THE CROOKED HEART

"The gullible often mistake the pronouncements of cynics as true insight. Cynics will warn that all men are corrupt, and that existence is fruitless. But a wise man knows that not all men are corrupt, and that life brings joy as well as sorrow. The cynics' pronouncements are merely half-truths, the dark side of wisdom." – David Farland

Chapter Eight: The Weapon

Ron woke to the clattering of dishes in the sink. His hand immediately went to his head. The hang-over of all hang-overs was currently ripping his head in half. It took Ron several moments to recall what had occurred last night that had resulted in him being in such an uncomfortable position on the dirty, carpeted floor. Wine. Cheap, red, muggle wine. His brain pounded ruthlessly on his skull. Fucking muggles.

"Argh," he groaned, as a particularly large bang of cutlery hitting the sink rang out through the room, and his head. "Stop the noise." He rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in the carpet.

"Oh, you're up." Ron heard Hermione put the dishes down and walk over to him. "Okay then. Your name is Ron Weasley, I'm Hermione, its noon and we're in a hotel not far from Brighton-"

"And are you psychotic?" Ron grumbled into the carpet. "This is information I'm familiar with."

"Oh," said Hermione sounding surprised. He heard her walk back to the little kitchenette. "Sorry. Harry woke up an hour ago with no idea about anything. He's been throwing up in the bathroom for the last forty minutes."

"Please don't talk about vomit." Ron squinted his eyes, suddenly very aware of how bright the sun was. "What about Malfoy?"

Hermione made a strange noise in the back of her throat. "He woke up just after me. Had a headache, but that's it. I heard him have a shower earlier, but I think he's gone back to bed now."

"Good plan." Ron closed his eyes, ready to sleep it off.

"Oh no you don't!" exclaimed Hermione. "This is our opportunity!"

Ron turned his head to look at her, her eyes wide and a big smile on her face … surely not?

Hermione picked up a steaming mug and walked back over to him. "Drink this coffee; it'll make you feel better. Then we can do it."

Ron's eyes enlarged.

"Oh come on," said Hermione. "Don't tell me you've changed your mind?" She put her hands on her hips. "Harry's past-out in the toilet. We can just go wake Malfoy up and Harry won't have to know."

"Oh," said Ron, suddenly comprehending Hermione. "Interrogate Malfoy. That's what you're talking about."

Hermione shook her head confusedly. "What did you think I was talking about?"

"Interrogating Malfoy," Ron answered quickly. "I just … you know … hang-over."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "Okay. Drink your coffee."

Ron and Hermione had decided only hours after Malfoy's arrival five days earlier; that there were things Malfoy wasn't telling them. They were determined to find out what these things were. They had gone to Harry about it, but he had told them to leave Malfoy alone, that the Slytherin had been through enough and he needed time to mend, not just from his physical wounds.

Whilst Ron and Hermione could concede that Malfoy wasn't the complete villain they would have liked him to be, they were becoming increasingly scared of Harry's refusal to see Malfoy for what he was. A scheming bastard who only cared about himself. Harry was going to get burnt, and damned if his best friends were going to sit still and let it happen.

Ron quickly drank his coffee and willed the throbbing in his head to go away. It didn't, but he sluggishly got to his feet anyway. As he stretched he felt his skin pull at the small of his back. "Ouch," said Ron, and he suddenly remembered why they had got drunk in the first place. To psych themselves up for their tattoos.

"Mine hurts a bit too," said Hermione as she opened the main bedroom's door, where Malfoy was residing. This had irked Ron as well – the sleeping arrangements. He and Harry were sharing the second bedroom – that had two singles – and Hermione was forced to sleep on the couch. In Ron's opinion, that's were the Death Eater should've been sleeping.

Malfoy was curled up into the fetal positing, the doona covering him entirely, but for a few wisps of his blonde hair that stuck out at the top, and a bit of his denim jeans that stuck out at the bottom.

Hermione closed the door, loudly. Malfoy jerked and slowly pulled the doona cover off. He caught a glimpse of Ron and Hermione and groaned, covering himself again. "Sod off, my head hurts enough without having to look at you two."

Ron bit his tongue for the moment, but his patience had been getting thin over the last few days. If Malfoy wasn't careful, he'd be at the receiving end of a rather nasty Bat-Bogey Hex. Ginny had taught him well.

"We aren't leaving," said Hermione, coolly. "We need to talk."

"Well I don't want to talk to you, so go shag Weasley and leave me alone," came Malfoy's muffled reply.

"No," said Hermione, firmly and loudly. Ron noticed though, that she had reddened around the cheeks and was pointedly avoiding his eye.

Malfoy pulled the doona cover off again, looking at them exasperatedly. "What the fuck do you want?"

"We want to ta-"

"Yes, yes. You want to talk, we established that, what?" said Malfoy sliding out of the bed, fully clothed in the muggle clothes Hermione had picked out for him.

"We need you to answer some questions for us," said Ron.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows and looked to the closed door. "Where's your fearless leader?"

"Violently vomiting in the bathroom," answered Hermione. She gave Malfoy a weird, knowing sort of look. "He doesn't remember a thing about last night."

Malfoy's eyes flickered for a very brief moment, but otherwise he paid no heed to Hermione's look. "Well, what do you want to ask me?"

"What do you know about Voldemort's weapon? The one he was trying to get by stealth?" asked Hermione. Malfoy's eyes widened a little and Ron was pleased to see he looked a little frightened at the prospect of betraying Voldemort.

"I don't know anything about that," he said darkly. "Only the Dark Lord himself, and maybe Snape and Dolohov know about that."

"You must know something, you know it exists. You must have heard something, seen something-"

"I don't know anything," snapped Malfoy, looking very nervous now. Ron wondered if Malfoy was going to fall back into his depressed stupor, like he had when Harry had tried to question him. Ron decided he didn't care.

"Where did you get the golden horse?" asked Ron, deciding to give up on the weapon for a moment and try something else.

"Why do you want to know?" came Malfoy's immediate reply, his eyes flashing tensely.

"Because we do," said Hermione. "And you are in no position to be arguing or negotiating. We can send you right back to where we found you."

"Found me?" Malfoy scoffed. "Is that what you're calling kidnapping? You idiots came and took me from my home and then fed me some bullshit story about my father wanting you to. And then you hole me up in here for a week, hiding my wand from me, feeding me crap and dressing me in muggle clothes, refusing to let me leave and breath some fucking fresh air," Malfoy was getting himself into a rant now. His pale cheeks had coloured and his fists were clenched. "And now you come in here, when my head is on the verge of exploding and try and pump me for information when you won't even tell me where we are-"

"Do you really think we would?" said Ron, frustrated. "We can't trust you. We can't tell you anything, not until you give us a reason to. Why can't you just tell us?"

"Because my information is the only thing that's stopping you from throwing me out!" shouted Malfoy. His eyes widened at what he'd said, and he then clamped his hand over his mouth.

Ron was shocked. Malfoy wanted to be with them. Ron, inadvertently, finally felt some sympathy for Malfoy. He must have been going through a seriously rough time to want to be with them over his Death Eater family and friends.

Silence reigned for a moment as Malfoy avoided their eyes. "Look Malfoy, we aren't going to throw you out," Hermione said calmly, taking a step toward him.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed angrily. "Stay away from me you filthy Mudblood!" He then viciously pushed her to the ground and ran out of the bedroom. Ron stood still for a moment, hovering over Hermione, unsure about whether to help her or go after Malfoy. Too late, Malfoy was out the front door.

Hermione got to her feet. "Oh no," she said, rubbing her arm where she'd fallen. There was footsteps coming towards them and Ron thought Malfoy might've come back. But it was Harry with wet hair – he'd just had a shower.

"What's going on?" he asked quickly. He glanced around the room and his face went white. He looked at them suspiciously. "Where is Malfoy?"

Remus Lupin looked over the parchment again, hoping to find another clue. He'd read it so many times that the paper was starting to thin. He sighed wearily, and read it again.

Remus Lupin,

This parchment will disintegrate into nothingness if any other than you read it. This letter contains information concerning the Dark Lord's activities. Through spells of the Dark Lord's own, I am unable to tell you everything, but there are some things I am able to divulge.

Firstly, he will attack Hogwarts. I am unable to tell you when, but your greatest fear may keep you away when it happens. I am unable to tell you how, but secret maps will not be of any use to him.

Secondly, he has the weapon. He knows how to use it. Only the boy may override his command of it.

Time is near. Make sure the boy is ready.

Remus sighed again. Obviously, Voldemort was going to attack Hogwarts when it's a full moon. That's what the anonymous writer must have meant when they said "your greatest fear may keep you away". And the reference to secret maps must've been the Marauders Map … will not be of any use to him … that meant he would not use any of the secret entrances. So that left the sky, the lake, the Forbidden Forrest and the front gate.

Remus breathed in the musky air of Grimmauld Place. The second bit of information was what really scared him. They could remove everyone from Hogwarts; no one need die if they choose to give it freely to Voldemort. But if Voldemort had the weapon …? Remus shuddered.

Only the boy may override his command of it. Well, that was fine except that Harry had been missing for two months now. No one had been able to find him, but for his anonymous informant that had sent a letter claiming Harry had been seen near Brighton. This information wasn't much use. Harry was likely to hide himself in the muggle areas and they had little hope of finding him in that case. Harry and Hermione knew how to live in the muggle world. They would not be found. Not unless they tracked their magic, but then the Ministry would also be able to find them, and Remus knew that Harry would not be on a holiday. He was clearly doing something important.

Remus moved from behind his desk to get a fresh piece of parchment. He would have to call a meeting straight away. They would have to find a way to figure out if their informant's information was accurate, or just a set up. And they would have to decide whether or not to force the issue with their hunt for Harry.

Remus could feel the walls closing in around him. The end was coming, and Remus wasn't sure if they'd be ready.

Harry had been running up and down the muggle streets for over an hour. He'd seen no sign of Malfoy and Harry was beginning to get extremely frustrated.

Ron and Hermione had told him what they'd done and he was furious with them. Any information that Malfoy could give, Harry was keen to get. But he had realised after that first night in Privet Drive, that Malfoy was not ready to talk. He had his own, inner demons to deal with before he could start to face the ones in the real world.

Harry wished that Ron and Hermione could've lain aside their past with Malfoy, and had just listened to him. He knew they meant well, but if they ended up being responsible for losing Malfoy … Harry would worry about Malfoy if he didn't find him. Harry was surprised to realise it, but he cared about Malfoy. He cared about all the Slytherins that he had once mentally persecuted. They were victims too, in their own way.

Harry ran off the main strip of shops and down an alley the led to the first few grains of sand, signifying a beach. Harry ran towards it, the cold wind smacking his face. He wished he'd put a jumper on before leaving the hotel room and gazed around the beach.

He sighed, relieved. Malfoy was one hundred metres in the distance, sitting cross-legged in the sand. Harry walked slowly towards him, catching his breath. As he got closer, he could see the blonde shivering away, his thin frame barely holding up in the strong, ocean breeze.

"You know this is stalking, Potter," he said, not looking away from the water as Harry came up beside him and flopped himself onto the sand. "It's illegal, you know."

Harry said nothing, and they sat in awkward silence for a while, watching the waves crash onto the shore. Finally, Harry cleared his throat. "So the thing is Malfoy," Harry began, "you were never part of the plan."

Harry felt Malfoy turn towards him, but Harry stared straight ahead. "There are things we have to do, and you were not meant to be here. But you are," said Harry. "And Ron and Hermione will accept it. And you will accept it."

Malfoy looked back down into the sand.

"As fate would have it, such is the epic cock-up that is my life," said Harry, not without bitterness, "you are a part of this now. So as I see it, you have two choices; be civil and stick it out with us, or I'll take you back to the Manor. And if you're lucky Malfoy, you'll see the end of this war, and Voldemort won't be on the other side of it."

Harry heard Malfoy sigh deeply. "You see Malfoy; even your father knew you weren't cut out to be a Death Eater. That's why he sent me. But you need to realise, that that's a good thing. And I know, that you can't stand the thought of working with a blood traitor, a half-blood and a Mudblood," said Harry. "But we're all you've got right now. And we, even Ron and Hermione, want you to see the other side of this war."

"Granger and the Weasel couldn't care less about me," said Malfoy darkly. "And you would happily sacrifice me to save a common muggle."

Harry decided to ignore the second part of Malfoy's statement, but replied to the first. "They do care. They care because your one of us." Harry looked to Malfoy. "Anyone of us could have been you. Could have had parents that infused into us this belief that blood-lines matter. Could have been sorted into a house the feeds on the angriest and darkest of our emotions. Could have had an enemy that was exactly like us, but at the same time, the exact opposite, and therefore constantly compared to us."

"You mean you?"

"Yes, I mean me," said Harry, a little impatiently. "But that's all over now. House loyalties, blood-lines … none of that's going to matter when you're at the receiving end of Avada Kedavra, when your friends are, when your family is. Do you get that?"

Malfoy turned away and nodded his head. "Yes, I get that."

"Ron and Hermione shouldn't have asked you those things," said Harry. "They shouldn't have pressured you. You can tell us what you know when you're ready."

Malfoy made no reply to this, and Harry continued. "We're killing Voldemort. That's what we're doing. His soul has been divided into seven pieces, and trapped inside objects. We're hunting down those objects, destroying them one at a time."

"You mean like horcruxes?" whispered Malfoy, sounding frightened.

"Yes," said Harry, surprised at Malfoy's knowledge. "That golden horse was one. That's why we wanted to know about it."

Malfoy looked at his shoes, clearly trying to figure something out. "I got the statue from my Aunt Fiona. She was the one that came upon you when you too took me from the manor. She said she got it from a friend."

"Fiona …" said Harry, something had triggered when Malfoy had mentioned her the first time, but he'd forgotten about it in the bustle of the events that had followed. "In the diary! My dad wrote about her in his diary," Harry said suddenly. "Christ, I think he even mentioned you!" Harry stood quickly and Malfoy followed suit.

"He talked about me?"

"Yeah," said Harry. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out Malfoy's wand, he handed it to Malfoy, who took it without comment. "Unless, you have a cousin. He said, "Fiona's nephew" or something, before all that stuff about Regulus-"

"Regulus Black?" exclaimed Malfoy as they headed back toward the alley that had lead down to the beach.

"Do you know him?"

"He and Aunty Fee were involved when they were teenagers. She was really upset when he was killed, mother talks about it all the time," said Malfoy quickly.

"Then he must have given her Gryffindor's horse!" said Harry.

"Gryffindor's horse?" asked Malfoy.

"Yes," said Harry. "Wherever possible, Voldemort tried to use objects belonging to the original founders of Hogwarts."

"How do you know all this?" Malfoy asked as they entered the main strip of shops again, and began dodging muggles.

"Dumbledore," said Harry, not elaborating further.

"Oh," said Malfoy, suddenly uncomfortable again. "Um, well how many horcruxes have you found?"

"Four. There are two left, and then what's left in Voldemort himself." Harry saw Malfoy shudder. He wanted to ask Malfoy, for about the one hundredth time, what had happened to him that had made him so emotionally frazzled of late, but once again decided not to. "My father was looking for the horcruxes with Regulus Black. He has a map in his diary showing where all the horcruxes are."

"That's handy," said Malfoy, eyeing off a cappuccino in the hands of muggle man bustling through the street. Harry noticed. "Come on," said Harry, motioning toward the café across the street.

Harry brought Malfoy and himself cappuccinos to go and they talked a mile a minute all the way back to their hotel. Harry filled Malfoy in on the Cup of Hufflepuff, which resulted in Malfoy revealing that the painting had spoken directly to him about it. Harry was relieved when Malfoy said he never told Voldemort about the cup being taken.

Someone watching them would never have known that Malfoy had broken Harry's nose a year ago, and Harry had given Malfoy a black eye a year before that, and that they had been bitter rivals for six years, finally culminating in Malfoy becoming a Death Eater and Harry becoming the Chosen One. Malfoy seemed pleased to be proactive and Harry was happy to have another opinion.

When they returned to the hotel room, Harry instantly pulled out the diary and showed Malfoy the map at the little kitchen table.

"That's the Manor!" he exclaimed, pointing at the dot that was not to far from where they currently were. Harry noticed Ron and Hermione hovering near them, but he did not acknowledge them.

"Yes, Riddle's diary. I destroyed that in second year, in the Chamber of Secrets."

Malfoy's eyes bulged. "I've seen that diary. Not too long ago in my father's study. It's got this gaping big hole in it and there's ink all over it."

"Yeah, that's it," said Harry. "I stabbed it with a Basilisk fang," he said indifferently.

Malfoy snapped his head up at him. "You're fucking crazy. No wonder you've nearly died about a billion times," he drawled. "It's called self-preservation, Potter. It's not completely selfish, you know."

"Whatever," said Harry, not really listening. "Do you know any of these places?"

"What are you doing?" shrieked Hermione at Harry, and they immediately stopped. "Why are you showing him? What if he goes and tells Voldemort?"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to say something, no doubt nasty. "Bite your tongue," Harry quickly interjected, giving Malfoy a reproachful look. "He's not going to Voldemort, Hermione. He's with us."

Hermione opened her mouth but nothing came out. Ron looked down, and then said, "Okay then." Hermione still looked disbelieving, but Ron took her hand and gave her a look and she slowly nodded her head. Harry smiled at them, gratefully.

"I know that place," said Malfoy quietly, looking at the dot in southern Scotland a little anxiously. "That's where the Dark Lord has his meetings."

"Do you know why he has them there?" asked Harry carefully.

Malfoy didn't answer at first; he seemed lost in a bad memory for a minute. But at last he shook his head to clear it. "It's where he found that snake, Nagini." Silence reigned for a few moments as they all thought on Malfoy's words.

"Of course!" exclaimed Hermione, momentarily forgetting her anger in the wake of a revelation. "Nagini's a horcrux too! It makes perfect sense. That's why Voldemort can possess the snake, because he is the snake, fundamentally speaking."

"But that's not good," said Ron. "Isn't the snake always with Voldemort? When will you get a chance to kill the snake?" he said, glancing over to Harry.

"Maybe when …" Malfoy began and then stopped.

Harry turned to him. "Maybe when what?"

He took a deep breath, like trying to drum up some courage. "Maybe when he attacks Hogwarts, you'll be able to do it."

Harry looked to Ron whose face had gone ashen. Hermione voiced what they were all thinking. "We need to find the fifth horcrux before then. If he attacks Hogwarts, then we'll have to be there. It's where you'll face him Harry," she said, and then with some feeling, "it's where you'll kill him."

The office didn't feel like hers. Minerva McGonagall was Headmistress of Hogwarts, but she did not feel like this office was hers. It was Albus'. It would always be Albus'.

It felt strange to sit behind the desk. Sometimes she would work on the other side, just to settle her anxiety and the portrait of Albus would stare down at her knowingly and she would cry.

She looked down at the owl she had just received from young Lupin. He had news for them. So did she. There was a spy at Hogwarts. She didn't know who it was though. Could it be tiny, Professor Flitwick? Witty, Professor Sinistra? Surly, Madam Pince? Or sweet, Madam Pomfrey? She didn't know.

She thought of her students, and how brave they were. Practicing day in and day out. Working on their spells and curses. She had gone down to the Room of Requirement a few times to teach a class, as had other teachers. She had shortened other classes so that they had time every day for their Dumbledore's Army meetings. Every student left in the school was in the club.

Ginny Weasley was the very face of courage. Minerva would make sure that girl was Head Girl next year …

She wrote a quick reply to Lupin, saying she would be there and sent her owl on its way, hoping that the news Lupin had, was of the good variety. Minerva had had enough bad news to last her a lifetime. And her life was nearly up.

Hermione had never been to Ireland before. Like so many other places she had been to in the last two months, she wished she could have come under different circumstances. She sighed wearily and Ron took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. She smiled gratefully at him as Harry and Malfoy ran back to the large oak tree where they had been waiting for them. It was about two hundred metres from the main gate to Dublin's National Park of Magical Creatures and Creations.

"The park's all closed off. There's security wizards and stuff," said Harry, slightly out of breath.

"And they've got dogs," added Malfoy darkly.

Hermione considered for a moment, the best course of action. It had been her idea to come here, to Dublin. Upon Harry revealing their plan to Malfoy; it seemed the logical thing to do. They had already wasted a lot of time and there was still two dots left on James Potter's map. This one and the one in central London. Hermione had chosen this one as her three companions had all shrugged their shoulders when she'd asked them to make a decision.

"Alright, we don't want to attract attention to ourselves," said Hermione, gazing up at the slowly darkening sky. "So it'd be best if two of us went into the park under the Invisibility Cloak, and the other two distract the security guards at the gate."

Harry nodded his head in agreement and began to pull out his shrunken trunk where the cloak was. "You three figure out which one's coming with me," he said.

"I am," said Malfoy quickly.

Hermione gave him a look. "No," she said. "Ron will go, you'll stay with me." Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her but she stood her ground and Ron went to Harry's side.

Harry and Ron, typically, may have been blind to the lascivious looks Malfoy had been throwing Harry when he thought no one was looking, but Hermione was not. She remembered last night very clearly, and she wanted to have a talk with Malfoy about it.

Ron and Harry disappeared under the cloak as Hermione said, "We'll go to the guards at the gate in about twenty minutes, so that's how long you've got. Squeeze my hand or something to let me know you've passed."

"No worries," came Ron's uncertain reply. Then they disappeared and only footsteps could be heard. Once the footsteps had faded Hermione turned to Malfoy.

"Are you okay? You're not tired or anything?" she asked, not unkindly. "Just thought you might still be recovering from your ah, incident."

Malfoy looked away from her, a scowl on his face. He slid down the trunk of the big oak and sat down, leaning against it. "I'm fine."

She nodded her head. "Good." She put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot, trying to find the right words. She decided there wasn't anyway to do it but to be frank, and as Malfoy was looking her incredulously – clearly aware of the fact there was something on her mind – she decided to just blurt it out.

"Are you into Harry?"

Malfoy looked away from her, a knowing smirk on his face, his suspicions of her thoughts clearly confirmed. "I am not into him, as you've so eloquently put it. I'm just attracted to him," he said easily and without embarrassment.

Hermione frowned at this, not sure whether or not to believe it. Malfoy looked unperturbed, carefully skinning a small, fallen branch of the oak.

"So you don't like ... like him?"

"No, I don't. He's nice to look at, that's all," said Malfoy. "Any straight woman or gay man would agree. It doesn't mean anything, Granger. And really Granger, "Do I like, like him?" What are you, twelve?"

She went red in the cheeks, but otherwise ignored the jibe. "Hmm," said Hermione, her eyes narrowed questioningly. "You don't seem concerned about me knowing. I could tell them, you know." She jerked her head towards the park, referring to Harry and Ron.

"I'm not concerned, because it's not important. It is what it is, nothing more, nothing less," Malfoy drawled easily. "And you won't tell Potter, because it might upset him, and you won't tell Weasley because he'll probably try and hurt me, and again, that will upset Potter."

She put her hands back on her hips and paced back and forth in front of him. "I believe you're being truthful about not wanting to return to Voldemort and the Death Eaters," said Hermione stoutly. Malfoy stiffened. "But I still don't trust you, you want to know why?"

Malfoy snorted. "Not really."

Hermione flushed. "Because you've never done anything unless you could see what was in it for you. And if a better option comes along, you might just ditch us. And you might just betray us. And that would upset Harry." Hermione shook her head at him. "Harry doesn't really trust you, you know. He just wants to. Because he needs to believe that there's good in everyone. And Ron and I, we're worried you're going to hurt him, and he's already been through so much-"

"Shut-up Granger," snapped Malfoy nastily. "You presume way too much about my character. And I'm done talking about this."

Hermione was about to reply when there was a sudden flash of light inside the park, and the booming sounds of large dogs barking. They looked at each other, eyes wide, before running towards the gate. The booming barks got closer and they could hear the sounds of men and women with Irish accents calling to each other. They hadn't even reached the gate when it was suddenly thrown off its hinges and out came Harry, dragging Ron.

Hermione ran forward. "What happened? Are you alright?" The shouting and barking was almost on top of them.

"He was attacked by the dogs. Quickly, get him back to the oak, I have to get the cloak," Harry was running back into the park before Hermione could protest and a particularly painful groan from Ron turned her attention away.

"Help me, Malfoy!" she shouted as she grabbed Ron under one of his arms. Malfoy hesitated for a moment and pulled a face, but grabbed Ron under the other arm all the same. They heaved him to his feet and awkwardly ran back to the oak, hiding behind it.

"The dogs," Malfoy said, once they'd lain Ron on the ground. Hermione looked back and could see five German Shepherds and two Border Collies exiting the park, their wizard owners spurring them on. "They'll be able to smell us," Malfoy said, sounding a little panicked.

"We have to hide our scent," said Hermione. She wracked her brain until a spell hit her. "Decadi!" she said, pointing her wand at Ron, repeating the spell on Malfoy and then herself.

She carefully peered behind the tree. The dogs were sniffing the air, but the scent was gone. Suddenly they turned back toward the park; their owners encouraged them to track the new scent.

"They lost us," whispered Hermione. "I think they've picked up Harry's scent. Oh, I hope he's alright."

"I wouldn't worry," said Ron, painfully. Hermione dropped down to inspect his wounds. He had a large bite on his arm that was bleeding heavily, and more scratches and bites on his legs and hands. Luckily, his neck and torso was fine.

"You should have seen him, Hermione," Ron said, sounding awed. "We were about to leave, there was nothing in the mausoleum but this statue of a woman holding her hand up in the air, and she was looking at it like there was a great big ring on it so-"

"So this is the place Dumbledore found the ring?" answered Hermione, conjuring bandages to wrap around Ron's bleeding limbs.

"Yeah, looks that way. But then these guards came at us out of no where, and Harry just held his wand up and bang all six of them went flying," said Ron, his eyes wide with shock. "And then the wizards with the dogs came from behind us and the dogs got me, and the wizards all threw some curses and stunning spells at Harry, all at once, and Harry just waved them away, and then he spelled the dogs away and then we ran out."

Hermione looked up at Malfoy who was looking out into the night, trying to catch a glimpse of Harry. The barks of the dogs had faded far into the distance.

Hermione, done with bandaging Ron, stood up beside Malfoy, looking for a sign of Harry. She suddenly heard footsteps approaching the tree; Harry appeared, pulling the Invisibility Cloak off. He was breathing heavily.

"You guys alright?" he asked, looking for Ron. "You right, Ron?"

Ron nodded his head and awkwardly got to his feet. "Superficial wounds, nothing deep."

"Good," said Harry taking a deep breath.

They took a moment to gather themselves until Malfoy interrupted the silence. "Well, this was a dead end," he said. "Please say we get to eat now."

Harry let out a short laugh. "Yeah, let's go find a hotel or something."

Harry led the way, helping a limping Ron along. Hermione watched Malfoy's eyes linger on Harry's backside for a moment. He turned to her and smirked, following after Harry. She frowned and followed in his wake.

... to be continued.

Author's Note: Thank you to my beta, Kristin. She is the queen, I bow to you. If you want more, you need to review.