Chapter Thirty-two
Malfoy Go Boom
Oliver awoke with a splitting headache, leaden limbs and a severely dry throat. He immediately realized he was hung over, and badly so; however, he didn't have the vaguest idea why. His second insight was that wasn't in his bed; he appeared to be lying on carpet.
Passed out on the floor again, Oliver thought, unconcerned. Gotta stop getting drunk with the team after every win…
Just before he fell back asleep, he remembered that he hadn't been on the team in several months, and that he was now a Hogwarts professor. Awakening quite quickly, he jerked into a sitting position and promptly clunked his head on something.
"OW!" Looking around groggily, he realized that he was, in fact, under a desk, and it didn't appear to be his. He couldn't see much from where he was, other than the fact that he was covered in large purple-red stains and wearing rumpled clothes. Nervously, he climbed out from under the desk and glanced around for any other signs of life.
He was alone… and he was apparently in McGonagall's office. He couldn't remember why, though. Thinking hard, he struggled to recall the previous day, but could only bring to mind a few funny moments on the Quidditch pitch with Hermione and the Slytherin team… so how had he ended up passed out beneath McGonagall's desk?
Sighing, Oliver headed for the door. Hopefully, McGonagall would know.
"I'm serious," Ginny insisted. "Snape, McGonagall and Oliver weren't doing it for Hermione! They would never do that. Besides, they've all been acting funny. Do you have any idea what they did to me yesterday?"
Fred and George gazed back at her stonily, arms folded across their chests. Ginny sighed, knowing it was a lost cause, but also knowing that she couldn't give up just yet. Her brothers were a force to be reckoned with; they were smart and they had a twisted outlook on the world that gave them few inhibitions. If they got into it with Hermione, the prank war would be renamed as the Weasley-Granger War, and before long, people would be running for their lives and the castle would have to be evacuated.
Ginny opened her mouth, praying she could talk some sense into them in case Harry failed to get through to Ron—but before she could say another word, Ron burst through the door and her stomach dropped. He looked ready to murder someone. He turned and glared at her, in much the same way as the twins.
"Get out, Gin," Ron said coldly.
Narrowing her eyes, Ginny stalked out, then paused on the stairs. She couldn't let this go; if Fred, George and Ron didn't listen to reason, and fast, she was going to be screwed, and so were Hermione and Harry. She turned back around, but the boys had already shut the door.
She reached for the knob, but her hand couldn't seem to make contact with the door; an invisible barrier was surrounding it. An Imperturbable Charm.
Ginny knew a way to break through the charm, at least temporarily, but it was tricky; if she didn't open the door and make it in before the charm re-strengthened, she'd be blasted backwards and probably knocked down the stairs and seriously injured. Her hovering hand just above the knob, she prepared to open the door and run, then cast the counter-spell.
"—time to call in the big guns," George was saying as the door creaked open.
"Who's that?" Ron asked, and Ginny stopped, knowing this was far more important than getting them to listen to reason. She withdrew her hand from the knob and waited.
"Peeves," the twins said in unison; Ginny could practically see their mischievous grins.
The charm resealed, but Ginny didn't care. Peeves could take out an entire city with sheer annoyance. If they were enlisting him, Fred, George and Ron weren't going to listen to reason any time soon, so Harry and Hermione would have to. Without a second thought, she turned and dashed back down the stairs.
It took quite some time to get Draco to stop screaming, but once he had, he was ready to go see Snape almost immediately. The dream had scared the crap out of him (especially given his bizarre behavior on the Quidditch pitch), and waking up with Harry curled up on him had been the last straw. He didn't care if the dreams or visions would be useful; he just wanted them gone.
Waking up so early had been somewhat advantageous; they now had plenty of time to get to Snape before breakfast. After a quick glance at the Marauder's Map to make sure Snape was already in his office, they headed out, ignoring all questions thrown at them from the Gryffindors who'd been rudely awakened by their screaming. Harry, Hermione and Draco marched straight for the dungeons, all of them determined—Harry and Draco determined to force Snape to tell them how to fix the visions, and Hermione to recruit him. Within a few moments of leaving the dormitory, the unlikely trio was pounding on Snape's door, and he called for them to enter.
Hermione walked in first, followed quickly by Harry and Draco, both of whom recoiled slightly. Snape was wearing a bright, pumpkin-orange sweater beneath his robes, but thankfully, they could only see his collar; his robes were closed, which made him look slightly more like his old self. His hair was tied back, however, which looked quite strange; far more of his face was visible, and it was too difficult to tell if his hair was greasy or not. He looked much younger somehow, in the same way Sirius had a tendency to do when he was happy.
"Ah, hello!" Snape said cheerfully, which sent an involuntary shudder through the three students; there was no getting used to his happy side. "What can I do for you?"
"We need your help," Hermione said—and then promptly burst into tears.
Snape and Harry stared at her, at a loss for words, and Draco edged farther away from her, disgusted. "What's wrong?" Harry asked, tentatively taking a step forward and wondering how best to comfort her.
"Ron hates me," she sobbed. "The twins are gonna torture me to death! I'm chained to Malfoy! Isn't that enough?"
Hermione started to say something else but her hysterical sobs prevented it. Taking pity on her, Harry awkwardly put his arms around her and let Hermione sob against his chest.
"It'll be okay, Hermione," Harry said soothingly, trying to stroke her hair and getting his fingers caught; she'd forgotten to brush it. He settled for rubbing her back instead.
"No—sob—it won't! Why did Malfoy have to pick—sob—ME? He's supposed to hate YOU! You or Ron! Why me!"
"Because he's a git," Harry said, glaring at Draco, who was mimicking Hermione behind her back in a most unflattering way.
"HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN A GIT TO YOU!" she shrieked, whacking her fist against his chest hard enough that Harry winced.
"Wellll… the prank wouldn't have worked if it were me," Harry said, racking his brains for something comforting to say.
"And he's just prejudiced because you're Muggle-born," Snape said helpfully.
"I can't help that!" she screamed. "And there's hundreds of other Muggle-borns in Hogwarts! Why couldn't he have done it to one of them?"
"Come on, Hermione, look on the bright side," Harry said. "You've done loads of things to get him back, haven't you? You made him think you and Snape were an item—" Hermione let out an even louder sob and Harry hastily continued— "you tied him to the goalpost—"
"He got me back," she choked out.
"Yes, but his response sucked."
She looked up at him hopefully. "Really?"
"Yeah. Totally. I mean, no one even saw it. And we got him back REALLY good for that… we've been kicking his butt since day one."
"You did make him puke," Snape pointed out. "And tormented him in quite a few other ways."
Hermione sniffled, looking a tad better… which lasted for all of three seconds before she broke down again. "But what about RON!" she howled, sobbing again.
"He'll come around, honest—"
"Don't say that evil word!"
"Right, yeah… he'll get over it. He will. I mean, it isn't anything major, and… he'll… get over Snape… and…"
"You're pathetic at comforting people, Potter," Snape said dryly as Hermione cried harder at the mention of Ron's reasons to be angry.
"And I suppose you could do better, you—" Harry began hotly, then paused. "What is that in your hair?"
"What?" Snape reached up to brush his hand over the top of his hair, but Harry was staring at his ponytail—which was held with a pink ribbon, tied in—
"A bow? Is that a BOW?" Harry exclaimed incredulously.
Draco looked over; even Hermione stopped crying momentarily and turned around to see. "Oh, yes, it is," Snape said with a shrug. "I didn't have anything to tie my hair back with, and one of the Hufflepuffs had put it around her essay scroll from last weeks' homework—"
"What is WRONG with you?" Draco shouted so suddenly that everyone jumped. He marched forward, seized Snape by the shoulders, and began to shake him. "You have a pink BOW in your hair! PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER, MAN!"
"St-t-top it!" Snape stuttered, going slightly cross-eyed as Draco continued to shake him.
"A bow," Harry mumbled, shaking his head. "What next?"
"We've driven Snape to madness!" Hermione yelled, crying once more, twice as hard. "Never get into Ministry… job applications say 'drove teacher to pink bows!'… we're doomed… whole lives ruined… and I'll never marry Ron!"
"WILL YOU STOP CRYING?" Draco roared.
"There, there, Granger… it's okay…"
"Snape is wearing a bow," Harry moaned, pressing his palms against his eyes as if to bore the image out.
Snape put his arm around Hermione's shoulder. "Don't worry, Granger… you've just got to think like a Slytherin. Channel all that anger into mean, hateful vengeance!"
"So says the guy with the bow," Draco growled.
"This is all Malfoy's fault," Hermione whined.
"Got that right," Harry muttered.
"Come now, we'll find a way to fix it. In no time, you'll have your boyfriend back and you'll graduate and you'll get a good job and get married and have three-point-seven kids and a dog—"
"What is going on in here?"
Everyone looked around; McGonagall, looking a little tired and pale but otherwise normal, had appeared in the doorway. Her eyes swept over the tearful Hermione, the compassionate Snape with his pink-bow ponytail, the weary Harry and the furious Draco. "Never mind," McGonagall said, shaking her head. "I don't want to know. Severus, Wood showed up in my chambers confused and looking like he got hit by a truck; he needs a good strong potion. You three, you're to make up your Charms exam right after breakfast and your Transfiguration exam after dinner—"
"Did I drive you crazy too?" Hermione interrupted softly.
"What?" McGonagall frowned at her.
"Did I drive you insane? Are you going to start wearing pink bows in your hair and whistling while you work? Are you going to give me a bad reference when I apply for jobs? I'M SO SORRY!" Hermione wailed, and burst into sobs again.
"She's a little upset right now," Snape told McGonagall apologetically.
"Gee, do you think?" Harry muttered.
"Granger! Pull yourself together! I've got bigger problems!" Draco snapped. "I can't get you out of my head and all you can do is stand there and—"
"She's in your head?" Snape cut in, grinning and looking at McGonagall, who snorted a little as she tried to suppress a laugh.
"I've driven Malfoy mad too!"
"Hermione, that's a good thing," Harry said in exasperation.
"All my fault… Snape… never should have… hickeys! Oh, gross!" Hermione threw herself into an armchair in front of Snape's desk to cry. No one was paying much attention to Hermione at the moment, save Harry; which was a good thing, because Draco would have taken the opportunity to gloat over Hermione's admission and McGonagall would have been horrified and demanded an explanation. Hermione began rambling through her tears about everything from rabbits to beef stew, very little of which made any sort of sense.
Draco rolled his eyes and turned to his professors. "How do I stop the visions, Professor?" he asked Snape wearily. "I can't keep having them."
"You're going to have to, I'm afraid," Snape said with a slight smile. "They won't go away."
"What do you mean, they won't go away?" Draco demanded, panic rising within him. "They HAVE to go away. I can't keep having visions about Granger; it's sickening!"
"If I knew how to stop them, I would tell you," Snape said, perfectly straight-faced but somehow unable to seem sincere.
"You… you… what about that thing Potter did when the Dark Lord was around? Occlu… Occoo… Ock-you-la-men—"
"Occlumency," McGonagall interrupted, looking as though she was trying desperately not to laugh, "is only for psychic attacks. If someone were trying to attack your mental—"
"Someone is! The cheese spirit! He's attacking my brain!" Draco tapped his fingers against his forehead sharply and nodded, his eyes wide; he looked rather creepy and insane.
"No," Snape said, his face twitching like mad as he tried to hold back his mirth, "the visions aren't an attack. You can no more stop them than a seer can stop themselves from—"
"I HAVE TO STOP THEM!" Draco screeched. "Teach me Ock-you-la-men-see; I have to try something! Look at me! I'm chained to Granger! I WOKE UP IN BED WITH POTTER!"
Draco stamped his foot repeatedly, looking close to tears himself. Snape and McGonagall were both staring at him in a shocked and mortified sort of way, and it suddenly occurred to Draco how that last part had sounded. Indignant, furious, and absolutely powerless to do anything about it, Draco let out a small scream. "Oh, OCK-YOU BOTH!" he yelled, and started to storm away, only to land flat on his back; he'd forgotten the chain and completely lost his balance when it had been pulled taut.
There was silence for a few moments, other than Hermione's sobs. Harry, who had been trying to cheer her up all this time, figured the Draco's sudden fall was as good a thing as any to use in lifting Hermione's spirits. In the same soothing, talking-to-scared-children voice he'd been using for quite some time, Harry shook Hermione gently and said, "Look, Hermione! Malfoy go boom!"
He wasn't sure why he'd said that; it was just the first thing that had come out. The strange phrasing got Hermione to look up, and when she saw Draco lying on the ground, glaring up at the ceiling, his pale face turning an unnatural Ron-like red, she let out a small giggle through her tears and smiled.
This appeared to push poor Draco off the edge.
"RRRRAAAAWWWWGGGG!!" he roared, leaping to his feet so suddenly that everyone instinctively jumped back and began fumbling for their wands. Before anyone could gather their wits, Draco dove at Harry with his hands outstretched.
It wasn't really the best of moves; he didn't punch, or kick, or start strangling or anything else directly painful. He did, however, hit Harry like a freight train and keep going; Harry and Draco soon hit Snape's desk and toppled right over the back of it, kicking several jars of pickled specimens down on top of themselves. Hermione was yanked forward and into the desk so hard she screamed; McGonagall rushed forward to tend to her while Snape ran around to the back of the desk, trying to break up the fight.
"Are you all right?" McGonagall asked Hermione worriedly. Hermione nodded weakly, clutching her stomach with her chain-free hand. McGonagall rushed around to the side of the desk, drawing her wand. "Stupefy!" she called, aiming as best she could for Draco, who had lost all sense of reason and was swinging madly at Harry.
Unfortunately, Snape, who hadn't seen McGonagall come over, had moved right into her path while attempting to pull the two boys apart. A jet of red light hit Snape squarely in the back and he keeled over, landing in a heap next to Draco and Harry.
"Oh, damn," McGonagall muttered, taking aim again.
"Did you just swear?" Hermione demanded shrilly.
"Granger, now isn't the—" McGonagall began, but Hermione cut her off.
"You're not supposed to SWEAR!" Hermione cried, a look of intense anguish on her face. "You're a TEACHER! The BEST teacher! I'VE DRIVEN YOU MAD TOO! AND IT'S MALFOY'S FAULT!"
And before McGonagall could stop her, Hermione dove at Draco.
Somewhere between Gryffindor tower and the fourth floor, Ginny's worry had developed into panic. Harry, Hermione and Draco had left their room, and they had no clue that Fred, George, Ron and Peeves were now out to get them. Ginny had to find them; she'd been running flat-out for quite some time, checking all the places she could think of where the three of them might have gone.
Whenever Fred and George had told her about some prank they'd pulled, Ginny had always found herself thinking, "I'm so glad I'm their sister, and they'd never do anything really horrible to me." Now, however, it seemed all bets were off. The twins had just become official players in the prank war, and she knew that now that it was them, now that it was personal, everyone who wasn't behind them was going down. The pranks would be a hell of a lot worse than anything they would have suggested to Ron and Harry. Ginny had to talk some sense into Harry and Hermione before they all ended up as long-term St. Mungo's residents.
"I really can't keep doing this," Ginny muttered, realizing her nerves were completely shot. She hadn't slept right in a good long while, she was constantly annoyed by people looking for gossip, she still felt a little nauseated from watching Harry puke, and she was still quite worried about whatever was going on with the lemon drop thing. If there was one wizard on the planet you really didn't want mad at you, it was Dumbledore. Ginny's frazzled mind had long since given up on any logical explanation—those no longer seemed to exist in Hogwarts anymore—and now had practically convinced herself that Dumbledore had just gone off his rocker and decided to kill anyone who ever ate a nasty lemon drop. Her only chance of not getting into trouble, or worse, was to stay far away from Snape, McGonagall and Wood—in fact, she was considering hiding quite soon, once she dealt with the prank war mess.
She had now looked just about everywhere she could think of for Harry and Hermione, and had just reached the entrance hall and turned towards the kitchens when she heard a loud scream of rage come from the dungeon's entrance.
Draco.
Ginny turned towards the dungeons and ran down the steps without a second thought, simply following the sounds of Draco, Harry and Hermione's yells, not realizing where she was going.
If she had, she might have remembered that the only place down here that Harry, Hermione and Draco might be was Snape's office… and that it was also the last place she wanted to see.
"GRANGER!" McGonagall shrieked—not only out of shock and disapproval, but out of horror; Hermione had knocked McGonagall's wand right out of her hand as she'd jumped on Draco. The wand flew back towards the doorway but McGonagall lost sight of it; knowing she couldn't handle the three teens without it, McGonagall hurried to the wand's last known coordinates and began to search for it desperately.
"DIE YOU EVIL SCUM!" Hermione roared, leaping on Draco's back in classic piggy-back style, her legs wrapping around his waist to hold herself on while she smacked him repeatedly on the head with one hand, the other hand using his hair as a handhold.
"ARGH! GET OFF!"
"TAKE THAT!"
Harry, who had been knocked to the ground right before Hermione's sneak attack, leaped up and prepared to deck Draco but good; Draco, in danger of losing his balance thanks to Hermione, did the only thing he could think to do and swung round so that Hermione was between him and Harry. The momentum proved too much for him, however, and he fell backwards into Harry.
The three of them smashed into one of the shelves containing jars of preserved creatures and potions specimens; several jars were knocked loose. Suddenly, everyone was screaming and it was raining glass and liquid and squishy things better left unnamed and still the fists and feet flew. Once the majority of the sickening shower had stopped, Draco took his hands away from his face and pried Hermione off him, then tried to run. He was almost to the door when the chain, forgotten once more, snapped him back again; this time he landed on his face, and before he could recover from the harsh introduction to the stone floor, Hermione was on him.
Next there was a civil war of sorts between Harry and Hermione that helped Draco quite a bit; Harry tried to push Hermione away to get at Draco, and Hermione, refusing to give up her claim in the fight, tried to shove Harry away. They got into a strange sort of pushing match; Harry didn't want to hurt Hermione, and she didn't want to hurt him, but neither Harry nor Hermione was willing to surrender pummeling rights on Draco. Draco managed to slither away and get to his feet. Now, however, he remembered the chain, and knew there was no way out. Before he could figure out what to do, Harry and Hermione noticed his absence from the floor and got up; jumping away from them, Draco saw McGonagall reclaim her wand out of the corner of his eye and finally remembered he was a wizard.
Harry and Hermione had their wands out at almost the same instant as Draco; all three raised them, Hermione's starting a complex wave; they each began to shout an incantation—
—and then Ginny appeared seemingly out of nowhere in between the three of them, shouting "PEEVES IS COMING!"
They say that the best way to get someone's attention is to startle them, and there are few things more startling than a short, frantic redheaded girl popping up practically out of thin air and shouting that a poltergeist is coming to get you.
"What?" Harry, Hermione, and Draco asked in unison, but Ginny couldn't answer at first, too out of breath from running.
"Peeves… twins… kick… ass… we… dead… must… not…" Ginny stopped trying to speak, straightening up slightly and looking around. She swallowed, taking a few steadying breaths before whipping her head round to stare at Harry and Hermione with wide eyes. "We're in Snape's office."
"Yes, and we're in the middle of a duel," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Could you move?"
"WHAT IF IT WAS TRUE? ARE YOU MAD? DUMBLEDORE'S COMING TO KILL US ALL!" Poor, sleep-deprived, panicky Ginny looked ready to faint.
"What are you babbling about, Weasley?" McGonagall asked.
At the sound of the professor's voice, Ginny yelped, spun, and backed away, farther from the door, over by Snape's desk. "K-k-keep away from me, y-you lemon drop thief! I have enough problems!"
"Obviously," Draco muttered, lowering his wand and calming slightly, now that he got to see a Weasley having a bad day (which was always a good thing for him). He gingerly touched the swollen, bloody area surrounding his left eye; the swelling was starting to obscure his vision already.
"Calm down, Gin," Harry said automatically; he was getting quite used to comforting people.
"Weasley—about yesterday—" McGonagall began, looking rather embarrassed.
Ginny cocked her head to the side, looking a tad calmer, as though she was starting to get a grip—and she might have continued to do so had Snape not suddenly leaped to his feet right next to Ginny and shouted, "I'm okay! I'm okay! Don't worry, I'll stop them!"
Before Snape could sort out the fact that he'd just been Stunned and had missed most of the fight, Ginny snapped; the sudden appearance of Snape so close by proved to be too much for her nerves.
"GET AWAY!" she screamed, and ran flat-out for the door. The next thing anyone knew, she had bounced off of something and landed on her butt. Harry and Hermione both went to help her, but didn't reach her before she looked up to see what had stopped her—Oliver Wood.
"Sorry about that, Ginny," he said pleasantly, extending a hand to help her up.
"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Ginny's bloodcurdling scream made them all wince, none so much as the hung over Oliver, who grabbed his pounding head and groaned. Ginny shoved him to the side and ran past him, screaming all the way.
Oliver, who had no idea what was upsetting her (his memories of his drunken escapades were still foggy), stared after her in disbelief. "What did I do?" he asked, turning back to survey the room… which was in shambles. Dozens of shattered jars and their grotesque former contents littered the floor. Snape was looking somewhat disgruntled, and his hair was coming loose from the pink bow. McGonagall stood wearily in the corner, her wand held loosely at her side. Harry, Hermione and Draco were all covered in cuts and bruises and slimy liquid.
"Do you guys ever not have drama?" Oliver asked with a sort of disgusted awe. "Have you ever had a drama-free day, or even a drama-free twenty minutes?"
"No," Harry and Hermione said flatly in unison.
Oliver sighed. "What happened to Ginny?"
"Er… never mind that!" McGonagall said quickly. "You three… better get to the hospital wing… fifty points from Slytherin and Gryffindor… yes, hospital, go, you're bleeding all over the place…"
The three of them filed out, all of them now subdued from their injuries, the abrupt recession of adrenaline, and life in general. Oliver shook his head, noting the trail of slime, blood and glass they were leaving behind. He could still hear Ginny screaming in the distance; wincing at the echoing noise, he pulled the door shut.
Author's Notes: A reminder, whatever happened in the sixth book—and whatever will happen in the seventh—will NOT apply in this story. AT ALL. Draco being a Death Eater, Draco knowing Occlumency, Snape being a half-blood, etc. I only use things we learned up through OotP.
And unfortunately—once again I am being plagiarized. "The Prank War" has been posted on MediaMiner under a name that isn't mine, and "They Woke Up Married!" by Anapplefromatree on this site has stolen a huge chunk of my dialogue from the second chapter of "We Woke Up Married." Please, if you ever see my stories posted under a name that is not "CrazyGirl47," or something with "Rain" or "47" in the title, please let let me know.
Finally, on a good note—I've finished the revision and am working my way through chapter 44, meaning that I have one completely brand new chapter ready, called "Oliver's Last Stand." I just have to format the chapters for this site and get a little light editing done, but I'll be throwing out chapters left and right here soon. Once I finish reading the seventh book, naturally.