearly overwhelmed him, and for the first time he began to understand the depth of her feelings for him. He gazed at her in wonder.
""Mione…" he began.
The two students started as they heard voices approaching the door to the library. Quickly extinguishing their wands, they haphazardly replaced the books on the shelves, knowing they would automatically be returned to their proper locations, and then dived behind one of the rear bookcases. Hermione stifled a sneeze at the dust.
"…don't think that rose hips will be a sufficient substitution, Ryselle." Harry almost groaned at the approach of the greasy git. Bloody wonderful.
"Orchid hearts are not so different, Severus. They are both used quite successfully in Memory Enhancement potions, and should do quite well to enhance a wizard's mental acuity."
Snape snorted. "I still think this idea of yours is foolish in the extreme. What makes you think Potter will be even remotely prepared to utilize such a tool?" His silky voice grew derisive. "Surely even you can't believe his mental deficiencies can be corrected with a potion? Miss Granger would be a far better choice for this enhancement."
The defense teacher sighed. "Both of them will be able to take advantage of this, Severus. The potion will be given to those who will make the best use of it."
"And you think Potter is one of those people," the Potions master asked incredulously. "You're mad."
"Severus. We cannot risk Vold… sorry… the Dark Lord gaining access to certain minds. Harry, Hermione, and Ron are most certainly first on the list."
"I thought precious Potter was doing well with Occlumency."
"He is. But is it not better to be safe than sorry?"
Another derisive snort. "If you say so. I personally would be tempted to give the Weasley boy a double dose. Maybe then he might be able to use his wand correctly."
Harry motioned to Hermione to move farther back as the two professors entered the Restricted Section. Snape's wand glowed brightly, illuminating his pale face in what Harry thought was far too horrifying of a reality. Even Hermione let out a short squeak of terror.
"What are we looking for again?"
Harry's ears perked up at that. He was curious too. What exactly were they working on?
"Potions of the Ages, by Nicolas Flamel…"
"I'm familiar with the book, Ryselle," Snape interrupted. "How is it going to help you with this?"
Professor Spellsinger sighed impatiently. "There is a list of ingredient substitutions in the back. I need to look at an original copy for one in specific."
Silence was Snape's only response.
"The Basilisk blood. We need to find something that will work just as well. I think a mixture of ground dragon egg and ashwinder scales in a harpy's blood base should do it. But I am not sure."
Harry held his breath as the teachers passed their hiding space. He saw Snape shake his head. "I agree with the ashwinder scales and harpy's blood, but if you add ground dragon egg to that, we will be cleaning your remains off the walls of my lab. I would honestly suggest dragon's blood. It is one of the uses, after all. As a potions' base."
"And this is why I need your help, Severus. You know far more about Potions than I ever will." She stopped and turned to look him in the eye. "Please help me," she said softly. "This is very important and I cannot do it without you."
Snape's hand twitched, as if he was fighting the urge to touch her. He unconsciously moved toward her. "I…" He sighed. "Why can I never say no to you?"
She smiled. "Because you do not wish to?"
"Perhaps," he murmured, leaning forward. Harry thought the dark wizard was going to kiss Professor Spellsinger, but suddenly, he straightened. "I will aid you, Ryselle. But only if you agree that I get the final decision of who gets the potion."
"As long as it includes Harry, Hermione, and Ron, I agree."
The professors stared at each other for a moment, and then Snape abruptly nodded. "Agreed." Harry and Hermione waited quietly for another fifteen minutes while the professors located several Potions texts. Snape scribbled a note for Madam Prince informing her of the books they were taking, and finally the witch and wizard left the library.
"Wew," said Harry. "I thought they were never going to leave." He pushed himself up off the floor and carefully crawled out from behind the bookshelf. Stretching the kinks out of his back, he turned to offer Hermione his hand only to see she was nowhere in sight. He panicked. "'Mione?" She was right behind him when they were hiding from the professors, so she could not have gotten past him without him knowing. Harry squeezed back behind the tall shelf.
"Hermione?" he whispered. "Where are you?" Moving back further, he held up his lit wand to examine the tight space. There was really no where she could have gone to escape, he noticed. This bookshelf was built into the corner, so the far end of it was flush against the wall. Maybe a foot and a half of clearance existed between the shelf and the wall, making it difficult to freely move. For the first time in his life Harry was glad the Dursleys did not feed him well. Looking down, he could see scuff marks in the dust, but they abruptly ended about halfway down the shelf. There must be a secret door here, he thought.
"'Mione," he whispered urgently. "Can you hear me?" He thought he heard the faint sound of a girl's voice coming from behind the wall. "Hermione, if you can hear me, I'm looking for the way to get you out of there. I'm going to search for the secret door, but if I can't find it, I'm going to get a professor. Hang tight, love. I'll find you."
His questing hands skated over the cool stones of the castle, seeking a way, any way to open the hidden door he was convinced was there. He found it by mere chance, the same way he imagined his girlfriend did. Harry's wand tapped a brick halfway up the wall. Before he could react, a door silently slid open and he found himself staring at an astonished Hermione. She threw herself into his arms.
"Oh Harry! I thought I was never going to get out of there! It's amazing, but it was only me and no one knew where I was and I didn't know where I was and I was afraid you were going to go get a professor, which would have been the right thing to do, but then we would have lost the opportunity to look at everything…"
He silenced her with a kiss. "Slow down, love. What do you mean?"
Hermione turned back to the room. "Lumos!" Small pinpoints of light began to glow around the room, illuminating the small area with a soft radiance. Books upon books were crammed into shelves on every wall, stretching from floor to ceiling. A small desk with two chairs sat at the center of the room, upon which were two reading stands, two pots of ink, and two golden quills.
"Bloody hell," he breathed.
"It has everything we should have been looking for, Harry. Information on the Founders, the construction of Hogwarts, the magic they used… it's all here."
"Wha… what about the Founders' Prophecy?"
"That was made long after this room was hidden. There's nothing about it here, but I'm not sure we need it. I wanted to look up information on the Founders' powers, what they did to build Hogwarts, anything that might help us when the time comes to fight Voldemort." Her face lit up. "There are even several books of Charms, defensive and offensive spells, and potions."
"Snape will love that," he muttered.
"We need to study everything we can, Harry, before we tell the headmaster about this room."
"What makes you think he doesn't know?"
Hermione eyed him skeptically. "Do you honestly think Headmaster Dumbledore would leave all this stuff accessible to the students, even if only by accident?"
"Good point." He thought for a moment. "Wait a minute. What do you mean 'tell the headmaster'? He'll expel us for this, 'Mione!"
"I don't think so, but you do have a good point. He's probably not going to be too thrilled that we have been searching for information on the Founders."
"We can tell him after all this is over."
She shook her head. "We should tell someone else. A teacher. An adult, at the very least."
"Lupin?"
"Do you think he'll keep this from the headmaster?"
Harry shrugged. "He was a Maurader."
"Yes, but he doesn't have free access to the castle. He would have to come here with Headmaster Dumbledore's permission."
"True. We can't tell Snape, either."
"No. Definitely not." Hermione lost herself in thought for a moment. "How about Professor Spellsinger? She's the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, so you could kind of say that protecting the school is part of her job description."
"That's stretching it, 'Mione."
"Well, she's really understanding," she retorted defensively. "We're not going to get into trouble if we tell her about this. And if we do, it shouldn't be too unpleasant."
The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Professor Spellsinger was his last link to Sirius besides Lupin. He trusted her, and knew she would do everything in her power to protect him. His only concern was her loyalty to the headmaster. Not that he distrusted Dumbledore, but the man had a terrible habit of trying to hide things from him. Like this prophecy. Harry had actually expected the old wizard to help them out with it. Instead, he dismissed them and had seemed completely unconcerned about a foretelling that might hold the key to Voldemort's defeat.
He nodded slowly. "I think you're right. We should tell her, but we should take care of our research first."
"We'll have to spend some serious time here, but I imagine we can have everything we need within a week."
"Good." Harry looked around the room and was struck with worry that someone might find it. "I wish there was some way we could hide it."
Hermione smiled. "There is." She pulled a thick tome off the shelf and turned it to a page near the center of the book. "Here. Read this."
Harry quickly scanned the text.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is the home to a sentient entity who agreed, with a blood bond, to serve the interests of the school and to protect it and the students the best it could. Rowena was the one who contacted the Sidhe and worked out an agreement that would give us the ability to bestow sentience on the key stone of the school. Hogwarts possesses the intellect of a house elf, without the integrated compulsions. Its purpose is to uphold the dictates of its binding.
Godric will be responsible for teaching Hogwarts, as he is the only true telepath among us. Salazarr is not happy with this state of events, but as he is only a Parselmouth, he has no choice but to agree. Once the bindings are in place, we will empower the entity and the castle with our gifts, and then the wards will be created and tied to the key stone.
He looked at Hermione and stammered, "Wha… what makes you think there's anything I can do about this?"
The bushy haired girl frowned, and then marched over to point at the word "telepath". "I wonder, Harry. What could it possibly be?"
Harry noticed his girlfriend's temper growing, and realized the time for obfuscation was over. At least with her. Hermione was not the smartest witch of her generation for nothing. Somehow, she figured it out and was quite obviously angry with him for hiding it. He held up his hands. "Okay. Okay. I get your point. I'm sorry, 'Mione." He grabbed her hand. "They told me I couldn't tell anyone. Not even you and Ron."
She frowned. "That never stopped you before."
"And I had planned on telling you when everything was finished. I just… wanted to get through my training with the headmaster before I told you. That way he couldn't just pull it from my mind."
"So is it finished?"
"My training?" She nodded. "I have one more session to go. My final test, so to speak. If I can keep Dumbledore out of my head for the entirety of the session, then my training is finished and I can have my evenings back again."
"What about using your abilities?"
He shrugged. "That was the easy part. The difficult part is keeping others out and stopping myself from accidentally influencing other people."
"Like Ron."
"Yeah. Like Ron." He stood up. "We should go."
Hermione nodded. "Yeah. Ron might freak out if you're not all cozy in your bed when he gets back to Gryffindor."
Harry was startled by the sharpness in her voice. He quickly pulled her into his arms. "Maybe," he said softly, "but we have something to take care of first." He captured her lips in a tender kiss, which grew deeper and more passionate by the second. The reasons for them to be apart retreated into the background until it was only them and their desires. Neither student had any idea how long they stood there in each other arms, but it was with great reluctance that they finally parted.
Hermione gazed at him, breathless. "We… we should… get to bed, now." She flushed as a brief picture of them in bed together flashed through both their heads. "I mean…"
"We should get back to Gryffindor," he finished. "To our rooms. Alone."
"Right."
"Right."
Before they left the room, Harry reached out with his mind, careful not to draw the attention of the headmaster, and tried to contact the spirit of Hogwarts. He was surprised when it eagerly greeted him.
Son of Light.
"Er…" Son of Light? He concentrated. Spirit of Hogwarts.
Greetings, in the name of the Founders.
Greetings to you as well.
What is your command, Son of Light?
The formality came surprisingly easy to him. I wish you to seal this room from all but myself and my companion. He pictured Hermione.
It is done, Son of Light. You and the Daughter of Light are the only ones besides the headmaster that may access this room.
Thank you, Spirit of Hogwarts.
I am for your purpose, Son of Light.
The mental presence faded, leaving Harry wondering what the hell just happened. He turned to Hermione. "It's done. Only you, me, and the headmaster can access this room."
She nodded. "Good. We should go."
"Wait. One thing. It told me the answer to one of your questions about the prophecy."
Her eyes lit up with unabashed excitement. "What did it say?"
He smiled depreciatingly. "Apparently, I am the Son of Light."
"I figured that."
"And you, my darling, are the Daughter of Light."
Hermione looked surprised at that. "Interesting. I guess I should have expected that."
He grinned at her. "You know what this means, don't you?"
"What?"
He grabbed her waist and pulled her to him. "You're stuck with me."
Her eye turned soft and she saw the love in his gaze. "Good," she said quietly, "because I have no intentions of ever letting you go."
This time their kiss was far more passionate, but did not last nearly long enough. The need to return to Gryffindor Tower impinged on their minds and it was out of necessity that they closed up the room and snuck back to the common room. Another tender kiss was their only goodnight, and both students headed to bed, floating on air.
The next morning, Harry woke up to find Ron glaring despondently at the wall. He quickly removed the smile from his face, and moved over to sit next to his friend.
"What's wrong, Ron?"
It was several minutes before the red-haired boy responded. "Lavender's royally hacked off at me."
Harry was surprised. Even Hermione did not get angry with Ron that quickly. "What happened?"
Ron sighed. "I buggered things up." He looked at his best friend. "I made the mistake of telling her that she's not the most beautiful girl in school."
Personally, Harry did not see how his friend was wrong, but he knew girls were sensitive to that sort of thing. "What did you tell her?"
"I said that she wasn't the most beautiful girl in school, but that she was pretty enough for me, and that was all that mattered."
"Ouch."
"What? I told the truth!"
Harry squirmed uncomfortably. "Er… sometimes that's not what girls want to hear, Ron."
"Well I'm not going to lie."
That never stopped you before, thought Harry before he could stop himself. "I… er… can respect that, but you can't expect Lavender to be happy with a guy that thinks other girls are more beautiful than her."
"Not girls, Harry. Girl. As in one."
Uh oh. "Who did you tell her?" He had a good idea of where this was going.
Ron looked at Harry like he was crazy. "Hermione, of course. Who else would I say?"
Harry groaned. Of course. "Oh Ron, that was the worst thing you could say. Everyone knows you had a thing for Hermione. The last thing your girlfriend wants to hear is that you find another girl you had an interest in more attractive than her. Blimey, mate. I don't thing she's going to be willing to go out with you anymore."
"She wasn't really my girlfriend. Besides," the other boy shrugged. "There are other girls out there."
"Er… right. And I'm sure they will leap at the chance to date the man who told Lavender Brown, one of the biggest gossips in school, that she was less attractive than Hermione."
"Well it's true, isn't it?"
"Of course it is, Ron. Hermione's the most beautiful girl there is. But I don't think other women want to hear that."
"Bloody hell. They can just get over themselves!" Ron stood up. "Maybe Parvati's available."
Harry watched incredulously as his friend quickly glanced at himself in the mirror, and then left the room, whistling.
What the hell was that?
The next week passed uneventfully, for the most part. Ron did his level best to woo every girl in their year, starting with the Gryffindors and then moving on to Ravenclaw after Katie Bell threatened to shove his broom into a very uncomfortable place. Ginny thought it was hilarious and continued writing her "Secret Admirer", who agreed with her sentiment. He informed her that had a bet going with the rest of Slytherin House as to the Gryffindor's success rate. So far, Draco was winning.
Hermione and Harry spent several hours a night in the secret room, studying the texts there and learning more about the history of Hogwarts than they ever imagined. Harry learned how to influence the staircases by talking to the school, and was even able to make the Room of Requirement appear on command. He was careful not to change too much, since they learned that the headmaster was tied telepathically into the key stone of the school. Apparently, all headmasters either possess or receive the gift in order to hold the position.
The decision to talk with Professor Spellsinger after the holiday was made, since they were going to be away from the school and still had a small bit of research left to do. Harry was curious as to what conclusions Hermione came up with, but he knew better than to bother her about it. She would tell him when everything was ready.
In the meantime, he was having issues of his own. The dreams had gotten worse, as of late, but it was the weekend before the Yule Ball that was the worst. He thrashed about in his sleep, mumbling things Ron was thankful he could not understand. Harry tossed and turned, his scar burning and the voices making his sleep restless. He knew he should block them out, but they seemed to be on about something important. He listened carefully, making sure he was hidden from the minds in the room. There were three forms in the dim room, making impossible to identify them visually. Fortunately, they were talking. There was the hissing voice, his enemy, garbed in shadows and exhilarated about…something.
"The attack went well, I assume? Did you get the artifact?"
The whiny voice was uncertain and completely cowed by his Master. "Must we use it on the children, sir? Their parents are the ones we are at war with."
"Foolish rat! The war does not know lines between age and gender. This is our chance to rid ourselves of that bloody meddler once and for all." That was the one with silver hair and flat, emotionless eyes. He was as cold as he was ruthless, his voice that of a wintry frost.
"Now Lucius, that is no way to speak with Peter. I'm sure he understands the importance of the situation and is only trying to help."
"His tender sensibilities are more appropriate to our enemies, my Lord. Surely you can't be listening to his drivel?"
"I do not agree with it, Lucius, but I always listen. It was he, after all, that led us to the knowledge that the artifact was now in England. Do not cast his voice aside so hastily. Go on, Peter."
"Well, sir, the best way to alienate an adult is to attack a child. There are many people that are sympathetic to our cause, but if we start out the year by destroying Hogwarts, they will turn against us. Despite what you may think, Lucius, we do need other Wizards to be on our side. Our Lord does not want to rule over a Wizarding World empty of Wizards. People fight to defend children."
"The fear resulting from our attack on the school should bring them to our sides in droves, my Lord. The very knowledge that we are too ruthless to spare even children…"
"Will drive our provisional supporters into the arms of our enemies. Peter is correct. We must wait."
"Wait! But most of the brats will be gone for the holiday! If we take out Dumbledore and the teachers, we will most likely get the majority of that bloody Order of the Phoenix!"
"We will not use the artifact until later, Lucius. I believe it would be better to save that for our finale. I will think on what we can do to eliminate Dumbledore and his annoying followers."
The voices grew faint with distance, and Harry found himself coming to in his bed at Hogwarts. Grabbing his wand, he quickly focused on blocking outsiders. "Contegrabrogo!" he muttered.
It appeared he still had a ways to go on his Occlumency lessons. They were going fairly well, but he still had the occasional dream that was not from inside his own head. Learning to control his telepathy had helped a great deal, but he was surprised to discover how much more he needed to learn. Harry fumbled around for his dream book and quill, and began writing. Professor Spellsinger had recommended he keep a journal near his bed for times like this. He hoped she would not be too disappointed in him.
Harry quickly fell back to sleep after chronicling what he saw, and the rest of the night passed uneventfully.
The next day dawned cold and darkly overcast – appropriate, it was said, to the latest events in the Wizarding world. Luna Lovegood was seated at the Gryffindor table with an open newspaper when Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny came down for breakfast. Ron frowned at her presence, still not able to understand why he agreed to be her date for the Yule Ball. One look at Hermione refreshed his memory. She had told him the only one she wanted to go to the ball with was the one she was in love with, and that he could bugger off if he didn't get the clue as to who that was.
Ironically enough, Ron had been ready to let well enough alone and go to the ball with Lavender Brown while Harry escorted Hermione. That plan fell through a few days ago when the angry Gryffindor told him she had already agreed to go with Dean. Against his better judgment, he asked Hermione, who rejected him. He stormed off and moments later found himself talking with Luna Lovegood about her plans to wear her dragon-tooth pendant with her dark blue and purple robes. She thought Professor Spellsinger might like them, and they would go smashingly well with her purple beret. Whatever that was. One thing led to another and he somehow asked her to be his date at the Ball. Now he was committed. He knew if he broke it off with Luna now, his sister would use him for target practice at their next DA meeting. Assuming she waited that long.
Harry had been uncharacteristically quiet all morning so far. Even Hermione was unable to get him to talk. He simply told her he had some things on his mind and would tell her when he was ready. His Occlumency lesson was tomorrow and he was planning on talking with Professor Spellsinger then about the dreams.
"Hi, Luna!"
"Hello, Ginny. Good morning, Ronald. Are you ready for tonight?"
"Uh, yeah. I'm, uh, really looking forward to it." He felt like he was going to burst into flame from the intensity of his sister's glare.
"Good. I found you a beret to match mine if you'd like to wear it."
"Uh, that's okay. I don't think it would go with my, uh, hair."
"It's such nice hair too. That's okay. I'll just picture you with it on as we dance."
Ron almost choked at that. She expected him to dance with her? "Er, uh…OW! That'll be nice." He could not believe Ginny would kick him like that.
"What about you, Harry? Would you like a beret?" She gazed dreamily at the dark-haired Gryffindor.
"Oh, uh, thanks, Luna, but I really don't think I'm a beret sort of person. Nice of you to offer, though."
"What are you reading, Luna?" Leave it to Hermione to ask a question like that.
"The Prophet. There was an attack last night. I wish we could have gotten the story first, but my father was busy meeting with a Lady of the Sidhe. She agreed to allow him to interview her for next week's edition of the Quibbler."
"You've got to be kidding me! The Sidhe? You mean elves? Like tall, beautiful, magic-using elves?"
"They were the creators of the house elves, you know. They called them gnomes."
"Oh bloody hell, Luna! Why do you…"
"Ron! Shut it. Luna, would you mind if we took a look at that article?" Ginny threw another glare at her brother.
"Sure, Ginny. I'm not sure how accurate it is, though. You know how the Prophet is."
"Right." Ginny took the proffered paper and quickly skimmed the article.
He Who Must Not Be Named Attacks Durrington
It was close to midnight when You Know Who and his followers Appareated in front of a small inn in Durrington and proceeded to attack and kill everyone inside. Carlton Harris, 10, was the only survivor. According to the young boy, the Death Eaters appeared to be intent on searching for something and eliminating witnesses to their activities. He attributes his survival to his hiding under his Invisibility Cloak in the corner of his parents' room.
The boy believes the Death Eaters found what they were looking for and set fire to the inn as a way of eliminating evidence. He was rescued by Auror Nymphadora Tonks, who said she caught him crawling out the second story window. The Dark Mark blazed in the sky as the inn burned.
Twenty three people total were killed – all by Death Eaters' curses – most of them in their beds as they slept. The Dark Lord's most recent recruits, the Dementors, were conspicuous in their absence. It is unknown what the evil wizard's followers were looking for, but anyone with information should contact the Ministry of Magic immediately.
Arthur Weasley, currently acting in lieu of the Minister of Magic, had this to say about the attack. "It's a tragedy that we were unable to get here in time to save those inside the building. Fortunately, we were able to chase the Death Eaters away before they did anything else to the rest of the town. I hope this emphasizes to everyone how serious this situation is, and if anyone can help us track down the Dark Lord and his servants, the Ministry will make sure they are well compensated. Unfortunately we have no further information at this time."
Arthur Weasley is assigned to the Department of Muggle Artifacts but has been temporarily reassigned to the Minister's office after Cornelius Fudge resigned earlier this year. Former Minister Fudge's administration has been accused on multiple occasions of letting politics influence his policies and his judgment. Upon the recommendation of the Council of Merlin, Mr. Weasley was promoted to interim Minister of Magic until an assembly can be held to elect a new one.
Harry abruptly got up from the table and walked out without a word to anyone. Hermione was concerned, but she knew he would not welcome company right now. Something was obviously bothering him and it was up to him to tell her when he could.
Harry blindly made his way through the halls with no real destination in mind. Why is it that he had to dream of things when it was too late to do anything about them? What was the use of having this bloody connection to Voldemort when all he could do was try and block it out? Twenty three people killed, he thought, and I couldn't do a damned thing. He felt bad about not talking to Hermione about this, but he really did not feel like hearing a lecture about Occlumency and how he should practice. He did practice. She just had no idea how draining it was. He honestly had no desire to go to the Yule Ball tonight after suffering through another bloody vision. However, he had promised Hermione he would go and offer moral support. Not to mention wanting to take advantage of the opportunity to spend an evening with her.
Harry found himself out on the Quidditch pitch with his Firebolt after deciding to take a ride around the area. He wished it were sunny out. The view from above was incredible when the sky was clear. Days like today always reminded him of the Dementors and how they had converged on him during the Quidditch match his third year. He could not believe people were surprised the creatures had left to join Voldemort. They had barely obeyed the Ministry to begin with. Had he not managed to cast that Patronus when they went back in time, he and Sirius would be dead – worse than dead, soulless – and there would be no champion of the Wizarding world. He wondered if Fudge ever thought about that.
His heart twinged at the thought of Sirius Black. He missed his godfather. More than he ever imagined. The pain was fading, but he knew it would always be there. Like his grief for his parents. He regretted not getting to know Sirius better while he had the chance. He should have opened that bloody mirror. Then Umbridge would not have been able to stop him from talking to Sirius.
His thoughts turned to the current Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He was still shocked that she knew Sirius. An even bigger shock was that she and Sirius had been so close. It eased his mind to know his godfather found some sort of happiness before he died. No thanks to Albus Dumbledore. He was still a bit angry about that. They should have told him about the link. They should have gotten someone else to teach him. Dumbledore was blinded by his faith in Severus Snape. He had no idea how much the man hated Harry, or if he did, he ignored it. Occlumency was difficult, yes, but with Snape it had been impossible.
He hoped things would be better after the holiday. It was getting more and more difficult to be around Hermione without declaring to the world that he loved her with all his heart. He yearned to take her into his arms and kiss her passionately, putting to rest the bloody rumours about his rejection of her. Only the danger to Hermione kept him from doing it. Ron's hostility, ironically enough, helped, but he knew he had slipped a bit lately. He needed to try and get better about restricting their association to friendship. Anything to keep the woman he loved safe.
Maybe he should not have offered to accompany her to the ball tonight.
Harry continued to fly, lost in his thoughts, unaware of the careful scrutiny by the elderly wizard atop the castle. Albus Dumbledore knew there were many things he should have done differently with the boy, but the least he could do was watch him and keep him safe while he fled to his favorite refuge.
Back in the Great Hall, Ginny and Hermione were discussing their plans for the Ball later that evening. Hermione secretly hoped she could talk Harry into dancing with her. She felt a chill crawl up her spine as she noticed Ginny Weasley grinning at her.
"So. What's this I hear about your date, tonight?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ginny," she huffed, "it's not that big of a deal."
"Not that big of a deal? 'Mione, if you and Harry are going to the ball together, then I am but a footstep away from winning the pot of 57 Galleons and 83 Knuts. I'd call that a big deal."
"We're going as friends, Ginny. Nothing more."
This time it was Ginny that rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, Hermione. Don't give me that. I know for a fact that no less than five boys asked you to the ball this year, not including my idiot brother," he scowled, "and you said no to all of them. Just so you could go with a 'friend' I suppose?"
"Well it's not like there's anyone else I want to go with," she snapped. "I'll take what I can get."
"A pity date?" asked Parvati snidely.
"No, Parvati," replied Ginny coldly. "That would be your realm of expertise. Or am I mistaken in the understanding that only one boy asked you to the ball and that was because he couldn't go with the girl he likes."
The dark-haired Gryffindor flushed. "That's not… we're… he likes me too!" she exclaimed defensively.
"I bet."
"At least you didn't have to pay your date," said Luna.
"What?" The three girls stared at her.
"Pansy Parkinson had to pay Draco Malfoy to take her to the ball this evening. Apparently, he is charging her a Galleon per dance, and has limited their association to no more than three."
Hermione was confused. "Wait. I thought she was dating Thanos Acheron."
"Not anymore. Apparently, her parents want her to try and get back together with Malfoy."
"Ewwww," said Parvati and Lavender.
Luna shrugged. "At least he's cute. And he's not such a bit prat this year." Ginny could swear that the odd girl glanced her way when she said it.
Luna turned her attention back to Ron, who looked like a man trapped into a horrible fate. The other students milled around chatting and finishing their breakfast before going off to do whatever it was they planned for the day. Most of the girls were going to prepare themselves for the evening and most of the guys were looking for idle diversions to keep them busy until the time came for them to get dressed.
Ryselle watched all this from her seat at the teachers' table. It seemed to her that few students were truly looking forward to the ball this evening. It was understandable there was some uncertainty from the attacks last night. Despite all that, however, she thought there were far too many subdued expressions for the day of such a festive event. Severus was scowling as he stumped over to his usual seat, but she had expected nothing less. He hated the fact that he had to be there at the Ball against his wishes.
Ryselle was actually looking forward to it. Being a student of her grandfather, she never had the chance to attend a school dance or any other such school function and was curious what it was all about. It surprised her that so many students seemed to be affecting the Potions master's attitude toward the dance. Surely they would appreciate a little celebration after the events of last year.
She knew everyone was a bit on edge, however, waiting for the next axe to fall. The attack last night took everyone by surprise. Voldemort had been rather quiet since the battle at the Ministry of Magic, affecting only a few odd killings and attacks during the past six months. She was relieved there was no sign of the Dementors as of yet, but knew it was only a matter of time. It would probably be soon.
Harry's DA group was ready to serve as an additional defensive force for the school should an attack come during the ball. There would be Aurors stationed around the grounds as a precautionary measure, but the force would be very small. She had given the students a refresher on standard defense and offence for yesterday's lesson.
"Severus? Do you think we should still have the ball tonight?"
He grimaced. "As much as I hate to say this, it will probably do the students some good. Assuming no one attacks."
"Do you think they will?"
"I doubt it. The Dark Lord prefers to attack randomly and with great surprise. There are going to be over a dozen Aurors here tonight, not to mention Headmaster Dumbldore and the rest of the teachers. Things should begin to lighten up as time for the ball approaches."
She smiled. "Does this include you?"
"What about me? Oh, you mean lightening up. I do not like these things, Ryselle. I am not a social person."
"There are ways to enjoy any situation, Severus. I am sure you could enjoy yourself if you tried."
"Perhaps I do not wish to try." He sounded annoyed.
She stiffened. "My apologies." Ryselle turned back to her food and quickly finished her breakfast.
He sighed. "No, it is I who should apologize. I don't mean to be short with you. I simply…am not comfortable at social events."
Grabbing one last piece of fruit, Ryselle stood up to leave. Her eyes met his. "Few are truly comfortable, Severus. Some of us just try to enjoy ourselves anyway."
He watched her as she headed out the doors, feeling like a heel the whole time. Why was it that his typical responses did not work with her? She always challenged him to try new things and look into his reasons for his habits. Bloody hell she is frustrating. He could not remain angry with her since she was only trying to help him enjoy his life a bit more. He knew if he could have articulated a reason he did not like the dance, then she would have left it at that and not gotten angry with his response. She would get over it, he knew. Quick to anger; quick to forget; that was his Ryselle. She would be fine by this evening. He would try to make it up to her at the ball anyway. Perhaps he would agree to be her partner for one dance.
Wait. Where did "his Ryselle" come from? Bloody hell.