Evaluate This
Chapter 20
Two Weeks From Thursday
A/N: The next time I tell you guys that I want to redo this story STOP ME! I am never doing that again. Let alone I haven't updated since December, I didn't do hardly any editing until just this weekend—where I became an editing hurricane—and then I wrote this load of crap. So forgive me, and don't be too harsh.
A/N2: You guy's might want to reread the whole thing when you have a chance. Not much has changed, but a few things have.
Whisper to me: Hello there, the entire time you were sending me reviews; I was finishing up this horrid chapter! I can say that they were very nice. I do love reviews. You are correct about Miriam, the whole pendant thing will be explained in time, and you are also quite right to remember that there used to be more chapters. I was an idiot, and decided to re-edit everything…I'm such an idiot! Anyway. There used to be 22 chapters, now there are 20. I am fairly more happy with the story as a whole, except the last three chapters (including this one) which have gone absolutely nowhere…but I'm pretty sure it will start moving once more soon enough. Thank you for all the lovely reviews!
A note to those of you who do not log in and do not leave me your email addresses and ask questions pertaining to the story: Please, if you are going to ask questions, leave me some way to contact you with the answers…I'd would really rather keep this story on fanfic, and you never know when someone will hit that button and get me kicked off…for something as small as replying to reviewers…so for the love of everything, leave me some way to contact you. Thanks a bunch!
To my BETA: It's been sooooo long. I hope you don't mind I've just posted the chapter without sending it to you. Next time. Oh, and Happy VERY VERY VERY VERY belated birthday.
Recap: Basically, Blaise and Ginny have been causing havoc for the last three blasted chapters! And that's about it. I can not wait to move on.
Pansy's eyes were wide, her face pale—and her hands kept making a wringing motion, as if there were a towel possessed between the two that she was determined to wring dry—or a neck she hoped to wring of life.
Hermione tried her best to scramble up, but the sheets of her bed were so thoroughly tangled about her legs that the idea of standing was soon put out of her mind. Instead, she shook her head once, twice, trying to clear it. What the heck was going on?
The Slytherin girl's lips was trembling slightly, and it looked as if there were tears welling in her wide eyes. Hermione squinted, trying to see if they were indeed tears—while another part of her brain tried to sort through the words the girl had screamed, causing Hermione's abrupt ascent into the waking world. But for the life of her, it was only a jumbled garble of words that made no sense. Rubbing a tired hand across her eyes, Hermione reached for the lamp on her bedside table, only to be brought up short by Pansy's shaking hand.
"No. Keep it off. Don't wake." The girl sounded calm, even though Hermione could feel her trembling. She couldn't blame her. It was cold…
Shivering, Hermione tucked her hand back under the warm covers. "I'm already awake. What do you need?" She whispered.
The light in the room was barely enough, but Hermione saw Pansy blink, and the confusion on her face.
"You…" Pansy began, her finger pointing behind Hermione. "You…"
"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, concerned and not yet fully awake.
"I…" Pansy was shaking her head, blinking, and her hands continued their strange wringing motions.
"I forgot my knitting!" She exclaimed suddenly, causing Hermione to jump.
"Knitting?" she asked delicately, wondering if she were indeed awake or just caught in some bizarre dream.
"I left the knitting…I left…I…" Pansy was now fumbling around Hermione's room—hopefully, Hermione thought, looking for the door. She made a pathetic attempt to untangle the sheets from her legs—intent on leading the girl by the hand all the way out. But she gave up as Pansy made it to the door, mumbling still about knitting.
"I have to get back…"
Hermione stared as she turned, and ran into the wall. A small thud resounded through the moonlit room. And then there was Pansy again, walking like a drunk past the open door once more.
"Kitting is in the basket…"
Hermione heard the portrait open and close. Slowly, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and fell back her head bouncing softly off the pillow.
Why couldn't she catch hold of any of her thoughts? What was it that Pansy had screamed? Why couldn't she just think?
She watched the rippling shadows across the ceiling—the wind outside tossed branches, and the clouds were whipped across the moon. She must have put herself to bed…but…why did she have an odd feeling that something was wrong? She lay there, motionless, trying to catch her wayward thoughts.
She remembered Ginny…
Ginny pointing her wand at her…
Harry was a cat?
Ron was in a dress?
Mr. McGale was bouncing around like a gerbil in a ball?
And her and Malfoy were…
Hermione let out a muffled shriek of shock as a warm arm wrapped itself around her stomach, pulling her closer to an even warmer body. She could feel her heart as it pounded, and the buzz of adrenaline as she tried—rather unsuccessfully—to calm herself.
And her and Malfoy were most definitely sleeping together…in her bed.
Harry growled, his hair rising as the two humans approached. He knew better than to trust them—even if he couldn't remember the reasons why.
"Come here kitty kitty…"
That black haired boy was going to get his skin shredded if he dared call him kitty kitty one more time, Harry thought as he bared his teeth.
"Blaise, just pet him or…or something…"
Pet me and die, Harry thought, now turning his brilliant green eyes on the red head—I'll bite you, I swear I will, Harry thought menacingly, this time showing both teeth and claw as he batted at the advancing humans.
"He doesn't look friendly Ginny." Blaise murmured, wand pointed at the human sized feline.
"Oh for Merlin's sake—it's Harry Potter, Blaise, he isn't going to maul you!"
Blaise eyed the large kitten. "I don't think he knows he was Harry Potter anymore." He ducked as a paw that was once a human hand made a swipe at his head—claws sharp and gleaming. Blaise took seven steps back, until his back was up against a wall.
Take that you fool! Harry thought triumphantly.
"For goodness sakes, Ginny, just find the reversal spell. No matter what you say—I think Harry is very capable of mauling me!" Blaise squealed.
Ginny flipped through the book of spells, searching…searching…she heard another growl and looked up in time to see Harry lunge at Blaise, and to see the very scared Slytherin leap over the couch that Harry had been sleeping on.
"Maybe he just wants to play?"
"Are you crazy!" Blaise screamed. "He does not want to play!" Scrambling under a table Blaise raced towards Ginny, taking her by the shoulders as he used her for a human shield. "He wants to kill me!"
The 'he' in question was now seated before them, his tail flicking back and forth and his ears lowered in aggravation.
"Good kitty." Ginny said in a very, very small voice. Blaise grabbed the spell book from her hands and began to flip through it as Harry growled once more, scrunching down to the floor in what was nothing less than the position one took before a pounce.
"Hurry please."
"This is your fault." Blaise muttered, flipping the pages rapidly. Do you want to grow whiskers? No, Harry already had them; do you want to be a Calico? Nope. Spells to counteract…Blaise paused, running his finger down the index. "Here!" He handed the book back to Ginny. "Turn him human…please!" And fast, Blaise thought.
A flick of a wand later and a very irate Harry Potter was glowering at the two shaking students.
Harry glanced at his paws…no, he corrected, hands. He grinned slightly. He had hands! Getting up he stretched, all his muscles were bunched and tense. He felt as though he'd done acrobatic tricks—a whole lot of leaping and rolling—that he was sure he was not capable of. Eyes narrowing, Harry turned his attention to Blaise and Ginny, he might not be very acrobatic as a human, but as a cat…they were going to die. Slow, painful, never-ending death!
Ginny gave him a sheepish grin, her voice trembling as she took a tentative step forward. "Harry?"
Harry glared at Ron's sister. But before he could open his mouth to curse her, or the boy hiding behind her, he heard something that might have been the scream of a banshee.
"Get 'em!"
"Hold them down!"
"Don't let them get away!"
A jumble of puffy dress and tux, of red hair and blond attacked, smashing Ginny and Blaise into the ground.
"Geroffron!"
Harry, stunned, looked down as the fighting ended, leaving a very smothered Ginny and Blaise pinned to the floor. Pinned by none other than Ron and Charlotte…who were…
Wearing wedding clothes?
Harry shook his head. What had been going on?
Hermione was trying hard to wake the sleeping Slytherin—which was turning out to be quite a chore. He was very much a deep sleeper.
The softly calling his name—bother Malfoy and Draco—had been unsuccessful.
Pinching his skin had also gone unnoticed.
She was too lazy to fetch ice water…
But he wouldn't be sleeping much longer—in the blissful realm of dreams—if she could help it.
He was going to wake.
Right.
Now.
So help her, Hermione thought as she pulled the sleeves of her shirt to her elbows, he was going to get his lazy ass up and out of her bed!
Hermione unwrapped the arm that held her possessively, and using all the strength she could muster, she shoved hard, rolling the sleeping boy away from her, over the edge, and off the bed.
He fell with a crash. An instant later came a startled cry.
Well, he's awake now; Hermione thought with satisfaction—she didn't stop the smirk that spread over her lips. Slowly, she snaked her way over the bed to peer down at the fallen boy—she was sure to be witnessing the Malfoy's least composed moment to date.
Too bad she didn't think of the consequences of shoving said Malfoy off the bed—she'd have been less worried about witnessing him in distress and more worried about joining a witness relocation program.
But of course, it was not yet morning, and her brains weren't all where they should be—so she peered, rather unprotected, at the boy on the floor.
His hair sprawled over the carpet—a mess of silver-blond that shined in the moonlight, his arms were spread wide in an un-poetic attempt to break his fall—too late, and his eyes were clouded by sleep and unfocused.
Hermione felt a short pang of sorrow—what she'd done was awfully cruel…but it was only a passing sentiment and was gone sooner than it had come.
Draco's dreamy gray eyes blinked thoughtfully, the pale skin covering the haunting orbs, before fluttering open, more focused—harder. Hermione tried hard not to giggle. It didn't take the blond long before his beautiful eyes found Hermione's peering ones. She quickly found herself locked in a battle of the glares. He was most definitely pissed.
But who could blame the poor, sweet-natured, adorable Slytherin? Hermione tried hard not to laugh—Draco was not poor, far from it and he'd be the first to tell you, he was most certainly not sweet-natured—that was her, thank you very much—but she had to admit, he was awfully adorable. Even now, as he shot her his patented 'die and go to hell' glare.
Unable to control herself—Hermione broke eye contact, laying back down on the bed, stretching out to claim the whole thing for herself. It was hers after all—and Malfoy had no right to be sharing it with her.
She heard the distinct sounds of Draco getting up—it seemed the Slytherin was having quite a difficult time, if the sounds of his ascent were any indication. But a few moments later, Hermione saw the blond boy rise to his feet. He was just standing there—glaring.
Was she supposed to feel sorry?
Say sorry?
Was she supposed to let her Gryffindor goodness shine through and apologize?
I think not, Hermione thought decisively—she'd obviously been hanging around the Slytherin far too long.
"Don't you have anything to say to me?" Draco asked, his voice haughty and irritated—who in their right mind would be otherwise?
"Oh, come off it." She moaned, and turned to her side so that she no longer had to look at him. It would be several more hours before the sun would rise, and Hermione had every intention of going back to sleep—now that her bed was back in her complete and utter possession. He could just go to his room and sleep, she decided as she closed her eyes.
But Draco had other ideas.
"You have the audacity to push me out of bed, and then think that I'll let you go back to sleep?" Draco smoothed back his hair, before situating himself beside Hermione's turned back. "Well, Granger, I hope you don't have any plans of sleeping—because I can assure you, you won't be getting any!"
Hermione didn't say anything.
Draco gave her shoulder an annoyed shove. "Are you listening to me?"
Hermione stifled a laugh, keeping her breathing deep and even.
"Granger…" Draco prodded her. "I won't let you sleep!" Still no answer came, the girl was… "Granger! Stop ignoring me! I know you're awake, you are not that great an actress."
This time, Hermione couldn't help the laughter.
Draco scoffed. She was laughing at him. "Merlin! You give me a headache." Or possibly, it was from lack of sleep—but he'd rather blame Granger. His fingers gently rubbed his forehead as he felt Hermione shift so that she was lying on her back, looking up at him with laughing eyes.
"Poor baby, should I kiss it and make it all better?" Hermione joked.
However, Draco thought it was a rather grand idea. "Actually, Granger, I'd like that very much." And watched the smile slide off her face, Draco smirked—served her right. After all, he'd been sleeping so nicely—until he'd met up with that cruel, hard surface some people called a floor—and…
What exactly was he doing sleeping in Granger's room, in Granger's bed, in the first place? "What am I doing in here?"
Hermione blinked, then glanced up at the confused boy. "I…don't quite remember why."
Draco took in what little he could see in the moonlight. The bed was a mess—and he could tell that Hermione was impossibly tangled in the sheets. Her hair was wild from sleep, and her eyes soft. He almost didn't care that he couldn't remember…
Almost.
He might have been content with not knowing—had he still been asleep—however, she'd woken him…
Or the floor had, it depended on the way you viewed things—but Draco really didn't feel like cursing an inanimate object. Granger would do just fine.
Hermione could see the gleam in his eyes, and she'd learned by now that that was the gleam one needed to run for cover from. Instead of running however—she offered a small, shy, grin, hoping to appease the Slytherin.
"Don't you want to know why I pushed you out?"
"I'd think you'd do it, as no more than a fleeting thought, a moment of amusement at my distress." Draco replied icily.
"Oh really?" Hermione couldn't help but sound cynical. "And I'm the one known for doing cruel things for a moments amusement—of the two of us—eh?"
Draco grumbled. "I've had quite a bad influence on you." He felt his fatigue returning and he just couldn't help but let it go, he'd make her pay—some other day.
Even as he felt sleep tug at his eyes, Draco fought it, trying to at least settle one thing while he was awake.
When did remembering become such a chore?
He'd been dreaming at some point, he'd been seeing things from Hermione's perspective—almost as if…
Draco's eyes widened a fraction. "The body-switch!" He glanced at Hermione who was watching him intently "You don't remember anything?"
Hermione frowned—she did remember, a few things, that she would much rather forget. She'd much rather just observe Draco, as she'd been doing until he'd started talking. "I remember being…in your body…and I think…I think I remember you being…" her eyes narrowed. "Rather touchy with my own." She finished, her voice reaching a dangerous low.
Oh yeah…Draco thought, he vaguely remembered doing that—to simply piss her off. She'd glared at him, and used his own smirk against him. He'd felt compelled to make her feel the effects of her charms as well.
He had to admit though, that the whole experience had been very enlightening. He'd been able to see those few hairs that drove him insane—refusing to lie in place—and he'd dealt with them accordingly. He'd also been rather happy that Hermione had to suffer that pain and not himself.
And then…
She'd kissed him…her…he kissed him…Draco shook his head. Hermione, in his body had kissed him, in her body.
That had been…different. Amazingly so, he'd never before been on the receiving end of his kiss.
"You kissed me." Draco said softly, as he leaned over Hermione. She had the decency to blush, and in the moonlight, she was beautiful.
"Yeah…I think I did." Hermione murmured softly.
Draco smiled.
"Stop!"…Bounce…bounce... "Running!"…Bounce… "You Stupid!"…Bounce…bounce… "Woman!" Mr. McGale shouted as he rebounded into the wall and hit the floor, flying towards the ceiling. "Stop running for the!" …Bounce… "Love of Merlin!" He cried, holding the urge to wretch. When he got hold of those meddlesome kids…
He felt himself go green. Oh, those kids were going to pay! As soon as he could get Ms. Danna to stop this insane running—he was going to make sure they paid.
A few hours later…
"I'm so sorry Horace!"
"It isn't your fault Maggie." Mr. McGale assured the woman as he held the ever-lasting cold pack to his bruised cheek. "And I apologize for calling you stupid."
"You are forgiven. If only I'd had my wand." Ms. Danna growled, her legs were stiff and sore. Her lungs burned and her hair had fallen out of its tight bun and refused to be put back—that was the final straw—she could deal with the aches and pains, but her hair…that she could not. "Those fake marriage licenses, where did you put them?"
Mr. McGale took the ice pack away from his face, a cruel glint in his eyes. "Why my dear Ms. Danna, I do believe that I left them on my desk—right over there."
She grinned—if you could call it a grin—and walked over to the stack.
"Two weeks from Thursday, Ms. Danna." Mr. McGale said soothingly as he watched her shuffle through the stack of papers.
"Two weeks from Thursday, Mr. McGale."
"All hell will break loose."
"Won't Fudge be proud?"
"That he will."
Ms. Danna found the license she was looking for. "That he very much will."
A/N: Please tell me what you think. I promise you will not have to wait another four months for an update!
