Disclaimer: Harry Potter and friends (and enemies) belong to JK Rowling.

No Ginsu knives were harmed in the writing of this chapter. (Although some sales clichés were skewered.)

ooOOoo

Chapter 46: But Wait, There's More!

"… So Harry went back through time but returned safely and we have a chance of harvesting the mistletoe now."

"Thus the linen," said Flume, the first time he'd spoken in a while.

"Yes." Draco swallowed. His throat was dry from the long story. There was a sudden tension in the room as the door creaked open, but it was only George returning. "What else? … Exams are cancelled because it doesn't look likely we can get in official examiners in time, but we're still doing study. Busywork, really. And people are getting tense because it's been so long since they've heard from their families…"

"Might be able to help with that," grinned George. He was carrying three bags. "Here." He dropped two bags and opened the third to show it brimming with letters. "After my little shopping trip to Gladrags – linen and Malfoy's last-minute addition to Hermione's list are in the olive canvas pack – I stopped by the post office."

Draco peered into the bag. He couldn't make out any of the names the letters were addressed to, but the bag was reassuringly full. Would there be anything in there for him? "Everything was all closed up when I passed."

"Well, you need to know the right way to wake people up." He didn't say more, which Draco understood: Draco mightn't be a Death Eater, but his allegiance wasn't considered sound by these people and if there was some resistance against Voldemort here in Hogsmeade it was best that outsiders like Draco didn't know the exact workings of it. "So. Owls haven't been able to get into Hogwarts so parents have asked the post office to stockpile them up and get them through to the castle at the first opportunity. The general consensus seems to be that it's better to have the mail on hand to take advantage of any break in the barrier. Speaking of which, how did you get through?"

"That's kind of like me asking you how to wake up people in Hogsmeade," countered Draco, partly because he didn't want to endanger Simon, but also because it irked him that people were running around being secretive and not including him.

"It's nothing like…"

"It is," interrupted Tonks. She stood and went to walk over to Draco. "But I think you should still tell us –"

Draco wasn't sure what happened next. "Oof!"

Tonks had landed on him.

"Sorry," she said.

"That counts as fraternising with the enemy," said George, grinning wickedly.

"Trip on the floor again?" asked Fred. "Floors have nasty tendencies to tangle up your feet." He nodded solemnly to his twin.

Tonks disentangled herself from Draco's arms. She had nice curves to her, and Draco told himself firmly that first cousins were definitely not his type. "You okay?"

"Er, yeah. Sorry." Tonks picked herself up, glaring at her own feet. For a moment she looked very much like Narcissa, which put any nice curves into a more platonic perspective. She held out a hand. Pale, but a Black hand very much like his mother's or his own, come to that. Rounded at the tips rather than slightly spatulate like his father's. Could there be anything about the shape of a person's hands that gave an idea of personality? Draco would rather chew his hand off than ask Trelawney about it. Dropping Divinations had been one of his better ideas, but he'd not forgotten that night in the stable when he'd dreamed of power lost and woken to comfort himself by pondering the nature of hands.

"So?" Tonks asked, as Draco hesitated, thinking.

"So I'm still not telling you how I got here."

The hand wasn't withdrawn. Nodding slightly in reluctant respect, Draco took it, finding the grip of the slender fingers strong and backed with a wiry strength of arm that lifted him up easily. Once on his feet again, Draco surveyed the room. It seemed to be full of boxes, Flume still sitting on one of them, but with a hand idly resting by the pocket in his robes Draco suspected he kept his wand in.

Draco couldn't say he blamed him. This was a war and Draco was the son of someone deeply suspicious. Draco didn't blame him for the mistrust, but it still rankled like the tip of a thorn under the skin.

Still, something he'd just have to learn to live with. So long as he had enough people doing what he wanted that it meant things got done to his satisfaction, it might be all to the good that some people were ready to question him. Yes, he thought – being aware and respectful of the fears of others (and showing that he was sensitive to them) would be a good way to show his fair-mindedness.

Yes. Sensitivity. Awareness of fears of others et cetera as demonstration of fair-mindedness. Draco resolved to make a note of that when he got back to his dormitory and his diary. This evening would take up several pages.

"So are you lot doing any business at the moment?" By the way their faces closed over, Draco guessed that wasn't something politic to ask. "Sorry. More state secrets."

"Like how you came out of Hogwarts. We could make you tell us, you know," said Fred.

"You could," replied Draco calmly. "But then I mightn't be in a state to return to Hogwarts. And it's not a route you can take back." He seriously doubted Simon would allow any of them to ride him through the barrier. There was a lot that could be said in favour of equine paranoia. "And I need to get back soon."

"How soon?" asked Tonks.

"As soon as possible. I need to tell you a few things about the barrier, though… which reminds me, what time is it?"

"Two-thirty."

"What day?"

"June 17th."

"Okay. So I left on the 16th, but in the evening. About nine. It looks like the barrier has shifted time by only a few hours. That's good."

"It's brilliant. How is it brilliant again?" said George as Fred nodded, making a nod sarcastic.

Had they been this annoying back at Hogwarts? Draco couldn't remember but expected so. He schooled his features into long-suffering patience in the face of insurmountable idiocy, which earned him scowls from the twins. There was something quite gratifying about being the reasonable one in an argument. Another thing he needed to note. There was so much good stuff going into the diary he should turn it into a book – he needed a title for it, something snappy. Shame wizards didn't have royalty – The Prince might be good. Draco had a feeling some Italian had already snaffled that one, though. "It's brilliant because it means that the spell isn't fine-tuned to the degree of under a second, and it hasn't made it chronologically difficult to traverse because the spells have drifted over time, which might have happened had the spell been done to isolate Hogwarts over centuries – remember that witch who put some Muggle girl under a spell? When she finally woke up she didn't know which century she was in and couldn't speak the language any more. I believe the Ministry managed to get her a job in the fashion industry after it recreated some memories for her."

"Oh yes, I remember that," said Tonks. "Very romantic. The bloke who rescued her, though – did they get married?"

"I don't know."

"No," said Flume, "it was a wizard who rescued her, and he only did it by accident. They decided to all it quits after dating for a month, then the Ministry made up some new memories for her, found her a job, and she married a photographer. Now she models for Muggle magazines – she made the cover of Vogue…" He trailed off and blushed slightly. "Now then, it was in all the papers – it wasn't like I was deliberately following the story… ahh… so if Hogwarts was isolated over a century or longer, when the barrier comes down there's the danger of being in the wrong time. What's wrong with being isolated by a fraction of a second?"

"Shouldn't that be even better?" asked Tonks, gracefully allowing the subject to come back in line, although the twinkle in her eye suggested she wasn't going to forget Flume's interest in Muggle affairs – or let him forget. "Easier to break, that is?"

"No. The temporal dynamics would be too fine. Potentially speaking, if someone other than the person who set the barrier broke it, Hogwarts could blink out of this reality. Time is tricky to mess with in the first place, but it gets really nasty once you go below a critical level, especially regarding mass. Something to do with the speed of light: if it takes longer for light to travel from one side of the isolated area to the other compared to the actual time the area is isolated by, then it's easy to make the area stop existing simply by countering the spell wrongly." It irritated him, but Draco had to respect Granger's phenomenal and wide-ranging powers of research. What she had found out about the barrier and generously explained to everyone else concerned had raised new questions even she hadn't been able to puzzle out – but now there was at least one to which he was pleased he'd be able to give her a reassuring answer.

"Nice booby trap," said George, with a meaningful look at his brother. Draco didn't like the small cunning smiles both twins got.

"Luckily whoever set up the spell didn't want to chance Hogwarts disappearing forever," said Draco. "Which gives us some leeway if we get the counterspell wrong."

"Dumbledore won't let that happen. He is involved, isn't he?" Tonks asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes," Draco lied. "But we're relying mostly on Granger's research and Snape's notes. Plus Longbottom is good with Herbology, so he's selected some mistletoe already. We just have to harvest it."

"Fairly snappily, I imagine," said Flume. "It's the wrong season. Even if you're using spring snow mistletoe, then."

Draco gave him a surprised look. "According to Snape, yes."

"I thought he was dead?" said George. "Is he a ghost now?" He and his brother exchanged uncomfortable glances.

"No – but he wrote some notes in a library book…"

"Snape wrote in a library book?"

Draco rolled his eyes. The twins sounded like they were telepathically attuned to Hermione. "Yes, he wrote in a library book. And gave us some specific potions, including the basics for the dry potion we used to send Harry back in time."

"He explained all that while you were out doing the shopping," said Fred. "Harry went back to his dad's school days and he and Snape were buddies."

"Right. Of course. Because that makes more sense than anything else in the world. Did Luna Lovegood write this script, Malfoy?" George said.

Draco smiled. "Perhaps – because she also wrote herself in as Harry's girlfriend."

The twins groaned.

"She's all right," Draco said. "Honestly. She comes across as a bit weird, but she's got some good ideas and she means well… and she's not stupid. Just open to multiple possibilities." He conveniently forgot that he'd once described her open-mindedness as being more akin to that of someone lobotomised.

"Well, that's the nicest way I've heard anyone call someone crazy." George shook his head and sat on the box next to Flume.

"As I was saying," Flume went on, "spring snow mistletoe loses all potency after midsummer's night. So you've only got a few more days to harvest it."

"Hell," Draco breathed. "Well, we've got the linen and the sickle… and did you get the other things from the apothecary?"

George patted the green bag. "All ready to go. Sealed in unbreakable jars."

Draco suddenly realised something. His shoulders slumped as he said, "I'm not sure I can take active magic through the barrier… my wand was okay because I wasn't using it, and…" and the shoes were keyed in to the edge-magic of Simon "… and I was sure not to bring anything magic on me…"

"Relax." George nudged the bag with the toe of one boot. "I've got it covered. This bag is Impermeable. It reflects back any magical signs and buffers for shocks. It's also very fashionable with an embossed paisley pattern. How much do you think you'd pay for something like this? One hundred Galleons?"

"No," said Draco, folding his arms.

He was ignored. It looked like the twins had been working on their spiel for too long to be interrupted now that they'd been given a chance to try it out.

"Yes," said Fred.

"No! You'd think so, wouldn't you? Morons! But no! Not one hundred Galleons. Not eighty galleons!"

"Fifty?" asked Tonks, who was beginning to look a little sour. "And you shouldn't call customers 'morons'."

"Not to their faces," added Flume.

George frowned. "We're meant to go through seventy-five and sixty first."

"Get on with it," Flume muttered.

"…Not fifty! Not forty! Thirty? No!"

"Twenty? Twenty Galleons!" Fred exclaimed.

"We laugh at twenty Galleons! Ha-ha! No! Only twelve Galleons!"

"But wait, there's more!"

George scowled at his twin. "That's my line."

"You've already done the whole numbers thing. I want a good line."

"Fine."

"But wait, there's more!"

"Happy?"

"Now, yes."

"We're not." But Draco was ignored again.

"Twelve galleons, and that's including the faux-dragon-hide wallet with real faux hand-tooled curly stuff," George enthused, throwing one hand out in a dramatic gesture that made Tonks duck. "Buy three and we include a spiffing plastic egg-timer! So exact, it can almost measure out three minutes!"

"Four. Four-ish. On a warm day. Five if it's sulking 'cos of the cold. Do you know how much you'd pay for a real faux hand-tooled curly stuff faux-dragonhide wallet? But wait, there's more! (Sorry, George, but that's such a good line I had to say it again.) It comes in… Different colours! Yes! Different colours! We thought you'd prefer the green rather than the red, Malfoy. We are sensitive to our customers' needs! The material's brilliant for testing out new products within – safety first, right George?"

"Right. Or it is now after you burnt your eyebrows off. And the ink ran when you had to draw your eyebrows back on… and didn't Irene Buglestaff think that was funny?"

"Worst date ever," Fred grumbled.

Draco tried not to smirk, then remembered that the clock was ticking. "Right. Leaving aside the evils of Weasley love-life for the moment – if you think you might possibly be able to? Good. I expect I'm not the only one eternally grateful. Now. The barrier. It's a set of three trees, we think. I found one on Hogwarts grounds and it's got a bitch of a solid charm on it – threw me back a few yards and knocked me out, so be warned when you go looking for oak tree anchors. I found it using Mendeleev gloves, which were destroyed when Potter took them back in time."

"I notice you specified purple troll bladderweed," George said, wiping his brow. The sales pitch had really taken it out of him. "So you're going to try making another pair?"

"And how did you know they need purple troll bladderweed?"

"Guess. How'd you get your gloves, then? Don't tell me you made them from scratch?"

"God, no. They were Snape's. Dumbledore gave them to me after I went blind."

"You went blind? Why did I have to go off and do the shopping and miss the really good stuff?" George whined.

He was ignored.

"Luna has a bit of an idea for how to make new ones."

"Really?" Tonks said doubtfully. "How'd she learn?"

"Professor Snape. Apparently she bugged him and he thought it was safer to teach her than let her figure it out on her own."

Fred balled a piece of paper and threw it at his brother. "Oh, sod it! I knew we should have played our 'a little knowledge in the hands of Fred and George is a potential danger to the school and entirety of creation' card with Snape! We could have blackmailed him into teaching us anything… can you imagine the products we'd have developed by now if he'd told us the difference between skuntweed harvested before and after the new moon?"

George shied the wad of paper back at his brother moodily. "We'd not have needed to rebuild that fireplace."

"And the chimney."

"And the shed."

"And the barn that caught fire."

"That storage facility for the apothecary – you remember the one on the other side of us? That made some pretty lights as it exploded…"

"Brilliant, that was – I keep wondering which –"

"If I might finish?" Draco said huffily. "So we're going to try making some new gloves. And pinpointing the other trees. Which means we'll have to send someone out again. Which means it would be terribly useful if you could keep an eye on the road to make sure that person doesn't get done over by Dementors or caught up by the curses set in the road or hanging in the air. Or at the very least can take a message as the person dives back inside the barrier."

"I'll put a bell by the gates," said Tonks. "Don't worry – the bell will be unmagical. We've already seen how the Death Eaters have put up detectors for magic around the perimeter, so I don't want to alert them to the fact we're expecting another visitor. But the clapper will be charmed so that when you touch it it'll alert me or another Auror who can come and escort you to Hogsmeade or at the very least Apparate you to safety. Can you Apparate?"

"No. And I can't learn at the moment because it's not possible to do so on Hogwarts grounds. I could probably try in the Forest," Draco added, thinking aloud. "Yes. I'll see if any of the professors feel like giving the sixth-years lessons in how to Apparate."

"Might be a good idea for if you're ever in a pinch. The bell will be on the left side of the gate – that's your right as you come out."

"Still got those floating ribbons hanging around the road?" asked Flume.

"Oh, yes."

"Any touch you?"

"Not me."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning they didn't touch me, all right?" Draco answered George, feeling his temper fraying.

"So they touched your transport. Did you come on a broom or a carpet?"

"No. Look, if you can find the other two trees, I'd really like to know where they are. If not, I'll see about using the Mendeleev gloves or passing them on to someone outside the barrier. And in the meantime is there some way we could arrange to have a good stock of food to be picked up? If we can miniaturise it and put it in an Impermeable bag, that would be best."

"Food? What do you need?" asked Tonks.

Draco shrugged. "I dunno. The basics, I guess. Flour, sugar, meat, vegetables… we haven't had fresh fruit or vegetables for a while, only what the house elves had preserved. Not that I'm complaining about the lack of Brussels sprouts, but even I know there's a basic minimum needed to stay healthy. Apples would be especially useful," he said, thinking of Simon. And, thinking of Simon… "And can I stop in at your shop before I go back, Mr Flume?"

"Wanting to put something on account?" Flume asked, smiling as if to show he wouldn't be too put out if Draco did.

But Draco didn't care to be patronised. "Not at all." He fished around in the pockets of his Muggle-style trousers and pulled out all the Galleons he'd brought with him. "I should hope this will be enough to cover my purchases."

Flume's shaggy eyebrows rose. "Thinking of buying out my entire stock, are you?"

"Like I said, we're really down on basic supplies. And money's less useful right now than, say, a box of liquorice."

"Hm. Well, when we're finished here I suppose we can stop by."

Draco shot Tonks a quizzical look. She nodded.

"There's a lot I'd like to know, but I can't think of the questions right now. You – you've come as too much of a surprise. Are you sure you can't stay longer?"

"Absolutely. I hope I haven't been here too long."

"So you'll forgo a trip to the candy shop?"

"Not bloody likely, Weasley."

"Come on then," Flume said, standing as if his joints weren't enjoying being up so late.

"You'll be wanting another Impermeable bag, will you?" asked Tonks.

"That'd be good, thanks," Draco said. "I'll have to shrink a lot down to carry it back. In fact, is there any chance of taking any food back for the castle?"

"We'll go and see to it – meet you at Honeydukes," George said.

"Can't get anything through the floo for you at the moment as we suspect it's been under Death Eater surveillance. That'd make them wonder why people are ordering massive amounts of flour…"

"…Butter, milk, eggs, tomatoes, ham… and unless they thought we were secretly trying to break the record for World's Biggest Pizza…"

"…We could be inviting a bit of unnecessary strife on ourselves. There's been a shipment of fruit and veg today… well, yesterday morning, it'd be now," Fred added. "I'm sure Descartes won't mind it going for a good cause."

"Are we going to wake him to ask, Fred?"

"No, George. Are we the sort of people who go around waking honest working folk at this time of night?"

"No, Fred, we are not."

"Nope. So we'll just nick the lot and then explain it to him next time we see him."

"Right you are, Fred. Well, come on, you lot," he added quickly as Tonks, Flume and Draco glared at him, frightened he and Fred were going to start going off on a tangent. "Time's a-wasting as the lad said."

ooOOoo

The shadows had only got darker if anything.

The sacks slung over Draco's shoulders contained mostly shrunken items, but there was only so far things could be reduced and Draco estimated the weight as at least twenty kilos. Normally that wasn't anything too heavy for him, but the bulky inertia made it hard to move sideways with speed.

Not that Draco had needed to duck anything yet, but he liked to keep his options open. He stumbled and cursed, his lips moving silently. Bloody potholes.

Now.

Which tree had he left Simon under?

It was almost like having a Dementor pass by – that nasty cold feeling deep in the chest. Draco realised he couldn't remember where Simon was.

Fuck it. I've lost my horse.

"Simon…?" he whispered.

Nothing. Only an owl hooting far away in the forest. Something flittered overhead, a high-pitched chittering almost beyond the range of hearing, like fingernails on wet glass, told him bats were about. That was reassuring – bats didn't like Dementors and were quite shy creatures.

The sudden scream of a fox nearly gave him a heart-attack.

But that, too, was far away.

Draco was alone in the night with only a handful of bats and the cold, heavy smell of trees and mouldering leaves for company. A tall, black, bad-tempered horse was conspicuous by his absence.

A low, rolling snort echoed through the trees. It sounded like a monster. Or the drain of a monster's bathroom clearing.

"Simon," Draco hissed, recognising the snort of a suspicious horse. Then, slightly louder, "Simon."

There was a soft whinny.

Draco headed towards it.

He found Simon still tied up under the tree, sheltered from the wind by shaggy pine branches. When he pushed through the boughs he found the small hollow created by the tree was slightly warmer than the rest of the night, but not warm enough. And when he touched the horse's shoulder he found Simon was shivering slightly, and Draco was ashamed he hadn't thought to bring a blanket for the horse. Simon didn't seem to hold any grudges, though. There was a stir in the air and Draco heard rather than saw the horse bob its head up and down by the soft whickering coming from shoulder height then waist height then up again. He smiled, picturing Simon's expression in his mind.

Simon whuffled at his hair and nipped lightly at his shoulder, not to hurt, simply to reassure himself Draco was Draco. It was friendly as nips went. Draco patted the horse on the neck, just as relieved to see the horse as the horse was to see him. So to speak. It was so dark Draco couldn't really see anything. It was like being blind again. Fortunately that had taught Draco what to do in situations like these: use your hands, your ears, and your common sense.

He ran his hands up to Simon's head, then down the bridle to the reins and followed the cold leather straps to where they were still wrapped around the branch. "There we go. Sorry, Simon – I didn't mean to leave you so long you got cold. Here. I brought you an apple." He bit it into chunks, juice running down his chin. The apple was sweet and Draco saved a bite for himself, wiping his face on the back of his sleeve, getting bits of pine needle stuck to his cheek. The crunching of the apple between Simon's teeth sounded terribly loud. The fox screamed again, a little nearer, but Draco barely noticed. It was a sound he thought of as part of winter and right now he wanted to leave this place, get back to Hogwarts where foxes knew what season it was and parents didn't expect their children to become enslaved to insane wizards – well, insane wizards other than Dumbledore, that was.

Disturbing thoughts.

"Come on, let's get some light."

The moon was out again, but Draco decided that if he stayed within the trees there wasn't too much chance of being spotted. Simon didn't seem upset by anything. Instead of sidling and snorting, the horse stood idly as Draco arranged and rearranged bags over his shoulders, occasionally turning his head to check what Draco was doing, probably hoping for another apple.

"When we get back to Hogwarts. I promise you two apples, how's that?"

Unfortunately horses don't understand English. Simon checked the pockets of Draco's cloak and Draco's hands as the boy worked, ever hopeful.

Tonks, who was pretty handy with a wand, had twined the top straps of the bags and sacks so that they were paired by weight. She hadn't asked why he'd wanted them arranged so oddly, although she wouldn't have had an answer to that anyway. Draco slung them over Simon's withers, just in front of the saddle, and arranged the extra straps he'd had Tonks fit so that the bags were secured to the D-rings on the front of the saddle just below the pommel. After a moment's deliberation, he loosened the girth further (he'd already loosened it when he left Simon as it was the least he could do to make the horse more comfortable) to allow the lower straps from the bags to slip under and around the girth more easily. The horse's skin was prone to rubbing from the girth, but Draco was confident they'd be back before more than a millimetre of hair was rubbed off. Satisfied that the load was both balanced and secure on both sides, Draco tightened the girth again, jabbing Simon in the belly with his knee as he did so to make sure the horse wasn't holding his breath.

Which he had been, of course.

Simon grunted and gave Draco a dirty look.

"Sorry, old boy, but I can't have the saddle going under your stomach. Not tonight." Draco had kept a peppermint back in the pocket of his shirt. He dug around under the robes, under the jacket – ugh, how did Muggles stand having to wear so many layers? Maybe that was why they didn't spend enough time thinking up ways to stop polluting the planet – and, by wriggling carefully, managed to extract the peppermint.

Simon's ears shot forward and there was a greedy rumble from deep in his chest.

The peppermint was gone, crunched down, peppermint smell mixing with the pine to make the air even crisper.

Draco ran his hand down the girth on either side to make sure the hair was lying flat and no skin was pinched. Thanks to Luna's care, that had never happened, but Draco expected Bad Things should Simon's sensitive skin be nipped and irritated by the girth.

There were enough Bad Things out there this evening for Draco to not go courting new ones. He pulled down the stirrups and mounted a little awkwardly as the bags got in the way. Simon arched his neck and circled on the spot, ready to go.

"Steady there."

Simon ducked his head and snorted. Draco reminded himself to relax. Luna insisted horses were psychic, and while he doubted that, Simon had an uncanny knack of picking up on a rider's thoughts. And right now Draco was feeling more than a little anxious.

Simon pawed the ground.

"Hell, don't do that! If we lose a shoe we're screwed." He nudged the horse carefully with his heels, easing up just enough on the reins so that Simon didn't forget the rider was in charge.

Although Simon had done a darn good job of taking care of business while Draco was crippled with agony in the barrier…

No point in pushing his luck. Draco kept contact light but constant between his hands and Simon's mouth as the horse stepped forward.

The moon was past zenith now. Draco took one last look at the watch Tonks had loaned him – five to three; things hadn't taken so long as he'd thought – before he hung it on a branch. It would be an easy accio for her in the morning. And at least he could give Granger a rough guestimate of the time differential.

Simon spun around towards Hogsmeade, nearly sending Draco off onto the road, and stopped dead.

"Come on…" Draco pulled on the reins and dared a harder kick.

Simon tossed his head and sidled to the left, eyes bulging with suspicion, ears flickering. Draco clutched at the pommel. "What the hell…?"

"Er… that would be me he's seen," came an apologetic voice. The hood of a black cloak was thrown back to reveal hair that glowed coppery under the moonlight.

"And me." A second hood showed a second red-head, just as unwelcome as the first.

"Fred, then. I was the cunning one who was unseen until I declared my presence."

"Yeah, right."

Draco pressed his hand over his eyes. "Oh, for God's sake… I see how much a promise from you two is worth."

"Our word is our bond. We're only out because…"

"…we needed to get something…"

"…for Tonks. Her watch. Nice horsie, by the way. Where'd…"

"…you get it?"

"None of your bloody business," Draco snarled, furious. "And you're not to say a word about him."

"No? Does Dumbledore know…"

"…you're out for a midnight ride? I thought Harry was…"

"…involved. You're not telling me he's given up Quidditch for steeplechasing?"

Draco was getting dizzy from the conversation. "I'm saying that I won't be the only one annoyed if certain quarters get wind of a way through the barrier."

The twins fell mercifully silent. It was hard to tell what they were thinking, the light was too bad and the twins had always been the most secretive of all the Weasleys Draco had met, hiding their real intentions behind banter. It was hard to know if they could be serious enough to know the danger of what they'd just found out.

Fred – or George; Draco had lost track – nodded. "True. Well, while we're here, we can at the very least give you some help."

Draco stared at them, waiting for the punch-line. Or just the punch.

"We've got a new product out on the market."

"We've got Bad Wind."

"I beg your pardon?"

"That's the name of the product. 'Bad Wind'."

"Do I really want to know about this?" Draco asked faintly. Simon had relaxed again. Maybe if he pulled the horse's head around and made a run for it, he could save what was left of his sanity.

Fred produced a small vial. "It's a small tornado in a jar."

"Oh. Is that meant to be good?"

"It's probably better than what you were thinking," George sniggered.

Draco said nothing, waiting.

Fred sighed. "Y'know the blue streamers? Bad Wind wraps them up in itself and clears the way. No getting caught."

"You've tested it?"

"Yup. Clears 99% of all blue streamers. No getting caught and tortured to death by Death Eaters, or your money back."

"Providing you apply in person for the refund," added George.

"Of course," Draco said. "What about all the little hellpits in the road?"

"Ah. Those are for you to avoid. We can't take all the fun from you."

"Gee. Thanks."

"Not at all. Ready?"

"You sure this spell of yours is magically undetectable?"

"Of course. Worked fine just last week. George? Care to do the honours?"

"Right you are, Frederick."

George pointed the mouth of the vial along the road.

"How do you know it won't go off into the Forest?"

"Good question. It doesn't."

"Why not?" Draco was getting cross again. Simon stamped a foot and the twins moved back a step.

"Er… industrial secret. But the whirlwind homes in on the gates of Hogwarts, travelling along the road. That much I can tell you."

Draco was placing his life – and Simon's – in the hands of a pair of Weasley tricksters. "Get on with it."

George popped the cap.

There was a muffled howl and Simon stepped back smartly as a small vortex spun out of the vial, rapidly growing to tower over Draco's head.

Simon snorted in alarm and tried to turn and run, but Draco held him steady. The horse pranced and the sacks bumped against Draco's knees. "Steady, Simon… Is that thing dangerous?"

"We could ask you the same," Fred replied sourly. Simon had nearly trodden on him and George was rubbing his nose. When Simon had turned, that long black tail had swished into George's face. "Look – there it goes…"

Bad Wind had taken its bearings now and was accelerating up the road towards the castle. It soon merged into the darkness, but the faint whistle of it could still be heard.

"Better get a move on, Malfoy," George said.

Draco nodded.

Simon was a little unhappy about following Bad Wind, but Draco's heels and firm grip on the reins argued the horse into a trot that kept them within earshot of the whirlwind. Draco looked back once: the twins were still standing there, hoods back up. If he hadn't known where they were he wouldn't have spotted them.

Oddly reassured, he urged Simon faster to keep up with the whirlwind. It wasn't far before the first streamers appeared. They rippled blue then violet when they tangled with Bad Wind, spooling around and into the vortex. Encouraged, Draco cast the first spell to reveal the traps in the road itself.

Nothing. Good.

A few minutes' trot later and Hogsmeade was out of sight. But the barrier itself was in view, shimmering under the moonlight. There was a hint of the castle beyond it, and Draco realised that there was a very simple way of getting messages through: post a whopping great sign for long enough, and hopefully someone would see it.

So why hadn't anyone done this before?

Maybe –

The first shadow of coldness alerted him and then the way Simon threw up his head confirmed it: they weren't alone.

The coiling of the night air suggested something passing nearby his face. Draco jerked back when something stroked his cheek. A friendly, slightly lost bat? There were no faint squeaks. Simon tugged at the reins, throwing his head up and down.

Ice congealed at the edges of Draco's vision.

Vision…

He was blind. Again. Blind and helpless and devoid of purpose. Beneath him the horse shuddered, caught in some nightmare of its own.

Draco shook his head. No – the moon had simply gone behind clouds. The clouds parted again and the sudden light showed a tall dark figure on the road ahead, tattered robes shifting gently in eddies of frigid air. The night congealed around it.

Dementor.

Draco stared at it; frozen; desperately wanting to run, but not having anywhere to run to. When he tugged on the reins to turn Simon, the horse didn't notice, standing there in the middle of the road as if its hooves were glued to it.

The Dementor glided closer.

Draco felt the darkness of the spider's poison tug him down again. His limbs were going numb. He dropped the reins. He was alone in the world. Alone and powerless.

The Dementor raised one skeletal hand to touch between Simon's ears.

ooOOoo