Chapter Two: Dancing around the Topic
The sun was setting, and Harry's voice was growing hoarse. He was sitting on his sofa, and the other twenty-one year old looking boy was draped over a chair in front of him, resting his chin on the back of it, just listening, head cocked to one side, almost canine-like. "So … that's the story of my life," Harry said with a slight shrug.
"I died," the other boy remarked, rather calmly, ruffling a hand through his too-long hair. "I suppose I knew I had … but that's weird. Bella killed me – well, she was always was a crazy bitch. So, why did you get landed in that Duzley joint? Didn't your parents want to take you?"
"My parents?" Harry asked, somewhat confused. "They died when I was one, remember."
The other blushed slightly, he had gotten quite upset to learn of James' passing, then spent twenty minutes in the bathroom, apparently to get whatever it was that was making his eyes water, out. "Sorry – you look so like James it's hard … Mr. and Mrs. Potter, James's parents. Didn't they want to take you?"
"I never knew them," Harry said, "I suppose they're dead. No one's ever told me about them before."
The boy looked down, "Sorry," he muttered. "What about my family? Regulus – what did the little snot end up doing?"
"Uh – he's dead," Harry said, "He was killed by Death Eaters," he didn't mention that Regulus had been one of the Death Eaters, he didn't think that Sirius would want to know that. Because it was Sirius. Harry was sure of it – after the dream last night this had to be Sirius. It all fit, after all.
Sirius looked close to sad over that, but shrugged slightly, "My mum?"
"Dead."
"My dad?"
"Dead."
"So I'm free of those people," Sirius remarked bitterly. "I don't know what to feel about that …"
"You really didn't like them, did you?" Harry asked.
"No," Sirius replied, "I hated them, with their stupid pure-blood fanaticism and their idiotic traditions. But I should be sad that they're gone."
"If you aren't, then that's ok," Harry shrugged.
"OK. So the Potter's are dead, my family is dead … who else is dead? For that matter – who was your mother?"
"Lily Potter," Harry replied.
"Lily Evans?" Sirius asked, and Harry nodded. "Good lord! James got laid! She was a spunk."
"That's my mother you're talking about," Harry pointed out, and Sirius descended into laughter.
"James got laid several times! I mean, my mind feels like its got pieces missing, but I think I already knew that. They were together in seventh year… Screw that – James got hitched!"
Sirius's laughter was infectious, and it didn't take long for the both of them to end up on the floor, howling with laughter, although Harry had already forgotten what was funny. After awhile they calmed down and returned to their seats. "So, what happened to Andromeda? She was the only one of the pack that wasn't rotten."
"She married a Muggle called Ted Tonks," Harry replied.
"Go her!" Sirius said with a grin. "Let me guess – she got blasted from the tapestry?"
"Of course," Harry smiled back. "They have a daughter named Nymphadora," Sirius exploded into giggles, "But if you call anything but Tonks she'll curse you. She's an Auror."
"So do I look like this Ted Tonks guy?" Sirius asked.
"I've never met him – why do you ask?"
"Because you thought I was 'Tonks'," Sirius said.
"Nymphadora is a Metamorphmagus, I thought she was playing some sort of joke by pretending to me," Harry said uncomfortably, and Sirius nodded his understanding.
"So she's like me? What happened to Remus and Peter then?"
"When Voldemort was after my parents, they went into hiding. They performed some charm that included a Secret Keeper," Harry said.
"Was that me?" Sirius asked.
"It was going to be. You changed to Peter at the last minute," Harry replied, bitterly.
"That wasn't such a good move, was it?" Sirius asked, the laughter dying from his face, as though he was thinking really hard, trying to remember.
"No. A week after you performed the spell, he betrayed them to Voldemort, who killed them. You tried to kill him and landed up in Azkaban for twelve years," Harry finished the story.
"The bastard! I'll kill him!"
"You tried, failed and ended up in Azkaban," Harry pointed out, as Sirius got up and started pacing up and down the small room, face murderous. Suddenly, he calmed with a frightening speed and turned back to Harry.
"What about Remus? Is he still alive?"
"Yes," Harry reassured him, "Remus is alive and well … or he was the last time I saw him – he's quite happy at the moment, of course, he's getting married."
"WHAT? Wow, I half expected you to tell me he had kids too already, but just getting married now? To who?" Sirius said in delight.
"Tonks" Harry beamed back.
"That is far too awesome for words." Sirius said with a nod. "Well, I think that's most of the important people and questions out of the way … oh god, James got hitched!"
"Yes, and had me," Harry said, shaking his head.
"So, what about you? You've told me the basics. Did you rule Hogwarts, which is your heritage?"
Harry smiled, "I'm not James, Sirius. No, I don't rule Hogwarts. Before I came to Hogwarts, I had never had a friend in my life that I could remember. I have two good friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and a group called DA which we formed fifth year-"
"Because of that Umbridge woman," Sirius nodded, because Harry had mentioned her before when he was telling Sirius about the night that he died. "So, you have a group – that's a start. So, what do we do now?"
Harry thought about this, "Write to McGonnagal," he said, standing up and heading over to his desk, starting slightly when the clock read 9:00 pm. He had sent a note to work earlier explaining his absence as the flu.
He wrote a brief, and somewhat confusing; not that it could be any other way, letter to his teacher and sent it off with Hedwig, before ordering delivered pizza, which arrived shortly later by floo. While they ate Sirius had insisted that Harry tell him exactly what had gone on throughout his years at Hogwarts, describe any new teachers and Harry's relationships with the other students.
Upon learning of Draco Malfoy, Sirius response was, "Narcissa bred – what an insult to the gene pool. I imagine he's a right little brat," at which Harry nodded emphatically, and then delicately told the story of the end of Dumbledore. Sirius went dead silent.
"Well, now I know why you wrote McGonnagal not Dumbledore. Oh shit, that's just…"
Harry nodded, and continued on his story.
Sirius was not pleased to learn that Severus Snape had gotten a job as Potions Master at the school, and was disgusted when Harry told him that Dumbledore trusted the man, and that had lead to his eventual demise. He made no effort to mask his hatred of Severus either.
"Though I do think, in some sick way, neither of those men who acted so darkly that night had any real choice in their actions from the moment Voldemort laid down his plan. It was as though they had to follow through…"
As though sensing Harry's heavy thoughts, Sirius begun and kept up kept up a run of cheerful banter with Harry for the rest of the meal, asking over work as an Auror, and remembering small things about the beginning of the Order of the Phoenix. It seemed he remembered nothing that came after his twenty first birthday, however.
Suddenly he sat up and grinned, his eyes becoming very focused. "I remember! Your parents… they got married!"
Harry looked at Sirius strangely, about to point out that he had said that, then realised, Sirius was remembering, being there! Right as Harry was about to ask Sirius to tell him about the wedding a tap at the window announced the return of Hedwig.
Harry retrieved and opened the envelope and flipped the letter out, reading it. "She says that she's going to come here tomorrow. She also tells me that if you go outside, I'm not allowed to follow you, but I shouldn't stop you, and I should do my best not to let you out of my sight, and at the slightest sign of foul play, I'm to stun or incapacitate you."
"She doesn't trust me then. Not surprising really," Sirius shrugged. "Now, tell me about the Order of the Phoenix … you've mentioned them a couple of times now. Where are they?"
Harry explained the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters to Sirius, and told him that they had lost many. He told Sirius a little about all of the surviving Order members, wondering if his godfather would remember any of them, and a few he did, although a couple of the names he found not so familiar. Moody he remembered as one of the greatest Aurors ever, and a couple of people he remembered from school, or social circles his parents had been involved with.
That night, when Harry announced he'd have to transfigure the sofa to fit Sirius, his godfather gave him a cheeky grin and shifted form with a soft 'pop', and the black dog – not as big, or as shaggy, as Harry remembered it being, and still very puppy like – flopped down over the two seater sofa, tongue lolling out as if it were grinning at him.
Harry woke with the warm weight landing on his feet, and the sun in his eyes. When he opened his eyes, he had to lift his hands to cover them and protect them from the blinding glare that was the sun. He blinked several times, peering between a gap in his fingers down to the end of his bed where Sirius was sprawled in dog form.
Harry groaned, seeing the time, half six in the morning. "Are you mad? GO AWAY!" He turned his head to the side, out of the suns glare, and closed his eyes again, drifting off to sleep again. He woke with Sirius standing over him, shaking him gently. Harry opened his eyes and blinked up his godfather, first in surprise, then in happiness. "Good morning, you're hard to wake up in the mornings, and you're a grouch. Like your mom," Sirius grinned at him.
"Morning, wait? What? No one has ever said I do anything like my mom before, just that I have her eyes." Harry said sleepily.
"Well I'm deliberately trying to spot the Lily in you I guess, so I stop mixing you with James. But I heard the sound of someone Aparating in," Sirius told him, "I think your Calvary has arrived, and not alone. There were three cracks."
Harry scrambled to his feet and began pulling on a pair of black slacks and oversized weasley jumper. "You're going outside wearing that?" Sirius asked him, "This is an important meeting! You look like someone just sorta… threw wool at you. Show me your clothes, you need to change … and I need something else to wear very soon …"
Harry looked down at what he was wearing, and admitted that Sirius had a point – his clothing was what he'd been wearing for the past two days, since he'd seen very little point in bothering to change. Sirius went over to Harry's wardrobe and went through it, tossing clothes out on the floor all over the place as he searched for something he deemed 'appropriate'.
"Don't you have anything nice?" Sirius asked, "These all wrong for you! What are these?" There were footsteps on the stairs outside now, it was obvious that McGonnagal and whoever she had brought with her where nearly upon them.
"Hand me downs, from years ago…" Harry replied, and Sirius rolled his eyes expressively. "In that case, we need to go shopping … but there's no time for that now, so, try… this." he thrust one of Harry's Auror robes at him, and Harry pulled it on quickly, just as a knock came on the door.
Harry walked over and pulled the door open. Professor Minerva McGonnagal was standing in front of him suddenly, looking down at him with an almost pitying look on her face, which annoyed Harry greatly. He didn't need pity, not now. He was happy now, and besides, he hadn't particularly wanted pity before anyway. Sympathy, yes, but not pity. Standing behind McGonnagal was Mad-Eye Moody and Bill Weasley.
"Good morning Harry," McGonnagal said with a smile. The other two men nodded in greeting.
"Morning," Harry said, pulling his door open, "Come in then …"
She nodded and the three of them walked passed Harry into the room, and then paused in surprise when they saw Sirius leaning against the window frame at the far side of the room, looking slightly windswept and quite handsome – Harry was sure that this look had been carefully arranged.
And where the hell had he found those clothes? The brownish grey shirt could have been one of Dudley's hand me downs, but had the union jack on the front, making it new looking, and it was considerably shrunk, as were the old jeans he had clinging to his hips and falling in causal folds round his trainers. He also sported a knee length black jacket and the overall look was, well, awesome.
All three adults looked surprised to see someone else in the room, and Harry felt a flash of burning rage. McGonagall looked like she was going to faint, reaching back and clutching the arm of Moody tightly. They hadn't expected to find anyone here. They'd thought that he had been delusional and childish, dreaming of his godfather coming back to life… well, he had done that, but it hadn't been any ordinary dream. They could have had at least a little more faith in him, Harry thought.
"Hi," Sirius said with a charming grin, pushing himself away from the window and walking over, extending a hand. "Nice to meet you, I'm Sirius Black … Professor McGonagall," he added, nodding to the two teacher as he shook hands with her. "And you are, sir?" he asked, looking at Moody.
"Alastor Moody," the man growled.
"The Auror? People really have changed a lot …" Sirius muttered, and then offering his hand to Moody as well, who gave it a look then looked deliberately at McGonnagal without shaking it.
"I can't see any spells around his appearance," Moody addressed Minerva, his magical eye rolling to keep Sirius in sight at all times. "Couldn't tell if there was any Polyjuice potion being used. He doesn't seem to remember me, and you would assume that an impostor would have been informed of who everyone Potter knew was."
McGonnagal nodded, then looked at Sirius, "What is your last memory?"
"You coming through that door," Sirius replied.
"From before you came here," McGonnagal sighed.
"Uh … The oldest I've managed to remember so far is my twenty first birthday… Evans slapping James when he grabbed her ass and pointed out it was his to grab anyway," Sirius replied. "Then waking up in London and making my way here to find Harry."
"Why were you looking for Harry?"
"I came back to help him," Sirius replied. "And I'm feeling rather confused right now. The last I remember Evans had only just married James and Remus and Peter and well, everyone I KNOW! Now they're all different, and James and Lily are dead and have a twenty-odd year old son," there were tears in Sirius's eyes as he said that. "I've lost everyone, Peter's suddenly a little bastard and I'm an orphan!"
"Calm down," McGonnagal told him gently, soothingly. "So, you say you came back – from where?"
Sirius gave him a look that clearly said McGonnagal was being stupid, "From death."
"Because you had to help Harry – why?"
"If he doesn't learn to love, he will die, and the war will be lost. Apparently I'm the best person to do that," Sirius shrugged. "So I came back to save a world where I don't know anything about anyone because everyone I did know is now apparently dead. Except Remus, and he didn't even come to see me."
"We thought it best that Remus not be informed of this … development," Bill interjected gently, "In case … well, we didn't want to get his hopes up …"
"You mean in case I was having some deluded dream and had started hallucinating," Harry muttered angrily.
"Mr Potter!" McGonagall said sharply.
"Well?"
"The thought may have crossed our minds," Moody growled before McGonagall could continue. "And it was a valid assumption – as far as I'm aware, the dead stayed dead, and no one could change that, no matter what they might want."
Harry shrugged, feeling uncomfortable under the gaze of both of Moody's eyes suddenly fixing on him, before the magical one rolled back to watch Sirius. Moody obviously still didn't completely trust him, but then, it was Moody.
"The one thing I can see as being acceptable proof of Sirius's identity, short of truth potions, which did not bring with us," McGonnagal suddenly announced, "Is to test his Animagus form. That cannot be faked, nor replicated with any potion or spell."
Immediately everyone turned to look at Sirius in expectation. Sirius looked momentarily surprised, then carefully changed his expression to one of nonchalance, "I don't know what you're talking about – I'm not an Animagus. That's illegal, and I'm too young anyway… wait, no I'm not. But I'm not…"
"You told us about your Animagus form many years ago," McGonnagal told him gently, "Rest assured, you will get in no trouble over it at all – we have no intention of informing the Ministry about anything to do with you at present."
"Oh, in that case," There was a soft pop and Sirius immediately took the form a black dog, just reaching it's maturity, paws still a little too big for it's body and it's head slightly overlarge as well. For a moment, he stayed that way, letting the three adults examine his form with their eyes, before changing back to human form.
"Thank you, Sirius," McGonnagal said with a smile. "Though I don't completely understand how this has happened, and I doubt that either of you do either, I think we have our proof that Sirius is exactly who he says he is. Now we just have to decide on a course of action …"
"You aren't taking Sirius away, he stays with me." Harry replied, eyes suddenly dangerous, as if daring the Order to try. Sirius walked over to stand beside Harry.
"Harry is about the one thing that is certain for me at the moment," he pointed out to the others, "I would be very uncomfortable if we were separated … even if I saw Moony, it wouldn't be the same, because he's so much older and I'm still the same age."
McGonnagal smiled, "I see we have at least one thing planned. Whatever happens, Harry and Sirius will be doing it together," she remarked. "Perhaps this is not the best place to come up with any plans … Sirius, how would you feel about visiting your old home at Grimmauld Place?"
"Harry told me that's where you guys have your safe house … if I went back there as a man, I suppose I can go back there now. Is Remus there?"
"He is," McGonagal confirmed, "In fact, Moody, perhaps you should go back and warn him about what has just has occurred … I don't think he could handle it if the man he has mourned turned up as a twenty one year old, out of the blue like this."
Alastor nodded, and, with a loud crack, dissaparated.
Sirius and Harry nodded. "We're burning everything in your wardrobe and starting from scratch," Sirius told Harry suddenly, as the other boy went to start picking up the clothes that Sirius had thrown haphazardly on the floor moments before. "Grab your galleons, we're going to have to go shopping, both of us."
Harry eyed a drawer and considered a concealing charm to protect it. Inside, lovingly folded and cherished, was all of the jumpers that Molly had ever made him over the years, but too late Sirius opened it and made a face. "My friend's mum knitted them for me," Harry said defensively, looking at Sirius, and closing the drawer.
"I didn't say anything," Sirius said hastily, holding up his hands.
The giant chandelier overhead was a marvel of bright crystalline candlelight, and its soft, but surprisingly dazzling glow lit up every corner of the grand ballroom, which overlooked he frozen ice fields of the Siberian countryside. It was in that moment that his life changed, Draco Malfoy would in the future muse to himself in moments of self-contemplation. In that otherwise inconspicuous second, when he stood in his finest dress robes, made from a heavy black silk, he heard it.
"And Hermione Granger is single again, it's quite the scandal, let me tell you!"
Draco stiffened, his whole body, focus and attention fixated on the conversation directly behind him. His hearing strained to block out the string quartet in the corner and divine out the words, listen to what was being said behind him. He knew the voice, it occurred to him, and it wasn't surprising that other British Witches and Wizards would be present at this international charity event, and the accompanying Quidditch game that had been held earlier in the day.
He had brought his secretary to the stupid thing, after her hints, which were as subtle as fuchsia kneazles charmed to sing the national anthem, had become intolerable. Sort of as a test for the girl to see if he should make the woman his mistress. The gold clad woman was now flaunting herself all over the dance floor and frankly, she was making Draco shudder from her display.
He half turned to look at the two women with his peripheral vision. One was much older than the other, but it was the younger he recognised as he turned back to the dance floor. Half to watch over his date, who was swiftly becoming too drunk, half to conceal his identity. He didn't think Lavender Brown would be too pleased he was listening in on her conversation.
"And now everyone thinks we slept together, but seriously, we just had coffee. I can't tell you everything but seriously. How long did Ron think Hermione was going to stay oblivious? Its been five years, and he hasn't been faithful for all of them, let me tell you that, so I guess I understand why she's so upset."
Draco didn't think he would be able to control himself as the half conversation he had tuned into turned out to be exactly what he had hoped. Hermione Granger was nursing a broken heart. He'd always known Weasley would do something to fuck it all up. He didn't deserve Granger. It wasn't that he wanted her for himself, far from it. She wasn't pure for one, he told himself. All he wanted was to get her out of his system. He had convinced himself over the years that just having her for one night, spending himself in her, would solve the small obsession.
It had all begun when she had turned up to the Yule Ball in fourth year. She'd been so… un-Granger. Frankly beautiful, and he'd had to bite his tongue all evening, and focus all his attention on Pansy to stop himself from looking at her. Because that had been the first time he had realised she was female.
Fifth year he had been nasty as hell. He knew it, but at the time he had been struggling with a massive crush, and a huge erection every time she sat anywhere near him in class. Her smell didn't help.
He had, until five minutes ago, let himself almost believe that it had all been the last figment of his boy hood, and that he had moved on from his stupid crush. But now, it seemed, Grangers allure was as potent as ever. But for now he pushed away from the marble column he was leaning against and strode to the far side of the room and out onto the wide balcony area, where people were milling around watching the fantastic celestial display of stars.
Nyxia gritted her teeth and forced out her 'pleasant social smile', the kind of smile that shows on the lips but goes no further. If one more person came up to offer their condolences for the death of her Grandfather she was going to start smashing stuff. Instead she stood there, her hands held in the dry and papery hands of one of her grandfathers barest acquaintances as he told her how sorry he was, as if he cared. She used the excuse of adjusting her skirt to let go. Her dress was something of a marvel actually. It was made from one of the old red velvet soviet flags, so that the golden hammer and sickle device across her chest and waist. She had specified the designer not to cut the flag, and he had done a marvellous job with the massive flag, creating a full skirt around her legs from the excess.
As soon as the person left, her smile disappeared and her impassive mask dropped like a shield. She was getting heartily sick of this, she just wanted to go back to her room and take a nice long soak in a tub of steaming hot water.
Viktor hadn't missed the slight tensing of his friends jaw muscles and knew her well enough by now to know that she was getting seriously pissed of. After knowing Nyxia for so many years he had learned to read her subtler body language in order to know what she was really feeling, it wasn't always easy as she was very good at hiding what she felt. But tonight Nyxia was tired and still wrung out from the funeral so her control was slipping a bit.
He looked around at Stan sitting on the other side of him and gave a small smile, the woman who had been hitting on him for the past ten minutes had now practically crawled into his lap. Stan was rejecting her advances in a polite way but unfortunately it wasn't working. She had just rocked up to their table in her clingy gold dress and just started chatting. Viktor had politely ignored her, which was a very effective deterrent, but poor Stan had made the mistake of making eye contact and responding. Now he couldn't get rid of her.
Touching Nyxia's hand to get her attention as she sat back in the gilded chair to his left, Viktor discreetly pointed in Stan's direction. Nyxia flashed a wicked mischievous smile, she couldn't stand stupid little twits and took immense delight in shooting them down whenever possible, figuratively and literally. Although she never got the chance to carry out the latter, she had often threatened. Gathering her skirts, she stood up and walked around the table in a calm manner. She highly doubted that the bimbo had noticed her sitting two chairs over which was fine by her. Tapping the woman on the shoulder she handed her Viktor's empty glass.
"Go get me another one, there's a dear." Nyxia said to the slightly confused woman, she then placed herself in Stan's lap and gave him a kiss on the cheek, "I'm sorry honey, I didn't mean to leave you alone for so long. I do hope you weren't too bored."
The gold woman gave a huff and put the glass down on the table with more force then was required, "I'm not a waitress," she said.
"Are you serious?" Nyxia raised an eyebrow and stood up so that she was facing the woman. Suppressing the urge to wrinkle her nose at the strong smell of alcohol that wafted from the woman, she gave her hollow 'pity' smile and used her most honey sweet tone of voice, the one that she used when physical pain is imminent.
"Then I apologise, I just assumed from your behaviour that you were … hmm, how to put this delicately?" She pressed the tip of one of her lethal looking long red fingernails to her bottom lip, "A drunken slut. Wait… no. A social climber of the lowest variety using a public event to try and charm her way in to the pants of the rich and famous? Was that too harsh?" Nyxia just kept smiling sweetly, as if waiting. "Now is the moment when you leave. Now scat." She made shooing motions with her hands.
With another, very annoyed, huff the woman stalked off. Stan gave a sigh of relief, resting his head on Nyxia's shoulder.
"Thank you, lovely, lovely Nyxia, I thought she would never leave." He said putting one hand across his eyes.
Nyxia turned to him and smacked him lightly on the top of the head, her face becoming playful and all her shields and walls allowing the boys too see past to the real girl. "Fool," she said, "haven't you been taught how to repel idiots like her?"
Stan gave a noncommittal shrug, "I figured she would've gotten the idea."
She gave a sneer, "She was drunk, she wouldn't have noticed your rejections unless you slapped her across the face with them," she then gave Stan a genuine smile to help take the sting from her words, "I suppose it's not your fault, you have always been unwilling to be really mean," she gave a pause, "Don't change."
She looked around and instantly the social mask dropped into place. Viktor looked around and spotted another boring old man heading their way, presumedly to offer their condolences to Nyxia and basically try to take advantage of her grief to get her involved in their interests. Which usually turned out to be a large sum of money needed to invest in some new business or another. Standing up he walked over and offered her his hand.
"Would you care to dance?" he asked her.
Nyxia took the opening that he offered her and put her hand in his.
"I would like that very much." She replied.
Viktor swept her off onto the dance floor before anyone could intercept them.
The girl held herself with poise and elegance, as though she were born to hold all the eyes in the room. Her dress, red with the bust emblazoned with the soviet crest, marked her as a supporter of the Soviet team, and she was, unmistakeably, a pureblood. She turned her flashing eyes, the colour of dark chocolate, that shone with a sort of inner light, up to her partner and said something in Russian. Her voice clinched it. Draco knew this girl.
He couldn't place it, but it was in her eyes, the way she moved. Draco had met the girl before.
He turned his attention back to his current dance partner, the wife of one of his fathers friend and a woman he knew he had to keep up the perfect Malfoy image with. Her name was Iphigenia McNair, and she was involved with the Dark Lord and his business up to her neck. She was a stately old bag, with her stiff olive green dress and steel grey hair.
"My apologies, but the lady in the red dress… do we know her?" Draco asked, his voice a soft murmur near Iphigenia's ear.
McNair turned her stately head, and looked the girl up and down, before turning back to face Draco, "She has a familiar air to her, though I don't know who precisely she is. No one does. Her name is "Nyx" and it is rumoured, and she spends all her time with him." She gestured with a tilt of the head to Nyxia's partner.
Draco noticed for the first time that the familiar girl was dancing with Viktor Krum.
As the dance ended and his partner was politely taken to dance by her husband, Draco made his way over to where Nyxia and Krum stood.
"Krum. May I steal a dance from your beautiful partner?" Draco asked.
He knew the look Krum gave him, somewhere between suspicion and Hostility. He had received it ever since the incident with Dumbledore, and if he were frank, he had to admit it annoyed the fuck out of him when people judged him in such a manner. Krum's face seemed to at least hold some vague look about it as though he thought perhaps Draco was innocent. He kept his face in an impassive and casual smirk, however, and lifted his hand to the girl.
She looked up at Krum as she placed her hand in Draco's, her face almost bordering confusion. She didn't know who he was then. She then came into his arms and the dance began. Her steps were light, and were executed with well-practised ease. Her eyes trained on a spot over his left shoulder, a half smile on her face. It seemed she was perfectly happy, and if anything slightly bored.
That would have all been well and good, had Draco believed one second of it. He had spent enough time in the last few years with people pretending to be something they are not to pick the signs. Her eyes, dark depths, had a certain emotion, pushed well back, that surged forward every now and again. Sadness, a deep-seated sorrow. Her mouth, lush and perfectly shaped, though carefully shaped into half a smile, wavered in those seconds.
"Forgive me if this sounds forward, but I believe, in fact I'm quite sure, we've met…"
She turned her eyes up to his face and shook her head, her brows knitting together in concentration, "No. We haven't."
Draco smiled, "I know your face, it seems quite familiar to me. You attended Durmstrang I take it?"
"Yes, but I'm quite sure I've never met you before now Mr. Malfoy, though Viktor has interesting things to say about you." Her voice held a cultured Russian accent, but there it was again, a certain familiarity.
Draco couldn't help but have a smirk spread across his face at this face, "Oh, I hope at least some of it was nice."
She looked back up at him, her eyes coming alive with dark mischief; she raised her eyebrows and shrugged, "Some, and some, though speculation, was downright intriguing. How does it feel to be infamous for a crime you yourself couldn't commit?"
Draco had to admire the girl even more. Her brash forwardness was fucking refreshing after the way most danced around him or pretended. He mused for a second on how hard or easy it may be to get her into bed, but in the end decided that her identity was a far more interesting conquest.
"Tell me your full name?" He inquired, bending his head low, his mouth near her ear.
"No"
"Tell me."
"Why should I?"
"Please?"
"Begging Mr. Malfoy?" She said in an innocent enough tone.
"Not a chance in hell, who are you?"
She spun away from him as the dance ended, a flourish of red velvet and sneaky smile. "I'm none of your concern Mr. Malfoy, and good evening to you." She walked away.
Ginny Weasley, dressed in her lime green Healers Robes, walked down the hall to the Doctors Lockers in St. Mungo's Hospital. Her once long read hair, now hung straight to her shoulders in careless layers, though her freckles remained the same. Much to her detriment. She had passed her exams and gone straight into training as a healer from Hogwarts.
She saw it as her way to help in the war. Her brothers and Father in the fight already, she had seen the devastation that a fight could inflict, and after they had nearly lost George at the end of her seventh year. She remembered the terrified, colourless look on Fred's face, and the sound of her mother sobbing. All her brothers had been there, and Fleur with baby Thomas. Her family had sat in these halls for hours, waiting and hoping. Harry had been there, and he had held her hand, she recalled every second in perfect clarity. He had held her hand and she had clung to it like a lifeline. She had decided in that moment, that she would be a healer.
And she frankly loved the work. She had a specialty in healing charms and hex reversal, but spent a lot of time in the paediatric ward. She loved the children she worked with, and taking care of them. One day she would talk Harry into having children. She just had to prove her place in this fight first. She made a difference, and one day, when the final fight came, she knew she would be needed, because it was going to get nasty.
She entered the lockers and almost ran straight into Neville, a fellow healer and Order member.
"Hold on there Red," he said with an affectionate grin, "Got a date or something?"
Ginny grinned. Neville was one of her best friends, and had helped her through the entire unit on Herbolgenic Healing, in fact, he had published quite a few definitive papers on the us of various plants in the Healing of illness, specifically one he wrote on the use of rose-petal essence in the improvement of the state of mind and attitudes of those suffering from Crucio-infirmity.
"No, I heard you were leaving, I'm on duty up at the headquarters tonight, so are you, thought we could grab something to eat and perhaps floo up together?"
Neville grinned, "Sounds like a plan to me."
Ginny grinned right back, shrugging out of her robes and into a coat, "Good, cos' it's your turn to pay."
REVIEW!
Ello all – yes, nasty Principessa didn't dance much with some of our favourites from the Harry-Verse, but Hermione makes her grand appearance soon. Review me if you luff' me, or I'll cry, loose my motivation and no more story for anyone! - Princess...
Vellouette - You are a doll - really. Thanks for reviewing!
Fifespice - Thanks for reviewing!