Chapter Seventeen
The Coconut Concussion
Once again, Ron was beyond enraged, and Harry and Ginny hadn't been able to calm him down. Ron was furious with all of them—with Hermione for her actions, and with Harry and Ginny for not having told him. Less than twenty minutes after they'd chased Ron as he stomped out of the Great Hall, Harry and Ginny were returning to the entrance hall.
"Guess I'm moving in with Hermione for a while," Harry said glumly.
Ginny patted his arm. "I'd come too, but there's not enough room—do you hear that?"
Harry paused, frowning. "It sounds like… cheering. Are they having a feast?"
"I don't think so," Ginny said, confused. "I mean, we were only gone for a few..." She trailed off. "Harry, what if the Slytherins… what if there really was some other reason they weren't in the hall?"
Harry looked at her, his eyes wide, and then they both dashed down the marble staircase, making a beeline for the doors to the Great Hall. Just as they reached the entrance—
"AUGH!"
"HARRY!"
Harry went from running flat-out to being flat on his back in the blink of an eye. "Harry! Harry! Are you okay? Say something!" Ginny shrieked, kneeling over him.
"Ow," Harry muttered irritably in response. He sat up, rubbing his forehead, where a large red mark could be seen.
Ginny glanced around for the offending object as Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the pain into recession. There, rolling to a stop behind them, dripping milk as it went, a large crack along one side, was—
"A coconut?" Ginny said, lifting the object up, puzzled. "What kind of weirdo would throw a coconut at you? Wouldn't it be easier to curse you?"
Harry glanced over at the coconut in confusion, then, hoping to find the culprit, he lifted his eyes to look into the Great Hall… and his jaw dropped open. The coconut, he could safely assume, had been thrown by Hermione, who was standing on the Gryffindor table, covered in bits of food, and glaring at a laughing Draco Malfoy, who was standing with his back to the entrance.
As Harry and Ginny watched in morbid fascination, Hermione spun around and bent over, and Draco scooped up a pie, held Hermione down with one hand, grabbed the back of her skirt and yanked it up. "LOOK! TATTOO! TATTOO!"
Harry stared in disbelief, squinting in an attempt to see; he could just make out the tattoo, which was only a few inches long, on the right side of her lower back. "So that's what it looks like," Harry said dazedly, in shock from the sight and still woozy because of the speeding coconut.
"Oh, god, I knew I should have brought her jeans or something this morning! We've got to—" Ginny started to stay, then stopped in horror as Draco slammed a pie against Hermione's rear end. Flashbulbs were going off like mad (thanks to the prank war, few students who owned cameras left their dormitory without them) and the whoops and jeers were deafening.
As Harry and Ginny got back to their feet, Hermione braced her hands against the table and threw her leg up in a strong kick. Draco stumbled and started shouting as the chili Hermione threw burned his hands and the warmth started to soak through his shirt. Then Hermione was on him, forcing him down to the table, clawing, scratching, punching, howling, and above all looking like some crazed monster (perhaps a breed of fruit demon).
"I got Mione!" Harry called to Ginny as he jumped on the table behind Hermione, threw his arms around her back, and yanked her off of Draco. Draco was on his feet in an instant, but found Ginny's wand right between his eyes. He settled for smirking at the three of them, especially Hermione, who was still trying to kick and hit him, even as Harry dragged her as far away from Draco as possible. Draco coolly dodged her flying fists and feet.
"FRED! GEORGE! HELP!" Harry yelled, struggling to hold her down; he was usually a lot stronger than Hermione, but he'd recently taken a blow to the head and between Hermione's adrenaline and her magic, both of which were lending her strength, he was having trouble.
"Let her go, Harry! I've got money on this fight!"
"Come on! She was just about to kill him!"
"If you two don't help him, I swear I'll tell Mum about Angelina and—" Ginny stopped; there was no need to go any further, as both twins were diving onto the table. Fred grabbed one leg, George the other, and, carefully, the three of them climbed off the table and carried the struggling Hermione into the entrance hall, Draco and Ginny following.
"It's okay, Hermione," Harry grunted, trying to sound as soothing as possible while fighting to keep her from getting loose. Fred and George set her legs down once they'd reached the entrance hall, and Ginny waved her wand at the doors to close off the Great Hall and give them a bit of privacy. "It's gonna be okay, I swear. I'll let you kill him. I'll even help. Just not where there are witnesses."
"Come on, Mione," George added, remembering that she was still mad at him and Fred, and judging by the food, scratches and bruises on Draco, they wanted her calm. "It's okay."
"You guys are such amateurs," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. She adopted a frightened tone. "Hermione! There's a teacher coming!"
Hermione snapped out of it immediately. "Where?"
Draco rolled his eyes, looking disgusted at Hermione's fearful expression. "God, you're such a—"
"Draco?"
They turned; at the top of the staircase leading to the dungeons was a tall, thin blond woman, staring at them with interest.
"Mum!" Draco exclaimed in surprise and a bit of fear. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, I… came to see… Dumbledore. He… sent me an owl. To explain that… er, Draco, is that cheese on your head?"
Draco reached up and removed the cheese slice from his head. "Um, well… long story, Mum. So, Dumbledore sent you a letter explaining about me being chained to Granger?"
Narcissa blinked, looking startled, but then nodded. "Yes… er, is this chain invisible or something?"
"Yeah, yeah, Dumbledore wanted to keep it quiet."
"So, you're going to be chained to her for how long?"
Draco frowned. "Until they find a cure. I'm not sure."
"Oh, dear," Narcissa said worriedly. "How will you come home for Christmas? Would she mind coming along?"
Draco and Hermione looked at each other in horror.
"Um, we really h-haven't discussed that, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione squeaked. "We're hoping to have this resolved by then."
"I'll have a talk with Dumbledore, in that case," Narcissa replied, smiling. "Well, Draco, you seem to be in serious need of a shower… and a change of clothes… so I think I'll go visit Severus. I'll stop by the Great Hall at dinner time, all right?"
"Sure, Mum," Draco said.
She smiled. "I would hug you, but I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your little friends—" everyone flinched, and Fred started to say something, but Ginny held her hand over his mouth— "or ruin my robes, for that matter. I'll see you soon, Draco, dear."
"Bye, Mum," Draco said, untucking and pulling his shirt away from him in the back to let the pork chops tumble out and plop onto the floor.
As Narcissa headed down the stairs, she passed Oliver, who gave her a quick smile before continuing into the entrance hall, where he stopped and gaped at Fred and George, who had a bit of mashed potatoes on their faces and food on their hands from holding Hermione's legs; Harry, who had beef stew on his shirt from struggling with Hermione; Ginny, who was holding a cracked coconut in one hand and aiming her wand at Draco with the other; and Draco and Hermione, who were covered from head to toe in bits of food.
"What the hell happened to you lot?" Oliver demanded.
"We'll tell you later," Fred said cheerfully, and Hermione glared at him furiously.
"Is that sugar on your head?" Oliver asked Hermione, looking at her face and hair; the sugar granules had stuck to the pumpkin juice and were coating most of her head and seeping into her braids.
Harry ran his finger across Hermione's cheek and then licked his finger. "Yeah, it's sugar—hey, that's really good." He leaned forward and ran his tongue across Hermione's forehead.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, shocked.
"Sorry!" Harry said quickly, looking just as startled with his actions as she was.
"You should taste what she's got in here," Fred said, and promptly reached into her low-cut shirt and pulled out a handful of chocolate-and-brown-sugar-covered cherries. Hermione let out a noise somewhere between a shriek and a growl and started towards him. Harry grabbed her arm.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Ginny hissed at Fred.
"Hey, it didn't seem like a bad way to go," Fred said, handing George one of the pilfered cherries and eating one himself.
"Isn't that Colin's camera around your neck?" Harry asked, nodding at George.
"Yup. He's letting us borrow it; we told him we've been developing a few things to copy and edit photographs, and he said we could take it as long as we sent him a copy of everything and made sure to give the camera back." Harry tightened his grip on Hermione as she glared at George furiously.
"Listen," Oliver said, glancing behind him at the entrance to the dungeons, "I don't know what happened, but I'm willing to bet it's not a good idea for the teachers to find out about it. Snape just got back, and apparently he knows a way to fix the common room—"
"Damn," George muttered.
"—because Sirius Black pulled that same prank—"
"You guys!" Hermione said to Fred and George in exasperation, knowing that the twins spent an awful lot of time hanging out with Sirius and had gotten a lot of "advice" from him.
"The point is," Oliver went on hurriedly before the twins could reply, "the rest of the teachers are on their way!"
"Oh, god!" Hermione wailed.
"Uh-oh," Ginny said.
"Crap, we've got to—" Draco began, but Harry cut him off.
"Right, this is what we're going to do. Ginny, do you know where the Slytherin common room is?"
"Yeah."
"How?" Draco demanded, but everyone ignored him.
"Good," Harry said. "Head that way and curse yourself but good. Stall them as long as you can; burst into tears if you have to."
"I'm on it," Ginny said, and walked off, dyeing her skin blue as she went and muttering a list of gruesome curses she knew.
"Fred, George, you guys know any spells that will clean up the Great Hall?" Harry went on.
"Yeah, of course," George said. The twins had a great knowledge of charms, gained from the Order of the Phoenix and from researching joke shop items (and, of course, from being Hogwarts's finest practical jokers).
"Okay. Get in there, fix what you can, and try and convince people not to say anything when the teachers come in. After that, go talk to Ron."
"Why?" Fred asked.
"You're the only people he's not really pissed at yet," Harry said. "He figures you thought he knew about… everything, which is why you didn't tell him. At least, I assume that's what he thinks. Anyway, you're our last shot at it."
"All right," George said, shrugging.
"Oliver," Harry continued, "take Draco and Hermione to the nearest bathroom to get them clean, and make sure they don't kill each other." Oliver nodded, too worried about his friends to remember that he was a teacher, and should be the one giving orders—and punishments, too, for that matter.
"What about you, Harry?" Hermione asked, unhappy with the arrangement and wondering if it might be a better idea to have the twins come instead of Oliver—no, of course it wouldn't be, what was she thinking? They were… well, them.
"I'm going to go see Madam Pomfrey and make sure that coconut didn't give me a concussion," he replied, rubbing the bump on his head while looking at the streak he'd made in the sugar covering Hermione's head. "All right, guys, let's get going."
Fred and George headed back into the entrance hall, Fred handing something to Harry as he headed for the hospital wing and something else to Oliver as he accompanied Hermione and Draco to a secret passage that would take them up to the prefects' bathroom. It wasn't until she saw Oliver bring his hand away from his mouth that she realized Fred had handed them each a cherry.
"Okay," Hermione said as she, Oliver and Draco entered the prefect's bathroom, "once this is over, I'm going to Dumbledore and demanding my own bathroom."
Oliver smiled while Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, stop complaining, Granger," Draco said, taking off his shirt; a couple of stray pork chops fell off in the process. Draco dropped the filthy shirt to the floor and paused. "Wait… how are we going to get fresh clothes?"
"Er… I suppose I could go get some," Oliver said slowly. Uncomfortable as he was with the situation, he didn't want to leave Hermione alone with Draco.
"Wait!" Hermione said, panicked. She didn't know what Draco might do if they were left alone together; all she knew was that Draco was ready to strangle her—and probably would the moment her back was turned. She'd made him far too mad to risk it… and she wasn't sure she wouldn't kill him if given the chance. "Um… I know! Can you get in touch with the house elves, Oliver?" Hermione had read in Hogwarts, A History that the teachers could summon an elf on demand.
"Oh, yeah, sure, let me just—"
"We need a specific elf," Hermione interrupted, knowing that the majority of the elves were still rather cautious around her, thanks to S.P.E.W., and wouldn't touch clothes on a human's request, anyway. The elves did the laundry, but they never handed humans clothes nor took them from humans. Elves avoided touching clothes if at all possible; they saw clothing as something offensive and fearful, and handled them carefully with magic. "We need Dobby."
"The weird one with the funny clothing?" Oliver said, confused. Hermione nodded. "Okay… Dobby, come!"
Just like that, Dobby appeared with a loud cracking noise. "What can Dobby do for you, sir?" he asked Oliver, then promptly forgot him when he caught sight of Hermione.
"Miss Herminie!" Dobby said happily.
"You know Hermione?" Oliver said, knitting his brow.
"Of course Dobby knows Miss! Miss is making Dobby his hats! Miss Herminie is a close friend of Harry Potter, and is just as kind, as great, as—"
"Oh, god," Draco muttered.
Dobby squeaked and turned to look at Draco. "Young master Malfoy!"
Draco stared at the elf, who was bundled in various clothes and wearing about thirty knit hats. "Wait… Dobby? Our old house elf, Dobby? Is that you?"
"Yes, sir!" Dobby said. "Harry Potter has freed Dobby, sir!"
"I thought my father killed you!" Draco said, shocked. "Wait… what? Potter freed… never mind, tell me later, okay? I've got to get this shit off me."
"We need some clothes and towels, Dobby," Hermione told the elf. "They're all in our room though… think you can go get them?"
"Of course, Miss. Dobby will be right back!"
"Er… please, make sure you get me jeans, okay? No skirts," Hermione said, feeling as though she'd never wear a skirt again, with all the trouble they had caused in the past two days. Dobby nodded and disappeared; Draco smirked.
Dobby returned a few moments later, with two very mismatched outfits; neither Draco nor Hermione complained, however, as they needed to get back to the dorms and didn't really care what they were wearing, as long as it wasn't coated in sugar, mustard, honey, or some other sort of food.
"Will Miss require anything else?" Dobby asked.
"No, thanks, Dobby," Hermione told the house elf gratefully. "I really appreciate this."
"Anything for Harry Potter's greatest friend!" Dobby squeaked.
Draco rolled his eyes at the "Harry Potter" comment. "Thanks a bunch, Dobby," he said, without even the slightest hint of sarcasm.
"You're very welcome, young master—er, sir," Dobby said, looking proud of himself.
Draco smiled. "Enjoying your freedom, Dobby?"
"Oh, yes, sir," Dobby said, nodding so hard his ears flapped. "Will you tell Maddy I said hello?"
"Yes, of course," Draco said. "Thanks again."
Dobby nodded and bowed before disappearing once again. Hermione started sorting through her clothes; Dobby had brought her a pair of jeans, a one-piece swimsuit, a blouse, a sweater, two pairs of underwear, a bra, a necktie, and about seven other articles. She looked at Draco's pile, which was much less haphazard.
"Hey, how come he brought you normal clothes?" she said in indignation. She frowned. "Come to think of it, why were you so civil to each other? I thought you two hated each other?" She hadn't been paying attention to Dobby's interaction with Draco at the time, preoccupied as she was by other things (including everything from Oliver to Ron's anger to the pie filling and cherries).
"Me and Dobby, hate each other?" Draco snorted. "Why would I hate him?"
"You actually don't hate him?" Hermione said, shocked.
"Mind your own damned business," Draco snapped. He turned and looked at the tub, as did Hermione.
Unfortunately, the prefects' bathroom didn't have showers; it had one nice, big bathtub, which wasn't a problem, usually, as the people who used it were often alone (and when they weren't, they were with someone who was allowed to see them in the bath). However, this was a very unusual situation…