Disclaimer: I don't own VM or HP.
"Care to make things interesting?" Dean asked.
"I'm always interesting," Draco said. "You'll have to be more specific." He and Dean were in the astronomy tower painstakingly cleaning and polishing all of the telescopes. Without magic, of course, as befit detention. Draco had gotten mouthy with Professor Sinistra and Dean had laughed, landing both of them in dutch with the prickly teacher. As a rule, Draco and Dean hated each other, as only a Gryffindor and a Slytherin could. Add in the fact that Dean was muggleborn and they competed on the Quidditch field, and you got a recipe for disaster. However, that didn't mean that they didn't respect each other, nor did it mean that they didn't occasionally find the other one hilarious.
"Well, Malfoy, it's no secret that you like playing with yourself," Dean stated, gesturing at the self-dealing cards Draco was playing with while Sinistra was out of the room.
"Like I'm the only wand-polisher in the room."
"Whoa, Malfoy," Dean said, holding his hands up. "What you and Weasley get up to in your own time is none of my business. I only thought you might be wiling to wager a bit."
"Wager what?"
"Galleons, of course. Care for a little wizard poker?"
"Thomas, it just so happens that a few of us are playing this weekend," Draco said.
"Nothing would give me greater pleasure than taking what little money you have. Do you even know how to play?"
"I've played a few times," Dean understated. He, Seamus and Cormac played at least once a month with Anthony Goldstein from Ravenclaw.
Draco asked, "Are you going home for Christmas?"
"Nope," Dean said. "Tell me when and where, blondie."
"Saturday, eleven o'clock. Dungeons. Come down with Ron; he'll let you in."
"Sounds like a plan," Dean said. "Now get off your ass and finish these telescopes.
O O O O O
"Why don't you go home for Christmas, Hermione?" Harry asked. "I know you miss your parents. Get out of this place for a little while."
"I'd like to, but I don't want to leave you all alone," she said. "I'll go home for Easter. My parents are thrilled that we're talking again, so they actually encouraged me to stay."
"I appreciate the sentiment, but it's not necessary," said Harry.
"I know, but I still want to," Hermione said. "We used to have fun at Christmas, didn't we?"
"We did. I guess I'm grateful for the company, then. Are you sure?"
"Yes," she answered. "We can relax; most of the school will be gone anyway, so it won't be that bad. Lupin's staying, so maybe the three of us and Hagrid can have a little Christmas party."
"How festive of you," said Harry.
"Well, I love a party," said Hermione.
"Hmm," Harry mused. "You like to study. You like to do homework. You like to knit hats for house elves. I didn't mention parties anywhere on that list."
"Ha ha," she said. "And what do you like? Quidditch and eating treacle tarts? It just so happens I have a wide range of interests, and one of them happens to be parties that consist of you, Hagrid and Professor Lupin. So there."
"Ahh," Harry said. "I didn't realize the specifics. Well, I like those parties, too, so we're all set. Now about those treacle tarts – they'll be at the party, right?"
O O O O O
"Gentlemen, prepare to lose your robes," Draco said to the wizards surrounding him.
"Again with the gay stuff," Dean said. "I told you, Malfoy, I'm not into the same things you and Weasley are."
Draco rolled his eyes. "It's just an expression, Thomas. It means I'm going to beat the lot of you."
"Don't be so sure," Dean said. "Looking around, I don't really fear the competition."
Draco snickered to himself. Thomas was a muggle-born - what could he possibly know about wizard's poker? Crabbe and Goyle were hopeless, and Ron was really only there to have something to do. Draco knew his friend couldn't bear to be home for Christmas since Ginny had died, and he himself wasn't exactly itching to spend time with his parents. Or his dad, anyway. Winning was going to be a breeze. Sure, Draco had plenty of money - but he liked other people's money even better.
Two hours later, Draco's confidence was gone. Dean was beating them all soundly, and it looked like there was no chance for anyone to come back. They had each put in fifty galleons - not exactly small change, even for Draco. Where Thomas had come up with the money was anyone's guess, but he hadn't blinked when Draco told him the buy-in amount. And now it looked like he was leaving two hundred galleons richer. Draco had a feeling that Thomas had hustled him. He couldn't be too mad, though, since that had been his own intention, too. Ron had been drunk for most of the game, but was still playing halfway decent, at least for him. Crabbe'd had a few strong early hands but had quickly petered out; Goyle, as usual, was stinking up the place. The five boys were actually having a good time, though, even with Thomas there. He took their ribbing, but threw it right back at them, and if he wasn't a Gryffindor mudblood, Draco would be half convinced he was an okay guy. That didn't mean, however, that he wanted to hand over his fifty galleons to he boy. Still, a game's a game.
"All right, snake-boys," Dean said, rubbing his hands together. "Hand over the pot. I've got ladies to impress with my brand new wad."
"Yeah, I've heard you and Granger are cozy," Draco said, watching Ron out of the corner of his eye. "Why don't you use some of that money to buy her a wig?"
"Jealous, Malfoy?"
"Not even a little bit," he said, walking over to their cash box. Each boy had deposited their money in a box, which had then been locked and charmed to keep them out of it until the game was over. He picked up the box and laid it on the table in front of Dean.
"All yours, Thomas. We all get lucky sometimes."
"Skill is not luck, Malfoy," said Dean. "Remember that next time you see me cozied up to a member of the opposite sex and you're still stuck with Weasley." He gave Draco a big smile and opened the box. Immediately, the smile turned to a look of anger and dismay. "What the hell, Malfoy? Where's my money?"
"Are you blind, Thomas? It's in there."
Dean turned the box upside down, shaking it in front of the boys. Not a knut fell out.
"Draco?" Crabbe said, turning to his friend. "I thought you put the money in there."
"So did I," said Draco. "You guys all saw me."
"Well, we're in a room full of wizards," Dean countered angrily. "Obviously one of you took it. Give it back. Now."
"One of us?" Draco protested. "You could have done it, Thomas."
"Why would I take my own money?"
"Maybe you didn't think you would win," said Draco, glaring at him.
Dean sneered at Draco and cracked his knuckles threateningly. "If I have to beat it out of you, I will."
Goyle grabbed his wand and pointed it at Dean. "Try it, Thomas. I dare you."
"Guys, cut it out," said Ron. "Dean, I swear I didn't take the money, and I don't think anyone else would have either. We've all been sitting here the whole time - who could have taken it?"
"Maybe Malfoy didn't really put it in the box," snapped Dean. "He could have tricked us."
"I didn't!"
"Prove it. All of you. Turn this room inside out Malfoy."
The boys spent the next thirty minutes ransacking the room, but the money was nowhere to be seen. Angry, Dean turned his wand on the boys. "Okay, we do this the hard way - all of you strip."
"Easy, Thomas," Draco sneered. "You'll not get the money in trade."
"Funny. Evenesco!" Immediately all four boys were stripped down to their underwear. Dean smirked at Draco and Ron's matching Quidditch-themed pants and jeered openly at Crabbe and Goyle's less-than-clean looking underwear.
"Gotta say, boys, not really seeing the appeal of Slytherin men right now," Dean said, laughing. The four boys sent him murderous looks, but as he had his wand still pointed at them, they said nothing. "I'm giving you guys until Christmas Eve to give me my money. And if my stocking's not full, your collective arses are going to be full of my wand and my foot." With that, he stormed out of the room.
O O O O O
"It's Christmas break," Hermione said to Dean. "I'm not working."
"C'mon, Granger, what else do you have to do? You know you live for this stuff. You love playing Miss Witch Detective. I think I even saw your business cards in the boys' room. Something like 'Owl Granger for a Good' - oh, that might have been something else."
"You really have to work on your people skills, Dean," Hermione said, glaring at him. "You're not exactly ingratiating yourself to me."
"You love the attention," said Dean, winking at her.
She rolled her eyes, but in truth, his teasing didn't really bother her. Their recent thawing towards one another had been slightly beneficial to her, after all. She was occasionally able to walk down the hallway without someone knocking her books from her hands.
"I need your help, Granger," he sing-songed.
"You need a new tune," she said. "Harry's meeting me in a few minutes - I don't have time for you."
"Oh, Potter can wait," Dean said. "After years in the spotlight, I think he likes playing your sidekick for a change. Granger, you know how this works. You help me, I help you."
"I have no interest in helping you out of yet another jam with Draco and his minions. Yes, I know why you're here, and I can't summon even one iota of sympathy for you. Begone, I'm busy."
"That was all of my savings, Hermione," said Dean, dropping his tough guy act.
"And yet I am unmoved," she said. "You play with snakes, you're gonna get bitten."
"I'll pay you twenty galleons to help me. That buys a lot of copies of Hogwarts, a History."
"Oh, fine," she snapped. What else did she have to do? "But it's twenty each for me and Harry. Take it or leave it."
"It's taken."
O O O O O
"Oh for the love of - what now, Granger?" Draco rolled his eyes as the pesky Gryffindor approached him at his library table. Couldn't the frizzy-haired bint find anyone else to bother? Why did she always have to sniff him out?
"I imagine you know why I'm here, Malfoy."
"I can imagine, yes, but I doubt it's the real reason," said Draco. "I can imagine you've come to finally declare your love for the color green. I can imagine you've come to beg me to get Ron back for you, or you're here so I can practice my hexes. I can imagine you want me to put in a good word for you with Snape. I can-"
"Are you finished?"
"For now," he said. "So you're here on Thomas's behalf? Interesting how chummy the two of you have become, Granger. You're starting to look like a one-man woman."
"And you continue to look like a jackass," Hermione replied, sitting down across from him. "I'm sorry to have to come to you again, really I am, but you always seem to be in the middle of one mess or another. For reasons unknown to me, I'm suddenly Miss Fix-It. Believe me; I liked our last year of silence much better."
"So did I," he sighed. "But I suppose the quicker I talk to you, the quicker you'll go away."
"That's the plan," she chirped. "Of course, I have Crabbe and Goyle to talk to next."
"And you chose me first? I'm flattered."
"Always get the worst over with first," she answered.
"So what now, you torture the truth out of me?"
"If you like," Hermione said.
"If I was the one who took Thomas's money, do you think I would even still be here talking to you?" Draco said, resigning himself to her continued presence. "I hate speaking to you at the best of times. You're slippery, Granger, a borderline Slytherin frankly, and you have a way of finding things out. If I had something to hide, you'd be the last person I'd chat up."
"A compliment?" Hermione said, raising her eyebrows. "And here I thought you kept your secrets close. You're suddenly afraid little old me is going to ferret out all your deepest, darkest?"
"Don't presume you'd ever get anything important out of me, Granger," snapped Draco, his eyes flashing. "I simply meant you're a nosy mudblood with far too much time on your hands. But why should I worry? Just because you're capable of getting the better of besotted Bulgarians and silly girls like Pansy and Romilda Vane, doesn't mean you will ever come out on top with me."
"I'll remember that the next time I have a craving for firewhiskey or house elf fighting," snorted Hermione, rising from the table and glaring at Draco. "I'm smarter than you are, Ferret. Never forget that."
"And I'm stronger, bigger and better," Draco retorted, jumping to his feet and looming over her. "I don't remember you looking so smart when you were begging Ron to take you back or stumbling drunk around our common room like a whore."
She flinched as if he'd slapped her. "I don't know how Ginny could have been so wrong about you. All those rumors about other guys were true, you pureblood piece of dung." Hermione didn't really know if they were true, but all she wanted to do was hurt him right now.
"It would be best if you left right now, Granger," said Draco, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "I don't want to have to hurt you."
"You can never hurt me, Malfoy," she spat. "Tell your stupid body guards I want to talk to them later. Oh, and Happy Christmas." With that, she turned and stomped out of the library, ignoring Madam Pince's scandalized looks.
O O O O O
"Oh, Hermione, can't we finally be finished with all of this shit?" Harry asked his friend. She had just informed him of their latest "job," and really - wasn't there anything else they could do with their time? Hermione was in a rage after talking to Malfoy, and he doubted seriously if conversing with Crabbe, Goyle, and especially Ron would improve her mood. And for what? So Dean Thomas could get the galleons back he shouldn't have bet in the first place?
"I'm sorry, Harry, but I told Dean we would help him," answered Hermione. "It's a job - how would I look if I backed out now?"
"Gee, Hermione, would your good name and upstanding reputation be tarnished?"
Hermione looked at Harry, dumbstruck. He had never been that nasty to her before; that was the sort of hateful thing Malfoy said, not Harry.
"Never mind," she whispered, fighting tears. "I'll do it myself."
"Hermione, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," Harry implored, wishing with all of his might that he had a time turner set for ten seconds earlier.
"Forget it, it doesn't matter," she said. "I'll see you later, Harry." She turned to leave. Harry grabbed her arm, but she shook him off and practically ran from the room.
"Shit!" he swore, kicking the couch. He hadn't meant to say those things to her, but damnit, why did they have to keep getting involved with Ron and Draco? All it did was hurt them both. Did she have some sort of masochistic streak that wouldn't let her get away from them? Harry didn't know everything that had happened in the last year, but he knew enough. He knew that Draco went out of his way to be cruel to Hermione, and he knew his former best friend wanted nothing to do with him and that Hermione's heart still hadn't healed from her and Ron's breakup. He knew that Ginny -beautiful, lively, spirited Ginny - was dead, and that nothing they did could ever bring her back. He just wished Hermione realized that, too.
Harry knew that Hermione wasn't convinced of Mundungus's guilt, and that more than anything she wanted to remember the events of that night. Harry had his own doubts, but what good could come of dredging it all up? What if he and Hermione were in some way responsible for Ginny's death? Is that something either of them needed or wanted to know? The suspicions that had surrounded them both for the last year were bad enough; what if people had actual ammunition against them? Harry knew he or Hermione were not capable of hurting Ginny, but what if it had been some sort of horrible accident? Hermione would never recover from the guilt and the Weasleys would be destroyed. What little peace Harry had would be gone. Wasn't it better just to let sleeping dragons lie?
Still, Hermione was the only friend Harry had, and she had asked for his help. He sighed loudly and went to apologize.
An hour later, Harry still hadn't been able to locate Hermione. He had looked in the library, of course, but he had also spoken to Hagrid and Lupin to no avail. She wasn't outside by the lake, nor in the owlery. Harry realized that over the past year, Hermione had probably had dozens of reasons to hide from her schoolmates; if she didn't want to be found, he wouldn't find her. He started to give up and go back to the common room when he ran into Ron.
"Hey, Harry," Ron grinned, looking very much like his normal self. "Draco told me Hermione's gotten you roped into another one of her schemes. It used to be the other way around, huh?"
Harry looked at Ron in shock; rarely did his former friend approach him with reminiscence of old. Maybe it was a Christmas miracle.
"Yeah, you know Hermione," Harry said, deciding to play nice. "You were at that card game, right? Any idea how the money could have gone missing?"
"Not really," Ron answered. "It was sort of weird. We all saw Draco put the money in and lock it; only alohamora would have gotten it open again. No one left the room and all of our wands were put away. I guess someone could have snuck their wand and non-verbaled it, but wouldn't we have seen them?"
"Weren't you all drinking?" Harry asked. "Not too hard to think someone could do it."
"I was faking," Ron admitted. "I wanted everyone to think I was drunk so they wouldn't think I was a threat. I'm not nearly as good at poker as I am at chess, you know? No one else was drinking much, I don't think. And Dean searched all of us when the money was missing. Like down to our skivvies. I don't think anyone could have hidden the money."
"Hmmm. Any chance the money was still in the room when you all left? Crabbe, Goyle and Draco could have easily gone back to get it."
"Maybe," Ron reasoned. "We searched it pretty good; Dean practically tore it apart. He doesn't know the Slytherin common room well, though. I don't think there's any chance it was Draco, but the other two - maybe."
"You've been a big help," Harry thanked him. "I'll tell Hermione. And hey - we're getting together with Hagrid and Lupin for Christmas dinner. Care to join us?"
"Yeah," Ron said, surprising himself. He smiled warmly at Harry. "Yeah, I think I would."
O O O O O
While Harry was making tentative peace with Ron, Hermione had tracked down Crabbe and Goyle in the Potions lab. She had been extremely hurt by Harry's words, but she knew they came from his own frustration. She couldn't exactly blame him - it was asking a lot to solve these little mysteries and throw themselves back into the mix of students. After all, their last year had largely been one of isolation. Hermione still didn't feel comfortable with most of her House or school, but she was making small steps, and having Harry at her side helped a lot. She knew she could never hope to regain her earlier status, and she didn't think she really wanted that, either. It was enough for now that she was no longer hiding in her room.
Apparently, Crabbe and Goyle's legendary stupidity even progressed to Slytherin House's favorite subject - potions. They were both attempting a potion that they had demolished in their last class; Snape probably only gave second chances to his own House's students. Luckily, he was nowhere to be seen; although Hermione was surprised he had let the Wonder Twins alone in his lab.
"Gentlemen," she greeted them. "And I use that phrase loosely."
"Then you won't be surprised when we don't call you lady," Goyle barked in his troll-like voice. She was surprised - had he actually made a joke? Wonders never cease.
"What can we do for you, Granger?" Crabbe asked, leering at her. "Have you run out of other purebloods to proposition? I might be up for it."
"Pass," she said, pushing down her temper and sitting down at a table. "But I will make you a counteroffer. Tell me where Dean's money is, and I won't turn you into Snape, and I will help you with whatever potion you're currently botching."
"If you turn us into Snape, Draco, Ron and Thomas will be in trouble, too," Goyle pointed out.
"I can live with that," she returned.
"We don't know where the money is, Granger," said Crabbe. "If we did, we wouldn't tell you anyway. I don't need your little mudblood hands all over my potion, either."
"Your loss." Hermione jumped out of her seat and turned to go. She threw over her shoulder, "This was a one time offer, gents. When I catch you, it's your funeral." She didn't wait for them to reply, but merely strolled out of the room. She knew it had to be one of them; she hated Draco, but did not think him a thief, nor was it likely that Ron was the culprit. If Dean had taken the money before he won, he wouldn't have turned to her for help. The only problem was narrowing it down between two morons. Either the one who was slightly more stupid, or slightly less was the guilty party. With those two, it was almost impossible to tell. As she turned the corner away from the potions room, she ran straight into Draco. Perfect.
"Now I really do think you're following me," he sneered.
"You don't own the dungeons, Malfoy, even if they're where you belong," she returned.
"We can't all sit in a tower feeling superior."
"No, you do that just fine from down here," Hermione said. "Are we technically under a rock? Because then you'd really be at home."
"Haven't we had enough pleasantries for the day?" Draco sighed, suddenly weary of their bickering.
"Not quite," she answered. "I've just spoken to your minions, who were as lovely as usual. I'm sure you'd all like to put an end to this little mystery - none of you want to meet the business end of Dean's fists, I'd wager."
"Oh, have you had another epiphany, Granger? Can you solve the chicken and the egg debate while you're at it?"
She ignored him. "Can you please round up your little card buddies this evening? Bring everyone to the Charms classroom. Professor Flitwick won't mind, and there's no way I'm setting foot in your common room. Seven o'clock, Malfoy."
"By your command," he replied, bowing theatrically. He watched her leave with narrowed eyes, her bushy hair bouncing annoyingly. How had they ever been friends?
O O O O O
Two hours later, they were all assembled. Hermione and Harry hadn't discussed their fight, but she had given him a shrug and a smile, so he assumed they were okay for now. Crabbe and Goyle looked mutinous, Draco looked bored and Ron intrigued. Dean was smirking at everyone as if he hadn't a care in the world.
"Okay, here's the deal," Hermione said without preamble. "I know it's one of the two of you." She nodded at Crabbe and Goyle and raised her hand to still their protests. "I could spend all night finding out the truth, but it's Christmas, and I really don't want to spend any more time with any of you. Tell the truth right now and give Dean back him money or I'm telling McGonagall and Snape and you'll all be in detention or worse."
"That's your brilliant detective work?" Draco burst out incredulously. "Wow, Thomas, I hope you're paying her well. Head of Law Enforcement right here."
"Oh, shove it," she snapped. "I really don't care what happens to you guys. I don't think playing cards should warrant detention, but stealing money probably should. It's not my concern, though. Save yourselves the trouble and give the money back."
"You don't know it was one of us," Crabbe stated.
"I know it wasn't Ron or Draco," she said, gaining a grateful look from Ron and puzzled one from Draco. "It's just not their style. I can't say for sure which of you did it, not right now, and I'm too tired of the whole thing to deal with it anymore. Just give the money back so I can go celebrate Christmas."
"Oh, just do it," Draco ordered. "And be glad I didn't win, cause I'd beat the crap out of whichever one of you took it."
"We didn't-"
"It had to be one of you," Draco reasoned. "Nice work, Granger, figuring out what anyone could have guessed."
"Oh, fine," Crabbe finally gave in. "I took the money. I've been practicing transfiguration and non-verbal spells. I took it when that house elf brought more dinner and I transfigured it to look like my deck of cards. I took it with me. Satisfied?"
"You didn't tell me a house elf brought dinner," Hermione groused. "That's withholding evidence; I might have figured it out with that information."
"No doubt," Ron said drily, smiling at her. He was feeling rather charmed by the whole show. Ron had been doing a lot of thinking lately; he was by no means ready to jump fully back into friendships with Harry and Hermione, but he had decided that he did want to start making some time for them both, especially Harry. His feelings for Hermione were still jumbled, but it wouldn't kill him to make the peace a little. He'd already spoken to Draco about it, and while not thrilled, Draco had agreed to stay out of it, as long as he didn't have to play nice with Hermione. Ron knew that was about the best he could hope for.
"Do you have it with you now?" Dean asked Crabbe, glaring at him.
"No, but I can get it."
"Let's do that now, shall we?" Dean said with dangerous calm, pointing his wand at the bigger boy. Crabbe gulped nervously and nodded, allowing Dean to lead him away towards his dorm room.
"Well, this has been fun," Draco said, clapping his hands together. "Granger, nice work. It's good to know your so-called detective skills consist of little more than threatening detention. But hey, whatever works, right? Greg, make sure Vince isn't so stupid next time. Ron, you want to get something to eat?"
"Um, actually Harry invited me to a Christmas party, remember?" Ron said nervously. He noticed that Hermione shot Harry a rather nasty look, but knew she wouldn't outwardly protest. "Do you want to come with us?"
Draco rolled his eyes. In all actuality, he did want to go, but there was no way he was going to give Granger and Potter the satisfaction of accepting their unintentional invitation. He didn't need their charity. "No, you go ahead. Fill me in later."
Ron nodded understandingly. He knew Draco was still in the doghouse with his father and that was why he hadn't gone home for Christmas. He hated to leave him alone, but he really did want to spend some time with Harry and Hagrid. His heart skipped a little when he thought of how much Ginny would have wanted to come, too. He clapped Draco on the back and followed Harry and Hermione out of the room. Happy Christmas, indeed.
A/N This story is still active, but it will continue to have slow updates. I really don't have any excuses, so I appreciate those of you who are still reading. My original plan was to do one chapter for every first season Veronica Mars episode, but I decided to excise and/or combine a few of them. The finished story should be around 17-18 chapters. Thanks for reading!