Author's Note: There are now forums, for those of you who have burning questions about the story, plot, etc. Just click on my author's name to get to them. There's one for each of my stories. Also, this chapter is dedicated to Centaurs and her exploding head. Sorry about this taking so long. FFN wouldn't work for some reason.
"You do realize that…girl is a Muggle." Snape said as he transfigured his teeth back into the appropriate shape. He stood from his chair and went over to the mirror to make sure his teeth were no longer fangs. He enjoyed scaring students, yes, but he did not want to have to deal with a Hufflepuff fainting in his class. He nodded to himself and returned to his chair. He ignored the red and gold firework bouncing around in the far corner of his living room. How they managed to get a firework in his quarters…well, they were lucky he could not give them detention for it…yet.
"Of course, Severus." Draco said from his reclined position on the couch. "That's what I like about her." Snape sat up and glared at his charge. Draco Malfoy? Liking a Muggle?
"Who are you?" Snape demanded. "And what have you done with Draco?" he was tempted to draw his wand, but he wanted to allow Draco a chance to explain...if he could.
"Relax, Severus." Draco held up his hands in a placatory gesture. "I'm me." Draco cringed at that sentence. His mother would have hit him if she heard that.
"Then explain why Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin, likes a Muggle, for being a Muggle?" Snape said with a hiss.
"I do not see why you're so upset about it." Draco answered in a calm tone as he propped up his feet on the coffee table. "You don't have to marry her."
Snape felt his heart leapt into his throat and start a merry little jig. Oh dear, Merlin, no.
"Marriage?" Snape spat, sweeping over to Draco in a barely controlled rage. He knocked the boy's feet from the table. Draco's respect for furniture seemed to have diminished overnight. "You cannot marry her. You are only sixteen."
Draco seemed unperturbed by Snape's advance and gave him a blithe smile. "Malfoys always know who they want to marry early." He informed his mentor with a shrug. "My father picked my mother when he was fourteen." Draco explained with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"And we both know how well that worked out." Snape snarled and he swept away from Draco and over to his mirror again. He was aiming for the stand beneath it and what rested on that stand. He needed something to take away the foul taste in his mouth that came from his heart dancing in his throat.
"The difference between my father and I is that he wanted a show piece and I want a wife. No, more than that, I want a companion. Someone who loves me for who I am and not what my family has, or what my family wanted me to be. I want to make her happy, see that smile everyday when I wake up, show her real fairies. Love her." Draco trailed off into silent contemplation while Snape stared at him in horror, aghast at the words Draco was saying.
"Are you listening to yourself?" Snape rasped out around his heart dancing in his throat. "You're infatuated…or confounded." Snape's knees suddenly felt weak. Why in the world was he able to face the Dark Lord without a flinch, and yet, he could not manage to stand when the child he considered his son started talking about love, marriage, and pretty butterflies? Snape lowered his glass and dropped into a handy chair. "I am not sure which is worse." He raised a hand to the bridge of his nose and pinched it. He could feel a stupendous headache starting there and it was named "Draco".
"Neither, sir. I am neither infatuated nor confounded. I have felt both, and before you ask, I'm not going to tell you who." Snape lowered himself further into his chair. The brat beat him to it.
Draco's hand reached up and a light finger traveled down his scar before he dropped his hand back into his lap. "She doesn't know that I am the Slytherin Prince or whatever title people give me. She doesn't know about my father and what he has done. She only knows Drake. And she likes Drake."
Snape wanted to shake the boy until his teeth rattled in his skull. The boy was too young! "You are a boy. You are too young to think about marriage, much less start speaking of it in concrete terms. You have a place here, and I will not see you throw it away."
"I have a place here?" Draco latched onto the word and like an annoying yippy dog, would not release it. "A place?" Snape could read the suspicion in his eyes as he sat up and faced his mentor. Snape realized that this was not how he wanted to tell the boy, but it was too late now. He blamed the punch from the dance. Sugar was influencing his thought patterns. "Please, sir. By all means, tell me about my place here and how you've been planning my life behind my back!" Draco jumped to his feet and paced a bit beside the sitting area.
Snape allowed the boy to seethe for a few minutes. This kind of behavior was something he expected from Gryffindors. Well, the boy was upset, but some decorum would have been welcome. Well, time to end the ranting and reassert reason in the boy's mind. "What do you see when you look at this wall?" Snape asked as he gestured to the wall.
Draco stopped in his pacing and looked at Snape. His expression told Snape that he thought his mentor had gone a bit mad. "A wall. A door. A torch. A hideous painting that only the headmaster could have chosen." Well, a point to Slytherin. The headmaster had chosen that particular painting for Snape's quarters.
"What does Minerva McGonagall see when she looks at that wall?" Snape asked next. Draco gave him another "you've gone mad" look before he shrugged.
"Same as I do." Snape wanted to roll his eyes. One night among Muggles and Draco's grammatical skills had descended to a first year level. "Where are you going with this?" Draco demanded of Snape.
"Minerva McGonagall does not see a door. Albus wants me to center that painting of his. Flitwick is unaware of the door as well." He watched Draco puzzle it together. "Sit down, son." He told Draco. "I have a few things to tell you."
He stood, poured out another drink, and handed it to Draco. He and Albus had fought over the alcohol issue more than once. Albus thought the boy was too young to drink, but the offer of an adult drink served more than one function in their relationship. It acknowledged that Draco was an "adult" in Snape's eyes, at least capable of making adult decisions without a large amount of guidance. Its second purpose filled a more Slytherin application. Draco, while used to alcoholic beverages of a light nature (champagne at his parents' parties, for instance), was unaccustomed to the harder drinks Snape enjoyed. The alcohol lowered his inhibitions the slightest bit without affecting too much of his reason. It helped to buffer many of their discussions about the abuse Draco had suffered at the hands of his father in the past. He knew that Draco was a Slytherin and would not have faced his problems without some cushioning against feelings he was not used to displaying. Not the healthiest option, true, but it was the only one Draco had allowed when he and Snape had started talking about Draco's home life.
Draco took a sip of his drink and set it aside. "What do you have to tell me?" Snape looked at the boy's determined face and sighed. He hoped Draco was ready for this. Snape had hid from his own Head of House for three days when the man told him. Not that he was being cowardly. Nothing of the sort. He had just….waited for the best moment to express his rage at having his life ordered by something he could not control. Snape wondered if he should spell all of his glassware against breaking. Draco might be unpredictable.
"Salazar Slytherin left many enchantments in place when he left Hogwarts. Some of them include the staircases and a few portraits. Most of them involve the Head of House quarters and the passages connected to that door." Snape pointed at the door. Draco looked at the door and shrugged.
"Slytherin valued every one of his students and spent a lot of time with them after hours in the dormitory, tutoring the struggling students and mentoring the confused. He wanted such work to continue once he was gone. He created a spell with a method lost to us today that chooses the next Head of House so that his work with his students could continue. The enchantments work much like the Sorting Hat, but they are more in depth. They do not just see potential, but reality of how a person thinks and what they will do and why they do it."
"Are you saying that this Sorting enchantment has chosen me in some way?" Draco demanded as he put everything together.
"Yes." Snape's answer was simple and direct. "That is exactly what I am saying." He elaborated. "The enchantments would not have allowed you to use the passages, much less see the door if you were not Head of House material." Snape sat back in his chair and sipped at his own drink. Draco would react in just a few seconds.
"What if I don't want it?" Draco asked. "What if I want to marry a Muggle and become something mundane?"
"You would be bored. You know it; I know it." Draco shook his head and sighed lightly. "You have a place and future here, Draco. A career is waiting for you upon completion of your education. You just have to choose the subject you wish to teach."
"You already have it." Draco said. "There, can't take a position that is filled." He said with a triumphant smirk.
"Albus will have to hire a competent DADA teacher sooner or later…I plan to be ready for that date." Snape gave Draco one of his own triumphant smirks back. Two could play this game.
"I don't want this." Draco said.
"Neither did I." Snape agreed. "I thought it was the worst fate that could have possibly fallen for me. Instead, it's turned out to be a sort of blessing." Snape mused. Why had he not realized that before?
"I thought you hated teaching?" Draco asked.
"No. I love teaching gifted students. It's the ones who have no passion for my subject or endanger other students that make me want to hex every child I see." Snape said with a rather pensive expression. "There are students that make you wonder which ancient god you angered to ever be cursed with them."
"Longbottom." Draco said in an understanding tone.
"I've had worse." Snape told the boy. Draco gave him a disbelieving look. "Then, there are the students that make you wonder what you did right. The brilliant ones who seem to know, instinctively, what you mean and are able to answer back in the same language. They bring such natural skill to the art and improve upon it, almost subconsciously, without worrying about petty things in their work that do not need worried over."
"You sound like you've had one of those." Draco said with a faint question in his voice.
"Two in life." Snape said. "One, oh, some years ago. And you." Snape fell quiet and watched Draco. The boy was thinking rather deeply and Severus did want to disturb him. At least he wasn't raging and throwing things about the room. Snape would not have been surprised if that had happened. The feeling of being, well, trapped, would equate with Snape's own feelings when his Head of House told him all those years ago.
"I need to take a walk." Draco said suddenly as he rose from the couch. He stopped and looked down at his clothing. "After I change." Draco left the sitting room and entered his bedroom to change.
Snape smirked. Yes, this 'Han Solo' character would be a little difficult to pass off as a student of Hogwarts. Draco reemerged a few minutes later in normal clothing. "I'll be back later." He told Snape.
"Take your time. I can give you a hall pass to be out after curfew, if you want it." Snape told the boy.
"No need." Draco held up a gold badge with a "P" on it. "This is good for something." Draco disappeared out the door in the next instant, making Snape wonder what Potter would do with just such a badge. He shuddered to even put his mind to the possibilities.
"The possibilities are endless." Julie said as joined him at the mirror.
"You like Drake?" Draco Malfoy and a Muggle. He fought down a shudder and wondered what had happened to the universe he knew and loved. He pulled off the cap of his eyeliner and pondered the black pencil. Would he be able to draw lines this time around? He nodded to Allen as he came up and joined Harry.
"You'll never know!" Julie said. "Now, you need to draw some lines, don't you?" Harry mock glared at her and reached up to outline his eyes. He would never get good at this. He dropped his hand and studied the effect. Okay, he was getting better…right? They weren't as squiggly as the first time he had tried it. He finished his lines and started on color.
"Nervous?" Allen asked as he started on his own lines.
"No. You?" Harry asked as he stared at the lipstick tube. He hated lipstick even more than drawing lines. Lipstick was for girls. He should not have to wear it.
"Terrified." Allen confessed with a shaky smile. "It's normal, from what Bevie says." Allen contemplated his first line with a slightly disgusted face before rolling his eyes and moving onto the second. "You, though, seem to be abnormal for a brand new actor. Everyone is usually nervous the first time around."
"Abnormality. The story of my life." Harry said with a cocky grin. "You get used to it after a while." Harry said, still eyeing the lipstick as he would a Death Eater.
"The lipstick won't attack you, mate." Allen said as he moved his head back and forth to look at his lines. Julie giggled from behind him and hid her smile behind her hand when both boys glared at her.
"I hate lipstick." Harry told him. "Worse than brussel sprouts." Allen snickered as he moved on from lines to foundation.
"Yeah, well, your dislike for brussel sprouts knows no bounds, but you might as well get used to the lipstick now. Just do it real quick." Allen suggested as he covered a blemish. "Less painful that way."
"Ha ha." Harry told him. "Real funny." Harry opened the tube and did his best. A flash out of the corner of his eye made him turn and he spotted Bug with a large grin on his face.
"Gotcha." Bug said with a smirk while he shook the camera. Harry started towards him but was stopped by the sudden appearance of Bevie. Bug ran away, shouting to the girls that he caught a picture of Evan and lipstick. Harry groaned. He would never live it down now.
"Edmund!" Bevie threw an arm around Harry and steered him back towards the make up. "How are you this evening? Feeling alright? Nervous?"
Harry looked at his teacher, a little perplexed as to how he was supposed to answer him. "Which question would you like answered first, sir?"
"Never mind, never mind. You're not nervous, are you? Butterflies in your stomach?" Bevie wrung his hands together and danced from foot to foot.
"No, sir. I'm fine." Harry said as he turned back to the mirror.
"Alright, then. Edgar, the same?" He asked Allen with a worried face.
"Nothing I can't handle, sir." Allen said with a straight face. "I'll be fine." Bevie nodded and moved away, telling the boys that dress call would happen in just a few minutes.
"Why is Julie here?" Allen said in a whisper. "I was hoping that we would be spared her influence."
"Her influence keeps me from looking like a ghost." Harry told him. He and Allen did not have a chance to talk after that. Julie checked their make up efforts and seemed quite put out by the fact that "boys could never do make up". Harry was a little insulted by that comment. He thought he had done a good job on his make up. He had managed to put on lipstick without help of any kind.
Harry nodded his thanks to one of the costume crew for his wardrobe. Dress call had happened just a few minutes before and everyone had gathered in front of the costume crew to wait for the final pieces of their characters. Harry went over towards the changing areas, pulled the curtain across his changing area, and removed his shirt. He changed quickly and was just pulling on his boots when he heard several girls giggling just on the other side of the curtain.
"Give it up, you lot!" He told them with a laugh in his voice. "I'm already changed!" He heard several disappointed sounds and one voice that said "it's not fair!" before the giggling voices melted away. He had caught them before when he was being fitted. Paul had laughed a bit and told Harry that the girls were starting to notice Harry's body. Harry had blushed at that announcement and had asked Paul never to mention it again.
Harry rejoined Allen outside at the mirrors forone last quick look at himself. The energy was growing exponentially as they heard the crowds beyond the stage. Harry stepped away from Allen and swung his cape about to land on his shoulders. He checked his face one last time and blinked. He was wearing his contacts and he felt like a different person. He smirked and felt Edmund start to settle over him. He stepped back from the mirror, nodded to Allen, and went to his place. "Five minutes!" Harry heard from somewhere. Five minutes. He titled his head to one side in a stretch, slowly raised it and lowered it to the other side, and backwards. He took a deep breath and felt all of the tension leave his body. He dropped into leg stretches, just to give him something to do until he was ready to head onstage. He popped back up to his feet and started calming breathing exercises. The energy of the backstage was with him, but it was different from the giddy energy of yesterday. It was focused and determined. "One minute! Places, everyone." Harry checked his mark and nodded to the boy playing Gloucester, his father. He waited for Bevie to give them their cue and stepped out into the world of King Lear.
Harry stepped out onto the lonely stage with a rolled paper in his hands. He lowered his head lowered a bit. He was deep in thought and tapped the rolled paper against his forehead as though it helped him to sort his thoughts. He raised his eyes and stopped, struck by an idea in thought. "Thou, Nature, art my goddess; to thy law my services are bound." Harry felt rather than heard a hush fall in the auditorium. "Wherefore should I stand in the plague of custom and permit the curiosity of nations to deprive me, for that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines lag of a brother?" Harry clasped his hands behind his back and looked up at a point and beyond. "Why bastard? Wherefore base?"
Harry turned on his heel and moved to a wall on his left and leaned against it. "When my dimensions are as well compact, my mind as generous, and my shape as true, as honest madam's issue? Why brand they us with base? With baseness? Bastardy? Base, base?" His hand rose and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Who in the lusty stealth of nature take more composition and fierce quality than doth within a dull, stale, and tired bed go to th' creating a whole tribe of fops got 'tween asleep and wake? Well, then," He pushed off the wall and moved to the center stage with his rolled paper in one hand.
"Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land." He punctuated each word with a shake of the paper. "Our father's love," he raised his eyebrows "is to the bastard Edmund as to th' legitimate." He lowered the paper and stared into space for a moment before continuing. "Fine word, "legitimate"!" He raised his hand and brushed the air as though brushing away dust from a surface. "Well, my legitimate," he raised the paper again, "if this letter speed and my invention thrive, Edmund the base shall top th' legitimate." He smiled as though he could see his future before his eyes. Edmund would have land and power through no other course but his own making. "I grow, I prosper." He looked down at the rolled up paper in his hand. He raised it to his eye level for all to see. "Now, gods, stand up for bastards!"
The applause happened so suddenly that Harry was nearly thrown out of character. It crashed into his ears and deafened him. What had happened? What was going on? Harry realized that the applause was for him. It was for his performance and his abilities. They liked him for being able to perform and nothing else. No one out there in the audience (aside from those who already knew him) knew or cared that he was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. The applause was for him. Harry fought against a grin and held his position as an idea swept through him. This was what he wanted to do! This and nothing else. He wanted to be an actor and perform like this until he was old and gray. Forget being the Boy-Who-Lived. He could be someone else with every new show!
Gloucester entered and the applause died down slowly through his lines until the audience was silent for Harry's next line. Harry gave an inward smile. Now, gods, stand up for wizard turned actor.
Harry stood backstage for curtain call. He was hot and sweaty from all the lights and he was exhausted, but it was a good kind of exhaustion. It was an accomplished exhaustion. He swung his cape onto his shoulders and shrugged to make it fall correctly. Bevie announced his and Allen's names and Harry walked out onstage with his "brother".
The clapping for King Lear and Cordelia increased when he and Allen appeared. Harry took his bows as Bevie had taught him and moved to his place for the others to appear. He could not see past the first row with the lights, but he was almost sure he could hear Hermione from her seat. He waited patiently and clapped along with everyone else until the curtain closed entirely. "Everyone go out into the hallway. Meet and greet!" Bevie ushered them into the hallway and they lined up as he directed. Harry was the most uncomfortable about this part. Performing was fine; he was Edmund then. Now, he was Harry again. Or Evan, at the very least.
The doors to the auditorium opened and the audience poured out into the hallway to mingle with the actors. Harry stood still and waited. He would wait until most of the audience had left until he went in search of Hermione and Paul. And his aunt, if she was here. He hoped she was. She had said she was coming. He was startled when a random woman walked up to him. "You did such a good job, dear." She said as she held out her hand. "Well done." Harry thanked her and she walked away. That had been…strange. Allen grinned at him and shrugged.
"Excellent job." A man said in front of Harry. "You were Edmund." Well, that had been the idea, right? The man moved away and was replaced by another person who congratulated Harry and Allen on their sword fight.
"Allen?" Harry whispered as a man moved away from them. "What is going on?"
"What did you think happened in a meet and greet?" Allen asked with a smirk. "We get our praise and worship here, as well as on stage. Relax and enjoy it. You deserve it."
"Absolutely brilliant." A woman told Harry while her husband rolled his eyes. Harry couldn't help but smile at the man. The man winked and allowed his wife to drag him further down the line. Harry still wasn't sure what was expected of him, so he thanked each person for their compliments and looked around for familiar faces in the crowd.
"Evan!" Hermione's screech gave him exactly two point three seconds of warning before he found himself being hugged, effectively blocking him from a teenage girl who had chosen to hover around him and Allen. Harry had an idea as to why she was doing it, but he hesitated to try and confirm her reasons. He really didn't want to know.
"Hey, Mi." Harry said as he returned the hug. "Did you enjoy the show?" He asked with a smile.
"Did I enjoy the show?" Hermione repeated. "Skywalker, you were phenomenal. I didn't recognize you up there!" Hermione then proceeded to lecture Harry for five minutes about his performance and how much she had loved every second.
"Hermione!" Harry looked up to find Mr. and Mrs. Granger coming towards him. "There you are." She shook her head. "That was quite a performance."
"Thank you, Mrs. Granger." He smiled and nodded. "Hermione was just telling me that…for the eighth time."
"Sorry. It was brilliant." Hermione said to her mother. Harry smiled and ducked his head. He didn't think he would ever get used to this.
"I was just doing what Professor Bevington told me to do." He said and pointed towards his teacher. The man was talking rather quickly with another man. Harry could only guess that it was about the show. "I just followed directions."
"Well, son, you follow directions to a 'T'". Mr. Granger said. "That was rather amazing to watch." Harry wondered how many times he would be complimented this evening.
"Thank you, sir." He said. "I have your costume for you." Harry told him.
"Costume?" Hermione's mother turned and stared down her husband. "Costume?"
"Uh-oh." Hermione whispered. "Mum doesn't know Dad gave us those costumes." Hermione explained to Harry. "She threatened to make him do all of his own cooking. Dad's hopeless when it comes to the kitchen." Hermione smiled. "Let's see how this plays out!"
Harry could not understand why Hermione would want her parents to fight with each other over something like this or why she enjoyed it and found it entertaining. He had always avoided his aunt and uncle when they had fought. Granted, it never happened very often, but it was bad when it did happen. His uncle was never in a good mood when it was all over. Harry had hid outside more than once rather than allow his uncle to find him after such events.
"Hello, Harry." He heard his aunt whisper in his ear. He turned and found her smiling at him. He would never get used to that expression being directed at him. She cocked her head to the side. "You did very well tonight." She said.
"Thank you, Aunt Petunia." Harry said as he stepped closer to her. "I'm glad you could make it." Harry tried to relax, but he had not spent a lot of time alone with his aunt. He was a little uncomfortable, even with all the people about.
"You did an excellent job, young man!" A rather boisterous gentleman said as he stopped in front of Harry and offered his hand. Harry accepted it and shook it. He remembered that Bevie had been talking with him earlier when Harry had pointed Bevie out to the Grangers. "Gerald Saxton, Mr. James. Wonderful to meet you. Is this your mum?" He asked, looking at Petunia. "You must be very proud of him. You have a very talented child."
"I am proud of him, Mr. Saxton." She answered. "Very proud." She gave the man what Harry knew to be her 'most charming smile' and the man congratulated Harry again before moving on to Allen.
Harry was fighting to stand there with his aunt while others came up and spoke with him about his part. Bevie had not mentioned that it would be like this. No mention of this at all before opening night. He probably wanted to ensure he would still have a cast and had thought this would be a nice surprise of some sort. If this was a surprise, then Harry hated surprises. Harry had not liked crowds since his eleventh birthday when he and Hagrid had been bombarded by half the wizarding world (that's what it had felt like, anyway) and his dislike had only grown since then. This crowd was making Harry feel trapped and he wanted nothing more than to get away from them all and go somewhere safe and quiet. Alone. He was ready to do just that when his aunt's hand lightly settled on his shoulder. He felt the tension ease out of him. His aunt was here. That meant he was safe. She had faced fully trained wizards for him. Harry took a deep breath and felt his patience renew.
The crowds finally started to thin and Harry was grateful. He was ready to wash off his make up and get rid of the annoying itch. He reached up to rub at a particularly annoying itch and found his aunt catching his hand. "I am very proud of you, Harry." She told him in a quiet and earnest voice. "I've never seen something so powerful before. That man was right. You are very talented."
Harry, for some reason, found those four sentences meant more to him than any other praise he had received that evening. He gave her a true smile. "Thank you, Aunt Petunia." He saw her look behind him and he turned.
"Remus!' Remus stepped forward and pulled Harry into a hug. "You came!" Harry's voice was muffled, but he had a feeling that Remus would be able to understand him.
"Of course I did." Remus said. "I promised I would. I just had to fight against this huge crowd and then there was this rather large group gathered around you, fawning over getting to meet you and shake your hand."
Harry glared at Remus and stepped back from the hug. "You know I hate crowds." Harry whispered.
"I know." Remus smiled and ruffled Harry's hair with a quick hand. "That's why I tease you about them." Remus turned and greeted Hermione as she returned from her spectator sport of her parents' fight.
"Who won?" Remus asked with a knowing glint. Hermione had explained her parents' argument to him just a few minutes before when she pointed him in Harry's direction.
"Dad did. Mum didn't forbid him from giving us the costumes, just the pictures. She's agreed to make his favorite for dinner tomorrow." Hermione shrugged. "They've already kissed and made up. I was sure they were going to start snogging in another second, but I had to remind them that they were in a school with impressionable young children. They stopped just in time." Hermione gave a theatrical shudder and smiled. "Parents kissing. Ugh."
"Sorry to cut this short, um, Evan." Hermione's mother said as she walked up. "Hermione does have to get up early in the morning to return to school."
"Five more minutes, Mum?" Hermione asked with wide eyes. "Please? I have something really important to tell him." Hermione's mother gave her the look that all mothers give when faced with their offspring's pleas for 'just a few more minutes'.
"I'm timing you." Her mother said with a smile. "Go."
"May I borrow him for a minute?" She asked Petunia before dragging Harry away from everyone else. Hermione checked their surroundings before turning back to Harry. "I didn't have the time to write in the Mini-Messenger about this and last night wasn't a good opportunity with my escort." She said as she made a face at the idea. "I wanted to tell you that Dumbledore has become a little more aggressive."
"What do you mean?" Harry hissed. Dumbledore becoming aggressive on any front was a bad idea all around.
"I can't go anywhere without a Protector following me. Our friends try to stay near me, but there are times when they can't be there. It's mostly Ron and Parvarti, but I'm ready to go a bit spare." Hermione confessed. "I've succeeded in making Parvarti feel a bit ridiculous over the whole thing, but Ron has become insufferable." Hermione stopped and saw Harry's face. "Stop thinking right there. I'm not telling him a thing! I refuse." She put her hands on her hips and stared Harry down. "And don't think that means you can pull out your wand and do magic to call someone here. You are staying here and I am just going to up the ante."
"What are you going to do?" Harry asked.
"Make his life miserable, of course. What else would I do?" She gave Harry her plotting grin and laughed a little. "I just need to contact our friends with the exploding presents and things will get going from there."
Harry smirked at the idea of a lot of Weasley items invading Hogwarts. He almost wished he could be there to see it. "Please, Mi. Be careful. Get out if things become too difficult. He sounds like he's becoming desperate." Harry told her. "I don't want anything to happen to you if he decides to do something drastic to find me."
"He doesn't really have proof right now. He has vague suspicions, but he can't do anything until he gets some actual proof." Hermione explained. "I can handle him. I just wanted to let you know about it. I know how you are about being told things that concern you." She looked around the corner and saw her mother point to her watch. "I've got to go." Hermione hugged Harry and smiled. "Take care of yourself, Skywalker. Please take care."
"I will. I have enough people here who take care of me." Harry said with a smile. "Let's get back before your mum explodes."
Fudge was working late –again- and he was wishing that he had never heard the name of Dumbledore. He cursed the man with every breath in his body. That barmy old wizard was ruining all of his hard work! He couldn't get a straight answer out of the man about any situation. Now this thing with Potter had emerged. Requests to see the boy for goodwill type things with the Ministry had failed and outright demands were ignored…at the boy's request, of course. Fudge had yet to see the Potter boy and all letters addressed to the Boy-Who-Lived were returned unopened, not even touched by Potter at all. Dumbledore had to be hiding Potter away for his own use. That was the only explanation for the sudden shyness of Harry Potter from all other wizards save Dumbledore and his "instructors", handpicked by Dumbledore himself, no doubt. Fudge could no longer stand for it. The wizarding public deserved to know how Harry Potter was and Fudge needed to know where he was. It was time to force Dumbledore's hand. He would have to reveal where the boy was hidden or face the public's wrath.
Fudge was not concerned with the Dark Lord. Potter was stowed away somewhere with fully trained wizards at his beck and call for training and safety. The Dark Lord wouldn't bother trying to attack him there. There would be no point to it, save as an exercise in futility. There was no thing that Fudge had learned about the Dark Lord since his "official" return. He did not do "futile". Each one of his strikes was planned to the last flourish and blot. He did not ignore particulars. "Weasley."
Percy's head snapped up from his notes and turned to look at the Minister. "Send the article to the editor of the Daily Prophet with my seal attached. It's time for Dumbledore to stop hiding that wizarding world's hope away from the people." Weasley disappeared out the door and Fudge relaxed back into his chair. This move would create some discontent in the headmaster's popularity camp. He knew that Dumbledore would bow to the public's wishes and produce the boy for the world to see.
The boy was their last hope, after all. What else could be expected from the Boy-Who-Lived?
Author's Note: There you go. I hope that was long enough for you all. I can't say when the next chapter will be out, as I'm in the middle of several school projects at the moment. I hope you all enjoyed and don't forget about the forums!