Disclaimer: Harry's hard to kidnap. I guess I'll leave him with J.K. Rowling.
Chapter Eleven
"Are you ready?" Scott asked.
Hermione frowned, slightly uncomfortable with what she was about to do. "No, I'm not, but I'll do it anyway."
Scott flashed her an award-winning smile and patted her on the shoulder. "That's the spirit!"
"Oh, hush, would you?" she groaned, rubbing her hand over her face. They peeked around the corner of the hallway.
"There he is, right on time." Scott murmured, his eyes fixed on a group of Slytherins walking down the corridor.
In the middle of them was none other than Draco Malfoy, in all his pale-skinned, white-blonde, sharp, aristocratic featured glory. He was flanked by tall, dark-haired Goyle and short, chubby, reddish-brown haired Crabbe. On the edges were Pansy Parkinson with her olive skin and – though it killed Hermione to admit it – stylish black bob haircut and Blaize Zabini with his tanned skin and close-cut, tight black curls.
Scott looked at Hermione. "Here's your cue."
"I'm going, I'm going." She muttered, whipping out her wand and casting a disillusionment spell on herself. Then came the instinctive shudder that followed after it had cracked over her head, and she knew she was invisible. "Wish me luck!" she whispered, hustling out and taking her place behind them.
"–so, like I said, father just had to invite everyone." Hermione rolled her eyes; of course Draco would be in the middle of a self-centered gloat-fest when she caught up.
Just great.
All she could see from where she was positioned was the backs of their heads and their billowing cloaks.
She was extremely careful to move as soundlessly as possible, and so far everything was going well. No one appeared to be suspicious of her presence just yet. "That's cool, mate." Blaise said, nodding respectfully toward him.
"Isn't it, though?" Pansy cut in. "Mr. Malfoy spared no expense on anything."
"So…" Crabbe said slowly, "there'll be lots of food, right?"
Hermione heard Draco snort indignantly. "Of course there will be, you bumbling idiot! Father has an entire spread of only the best delicacies and treats the Wizarding World has to offer."
"Honestly, Crabbe…" Blaise trailed off, and Hermione detected a note of exasperation in his voice.
"Anyways, moving on," Pansy said sharply, and Hermione could just picture her sending Crabbe a glare, "what's with the party? Not that I'm complaining or anything."
"Haven't you heard?" Malfoy drawled. Hermione grimaced. And cue his infamous self-righteous smirk. "I've been promoted by the Dark Lord himself, and father believes that it calls for celebration."
Hermione wasn't surprised by that, though she was a little disappointed in him for it, despite the fact that all of the odds were stacked against him and the fact that he was an insufferable git. Scott had said something like that would probably happen, which was why she was trailing them in the first place.
The objective for phase one of Scott's brilliant plan was simple: find an opportunity to infiltrate Malfoy Manor to sneak into their library and find a book that could save Cedric.
The Malfoys had many ancient tomes about the Dark Arts gathering dust on their fancy shelves at that very moment that were not only first additions, but, in most cases, the only copies ever made or still in existence. And that was the only reason that Hermione had any interest in what Malfoy had to say at that particular moment, because the party he was talking about could very likely be the only way she'd get the information she desperately needed to bring Cedric back.
"That's great, Draco!" Pansy exclaimed, clapping her hands gleefully.
"No surprise there, mate," Blaise chuckled. "But seriously, Drake, why did he do that?" There was a short pause, but Hermione saw Malfoy's back stiffen. "Calm down! You know I didn't mean it like that."
"I got selected for an important mission." Malfoy said, an air of superiority in his voice.
"Really? What's the mission?" Pansy asked.
"I'm afraid that that's confidential information that I'm not at liberty to disclose presently." He replied coolly. Hermione raised an eyebrow, admittedly curious.
"Someone's getting a little high-and-mighty, aren't we?" Blaise said in a joking voice. "I was only kidding, Drake! Honestly, mate, sometimes you make me think that you've lost your sense of humor."
Goyle spoke up for the first time in his deep baritone voice. "When's the party?"
"I was just getting around to that, Goyle, but thanks for the reminder. Looks like you are good at something, doesn't it?" Malfoy said dryly. "It'll be this Saturday evening at nine o'clock sharp. " He paused for a moment. "And don't bother showing up at all if you're late; father's set up enchantments that will prevent late arrivals and party crashers."
Good to know, Hermione thought, storing the information away.
"This is so exciting!" Pansy gushed.
Hermione followed them until they got to the end of the hall before she decided that she'd gathered all the usable information about the party after listening to their conversation steer toward future hexes and terrible jinxes to use on their next victim and turned to find Scott.
She found him leaning casually against the wall where she'd left him, waving his wand around and muttering random spells that created showers of sparks. She cleared her throat, causing him to jump. He looked both ways before letting out a laugh. "I can't see you, Hermione."
Hermione blushed, having momentarily forgotten that she was still invisible. She murmured the counter charm and regained visibility once more. "Sorry about that."
He wave off her apology, cracking a smile at her. "It's fine. So, what did you learn?"
"Let's go to the Room, that way I can tell you and Ced at the same time."
As soon as they got to the Room of Requirement and settled into the couches, Hermione told them all about the party. When she was finished, Cedric looked up at her seriously. "Are you sure about this?"
Hermione scoffed. "What do you mean? Of course I'm sure!"
Cedric gave her a sad smile. "I was afraid you'd say that."
Hermione looked determinedly at him. "But you know that you can't change my mind."
"I know."
"Then it's settled!" Hermione declared. She looked between the two boys with a very un-Hermione-ish twinkle of mischief in her coffee eyes. "I've got a party to crash."
Ron shook his head and crossed his arms. "No."
"Ronald," Hermione warned, planting her fists firmly on her hips, "don't even start." She gave him a defiant glare.
"Too late." Harry muttered. Hermione turned on him, stomping toward him and pointing a finger in his face.
She scowled at him in her Hermione-ish way, making him feel no more than three inches tall despite the fact that he had at least half a foot over her. "So you're taking his side, then?" she asked him accusingly.
He put his hand up in a gesture of peace. "Whoa, 'mione, calm down." She relaxed her tensed shoulders, but only slightly. She didn't lower her finger — not yet, at least. "I'm just saying that I don't blame him for his aversion to your new, er, look."
She narrowed her eyes. "What's wrong with it, then?"
Harry raised his eyebrows a little at her defensiveness, but answered nonetheless. "Well, for one thing—"
"You've turned into a bloody blonde, that's what's wrong!" Ron exclaimed indignantly, cutting him off.
Unfortunately, as Hermione was on her way to sneak out of the Gryffindor common room to meet Scott before the Malfoy Manor rendezvous was put into operation, she ran into the boys. Of all the days that they could've chosen from to study, they just had to pick that one.
She had used a spell to temporarily straighten and dye her hair platinum blonde. On the bright side, at least she wasn't wearing the gown she'd asked Scott to pick out for her yet — if they were appalled by her appearance now, they would be out for blood by the end of the night. She almost shivered at that terrifying thought.
"Right." Harry agreed. "Not to mention the fact that—"
"—your eyes are blue-gray instead of brown." Ron interrupted again.
Whoops, she'd all but forgotten about that part...
Ron gave her another disbelieving once-over. "And...and bloody hell, Hermione, you look like you could be Malfoy's sister!"
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, staring at her red-headed friend. "First of all, while I'm touched — truly — that you care so much about my appearance, it's none of your concern." She directed a stern glare toward both of her male friends. "And secondly, since when did you two start studying?"
Ron and Harry exchanged a look before they mimicked her gesture and crossed their arms, moving over to stand in front of the portrait hole. "We weren't really studying," Harry explained, "we were waiting for you to come down and try to sneak out."
Hermione quirked a disbelieving eyebrow. "How did you know that I would?"
"We've seen you leave the common room nearly every night after hours for the past couple of weeks, and we want to know why." Ron said, his voice holding no room for argument.
His body language exuded dominance, reminding Hermione of another good reason she'd gotten over him. He was always so demanding, so quick to assess a situation before he had all the information he needed to properly understand what was going on.
Like now.
Hermione couldn't help but let out a laugh. Outwardly, it appeared that she was laughing at the fact that they'd act so absurd, but inwardly it was to cover the guilt that was beginning to build in her gut for not telling them the truth. She wanted to, she genuinely did, but she couldn't. She had to protect Cedric by keeping him a secret.
"I've been going to the library," she replied. She looked between the two defensive boys and let out an exhasperated sigh. They were so stubborn. "You know how I am with my studies."
Harry's brows knitted together. "If you say so..." While his relaxed body language indicated that he trusted her answer, his emerald green eyes still held a note of distrust in them.
Ron put a hand in front of his male companion to stop him when he made to go to his dormitory, his suspicious blue eyes still locked onto Hermione. "Hold on, mate." He said. "Hermione, that still doesn't understand why you look different."
Hermione rolled her eyes and let out a frustrated puff of air which sounded more like a sigh of exasperation, luckily for her. "I'm practicing some charms I learned from some seventh year girls in one of my classes." She elaborated, looking between them, waiting for them to relent and move. "Well?"
They swapped a final glance—one that clearly read I'll-never-understand-girls—before finally stepping aside. "Alright..." Ron said, running a hand through his hair, "we believe you."
Hermione smiled and walked up to each of them to give them a hug and quick kiss on the cheek. She went to Harry first. "Thank you, Harry."
"You're welcome." He said. He pulled her in for his hug and murmured in her ear, softly enough that Ron couldn't hear, "If you need to talk about anything, you know you can come to me any time, right?"
Hermione's smile faltered as she pulled away, but she had covered it up by the time they had released each other. "I know, Harry." She placed a chaste kiss to his smooth cheek and ruffled his black hair. "Goodnight."
The seed of guilt planted within her sprouted another tiny root after hearing his sincere words.
Harry made his way upstairs, and then it was just Hermione and Ron. At first, there was silence, the two of them just looking at each other.
"Things will never be the same again, will they?"
The question startled her.
"What?" Hermione blinked.
His eyes glanced down to the red and gold plush rug beneath their feet. "You know what I'm talking about." He drew in a deep breath and looked back up at her. "I'm sorry, Hermione."
"You've apologized enough, Ronald." Hermione murmured softly, her eyes glowing with sincerity.
He let out a bitter laugh. "No, actually, I haven't. It doesn't matter how much I apologize now, and I wish I knew that at the time." Hogsmeade, that's what he was talking about. They both came to a silent understanding of that fact.
Except Hermione knew that he was talking about more than just that. She knew it, but she asked anyway. She had to be sure. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, bloody hell..." he muttered. "I know I blew my chance with you, Hermione. And that's something I'll regret for the rest of my life."
Hermione was shocked, to say the least. She wasn't expecting him to say something like that, and especially not at at time like that. There was nothing she could say because he was right. He messed up, and he lost his chance to be with her.
But that didn't stop her from walking over to him and wrapping her arms around him tightly. He returned the hug soon enough—his delayed reaction most likely caused from being caught off-guard—and held her close. Hermione released him quickly, careful to keep from lingering and giving him false hope but making it long enough that it was a comforting gesture.
"I'm sorry, Ron." she whispered quietly, looking up into his crestfallen face—that familiar freckled face she'd come to adore, however now only in a platonic way.
She really was sorry, though. Cedric had been right all along, it seemed, when he said that Ron liked her but didn't know what to do about it. She could just imagine how he must be feeling; he had always thought that she would be there for him, waiting for the time to come that he would finally man up and admit that he reciprocated her feelings. She had been his rock, his comforting back-up plan, and now she wasn't even that. He would have to live with the fact that he was the reason that they didn't ever become something real besides their ever-constant arguments.
Poor Ron. It was such a sad ending to what they both had always thought would be a happy one.
"Don't be." He said simply. "It's not your fault."
She stood on tip-toe and placed a quick kiss on his cheek, feeling his flesh heat up beneath her lips with a scarlet blush. And for the second time that night, she murmured, "I know."
They exchanged their goodnights, after which Ron proceeded to scold her for still insisting on going out late, and he lumbered up the stairs to his dorm room. Once she knew he was gone, she slipped out of the portrait hole and hurried through the dark corridors to Room of Requirement.
The door materialized before her, and she walked in and saw Scott lounging on a couch and Cedric pacing before the fireplace. She had always thought it was ironic that the two boys were together when one of them couldn't even see or hear the other, but she set that aside. There were important matters at hand that needed to be taken care of.
They both looked up at the sound of the door opening and closing, and Hermione was met with Scott's look of seriousness and Cedric's somber one. The latter had a pleading gleam in his eyes, but she dismissed it and went straight to business. No use in dwelling over what, quite frankly, was probably not even there. "You're late." Scott deadpanned.
"I got held up for a bit in the common room, but I'm here now." Hermione said. She made her way over to them and sat down in Cedric's recliner, and she could feel his eyes trailing her every move. She'd never sat there before, but she needed some sort of comfort and she figured that that was the best she'd get. As soon as she sat down, the reality of the situation finally had the chance to dawn on her, and it got her heart racing. In a matter of minutes, she would be inside Malfoy Manor, in jeopardy of being caught by Death Eaters for trespassing and possibly being delivered to the Dark Lord because of who she was.
It was a truly terrifying, bone-chilling image, but she was willing to risk it for Cedric.
She was willing to do anything for Cedric.
Scott smiled at her, drawing her from her thoughts. "I was only messing with you, Hermione. No need to get so serious!"
Hermione felt like she was going to retch, she was so scared, and he had the nerve to joke around! She didn't understand how Scott could always be so easy-going, but now wasn't the time to ask. She knew that much.
She spotted the black garment bag and asked, "Is that it?"
"Yeah." Scott replied. He handed it over to her. She ran her hands over the smooth vinyl material, stopping at the black zipper strip running down the front.
"It's all in here, then?" She asked, even though she knew the answer.
"Yup," Scott replied. "Everything except the shoes, of course." He winked at her, and she shivered involunarily. From what she'd learned about him, it would be just her luck that he'd hand over some type of impossibly high stiletto heels.
Hermione stood up, garment bag clutched closely to herself, and made her way over to the corner to change. A door appeared on the wall (she'd thought it up, of course), and she stepped into a dressing room. It was a large room straight from the movie screen—red velvet carpetry and curtains, and a neutral brown wallpaper to match. There was a large clothing rack in one corner—gold, naturally, and completely bare—and a grand makeup vanity with a beautiful marble countertop and sparkling mirror with a matching chair before it. There were gold trimmings and accents around the room, and a couple of decorative lamps with shades that had sparkling strands of little beads hanging around the bottom edge. Vintage posters of actresses from old black and white movies were hung on the walls in polished wooden frames, all smiling from behind their black-and-white photographs.
She pulled off her worn grey sweat pants and old T-shirt after admiring her handiwork a moment longer, and stood in the middle of the room in front of the mirror.
She looked at her reflection almost shyly, but she considered herself a different person under the enchantments she'd placed upon herself. Her hair trailed all the way down her back, a surprising difference from her usually mid-back curls. But then again, her curls made her hair shorter due to their nature. She pulled her wand from the left pocket in her sweatpants on the floor and pointed it at herself.
She wanted to feel different tonight. If she was going to be someone else for a few hours, she wanted to play the part as much as she could. So she waved her wand and transformed her generic bra and panties into pretty little things that she'd seen from a lingerie magazine. The bra changed from a plain white one to a more scandalous strapless black lacy one, and her underwear went from blue striped (and, quite frankly, mismatched) to the same style as her bra.
She unzipped the bag and pulled out the dress, carefully stepping into the silky material and pulling it on. She tugged slowly on the tiny zipper on the side with one hand, holding the dress up with the other, and then looked in the mirror. It was a sleek black, strapless dress with a sweetheart neckline. It hugged her trimmed waist, and fell straight down to the floor from her hips. It had a slit running up both sides to her knees.
A wave of her wand later and her blonde hair was pinned back into a sophisticated twist, and glittering diamond earrings materialized on her earlobes, along with a matching diamond necklace with a small pendant on it. She pulled out the chair in front of the vanity and pulled on her thigh high skin-colored pantyhose, then faced the mirror.
She pulled opent the drawer and drew out some makeup from it, and then applied some red lipstick and rogue. Next came the mascara for long, black eyelashes, and some shimmery white eyeshadow followed by a thin line of black eyeliner on her upper eyelid.
When she was finished, she was hardly recognizable as Hermione Granger any longer. Which was fine, because she was now Alyssa Black, the Malfoys' long-lost relative.
She picked up her small pile of discarded clothes and folded them up neatly, and walked out of the room with them. She could feel both of the boys' eyes on her, but one pair felt like it was burning a hole through her. "Hermione." Cedric spoke up for the first time that night. His voice sounded strained.
Hermione looked up at him. "Yes?"
She jumped because of his close proximity, but she did not shy away. "You can still back out of this, you know." He reminded her, his eyes shining with anxiety and worry. "We can just look elsewhere for a cure..."
Hermione shook her head slowly. "No, Cedric. I..." she faltered, and she thought she saw pain flash across his eyes. "I have to do this."
"But that's just it, Hermione!" He murmured softly, "You don't." He lifted his hand slowly, ever so slowly. It was a few inches from her face when he stopped. He looked at her with pleading yet soft grey eyes. "May I?"
"Yes." She whispered. Her heart hammered away in her chest as his hand drew closer and closer towards her, and then he was touching her cheek. She couldn't feel his hand this time as it cupped her cheek, but she knew it was there. She laid her hand over where his was supposed to be, her face quickly heating up. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice nearly inaudible. Her eyes never left his.
"I'm worried about you." He replied, taking a step closer to her. "I don't want anything to happen to you on my behalf."
"I have to do this."
"No, you don't."
"You can't change my mind now, Cedric." Hermione reminded him.
He hesitated for a moment, and then he finally murmured, "I know."
They made our way over to the couches so that Scott could brief Hermione on all of the information that she needed to know, and then he handed her the shoes she was supposed to wear. They weren't too bad, actually—some strappy black heels, but nothing too tall that she couldn't deal with. She waited a moment to catch her breath before slowly drawing out her wand from the little black clutch Scott had given her, all the while thinking, I need to Apparate.
Please, Room, let me Apparate into and out of here. Over and over again.
She gave Scott and Cedric one last look, her eyes lingering on Cedric. Their eyes were locked, as if neither could look away, and then with a swish of her wand, a swirl of color, and a sharp tug on her belly button, they were gone.