10/14/2014

Out of Hand II: A Matter of Time by relativelypositive

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter related and I make no money from the use of the characters created by J. K. Rowling.

Chapter 7

"No fucking way!"

"Fifty points from Slytherin!"

"Blaise!" hissed Draco.

"Sorry, man, but can you even imagine? Snape getting married and having kids? 'You will never harness the power of the universe unless you eat your broccoli,'" Blaise mimicked with eerie precision. "'I believe I expressed my wishes that you be asleep now. Do not force me to administer a Draught of Living Death, Little Morag!'"

Draco held his breath as his head of house silently moved next to Blaise.

"'It appears you have procured a boo-boo. Do not heal that wound! We must harvest the blood for my stores.'"

"Mr. Zabini."

Blaise stiffened.

"I believe I'll be seeing you in detention for the next month."

"Yes, sir."

Snape turned to the headmaster. "There has been a mistake. My former fiancée is dead. She has been for many years."

"Did you not receive a letter?"

"I thought it a cruel joke."

"Very well, we will meet in my office after the rest of the students are linked to their chaperones. Let's see…who's next. Romilda Vane?"

"Ha! That's who you fucked, Weasley!"

"100 points from Slytherin!"

"Blaise!"

"Well obviously she was Polyjuiced to look like Hermione! You can probably thank that Loony Lovegood for that. That headpiece made of Hermione's hair is sitting on a pedestal in the Great Hall for anyone to get a hair from."

"No no no no no nononono…" Weasley's muttering was getting louder and more maniacal.

"Ron?" Hermione tried to get his attention. "Calm down. Just breathe."

"Calm down? I'm engaged to Romilda Vane! She's nuts! And possibly homicidal!"

"It's not the end of the world! We now know she's in the castle and we can catch her!"

"She wasn't in the castle," murmured Weasley.

"Huh?"

"I was coming from the Quidditch pitch yesterday and out of nowhere you were just there and you wanted to take a walk with me and talk and you looked like you and sounded like you and…I just wanted it to be you so badly. I should have known. The second we were in the Forbidden Forest she started undressing and I seriously thought I was hallucinating. Or dreaming."

"You really thought that I would do that?"

"I really hoped you would do that."

"I hoped for years that you would pay attention to me! The second I become attached to someone else you decide you want me? What about the last three years? Three years, Ron! You couldn't have wanted me then?"

"I didn't think of you as a girl then!"

"Weasley, you are a fucking idiot!" Blaise ignored the further 100 points taken from Slytherin. "I wasn't supposed to be looking, and I knew she had the best tits!"

"Blaise!"

"Mr. Zabini!" Dumbledore sounded very calm, but impatient. "Please desist. You've been losing house points at an alarming rate. Perhaps you could save your quips for a more appreciative audience. Let us continue. Mr. Weasley, regardless of which young lady you are engaged to, it is time to meet your chaperone."

Weasley sulked his way to the headmaster, and a rather handsome middle-aged man met him there. Draco thought Weasley looked intimidated by his chaperone, and stammered all through the short ceremony.

"Mr. Zabini," Dumbledore beckoned.

"This isn't fair. My fiancée isn't even in the country! This is completely useless."

"Nevertheless…"

XXXXXXXXXX

Hermione watched Draco, Blaise, and their chaperones as they walked away from her. Draco kept looking back, only to have his chaperone purposefully move into her line of sight. She was already getting frustrated.

"Your fiancé is quite attractive."

"Yeah. He knows."

A small muffled giggle escaped her chaperone, Tilda. "Bit arrogant?"

"Yeah. He knows that, too."

"Self-aware. That's an interesting quality in a teenager. I've seen self-absorbed, but it's usually a vapid, vacuous sort of behavior. Not realizing they're being the way they are."

"You sound like a psychologist."

"What's a psychologist?"

"Muggle doctor. Helps people with emotional and behavioral problems, mostly."

"Hmmm. Sounds worthless. Sounds like they're taking advantage of people without parents or friends."

Hermione didn't know how do respond to that. Was Tilda actually interested in the Muggle world? Or was she disparaging it?

"Tilda, would you like to get a cup of tea?"

"My, yes, that sounds like an excellent idea."

Hermione found herself sitting in Madame Puddifoot's twenty minutes later. She was surprised to find out that chaperones could take the students as far as Hogsmeade without permission from the headmaster.

"I've always loved chintz. Don't you just love chintz?"

Hermione would never have thought from the looks of her that Tilda would like flowery fabrics. She was quite posh, really, in a Wizarding kind of way. Not Narcissa posh, but a less moneyed sort. She looked streamlined.

Hermione was a bit intimidated. She never gave a thought to how she looked, other than to worry that her hair wasn't doing anything mysterious. Part of that was the uniforms, which Hermione secretly loved, and part of it was that her two best friends were boys, and they could care less what she wore and, unfortunately, what she looked like.

"It's chintzy. So how did you end up in the Master Class at Aphrodite's?"

"If you knew better, you wouldn't ask that question," was the terse reply.

"So inform me. I love to learn."

Tilda took a bit too long in preparing her cup and taking an experimental sip, then perusing the small selection of scones and other small treats in front of them. She settled on a petit four and, while Hermione waited not-so-patiently, nibbled the frosting from one side, turned it completely around, then nibbled the frosting on the other side.

"Are you really not going to tell me?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You'll wish you didn't know."

"Please just tell me. The curiosity will kill me otherwise. I can be quite stubborn. I will pester you until you tell me. I won't be able to help myself."

Hermione froze at the look Tilda gave her, as though she were shit on her shoe.

She actually moved back away from the table a bit. She made sure that there was no way Tilda could touch her if she remained seated.

"Hermione," she paused, possibly rethinking the informality of using their first names, "I am at Aphrodite's because I killed my husband."

A/N:

Short but sweet. And very fun to write!

Thanks to everyone who read this, and thanks to everyone that reviewed! ASJS, IGOTEAMEDWARD, KodeV, Chester99, and Kermit 304. Also, the reviewer that every time I type your name in to thank you my computer kicks it back out. Thank you, too.