Chapter Thirty-five

According to Plan

Hermione hummed cheerfully to herself as she walked out of Draco's Muggle Studies class. Everything was going blissfully well. She was back with Ron, Harry was a lot calmer, Ginny had stopped pestering them all for details of one rumor or another, and Draco had been blessedly quiet for almost three days. The only times he'd been even remotely close to getting under Hermione's skin was when they had to split up from Harry and Ron during afternoon classes, but he'd given up by Thursday; Hermione was too happy to let Draco bother her much.

"Could you stop humming, please?" Draco muttered irritably as he turned towards the staircase that would take them down to the Great Hall.

Hermione ignored him. She didn't stop humming, but she didn't start humming louder to further annoy him; the fact that she wasn't letting him bother her was enough to make her happy.

Draco sighed, wondering what his fellow Slytherins were up to. Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson were probably all chatting away, perhaps planning a prank on the Gryffindors or some of their other enemies. As annoying as the dimwitted Slytherins could be, he would have given his right arm to be hanging out with them… especially since his right arm was the arm chained to Hermione.

At least classes are over, he told himself, though that didn't give him much comfort. Now that he'd just completed his last exam—Muggle Studies—there would be no classes until next term, and no classes meant more time with Harry, Ron and probably Ginny; they rarely left Hermione's side. They were like one big, disgusting family, always smiling and laughing and giving Draco the urge to kick a small furry animal. Preferably a puppy.

Still, he couldn't suppress a rush of anticipation; Christmas break was almost upon them. He would just have to suffer through a weekend of Gryffindor cheer before finally being able to get rid of them after the train ride to King's Cross, if only for a few days. He wasn't looking forward to having Hermione in his house, or going to hers, but the more time he spent with Hermione and her friends, the more he began to realize that anything was better than "hanging out" with Harry and Ron. He would sell his soul just to get rid of one of them, never mind both. And Ginny was evil incarnate; he especially hated her habit of finding sneaky little ways of rubbing things in (she still liked to make references to the Bat-Bogey hex she'd put on him in Umbridge's office two years ago).

A painful yank on his wrist made him wince and he turned to see Hermione headed in the other direction. "This way," she said absently, wondering where Ron and Harry were; they had somehow always managed to be outside her class by the time she left the room.

"There's nothing down that way but a shortcut to Charms," Draco protested, jerking his head at the turn in the corridor that would lead them over to Flitwick's room. Hermione didn't reply. Draco started to snap at her, but stopped as Hermione stepped behind a suit of armor and tapped a stone in the wall with her wand. The wall slid apart, creating an opening. He growled low in his throat. Everything about her pissed him off, especially the fact that she was oh-so-smart.

"Come on," she said, stowing her wand away in her arm cuff as she slipped into the secret passage.

Draco grumbled as he followed her, annoyed beyond belief. She had to know everything about everything, and everything had to be done her way. It was driving him mad.

The passage led them down a set of stairs and into a short tunnel, which soon forked into three. Hermione turned right without hesitation and Draco followed, still ranting in his thoughts when he felt something hit his back—and then suddenly he was flying forward, barely managing to get his arms up in time to protect his face. He hit the floor painfully hard and skidded forward a little, Hermione yelping and leaping out of his way.

Draco rolled over and sat up, his eyes flashing. "What did you do that for?" he yelled at Hermione.

"I didn't do a thing," Hermione informed him, frowning.

"You hit me with a jinx! I felt the spell hit; don't deny it!"

"How could I hit you when you were behind me?" she said calmly. "You must have tripped and imagined that you got hit."

Draco opened his mouth to tell her off just as something hit his shoulder. An overwhelming feeling of exhaustion swept through him, building upon the tiredness he'd been feeling since the dreams had started. His angry retort turned into a large yawn and he slumped back against the stone floor, asleep.

Hermione arched an eyebrow at him, confused for a moment before her instincts kicked in. A rush of adrenaline went through her, her mind and body filled with sense of readiness acquired after years of helping to fight against Voldemort and his supporters.

"Who's there?" she called, turning to face back the way they came and dropping the load of books in her arm. Before she could draw her wand something hit her hard in the stomach and she fell back on top of Draco. Next second, a wave of sleepiness hit her. She struggled to stay conscious but failed.

A heartbeat later, the Weasley twins were grinning down at the two of them.

Harry walked into the Great Hall with Ginny, smiling from ear to ear. Exams were over, and he was only two days away from vacation, during which he wouldn't have to see Draco for nearly a week. As worried as he was about things, a week without Draco Malfoy seemed rather like winning the lottery.

"So where's Ron?" Ginny asked as they sat down at the Gryffindor table.

"Said he'd go up to Muggle Studies and walk Hermione down. Told me to go ahead," Harry said with a shrug, digging into his dinner. "So, are we all heading into Hogsmeade this weekend?"

"Of course," Ginny said. "I am, anyway. I need some stuff from Zonko's."

"Don't you get a discount at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"

"Oh, it's not for me. Fred and George offered me ten Galleons to do some industrial espionage on the new Zonko's products."

"Industrial espionage?"

"Yeah, you know—get old Mr. Zonko talking about his new products and take a few notes. He always used to tell anyone who'd listen about his ideas, but now that Fred and George have gone into business, he won't tell anyone with red hair. Speaking of which, remind me to research a few glamour spells tonight."

"Isn't that, I don't know, copyright infringement or something?"

"Oh, Fred and George would never copy ideas straight from Mr. Zonko. They love that old man to death; they're all still friendly and stuff. Mr. Zonko's just paranoid. The twins just like hearing other people's prank ideas; they build off them, twist them around, and come up with other ideas. It's more like inspiration research for them. And speaking of joke ideas… we should get back into the prank war, you know."

"How? We can't hit Malfoy; we'll get blamed for it."

"Maybe. Maybe not. We can set it up to look like an outside job—"

"You do realize you sound like a bank robber, right?"

"—and there are, like, somewhere between sixty and a hundred other Slytherins. Plus there are a few people I'd like to hit in the other houses, starting with Parvati and Lavender and some of my roommates and working down from there."

"I don't know, Gin," Harry said thoughtfully, absently glancing over at Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy. "We've got a lot to deal with right now. Maybe, though."

"Maybe what?" Ron asked, appearing at Harry's side and sitting down.

"Gin wants to get back into the prank war," Harry said.

"Sounds like a great idea," Ron said, his mouth already full of mashed potatoes.

"Hey—where are Hermione and Ferret Boy?" Ginny asked.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione said she wanted to go up to the library to research some stuff. Told me to go down to dinner alone."

"Bet Malfoy was happy about that," Harry said dryly. Ron chuckled.

Ginny gave Ron a funny look, frowning. "You let her go alone?"

"She asked me to, and I was too hungry to argue."

"…She wanted to go alone?"

"Yeah. Said there was no point in me skipping dinner. Oh, she did ask me to save her something, though."

Harry, wondering why Ginny was giving Ron a hard time, gave her a questioning glance and found her giving him a significant look. He wasn't sure what she meant, however; he couldn't see anything wrong. Hermione had been telling them that she didn't need an escort to class for days, even though he and Ron had never relented.

"After dinner," Ginny mouthed, and Harry nodded slightly, wondering what was going on.

Fred and George, who knew Hogwarts like no one else, had no problem getting Hermione and Draco out of the castle. Once they'd reached the grounds, they used a spell to make it look as if Hermione and Draco were simply walking of their own accord, so that anyone who saw them would assume Hermione and Draco were conscious. In minutes, they were at the edge of the forest and heading inside.

The twins also knew some of the forest quite well, having ventured into it many times during their days as students. Once they were under the cover of the trees, Fred pulled a map from his pocket and examined it carefully. The twins and Ron had marked the location of every place where he, Harry, or Hermione had ever run into anything nasty, and Fred and George planned to work out a good place to stash Hermione and Draco from this information and their own.

"Let's see," he said as he and George paused in the trees, their captives floating eerily a few feet away. "Ron's written 'Aragog' here—and underlined it six times—and here's where they think the centaurs hang out… over there's Hagrid's hut, and we know there's at least one Blast-Ended Skrewt here… What the hell does this mean? 'Grawp; don't go there! New people have to be introduced by Hagrid.'"

"What's a grawp?" George wondered.

"No idea, but let's avoid it. I'd say… ten meters east of here, and twenty into the forest. It's not too close to Hagrid…"

"Perfect. No, wait! That's near where Fluffy lives, remember? He scared the crap out of us in fourth year?"

"How could I forget?" Fred tapped the map with his wand and a little note appeared. "Okay… so not there, and this is where the thestrals are…"

"Pity we don't have the Marauder's Map," George said with a sigh. Harry and Hermione's belongings had been thoroughly warded once they'd started sharing a room with Draco.

After a good quarter hour of discussion, the twins headed east for five meters and south for thirty, which put them far enough from Fluffy without getting them too close to anything very deadly. It was deep enough in so that Hermione and Draco wouldn't be lying on snow; the trees were so close that the snow hadn't reached the ground. It was also far from any clearings (leaving two unconscious people in the open was too dangerous) and close enough to the edge of the forest that Draco and Hermione wouldn't have too hard of a time getting out. After all, the real fun began when the two of them tried to make it up to the castle.

"Okay," Fred said as he and George released the spells holding Draco and Hermione upright. "Still got Hermione's wand?"

"What?" George said blankly.

"Hermione's wand. Do you have it?"

"No—I thought you were supposed to get their wands."

"No, I was supposed to get Malfoy's and you were supposed to get hers."

"So we forgot the wand in the corridor. Big deal. We'll go back."

Fred frowned, knelt next to Hermione and lifted up her right arm. "Or it's still in her arm cuff."

"Oops," George said sheepishly.

"GEORGE! You were supposed to wait for her to draw her wand before you hit her with the spell!"

"So I goofed! Pardon me for being human!"

"This isn't going to work half as well if she can use her wand," Fred groaned.

"Well, it's still going to work, and that's what's important."

Fred sighed, a bad feeling coming over him. Contrary to popular belief, the twins' plans didn't always work out smoothly; that was the real reason why they were known as troublemakers—because they kept getting caught. "Yeah, you're right. Well, let's get to work. I'm freezing my ass off."

George paused, frowning thoughtfully. "Say, Fred… it's below freezing, isn't it?"

"Yeah, so?"

"And it's almost dark, so it's going to get colder."

"What's your point?"

"Well… how long do you think it will take two naked people to freeze to death?"

Fred smacked his forehead. "WHY didn't you think of this before?"

"Well, why didn't you?"

"Because I came up with the idea!"

"No, Snape and Harry's mum came up with the idea."

"Well, I came up with the best place for us to knock them out!"

"Oh, following them after class is real original."

"At least I didn't leave Hermione her wand! Hermione, of all people!"

"No, you're just the one who wanted to leave them half a meter from a violent three-headed dog!"

"Okay, okay, look. Let's just forget it and think. How long does the sleeping spell last?"

"Another forty-five minutes to an hour."

"Okay. So how long does a warming spell last?"

"A half hour, max."

"So, we'll just put warming spells on them, and Hermione will renew them when she wakes up."

"Except we might do it wrong, because warming spells are difficult, and we won't really be able to tell if we did it right or not."

"Damn. Um… think, think, think… Hey! What about an illusion spell?"

"What good would that do?"

"Remember when Ron told us about Malfoy hitting her with that spell? Made her look like she was in her underwear?"

"That could work! Bit disappointing, though. It'll wear off two hours or so after they wake up."

"Well, it's all we've got, and it's not like we don't have plans for future pranks to embarrass them."

"True."

Fred pulled out his wand, frowning in concentration before casting the spell. A moment later, Hermione looked like some strange sort of fashion reject. Her gloves, scarf, hat, cloak, shoes, socks, pants and bra were still there; the only things that appeared to be affected at all were her robes and shirt.

"Well," George said, laughing at the strange sight of her, "either you really suck at illusions, or she's made her clothes spell-resistant."

"I'm sure I just did it wrong. I got her shirt and robes—"

"Which she couldn't make spell-resistant, because she has to slice them open and repair them with spells every day to get them on and off."

Fred growled in frustration. He should have thought of that; with all the pranks flying around Hogwarts, Hermione surely would have looked for a way to keep her clothes from constantly getting ruined. "Well, I doubt Malfoy's as smart. Go ahead."

"What?"

"Cast an illusion on him."

"I can't cast a spell with my eyes closed."

"So leave your eyes open."

"And see Malfoy naked? I don't think so."

"Well, I cast the spell on Hermione."

"Which not only failed, but would have been a good thing if it had worked. Not a traumatic moment."

"If you don't hit him, he'll stay clothed."

"Then I guess he's staying clothed."

"George! This is working out bad enough. We have to at LEAST hit Malfoy."

"You're right. Let's go get Ron to do it."

Fred sighed pitifully. "All right, look. Let's just leave his pants, okay? You do the shirt, I'll get his feet."

"Why do you get his feet?"

After a long argument, the twins finally realized that they were running out of time before Draco and Hermione woke up. George grudgingly performed the spell on Draco's shirt, robes and cloak, and Fred did the same to his shoes and socks. "Okay," Fred said, looking down at the strangely-dressed pair. "What's next on the list?"

"We go persuade Hagrid to go get drunk in Hogsmeade so they can't get him to help, then we head to the Great Hall as if we've just arrived."

"Great. After all, we just had a few minor problems. Everything else will go according to plan."

"Hello, Potter!"

Harry, Ginny and Ron all fought to suppress a groan. Snape had yet to deviate from his new midlife-crisis personality; he'd now taken to saying hello to Hermione and the others when they passed him in the hall. It was starting to freak them all out, and they were getting even more weird looks from the other students.

Harry turned to see Snape standing behind him, dressed strangely and smiling. Snape had yet to actually approach them at meals; Harry prayed this wouldn't become a habit. "Hello, Professor," he said wearily.

"I just wanted to remind you of your detention," Snape said. "I'll be filling in for Filch to get you started; the poor man has daisies growing out of his face. Something to do with the prank war, no doubt. Meet me out by the greenhouses in a half hour, all right? Do try to be on time; I've got a pressing engagement."

Harry nodded, relieved when Snape smiled, said his good-byes, and left. "Mental old freak," he muttered, turning back to his meal.

"Is that any way to talk about your professors?" said Fred, dropping onto the bench next to him. George sat down across from Fred.

"Considering it's Snape, yeah," Harry said with a sigh. "What's up, guys?"

"Oh, not much," George said. "Stopped off to see Hagrid and convinced him to go down to the Three Broomsticks and tell Rosmerta to put it on our tab."

"Awfully nice of you," Ginny said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, he's still taking care of Pig, and we feel pretty bad about that," Fred said.

"I don't see you offering me a night of drinking on your tab," Ron muttered.

"You're family," George said. "You're supposed to automatically forgive us."

"'Supposed to' being the key phrase," Ron retorted.

Harry opened his mouth to make a joke, but a sudden sharp pain shot up his leg. "OW!" he yelped.

"What is it?" Fred asked.

"It's not your scar, is it?" Ron said worriedly, flashing back to the days before Voldemort's demise.

"No," Harry said, rubbing his shin. "I think someone just ki—"

"It's his leg," Ginny said, talking over him. "He fell on the way down to dinner. Harry, you really should have that looked at." The sharp pain came again, and Harry glared at her, wondering why she had to get his attention in such a painful matter.

"Right," Harry agreed, confused and annoyed. "I think I'll go up to the hospital wing before detention."

"Madam Pomfrey might hex you, you know," Fred said idly.

"Nah, she won't," Harry replied with a grin. "Then she'd have to treat me longer. See you, guys."

Harry and Ginny got up and left, Harry limping slightly. "Was that really necessary, Gin?" Harry asked.

"Walk faster," she told him. "We've got to get to the library."

"Why?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Because I'll bet you every Knut I have that Hermione isn't there," Ginny said grimly.

"Ginny, what—"

"Harry, don't you think it's odd that even though Ron has refused to let Hermione out of his sight for the past few days, he agreed to let her go today?"

"You know how Ron is about food," Harry replied with a shrug.

"Isn't it strange that he let Hermione out of his sight on the same day the twins are visiting?" Ginny continued, power-walking towards the library.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Gin, you're just being paranoid."

"Come on, Harry. Surely you've noticed that something seems off about Ron lately? He's too… cheerful. He doesn't seem sincere or something. And I could have sworn I saw him glaring daggers at you and Hermione a few times."

Harry frowned, recalling all the instances when he'd thought something was up with Ron. "Well, so what? Maybe he's still angry, but trying to get passed it."

"I don't think so, Harry. Ron's too stubborn, and so are the twins. Doesn't it seem strange that a few hours after they swore to get revenge on Hermione, they were all nicey-nice? I know my brothers, Harry. The moment they left our sight, they started planning ways to get us. While you and Hermione and Draco were dueling in Snape's office, I was eavesdropping on them, and they were talking about bringing in Peeves to help, not how they should get over their little grudge. Something's wrong. I think they've done something to Hermione."

Harry swallowed, her logic hitting him hard. He cursed himself for not keeping his eyes open wider and he broke out into a jog. "Think, Gin. What would they have done?"

"I don't know. A fairly major prank, I'd wager… and something to do with Hagrid, no doubt. The twins are nice enough, but they don't often offer their tab at the Three Broomsticks to a guy who can hold his liquor like Hagrid. Maybe I'm wrong; it's definitely possible. But something doesn't feel right, Harry."

A few moments later, Harry and Ginny were bursting through the doors of the library, both of them looking around for Hermione and Draco. Madam Pince glowered at them, no doubt annoyed by their noisy entrance. Harry ran over to her.

"Have you seen Hermione?" he asked. "And Malfoy?"

"Miss Granger? She hasn't been in here since yesterday," Pince replied.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other worriedly and dashed out of the room.

"Where would she be?" Harry wondered. "We've got to find her."

"Harry, you have to go to detention," Ginny reminded him.

"I'm not going to detention when Hermione is out there somewhere—"

"Harry, look, there's a good chance I'm wrong," Ginny said. "You have to go; skipping detention is grounds for suspension. Maybe she just left the library, and Madam Pince didn't see her. Maybe it's not Ron and the twins at all."

Harry bit his lip; that was the thing about Ginny—she was very objective, always looking at all the angles, even the ones she didn't like. "All right," Harry said finally, starting back towards the entrance hall. "Check the Great Hall first; maybe she's already there. If she isn't, see if Neville or Luna or someone will help. Don't accuse the twins and Ron of anything, okay? Don't even let them know that we know she's not in the library. Avoid them. For now. Come get me once you know something; I'll probably be out in the greenhouses all night. I heard a third year nearly blew up Greenhouse Three."

"Right," Ginny said. "Ask Snape if he's seen her, okay?"

They headed down to the entrance hall and split up, both praying that Hermione was okay.

Draco awoke with the wonderful knowledge that he hadn't had a single bad dream. He had had a blissfully dreamless sleep. No images of Hermione. No images of anything at all.

He grinned, keeping his eyes closed and savoring the moment. Perhaps this meant his nightmarish week was coming to a close. Or maybe it meant that whatever magic had caused the dreams and visions had given up on him, now that he refused to believe it, and decided to leave him alone.

…Or maybe it meant he'd gotten hit with a spell in a secret passage on his way out of Muggle Studies.

Oh, yeah, he thought dismally, now afraid to open his eyes. He was on a hard surface, so hopefully they'd left him in the passage… but it was cold. Too cold… was he outside?

Sighing wearily, Draco opened his eyes.

Staring straight down at him was the huge misshapen face of the most horrifying monster Draco had ever seen.