AN: Sorry for the hiatus guys! I've been horrible at posting on time lately; and you can easily blame the internet for being the main cause. I know a lot of people have been asking me if I'm worried about my story getting taken down off of fanfic or something, but I'm not. I now have an account over on AO3, and if for some reason my story disappears from this site, you will be able to find it over there. It will be under the same title, and my username over there is the same as it is here, 'KathSilver'.
As I always say, just follow me on Tumblr for the updates.
Once again, sorry for the wait! I love you all! (And seriously, over 500 reviews? I love you guys!)
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ridiculous angsty situations I put J.K. Rowling's marvelous characters through.
Hermione, Walking the Corridors, Morning:
Ginny had been gone when Hermione woke up that morning, and no noise had been coming from Draco's room. And so Hermione was left to spend another Saturday cooped up in the Slytherin dorms all on her own.
She knew that she really ought to be marching straight up to the office of the Headmistress to assist in trying to figure out and capture those who forced several Hogwarts students to have a sudden change of sex, but Hermione couldn't help the longing that built in her heart as she meandered through the crooked halls of the school.
The memories were far away and long passed, but if she reached back behind all of the sleepless nights and thoughts of death and destruction, Hermione could find the memories of the warmth shared by three friends as they sat in squashy red armchairs and basked in the warmth from the fireplace. Memories filled with the joy and laughter that would come with a Saturday spent in Gryffindor Tower. If she thought hard enough she could even recall the arguments held between Harry and Ron over Quidditch as she attempted to coax them into working on their assignments.
Lost in her memories, Hermione found herself walking through the corridors until she found herself placed in front of the familiar yet foreign space of wall that would normally lead her onward to her second favorite place in the castle. The blank wall mocked her, it seemed. It was as if the absence of the Fat Lady simply screamed out about how much she no longer belonged in that place of happiness and warmth.
It saddened her that although her friends had been content to join her down in Slytherin, none had thought to invite her to the place she missed the most.
"You won't even show up for me anymore, will you?" Hermione asked the wall. While she originally approved of the extra security measures taken to keep anyone who was not a House member from entering the Houses depths without express permission, now they seemed almost cruel. When the wall gave no answer but silence, she allowed her shoulders to droop and began to turn away.
"Wait!"
Hermione turned, and when she did it was none other than a sympathetic looking Fat Lady hanging upon the wall.
"Dear… tell me. What is it that has brought you up here? Is everything alright?" the Fat Lady asked her.
What a question to ask! Of course something was wrong; she was stuck in the wrong house! Nothing was alright anymore. Fred shouldn't be dead, she shouldn't have a house elf, Ron shouldn't be treating her as if she had betrayed him… but what was it that had brought her up to Gryffindor? After a moments musing, Hermione found the answer she'd been searching for- though it broke her heart to know it.
"I just… I want to come home…" she whispered, afraid that should she speak any louder her voice would break. Hermione closed her eyes to fight off the wave of tears threatening to fall, only to open them up as soon as she heard what sounded like a portrait swinging open. A gasped escaped her lips when she saw that that was exactly what had happened.
The Fat Lady smiled down upon her and gave her a quick wink and said, "For old time's sake dear, go on."
Without sparing the time to stammer out a startled thank you, Hermione raced through the portrait hole just as fast as her legs could take her. She didn't stop to think what the reaction of others would be in regards to her sudden appearance but at that point she truly didn't give a damn. And when she skidded to the wonderful scarlet landscape, it was Harry's voice that first registered.
"Hermione?!"
She didn't even have time to acknowledge his exclamation before he tackled her into a hug, laughing.
She was home.
Draco, Noon, The Burrow:
"You do realize that when I volunteered myself for this, I had meant that you make sure I wasn't actually conscious for any of it? That I had meant to be hiding in a corner of my own mind?"
Draco's palms were sweating. He was standing in front of a house full of redheaded heathens that wanted to dismember him on sight, and it was his own bloody fault that he was there in the first place.
"Nonsense Malfoy, I couldn't just walk in there all suddenly alive, now could I? Think of the ruckus that would cause," Fred stated from somewhere behind his left shoulder. The fact that the remark had none of the redhead's normal bounce was a testament to how nervous he was to be seeing his family.
"Right, because the sight of a Malfoy on their doorstep won't cause anything of a ruckus. Honestly, what is to keep that mother of yours from murdering me like she did my aunt the moment she sets her eyes on me?" He asked as he flexed his wand arm. "Not to say that she didn't deserve it, mind you. But I think I have every right to be a bit anxious about whether not she's truly as hex-happy as I think she is."
"Relax, Drakey," George said as he clapped him on the shoulder. "You survived the War with your own skin intact, didn't you?"
"Excellent! Then on the off chance that mum goes off her rocker and tries to AK you on sight, you should have no problem fending her off!"
Draco snorted. There was not a doubt in his mind that if Molly Weasley wanted him dead he didn't stand a chance in hell at keeping that from happening. In fact, he was quite certain that had there been slightly different circumstances the frumpy little witch could have defeated the Dark Lord with nothing more than her own righteous indignation. This did not keep his hand from tightening on his wand, however.
"Alright there Peeves Jr.," Draco began as George rapped on the front door of his own home. "What exactly are you going to do? Float inside and give them all the shock of their lives?"
"Nope! I'll be hiding in the wall for a bit. Good luck!"
In an instant the ghost was out of sight and the front door was opening to reveal a pole-axed Molly Weasley demanding an explanation. An explanation that George seemed entirely willing to leave up to Draco, it seemed. With a heart sigh and a thundering heart, Draco set out to explain just what in the blazes was going on, but first Draco whispered off one last retort to the ghost hiding within the walls of his childhood home.
"Coward."
He may have even heard the soft chuckle that followed his comment, but unfortunately that was when Molly Weasley noticed her odd little clock and was then screaming and demanding to know why it was that Fred's name was now pointed at 'Home'.
"Forgot about the bloody clock…" George cursed.
Draco had every intention of soldiering on and making an attempt to explain the situation to the mother standing before him, but he wasn't given the chance. When before it was just the three of them in that hall, that number had now increased in size as every Weasley, with the exception of the oldest two, had suddenly appeared around them.
The look on Weaselby's face promised murder, and when he noticed said Weasel King reaching for his wand, Draco had had enough. He was here to do these people a favor and this was how he was treated? No thank you. Malfoy's do not do favors lightly, and there was not a chance in hell that he was going to stand for this.
"For Merlin's sake Fred, just come out of the bloody wall and say hello to your mother!" Draco shouted over the yelling voices of the Weasley's. When George stared at him during the following silence, Draco merely shrugged and said, "I told you I had planned on being hidden away in my own sub-conscious for this part."
His job now done, Draco used the distraction that Fred presented him by leaving his place of refuge to swallow his second vial of Polyjuice that morning. He set his body down in one of the old chairs in the sitting room before allowing his mind to drip away.
He was not going to put up with this shit if he didn't have to.
All he had wanted was a cup of tea.
Hermione, Noon, Gryffindor Common Room:
She was sitting in what used to be her regular seat, steadfastly ignoring the strangeness that was the interaction between Daphne and Neville happening in the spot that used to be occupied by Ron. Theo was a near-constant flow of chatter that kept resulting in Hermione laughing so hard she felt she was going to pass out.
It was the most fun she'd had since before this whole mess had started.
"So where did Ginny go?" Hermione asked Harry, who was lounging in his chair, steadfastly ignoring the near-blank piece of parchment that was supposed to be his essay sitting next to him.
"She went to the Burrow; I think George called them all over for something. He said he had good news, but I can't imagine what would be going on," Harry answered, completely nonchalant.
Hermione couldn't help the small gasp that escaped as her mouth formed a perfect 'oh'. She quickly changed expressions so that she wouldn't give anything away, but she could tell that she hadn't been quick enough when suddenly all of the attention was on her and the group of students around her had gone silent. It was time to change the subject, and quickly.
"So, erm, Harry- you were very… what would the word be… mature about everything last night. Surprisingly so, actually. Is there any particular reasoning behind that or did you simply channel the mind of someone who has the emotional maturity of someone older than five years old for a moment?"
Alright so it wasn't her best diversion, but it had done the job well enough at least. All she had to do was keep Harry distracted long enough for Ginny to get back and share the news herself.
"I'm tired of fighting, Hermione. To be honest I just don't care about the things everyone did anymore. It just doesn't really seem to matter. The war is over, the deed is done, I just want to move past it," he shrugged. "Hard to do that if you don't forgive everyone. Besides, who's to say that we wouldn't have done the same thing, if we were in their shoes?"
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You mean to tell me that you're forgiving Malfoy for everything? Draco Malfoy?"
"Why does that seem so strange? I mean, you've obviously forgiven him." Harry countered, causing Hermione to splutter.
"I most certainly have not forgiven him!"
It was Harry's turn to raise an eyebrow, although his was accompanied by a smirk that just screamed trouble. "Oh? Would you care to explain to me why it was that the two of you were sitting so close together last night then?"
Hermione snapped her mouth shut in shock. Since when did Harry notice things like that? He was normally so oblivious… Ginny. That was the only explanation that made any type of sense at all. Of course she would pick up on the fact that she and Malfoy were touching last night.
"It didn't mean anything… it's just freezing in that bloody dungeon!"
Harry's eyes narrowed slightly in challenge.
"You were sitting in the seat by the fire, Hermione. Try again."
She bit her lips and frantically began to search for an answer that she didn't have. Why hadn't she moved away once she had noticed the contact? Better yet, why hadn't he?
"I don't… things are complicated, Harry. After the night in the bathroom… I don't quite know where we stand with each other anymore. Things have gone absolutely mad," she said weakly, staring down into her lap, not noticing the look shared between Daphne and Theo at her response. She most certainly wasn't expecting the excited bark that exploded from Harry.
"Excellent! Things have started to get right boring in Gryffindor since Daphne insists on doing everything herself. Now, tell me everything and for the love of Merlin don't leave anything out. I feel like if I haven't got a problem to solve I'm going to go insane."
Harry looked at her expectantly and Hermione immediately jumped up and began firing every charm and counter-charm she knew at Harry to try and figure out who this stranger was and just what in the bloody hell they had done with her best friend.
Draco, 3pm, the Burrow:
It felt as if no time had passed at all as he drifted within the confines of his own mind. He would never tell anyone else, but he loved the feeling of hiding within himself. Somehow it felt freeing, not to have to think about anything or deal with any problems, all he had to do was drift away into the fog and he felt light as air. But as he drifted along, he could hear a soft voice calling out, willing him to follow it back to the world…
"Draco? Draco dear? Fred are you sure he's alright? Somehow I feel this can't be normal..."
"No worries, Mum. He's done this past few times, must be quiet a trip to come back into your own head."
"Normal? Mum how many people have you met that can give control of their body to a ghost? This whole situation isn't exactly normal."
"Yes, I am aware of that George, but- oh look! I think he's come back to us!"
Draco came back into his own mind and was quite pleased to find that his body was back to its usual shape, thought when he opened his eyes to find the very red and very tear-stained face of Molly Weasley within only a few inches of his own it took every ounce of his self-control not to squawk and fly backwards.
"Hello dear, are you feeling alright?" she asked him kindly. This treatment was so different from what he had experienced upon first reaching the home that on instinct his eyes darted about searching for any sign of a trap. All he saw were tearstained faces looking on with interest.
Lovely. He was an exhibit now.
"Yes, I'm alright. It's all just a bit disorienting," Draco answered, trying to figure out if there was a polite way to say that he feared for his life and would like to flee now.
There wasn't.
"I don't doubt that, young man. A gift like yours it a hard one to come by! However did you learn it?"
"It was… necessary," Draco replied, willing himself not to revisit the nights trapped in a room with his Aunt as she prepared him to be a vessel for the Dark Lord should he ever need one. The memories weren't pleasant ones.
The Mother Weasley seemed to detect that the subject wasn't one he favored and quickly worked to change gears.
"Draco I… I can't thank you enough for what you have done for my family today. For giving us one last day with our Freddie… well not a last day, but with him in a corporeal form, you know," Molly was started to tear up again, though it was clear that she was fighting it. "I thank you from the bottom of my heart, for this."
Draco blinked his confusion and did a quick head-count of those in the room.
"Forgive me if I'm mistaken, but aren't there more of you?" he asked, positive that there must be at least a few of the Weasley children missing at the moment.
"Well, yes," she answered, and this time it was her turn to be confused. "Bill and Charlie weren't able to make it on such short notice, but what has that to do with anything?"
Draco spoke very slowly, as if speaking to one who was a bit dim, "Well, wouldn't they like the chance to see their brother in corporeal form?"
Everyone in the room seemed to take a step back in surprise, and Molly's eyes were positively gleaming now. The look in her eyes almost seemed to melt something inside of him, and Draco was struck by such a sudden urge to want to do anything that might possibly keep that joy there, if only for a moment longer. He was given an idea so out of character for him, but one that he could only attribute to the insanity brought about by the look in the Weasley Mother's eyes.
"Yes, I would imagine they might…" she said softly, almost unsure of whether or not she could dare to let herself hope.
"Precisely. Not to mention I'm sure I can manage to give the other one his twin on their birthday… My mum and I only ever celebrate Christmas Eve so I ought to be able to lend myself on Christmas as well-"
His offer was cut off because he suddenly had an armful of a sobbing Mrs. Weasley, who was hugging him as if her life depended on it. If ever asked, Draco would deny it until his very last breath, but he hugged her back a bit as well. When he was finally released from her arms she was sobbing too hysterically to say much of anything, but her thanks was written all over her face as she stared at him.
Unable to handle the power of that stare for very long, Draco looked around to see more tears and flabbergasted expressions on each of the family's faces. The twins were apparently knocked speechless, but the youngest son wasn't. And though it was clear that he was as happy about the offer as the rest of his family, that didn't stop him from walking right up to Draco and demanding an answer.
"Why the hell are you doing this Malfoy?"
"Ron-"Little Red tried to cut in, but her brother brushed her off.
"No! I want to know just why the hell he is doing this. Is it guilt? Is it a trick? What?"
Draco wanted to be furious about the question. Wanted to walk straight up to the idiotic Weasel-King and knock that expression off of his face, but for some reason his gaze was drawn to that of Molly who was looking back at Draco with this look, one that couldn't be explained. And instead of curses and anger, Draco was instead left with an answer.
He looked straight and Ron and said, "Because I have a Mum, too."
There was a moment of silence after that, because apparently not even Weaselby could find an argument with that one. Unable to stand being stared at any longer, Draco excused himself and fled to the kitchen to try and catch his breath.
Once in there he began pacing, muttering to himself about how he must have gone stark raving mad and bemoaning the dangers of going to make your own tea in the morning- up until he noticed that he had been followed in by the Father Weasley, who was now staring at him with an bewildered expression.
The man held out a cup of tea to Draco, who had to keep from snarking about how his journey for a simple cuppa was now complete, and asked something that had appeared to have been bothering him.
"I'll accept your answer about why you're doing what you are for my son, but why is it that you chose me?" he asked, taking a sip from his mug.
Mirroring the gesture, Draco took a drink of his own before giving his reply.
"You were the only person I was absolutely positive wasn't being kept safe in my father's pocket. By some twist of fate, you've become the only person in the Ministry I knew I could trust."
Arthur blinked his surprise before taking it in stride and addressing the issue at hand.
"After reading the contents of the letter your father sent you I began a thorough investigation into his activities at Azkaban. Though the official records state that he has done nothing wrong, I've learned that he has indeed been corresponding with those who are not family, though I've not yet learned their identities. I believe…" he hesitated.
"Yes?" Draco prodded, accepting that his father was indeed a total bastard and expecting to hear of a plot from his father to off his mother. There was no longer anything that he wouldn't believe the man capable of.
"I believe he is somehow connected to the recent attacks of a very hostile Wizarding group, one whose agenda has not yet been made entirely clear. But the dates of his correspondence with others match up with the dates of the attacks. I'm hoping to soon find out whether the owls are before or after the attacks, but it will be a bit longer before I learn that, I believe."
"Attacks? There have been attacks? What-"
"You'll be learning of them soon, the Ministry has decided that it is no longer wise to try and keep them under wraps. Each attack, though, has been against those who participated in the War," Arthur explained, rubbing his face as he did so.
Draco gulped.
"Which side were they on?"
Molly chose this moment to shout that Ron and Ginny were about to floo back to Hogwarts and for Arthur to come and say goodbye. But before he left, the older man turned and gave a rather upsetting answer.
"Both."
Hermione, Heads Dorm, Night:
As the story Ginny told her of the day's events rang through her head, Hermione marched off in search of one Draco Malfoy. Her talk with Harry had amounted to nothing other than pointless musing and teasing, leaving her only more frustrated at the stupid ferret. For some reason knowing what it was Malfoy was doing for the Weasley's made her absolutely furious with the blond, and she was on a mission to give him a piece of her mind.
She found him in their kitchenette enjoying a cup of tea far more than was necessary, and this only fueled her ire.
"Draco Malfoy!" she yelled, pleased to see him jump about a foot in the air. The problem only occurred when he turned to face her.
Upon seeing him all of her unreasonable rage with him evaporated on the spot, leaving her with only one thing to say.
"Thank you," she whispered, before fleeing to her room and slamming the door to do homework, leaving a pole axed Draco Malfoy to ponder the question eventually asked by every male.
What the bloody fuck was wrong with women?