Author's Notes: It's been a few weeks since I posted, so just a reminder of where we are . . . Draco and Ginny recently left the Slytherin Changing Rooms, where they had some startling revelations and a marvelous time. ;-)
This chapter's title comes from the song by The Police. A big Thank you!! to my super-cool beta, fyrechild, for all her help.
CHAPTER 16 – Message in a Bottle
Ginny was softly humming the chorus of the upbeat tune 'Equilibrium', the latest hit by the group Nimue, as she ascended the last staircase that led to Gryffindor Tower. When she arrived in front of the portrait, she bobbed her head to the beat as she whispered the words to herself. The Fat Lady arched her eyebrows and remarked with interest, "Well, someone's looking quite pleased with herself. Password?"
"Pumpkin Pasties," she replied correctly, thinking, What a ridiculous password! Sounds like something a stripper would use to cover her nipples -- had to be Ron's dumb idea.
The painting swung open wide to admit her. The lady within cautioned her in a low voice, "Watch out, dearie . . I believe your brother and Harry Potter were looking for you earlier." Then she whispered with a sly wink, "It may have been nothing, but you know what they say -- 'Forewarned is forearmed'."
She crawled through the portrait hole leisurely, her thoughts miles away from Gryffindor Tower and its residents. She was in a state of euphoria, blissfully happy that Draco had actually said he loved her. I love you, Ginny Weasley, he had said. She repeated the words over and over in her mind.
It slowly dawned on her that the Fat Lady had tried to warn her about some impending doom. "Huh?" Ginny asked dazedly.
But it was too late; the portrait had already snapped shut, and her brother charged at her like a mad bull. She could swear he was snorting like one, too. Hoping to throw him off, she spoke first, saying, "Good evening to you, too, Ronald." She added with a smirk, "And what brings you over from the comfort of the fire, Hermione in your lap and all, just to greet me?"
"I need to speak with you. Privately."
Crossing her arms, she blurted out, "Oh, I see -- privately, at the entryway of the Common Room? Want to consider less crowded venue?" Then she noticed that the room was nearly deserted. Aside from Ron and Hermione, only Colin remained, sitting in an oversized, wingback chair near the stairs, absorbed in the Quibbler magazine he was holding upside down while he gallantly pretended not to eavesdrop. She asked, "Do I have a say in the matter?"
"No," Ron said coldly, "tramps like you don't deserve one."
She gasped, shocked at his accusation. But before she crucified him -- denying it all fervently, of course -- she wanted to know what he thought he knew. "What are you on about, anyway?" His silent stare was beginning to make her feel rather uncomfortable, and she snapped, "Out with it, you -- you -- troll! If you have nothing to back up such accusations, then I'm going. I have a Potions essay to finish!"
Ron breathed deeply to calm himself then ordered her curtly, "Ginny, give me your wand."
"My wand? Why?!"
He snarled, "Because I want to know what my innocent, darling little sister has been up to. Hand it over. Now.”
She bolted, trying to sidestep him, but he was the team's Keeper for a reason. He was also faster, and his longer legs allowing him to cover more area. He stopped her dead in her tracks, reached into the pocket he knew she always kept it in, and swiped it victoriously. At first, he laughed crazily, as if getting his hands on it was an obsession -- then he stopped suddenly and whispered, "Priori Incantato."
Ginny bit her lip and cringed inwardly, suddenly regretting that she had not used her own wand to levitate her broomstick after they left the Changing Rooms. No, she reminded herself fretfully, Draco levitated both his and mine. Oh, why hadn't she cast another spell since then . . . any spell, just so the last one she'd cast wasn't—
"The Pregnancy Prevention Spell?!" Ron gasped as quietly as he could manage. To say he was furious would have been a gross understatement. His sister tried to back away from him, but he got right in her face, raised his voice, and barked threateningly, "Why in blazes do you need that, and where did you learn it?"
A half-second later, two voices called from across the room, "Tranquillus!" With the force of the spell doubled and Ron completely off his guard, he lost his balance. He grabbed onto a nearby couch on the way down and landed on his bum with a mild thump. Staring up at Ginny, he blinked wordlessly. Hermione rushed to his aid and held his head tenderly in her hands, cooing her apologies.
Ginny let out a sigh of relief as her other friend approached her. "Thanks, Colin, Hermione. No telling what he'd do next."
Her classmate stated the obvious. "Well, he looked pretty upset. What's his problem, anyway?"
"Who knows?" she shrugged.
Ron leaned back against to the couch, breathing more slowly and muttering to himself, "It can't . . it just can't be true." He looked to be having trouble staying focused, but he was still cognizant. His blue eyes looked glazed over and started to roll back in his head.
Hermione shushed Ron soothingly, attempting to alleviate part, but not all, of the dual Charm. She had never seen him so angry with Ginny before. Placing his head gently against the couch, she stood up quickly and assumed her 'Head-Girl-in-Training'stance. She suggested rather firmly that Colin go up to his room. "This is between Ginny and her brother," she explained.
Colin looked a bit peeved, but Ginny intervened, saying, "She's right, Colin, you'd better go. Ron and I need to have a talk of a -- rather private nature. Thanks, again." She gave him a demure smile. He nodded, walked back to his chair to collect his belongings, and trod upstairs.
"Now, Ronald Weasley," Hermione chided coldly, "that was completely uncalled for! Might I ask what the hell is bothering you?" Ginny blinked, a bit surprised to hear her curse.
Ron's words were quiet yet steady and sure. "I had a vision. Last night."
His sister rolled her eyes, and Hermione scoffed, "Not that Divination crap again. Really, Ron, there's no such thing. You should know that."
Clearly annoyed, he countered, "No, it's not. Well, I know Professor Trelawney seems like a fraud, but her predictions about Harry were apparently both true." He stopped to think then added, "At least, Dumbledore believes her."
"All right, Ron," his girlfriend sighed, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Tell us about this 'vision' of yours."
He closed his eyes for a few seconds, as if to help him recall it more clearly. He swallowed hard, composing himself. What he said next would literally knock the breath out of Ginny's body.
"It was Lucius Malfoy. He stood over my bed and told me that my sister was sleeping with his son. He said it was up to me to stop it, and if I didn't . . ." He paused then looked Ginny directly in the eye. "If I didn't, he said that you would die."
Ginny did the only thing she could do: she laughed, low at first, then hysterically. Soon, she was chortling uncontrollably. "That's preposterous! Me and Draco Malfoy? Can you imagine?" She couldn't stop laughing.
When a tear rolled down Ginny's cheek, Hermione took over. "What utter rubbish!" She sneered at Ron, "See? I told you, Divination is pure hogwash." Ginny nodded in agreement; her laughter had finally stopped, and she sniffed and wiped her cheeks.
Still under the influence of the Calming Charm, Ron insisted serenely, "But it seemed so real." He turned to his sister and asked her point-blank, "Then who are you seeing?"
Ginny replied snidely, "That's none of your freaking business. I'll see who I want to." Playing her trump card, she turned the tables, asking him smoothly, "And how, might I ask, did you happen to know the Pregnancy Prevention Spell? I can't imagine that Dad taught it to you. Does Mum know that you not only know it, Hermione uses it on a regular basis?"
Her implication caused Hermione to turn almost as red as her boyfriend's hair. Ron glowered at his sister, who went on, "Didn't think so. Tell you what, you toad; I won't tell Mum your dirty little secret if you won't tell her mine." Knowing she had him where she wanted him, she turned around and left him staring after, his mouth hanging open, as she marched off to the stairs to her room.
That felt good, she told herself. But it didn't -- not really.
She collapsed onto her bed. She sobbed quietly to herself for a while, her emotions fluctuating wildly between joy, fear, anger, despair, hope.
No one understands me. No one but him. No one—
"Ginny?" Hermione whispered from the hallway, rapping lightly on the fifth-year girls' dorm room. "Ginny, are you awake?"
She gasped and sat up quickly. Swiping at her tears, she reminded herself, Hermione once told me that if I ever needed to talk, she would about always be there for me, no matter what . . .
She magically refreshed her reddened face, removing all traces of her tears. "Yes," was all she trusted herself to say at the moment. Her friend opened the door and quietly stepped inside.
Hermione cast a Silencing Charm, cautiously opened the bed curtains, and slipped inside. "Ginny," she said flatly, "I know." When Ginny acted as if she were confused, her friend touched her gently on the shoulder, the disappointment apparent in her face. "I know who you're seeing. What I can't fathom, is why."
Ginny was rather taken aback. She bit her lip as she hedged, "It -- it's complicated, Hermione." After a brief silence, she asked curiously, "But how could you know? We've been so careful."
Sitting down on the bed, the older girl shrugged. "A few simple deductions, really. You two, running around the castle together at night, long after curfew. Him spying on you at Quidditch practice with Harry, and then not one hour later, arguing with you in Hogsmeade. And I heard a rumor you went to Blaise Zabini's funeral with him. Did you?"
"Blaise was his best friend! He needed someone!" Ginny insisted. As if justifying her actions, she whispered, "He begged me to go."
Hermione snorted softly, "I mean, for God's sake, even Hagrid suspected. Funny, your brother, the 'diviner', had nary a clue." When Ginny said nothing, the older girl rolled her eyes, muttering in a low voice, "Helping him with a research project, indeed."
"But I was—"
"Then what are you doing with him now?" Hermione snapped. "And of all the mean, low-down, Slytherin bastards in this school, why did you choose him? You know Ron's going to have a sheer heart attack when he finds out that he was right -- not to mention, he'll think he really is a diviner. And think what this will do to Harry!” She gasped suddenly, "That's probably why Malfoy's doing this, don't you think? He's sure to dump you the second Harry finds out."
"No!!" Ginny exclaimed. "He isn't -- Draco's not like that at all. Look, I know you think he's an arse, and I must be insane, but I can't explain it." She stated insistently, "It's fate."
Hermione closed her eyes. She tried to stay calm, to be understanding. But she couldn't abide another minute of the utterly archaic beliefs some pureblood families clung to, even in this day and age. She groaned with disdain, "Urggh, the both of you! First, Ron believes he's a seer, and now you trust your heart to fate! I suppose you think you're going to marry that smarmy ferret someday."
Ginny didn't respond, nor did she need to; her bright eyes said it all. Hermione knew she had struck a chord. The girl was obviously quite serious about this.
She sighed heavily then said concernedly, "Look -- I don't pretend to understand it, but . . if you feel certain that this is your 'destiny', just promise me that you'll be very, very careful. Honestly, I think you're crazy, but what can I do? It's your life."
She looked at her intently and warned, "Please, watch out for your heart, Ginny. If that prat breaks it, I'll Avada Kedavra him myself . . if there's any point, once Ron's through with him."
Ginny tried to reassure her. "I -- that is, we love each other." Then as if it were almost an afterthought, she asked nervously, "Does Ron really believe it? I mean, all that 'vision' nonsense . . I can't have him just go haring off, trying to kill my boyfriend."
With a conspiratorial smirk, Hermione replied, "Oh, don't worry about Ron; I can keep him in line. I'll just convince him it was just a bad dream. Had to have been, right? I don't imagine Lucius Malfoy can just waltz out of Azkaban anytime he likes." Ginny smiled weakly as her friend grasped her hands, her tone serious once more. "If you're sure you know what you're doing . . and know that this goes against everything I've ever believed about Malfoy—" She paused and muttered to herself, "I can't believe I'm even thinking this . . . " After hesitating a moment longer, she promised resolutely, "Then I'll support you in any way I can."
Ginny beamed and gave her an assured nod. "I've never been more certain of anything. We're in love; it's what we both want."
Hermione smiled wistfully and commented with frankness, "Well, I must say that he doesn't seem to be quite as nasty now that his father's away in prison; he's even been somewhat bearable in Advanced Potions. I wonder if he's having second thoughts about his loyalties, or perhaps actual thoughts of his own?" She paused, observing casually, "Maybe he isn't just like his father."
Ginny smiled. "He's definitely not. He's so much more."
Her friend laughed weakly, saying, "Well, obviously, if he's managed to win your heart -- something even Harry couldn't do -- then he must deserve it." She thought for a moment then asked, "And you're sure that's not what this is all about? Beating Harry at something?"
"Of course, it isn't," Ginny said, fighting back a yawn. Then she asked earnestly, "Hermione, you will keep this just between us, won't you? And would you please remind that stubborn arse you're dating that he will never be Head Boy if he kills a fellow student?"
When the older girl gave her an uneasy smile, Ginny took that to mean 'yes'. She hugged her and whispered gratefully, "Thanks, Hermione -- you're the best."
That night, Ginny's heart felt a thousand times lighter; her friend's, a thousand times heavier.
*****
Owl Post arrived during breakfast as usual the next morning. Extremely relieved that there was no Howler from home, Ginny relaxed a bit. And while she would have loved to have received something from one person in particular requesting a private meeting, it was probably just as well that she didn't. She had Quidditch practice before dinner, and Hermione had made her promise that she would catch up on her studies afterward.
Still, Ginny couldn't keep from sneaking little looks across the noise-filled room. She fought the temptation to gawk at Draco openly, and for the most part, she succeeded.
For the most part.
On one of the many random glimpses she shot his way, she caught him staring back at her with intensity. His eyes held their usual hint of cool steel, but this morning, she could sense the fire in them. Desire was stirring just under the surface -- tempting her, only her, making her skin tingle.
Draco watched her thoughtfully, silently appreciating the radiance of her copper hair as the morning sunlight danced in it. Her eyes shone warmer and brighter than ever before, and her face was fairly glowing. He watched her converse cheerily with the people around her, one of whom was Potter. Yet instead of feeling jealous, Draco felt an odd sense of pride; it was he who did this to her. He was the one who had made her so happy, not some ruddy Gryffindor.
Each time one of their surreptitious glances accidentally met, sparks would fly. Secret smirks were exchanged, grins suppressed, and silent laughter shared. And unbeknownst to the other, each one had much the same thought.
How will I ever get through the day without you?
Ron eyed them both warily, recalling the vision he'd had. Was it just a dream, like Hermione had said? Or was Ginny just very, very sly? Perhaps she really was seeing another boy, but whom? After all, when she was dating Michael Corner, Hermione had had to tell him about it. Still, he told himself, It just couldn't be Malfoy. Ginny would never stoop so low. So for the moment at least, Ron decided to let it go.
For the moment.
Soon, the house tables started to vacate as the rowdy students began shuffling off to their classes. The infernal racket grated on Professor Snape's nerves; he bolted through the nearest door, seeking to bypass the hordes of boisterous children.
Professor Dumbledore observed the hubbub calmly from his chair at the Head table. Surmising that the sunny skies and excellent food had put many of the young men and women in a good mood, he smiled to himself. Seeing the students this way, happy and at ease, was his job's greatest reward.
In the midst of the clamor, one last owl arrived. A few people around the room heard its faint screech and looked up. The bird was heading toward the Slytherin table.
Draco soon recognized it as Dionysus, Narcissa's pet, but it looked like it was flying a bit off kilter. Crabbe guffawed, making some insipid remark as he nudged Draco and pointed toward the ceiling. The bird was flying straight for its mistress's son, who put his hands up in front of his face, just in case it had a flying mishap or misjudged its landing. At the last possible second, Goyle threw his large hands over his plate, jealously guarding his fourth helping of French toast from any wayward feathers or talons.
Dionysus collapsed in front of Draco, causing the Slytherins who remained to back away from the table, even Goyle. Most of them laughed nervously. Michael Grant couldn't resist and sneered, "What the hell happened to your bird, Malfoy? Looks like it got totally pissed and lost a duel with the Whomping Willow!" His supporters laughed riotously, but Draco was in no mood to be toyed with. His harsh glare told his housemates to bugger off, and most of them scampered away like frightened mice. Grant was not one of them. He just smirked at Draco and sauntered away, his entourage of Crabbe, Goyle, and Pucey at his side.
Draco returned his attention to the wretched creature on the table before him. It looked to be on its last leg, most likely suffering from sheer exhaustion. At first, he assumed that the bird had drunk too much wine and had given itself a massive hangover. But on closer examination, he saw that the normally beautiful bird must have been whipped around by the most vicious weather or perhaps even beaten. The few students that remained in the Hall peeked over cautiously, and he barked at them, "Scram!"
Turning the bird over, he noticed something that he hadn't before. His letter for Mother had been removed, but the package with her potion remained. Baffled, he wondered silently, Did you get caught in a storm? But that didn't seem plausible, since the skies had been clear. Was this elegant bird -- attacked? He felt some pity for the creature as he speculated, Who could have done this to you? And why?
And where the hell was the letter? It made no sense.
Lifting the potion bottle carefully, he examined it with a jaundiced eye. He pulled the stopper, sniffed at its contents, and prepared to take a sip. Professor Dumbledore, who had been seated moments before, stood next to the Slytherin table, looking at Draco with a bemused twinkle in his eyes. He stared at the young man intently and asked in a bold voice, "Are you sure you want to do that, Mr. Malfoy?"
Draco shook his head as if coming out of a stupor. "Sir?"
The Headmaster's eyes narrowed slightly as a faint smile graced his thin lips. He inquired shrewdly, "Is there something you wish to tell me, Draco?"
The young Slytherin stood alone. Unsure as ever, he set down the bottle and stated plainly, "No, sir. Nothing." Dumbledore's bushy gray eyebrows rose to the edge of his pointed hat, prompting Draco to take advantage of his second opportunity to speak. "Well, sir, what could have happened to my mum's bird? And what is this -- this potion? Is it . . dangerous?"
He studied it briefly then replied, "It looks like one of Madam Pomfrey's bottles. So if she made it, then no, I can't imagine it being 'dangerous', as you say. But indiscriminately taking something you know nothing about can sometimes be hazardous. Surely, you remember the Weasley twins."
Draco remarked, "Madam Pomfrey gave it to me to send home to my mother. I'd like to know what it is; is the Healer here?"
"No, I'm sorry, she and Professor Sprout are both out of the country for a few days. Little side trip to the United States. Michigan, to be specific."
Who cares? If she's not here, I don't give a damn where she is! was the boy's first thought. Then he snapped impatiently, "Then what's to be done about this? Does Professor Snape know what it is?"
"He might, but he has already gone down for his first class. Speaking of which, shouldn't you be going there yourself, Mr. Malfoy?" the Headmaster prompted firmly. "Come, now. Hagrid can look after your bird." He turned around and asked casually, "Hagrid? Would you please take care of this creature?"
"Of course, Professor Dumbledore, sir," the half-giant replied courteously. "I'd be happy to fix the little feller right up." Neither of them saw Draco's appalled expression.
"Not so fast," the young man interrupted. He had never trusted Hagrid, especially not since his third year when that vicious hippogriff had brutally attacked him. "I don't want you touching him," he scoffed rudely.
"Sir," a girl's voice spoke up from the middle of the room. "I'll look after Mr. Malfoy's bird."
"Ginny," Draco couldn't keep himself from saying. His relaxed smile said it all; of course, she could help. He was just surprised she was still there and had witnessed everything. Watching her walk toward his table, he mused, I wonder what she thinks happened to Dionysus?
She explained, "I have Care of Magical Creatures for first period, so I was going to his class anyway." Then she added diplomatically, "And since, strictly speaking, Hagrid cannot perform magic, I would be happy examine and treat the owl."
Professor Dumbledore smiled at her. "That's very kind of you." Turning back to Draco, he asked, "What do you say, Mr. Malfoy? Would it be acceptable if Miss Weasley were to look after your bird? I would do it myself, but I am expecting the Minister of Magic and some other guests within the hour."
Draco knew he could trust Ginny and believed that her skills were at least O.W.L. level when it came to magical creatures. "All right," he agreed at emotionlessly as he could manage.
Professor Dumbledore waved his hand and created a comfortable, light-weight carrying cage around Dionysus so he wouldn't have to be physically handled to be moved to Hagrid's hut. Draco sighed heavily, but Ginny's smile seemed to reassure him, her eyes saying, It'll be all right. She murmured, "Wingardium Liviosa," and left the room with Hagrid, carefully floating the cage a few inches in front of her to avoid jarring the bird and possibly injuring it further.
"Thank you, sir," Draco said. The few remaining students and professors departed to their assigned classes. Now, he thought as he headed toward the dungeons, to see what's in this accursed bottle.
He arrived in the Advanced Potions classroom a few minutes late. Luckily, Professor Snape had gone into his office to collect some notes, thus allowing Draco's tardiness to go undetected and unpunished. None of this was lost on Granger, who gave him a cold stare. Contemplating what Ginny could possibly see in him, and expecting at least some sort of nonverbal exchange, she was frankly surprised when he ignored her completely. Instead, he just kept staring at the bottle in his hand. Then setting it aside, he focused on today's assignment.
Truthfully, Draco didn't have the time to trifle with picking on Gryffindors or mudbloods anymore just for the sake of it, and such activities had been steadily losing their appeal over the past few months. He had more important things to think of now -- primarily, Ginny. Being involved in an actual relationship took a lot more time and effort than just shagging someone. It meant that he had to think of someone other than himself. It meant—
"Psst!" a girl hissed from behind him. But he paid her no heed, his thoughts alternating between Ginny and the potion they were brewing this morning. He opened Mastering of the World's Most Powerful Potions to page 406, skimmed the first three paragraphs, and scribbled some notes on his parchment.
"Pssssst! Malfoy!" the voice whispered persistently.
"What?" he growled irritably, turning around to find himself face to face with Granger. "What is it, you know-it-all? Am I on the wrong page?"
"I can tell you what's in that bottle," she said under her breath. She had to act quickly and discretely, as Parvati Patil was already on her way back to their table with this morning's supplies. Using her book, Hermione nudged a small slip of parchment off the front edge of the table. She kept her eye on it as it floated to the floor, landing face-down. A few seconds later, Draco deliberately dropped his quill; he bent down to get it, swiping it and her note up in one swift, nonchalant movement. The parchment read:
UCD-I
He murmured, "Yes, I've heard of UCD-I somewhere." Then he asked abruptly, "What is it? What's its purpose?"
"Not 'I', like the letter -- it's a one. It—"
"Class," Professor Snape interrupted their conversation, "today will be your first attempt at concocting Dreamless Sleep Potion. It is a complex variation of the simplest sleeping draught that most of you no doubt mastered when you were a first-year." As he strolled around the classroom, his deceptively smooth voice commanded everyone's full attention. "The four best batches will be sent to Madam Pomfrey for final testing. Those she approves, if any, will be used by her patients. Anyone whose potion meets her strict standards will be excused from the next essay assigned to this class. Understood?" Heads nodded around the room.
"Perhaps a few of you could manage to brew a decent batch of it, while I expect others of you may miss its more subtle aspects, as do many fully-trained wizards. Due to its complexity, you will work in your assigned teams. As this task is quite demanding, it will take all your skills and attention, as well as those of your partner. Wouldn't want to give anyone . . " He paused momentarily then sneered at Hermione, "Nightmares."
He concluded by saying, "As your cauldron will need to heat and cool several times, it will take you at least an hour to brew this potion properly -- so I suggest you get straight to work."
Once he had finished speaking, Parvati returned to the table, carefully cradling her and Hermione's supplies. She lowered them gently to the surface and sighed, "Well, that's just about everything. Would you please grab the last few items, Hermione?"
"Sure, no problem," Hermione said. "We still need . . " She stopped, glancing up at the directions, then read, "the pewter spoon, the dry ice, and a shatterproof thermometer?"
"Yes. If you don't mind?"
"Not at all." She proceeded to the supply cabinet where Professor Snape stored his specialized utensils and his magically-enhanced Absolute Zero Freezer. Draco took his cue and followed her to gather the supplies that his partner had not.
As each one pretended to search the shelves for their remaining items, she whispered cautiously, "UCD-I is what the Advanced Herbology students have been trying to achieve all term. All of its properties are not fully known, but now that the beta testing is finished—"
Draco was losing patience with her incessant rambling. "Never mind all that -- just get to the point! Why did Madam Pomfrey think my mother needs it?! And furthermore, why did the bottle come back to Hogwarts, unopened?"
Before Hermione could reply, Professor Snape turned around sharply and faced his charges. When he saw her, he barked, "Miss Granger, why are you not yet in your seat? Ten points from Gryffindor for blatant disregard of my punctuality rules!"
"Uh, sir—" she began, motioning toward Draco.
But Snape had his own brand of justice. Seeming not to notice his protégé, he leaned forward. He placed his hands on the nearest chair, eyed her sternly, and threatened in a soft hiss, "Perhaps you would like to make it twenty?"
Draco, who wanted to talk with her a bit longer, spoke up, insisting, "Sir, it's just prefect business. You know, Interhouse Cooperation Week and all that."
The Potions Master chuckled, "That's even better. Thank you for the suggestion, Mr. Malfoy. Five points for Slytherin." Looking at Hermione, he asked, "Miss Granger, how would you like it if I swapped partners for you?" Narrowing his eyes, he looked around the room to find the two students whose partners were presently missing. "Miss Patil can work with Mr. Pucey; you, Miss Granger, will work with Mr. Malfoy, since you two obviously have so much to talk about." Hermione gasped softly, and Draco's mouth fell open.
"Yes, capital idea," Snape drawled thoughtfully, adding with a cool sneer, "an excellent test of one of Dumbledore's more . . . erratic theories." He considered the possibilities a few seconds longer then concluded abruptly, "Let's watch this hair-brained scheme of 'Interhouse Cooperation' blow up before it even begins, shall we? Go on, you two; switch places!"
Several of the students, most of them Slytherins, found Professor Snape's suggestion to be highly amusing. They snickered at the oddly-paired students, unaware that Draco was secretly grateful for the opportunity to pick his new partner's brain. Yet he covered up his delight by silently glaring at his mentor and housemates as he returned to his seat, supplies in hand. Hermione sat back down next to Parvati, hoping the man wasn't actually serious.
When the professor saw that none of the students had yet moved, he growled, "Well? Did you think I was joking? What are you waiting for? The clock is ticking."
Hermione packed up her things and moved forward one table. She snorted and blushed furiously, thinking, That biased creep! He's probably still punishing me to make up for that Order of Merlin he lost in our third year! Of course, we did knock him out . . and change time . . . all highly illegal . . . .
But as it happened, there simply wasn't time to discuss Draco's mysterious potion at all; the one they were brewing would require their undivided attention. It turned out to be quite complex and draining. When the team was finished and their potion sample bottled, the double-class period was over. Pucey walked out with Draco, who could be heard to say that he almost had a newfound respect for Madam Pomfrey. Hermione watched the two housemates as they rounded the corner, heading for their next lessons. She sighed then turned to make her way to Ancient Runes.
Well, she told herself, it wasn't exactly dreadful working with him . . . Ginny certainly believes he means her no harm.
But what if she's dead wrong?
Trusting him was an awfully big risk -- one she decided not to take just now.
*****
Ginny worked feverishly to mend Dionysus's injuries, trying her best to set him to right. A few of his bones were definitely out of joint, so she magically manipulated them back into place and secured them with a few gentle Binding Charms. The more difficult task, however, was to figure out what had caused the damage in the first place.
She spent most of the morning at Hagrid's hut, yet despite her efforts, she actually achieved very little. By lunch time, she was sorely tempted to just Floo her brother Charlie and ask for his advice. Instead, she gave up for now and started to go to the Great Hall for lunch, mostly on the off-chance of getting to see Draco. Besides, she reasoned with herself, how else can I decline whatever so-called 'food' Hagrid might offer me?
She forcefully pushed the large, heavy door of the hut open, nearly knocking Sophia Bellucci off the front porch in the process. "Oooh!" the young witch exclaimed. Wobbling to regain her balance, she said, "Hallooo, Miss Weeeeasley."
Ginny, slightly embarrassed and still frustrated by her lack of progress this morning, was not terribly polite to the young girl. Brushing her off rather tersely, she snipped, "Miss Bellucci. What brings you out to Hagrid's hut? Shouldn't you be going to the Great Hall for lunch?"
Moving inside, she replied, "No, no, I have lunch," indicating a rather large, deep purple velveteen bag slung over her shoulder. "I came arrrly for Care of Magicule Crea-toores -- eat here and watch Hagrid's aneeemals." Then as if it were an afterthought, she held out her bag and offered kindly, "You need lunch? We could . . eat togezzzer?"
Now she felt like an absolute arse for having been so short with the poor girl. "That's very kind of you." She apologized, "I'm sorry, Sophia. It's just that -- well," she indicated the bird, "I've been working with this little guy since breakfast, and I still have nothing concrete to show for it!"
"Con - crete?" The young lady seemed confused by the word.
"Solid. Something I can grab a hold of and say, 'Eureka! That's it!' Know what I mean?" No, Ginny thought, you don't, do you? She explained, "I'm trying to figure out what happened to this owl. Looks like it went through a violent wind storm, but I checked the Wizard Wireless Network radio, and there haven't been any in England since he sent it 24 hours ago."
Sophia touched the poor creature and observed, "Maybe Signore Grant was right. Perhaps it was . . the Wau-Whomping Willow?"
"I don't know," Ginny answered distractedly. "I don't think a bird could survive a punch like that can deliver. Besides, surely all of the owls know to stay clear of it."
Sophia petted the bird very gently. As she continued, the creature seemed to respond more to her touch than to anything Ginny had tried thus far. She was impressed. "See how he reacts to your strokes? You have a gift, Sophia. A healing touch, perhaps?"
The younger girl shrugged shyly and dipped her head as she continued to caress the animal, which seemed to grow stronger by the moment. Intrigued, Ginny asked, "Is that . . . wandless magic? How did you manage to keep your ability? Most kids outgrow that long before they come to Hogwarts. Then they need to 'retrained' all over again to use their natural talent when they're older—"
She looked up suddenly, peering at Sophia intently and asked, "Aren't you a second-year? Care of Magical Creatures is only for third-years and above. Did you get a special exception to get in?"
Sophia sighed and closed her eyes. Losing all traces of her Italian accent, she admitted, "Ginny, I'm not who you think I am."
~End of Chapter~
Nimue (pronounced Nim'-a-way) was Merlin's girlfriend, according to some King Arthur legends. Thanks a lot for reading, and please review! :-)
P.S. And if you think you know who Sophia may be, please be a considerate reviewer and e-mail me instead of posting it in your review -- because spoilers are definitely uncool. (When "The Empire Strikes Back" came out, an overzealous friend of mine told me who Luke's father was before I had the chance to see it; practically ruined the movie for me, and it sure didn't help our friendship...!)
This chapter's title comes from the song by The Police. A big Thank you!! to my super-cool beta, fyrechild, for all her help.
CHAPTER 16 – Message in a Bottle
Ginny was softly humming the chorus of the upbeat tune 'Equilibrium', the latest hit by the group Nimue, as she ascended the last staircase that led to Gryffindor Tower. When she arrived in front of the portrait, she bobbed her head to the beat as she whispered the words to herself. The Fat Lady arched her eyebrows and remarked with interest, "Well, someone's looking quite pleased with herself. Password?"
"Pumpkin Pasties," she replied correctly, thinking, What a ridiculous password! Sounds like something a stripper would use to cover her nipples -- had to be Ron's dumb idea.
The painting swung open wide to admit her. The lady within cautioned her in a low voice, "Watch out, dearie . . I believe your brother and Harry Potter were looking for you earlier." Then she whispered with a sly wink, "It may have been nothing, but you know what they say -- 'Forewarned is forearmed'."
She crawled through the portrait hole leisurely, her thoughts miles away from Gryffindor Tower and its residents. She was in a state of euphoria, blissfully happy that Draco had actually said he loved her. I love you, Ginny Weasley, he had said. She repeated the words over and over in her mind.
It slowly dawned on her that the Fat Lady had tried to warn her about some impending doom. "Huh?" Ginny asked dazedly.
But it was too late; the portrait had already snapped shut, and her brother charged at her like a mad bull. She could swear he was snorting like one, too. Hoping to throw him off, she spoke first, saying, "Good evening to you, too, Ronald." She added with a smirk, "And what brings you over from the comfort of the fire, Hermione in your lap and all, just to greet me?"
"I need to speak with you. Privately."
Crossing her arms, she blurted out, "Oh, I see -- privately, at the entryway of the Common Room? Want to consider less crowded venue?" Then she noticed that the room was nearly deserted. Aside from Ron and Hermione, only Colin remained, sitting in an oversized, wingback chair near the stairs, absorbed in the Quibbler magazine he was holding upside down while he gallantly pretended not to eavesdrop. She asked, "Do I have a say in the matter?"
"No," Ron said coldly, "tramps like you don't deserve one."
She gasped, shocked at his accusation. But before she crucified him -- denying it all fervently, of course -- she wanted to know what he thought he knew. "What are you on about, anyway?" His silent stare was beginning to make her feel rather uncomfortable, and she snapped, "Out with it, you -- you -- troll! If you have nothing to back up such accusations, then I'm going. I have a Potions essay to finish!"
Ron breathed deeply to calm himself then ordered her curtly, "Ginny, give me your wand."
"My wand? Why?!"
He snarled, "Because I want to know what my innocent, darling little sister has been up to. Hand it over. Now.”
She bolted, trying to sidestep him, but he was the team's Keeper for a reason. He was also faster, and his longer legs allowing him to cover more area. He stopped her dead in her tracks, reached into the pocket he knew she always kept it in, and swiped it victoriously. At first, he laughed crazily, as if getting his hands on it was an obsession -- then he stopped suddenly and whispered, "Priori Incantato."
Ginny bit her lip and cringed inwardly, suddenly regretting that she had not used her own wand to levitate her broomstick after they left the Changing Rooms. No, she reminded herself fretfully, Draco levitated both his and mine. Oh, why hadn't she cast another spell since then . . . any spell, just so the last one she'd cast wasn't—
"The Pregnancy Prevention Spell?!" Ron gasped as quietly as he could manage. To say he was furious would have been a gross understatement. His sister tried to back away from him, but he got right in her face, raised his voice, and barked threateningly, "Why in blazes do you need that, and where did you learn it?"
A half-second later, two voices called from across the room, "Tranquillus!" With the force of the spell doubled and Ron completely off his guard, he lost his balance. He grabbed onto a nearby couch on the way down and landed on his bum with a mild thump. Staring up at Ginny, he blinked wordlessly. Hermione rushed to his aid and held his head tenderly in her hands, cooing her apologies.
Ginny let out a sigh of relief as her other friend approached her. "Thanks, Colin, Hermione. No telling what he'd do next."
Her classmate stated the obvious. "Well, he looked pretty upset. What's his problem, anyway?"
"Who knows?" she shrugged.
Ron leaned back against to the couch, breathing more slowly and muttering to himself, "It can't . . it just can't be true." He looked to be having trouble staying focused, but he was still cognizant. His blue eyes looked glazed over and started to roll back in his head.
Hermione shushed Ron soothingly, attempting to alleviate part, but not all, of the dual Charm. She had never seen him so angry with Ginny before. Placing his head gently against the couch, she stood up quickly and assumed her 'Head-Girl-in-Training'stance. She suggested rather firmly that Colin go up to his room. "This is between Ginny and her brother," she explained.
Colin looked a bit peeved, but Ginny intervened, saying, "She's right, Colin, you'd better go. Ron and I need to have a talk of a -- rather private nature. Thanks, again." She gave him a demure smile. He nodded, walked back to his chair to collect his belongings, and trod upstairs.
"Now, Ronald Weasley," Hermione chided coldly, "that was completely uncalled for! Might I ask what the hell is bothering you?" Ginny blinked, a bit surprised to hear her curse.
Ron's words were quiet yet steady and sure. "I had a vision. Last night."
His sister rolled her eyes, and Hermione scoffed, "Not that Divination crap again. Really, Ron, there's no such thing. You should know that."
Clearly annoyed, he countered, "No, it's not. Well, I know Professor Trelawney seems like a fraud, but her predictions about Harry were apparently both true." He stopped to think then added, "At least, Dumbledore believes her."
"All right, Ron," his girlfriend sighed, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Tell us about this 'vision' of yours."
He closed his eyes for a few seconds, as if to help him recall it more clearly. He swallowed hard, composing himself. What he said next would literally knock the breath out of Ginny's body.
"It was Lucius Malfoy. He stood over my bed and told me that my sister was sleeping with his son. He said it was up to me to stop it, and if I didn't . . ." He paused then looked Ginny directly in the eye. "If I didn't, he said that you would die."
Ginny did the only thing she could do: she laughed, low at first, then hysterically. Soon, she was chortling uncontrollably. "That's preposterous! Me and Draco Malfoy? Can you imagine?" She couldn't stop laughing.
When a tear rolled down Ginny's cheek, Hermione took over. "What utter rubbish!" She sneered at Ron, "See? I told you, Divination is pure hogwash." Ginny nodded in agreement; her laughter had finally stopped, and she sniffed and wiped her cheeks.
Still under the influence of the Calming Charm, Ron insisted serenely, "But it seemed so real." He turned to his sister and asked her point-blank, "Then who are you seeing?"
Ginny replied snidely, "That's none of your freaking business. I'll see who I want to." Playing her trump card, she turned the tables, asking him smoothly, "And how, might I ask, did you happen to know the Pregnancy Prevention Spell? I can't imagine that Dad taught it to you. Does Mum know that you not only know it, Hermione uses it on a regular basis?"
Her implication caused Hermione to turn almost as red as her boyfriend's hair. Ron glowered at his sister, who went on, "Didn't think so. Tell you what, you toad; I won't tell Mum your dirty little secret if you won't tell her mine." Knowing she had him where she wanted him, she turned around and left him staring after, his mouth hanging open, as she marched off to the stairs to her room.
That felt good, she told herself. But it didn't -- not really.
She collapsed onto her bed. She sobbed quietly to herself for a while, her emotions fluctuating wildly between joy, fear, anger, despair, hope.
No one understands me. No one but him. No one—
"Ginny?" Hermione whispered from the hallway, rapping lightly on the fifth-year girls' dorm room. "Ginny, are you awake?"
She gasped and sat up quickly. Swiping at her tears, she reminded herself, Hermione once told me that if I ever needed to talk, she would about always be there for me, no matter what . . .
She magically refreshed her reddened face, removing all traces of her tears. "Yes," was all she trusted herself to say at the moment. Her friend opened the door and quietly stepped inside.
Hermione cast a Silencing Charm, cautiously opened the bed curtains, and slipped inside. "Ginny," she said flatly, "I know." When Ginny acted as if she were confused, her friend touched her gently on the shoulder, the disappointment apparent in her face. "I know who you're seeing. What I can't fathom, is why."
Ginny was rather taken aback. She bit her lip as she hedged, "It -- it's complicated, Hermione." After a brief silence, she asked curiously, "But how could you know? We've been so careful."
Sitting down on the bed, the older girl shrugged. "A few simple deductions, really. You two, running around the castle together at night, long after curfew. Him spying on you at Quidditch practice with Harry, and then not one hour later, arguing with you in Hogsmeade. And I heard a rumor you went to Blaise Zabini's funeral with him. Did you?"
"Blaise was his best friend! He needed someone!" Ginny insisted. As if justifying her actions, she whispered, "He begged me to go."
Hermione snorted softly, "I mean, for God's sake, even Hagrid suspected. Funny, your brother, the 'diviner', had nary a clue." When Ginny said nothing, the older girl rolled her eyes, muttering in a low voice, "Helping him with a research project, indeed."
"But I was—"
"Then what are you doing with him now?" Hermione snapped. "And of all the mean, low-down, Slytherin bastards in this school, why did you choose him? You know Ron's going to have a sheer heart attack when he finds out that he was right -- not to mention, he'll think he really is a diviner. And think what this will do to Harry!” She gasped suddenly, "That's probably why Malfoy's doing this, don't you think? He's sure to dump you the second Harry finds out."
"No!!" Ginny exclaimed. "He isn't -- Draco's not like that at all. Look, I know you think he's an arse, and I must be insane, but I can't explain it." She stated insistently, "It's fate."
Hermione closed her eyes. She tried to stay calm, to be understanding. But she couldn't abide another minute of the utterly archaic beliefs some pureblood families clung to, even in this day and age. She groaned with disdain, "Urggh, the both of you! First, Ron believes he's a seer, and now you trust your heart to fate! I suppose you think you're going to marry that smarmy ferret someday."
Ginny didn't respond, nor did she need to; her bright eyes said it all. Hermione knew she had struck a chord. The girl was obviously quite serious about this.
She sighed heavily then said concernedly, "Look -- I don't pretend to understand it, but . . if you feel certain that this is your 'destiny', just promise me that you'll be very, very careful. Honestly, I think you're crazy, but what can I do? It's your life."
She looked at her intently and warned, "Please, watch out for your heart, Ginny. If that prat breaks it, I'll Avada Kedavra him myself . . if there's any point, once Ron's through with him."
Ginny tried to reassure her. "I -- that is, we love each other." Then as if it were almost an afterthought, she asked nervously, "Does Ron really believe it? I mean, all that 'vision' nonsense . . I can't have him just go haring off, trying to kill my boyfriend."
With a conspiratorial smirk, Hermione replied, "Oh, don't worry about Ron; I can keep him in line. I'll just convince him it was just a bad dream. Had to have been, right? I don't imagine Lucius Malfoy can just waltz out of Azkaban anytime he likes." Ginny smiled weakly as her friend grasped her hands, her tone serious once more. "If you're sure you know what you're doing . . and know that this goes against everything I've ever believed about Malfoy—" She paused and muttered to herself, "I can't believe I'm even thinking this . . . " After hesitating a moment longer, she promised resolutely, "Then I'll support you in any way I can."
Ginny beamed and gave her an assured nod. "I've never been more certain of anything. We're in love; it's what we both want."
Hermione smiled wistfully and commented with frankness, "Well, I must say that he doesn't seem to be quite as nasty now that his father's away in prison; he's even been somewhat bearable in Advanced Potions. I wonder if he's having second thoughts about his loyalties, or perhaps actual thoughts of his own?" She paused, observing casually, "Maybe he isn't just like his father."
Ginny smiled. "He's definitely not. He's so much more."
Her friend laughed weakly, saying, "Well, obviously, if he's managed to win your heart -- something even Harry couldn't do -- then he must deserve it." She thought for a moment then asked, "And you're sure that's not what this is all about? Beating Harry at something?"
"Of course, it isn't," Ginny said, fighting back a yawn. Then she asked earnestly, "Hermione, you will keep this just between us, won't you? And would you please remind that stubborn arse you're dating that he will never be Head Boy if he kills a fellow student?"
When the older girl gave her an uneasy smile, Ginny took that to mean 'yes'. She hugged her and whispered gratefully, "Thanks, Hermione -- you're the best."
That night, Ginny's heart felt a thousand times lighter; her friend's, a thousand times heavier.
Owl Post arrived during breakfast as usual the next morning. Extremely relieved that there was no Howler from home, Ginny relaxed a bit. And while she would have loved to have received something from one person in particular requesting a private meeting, it was probably just as well that she didn't. She had Quidditch practice before dinner, and Hermione had made her promise that she would catch up on her studies afterward.
Still, Ginny couldn't keep from sneaking little looks across the noise-filled room. She fought the temptation to gawk at Draco openly, and for the most part, she succeeded.
For the most part.
On one of the many random glimpses she shot his way, she caught him staring back at her with intensity. His eyes held their usual hint of cool steel, but this morning, she could sense the fire in them. Desire was stirring just under the surface -- tempting her, only her, making her skin tingle.
Draco watched her thoughtfully, silently appreciating the radiance of her copper hair as the morning sunlight danced in it. Her eyes shone warmer and brighter than ever before, and her face was fairly glowing. He watched her converse cheerily with the people around her, one of whom was Potter. Yet instead of feeling jealous, Draco felt an odd sense of pride; it was he who did this to her. He was the one who had made her so happy, not some ruddy Gryffindor.
Each time one of their surreptitious glances accidentally met, sparks would fly. Secret smirks were exchanged, grins suppressed, and silent laughter shared. And unbeknownst to the other, each one had much the same thought.
How will I ever get through the day without you?
Ron eyed them both warily, recalling the vision he'd had. Was it just a dream, like Hermione had said? Or was Ginny just very, very sly? Perhaps she really was seeing another boy, but whom? After all, when she was dating Michael Corner, Hermione had had to tell him about it. Still, he told himself, It just couldn't be Malfoy. Ginny would never stoop so low. So for the moment at least, Ron decided to let it go.
For the moment.
Soon, the house tables started to vacate as the rowdy students began shuffling off to their classes. The infernal racket grated on Professor Snape's nerves; he bolted through the nearest door, seeking to bypass the hordes of boisterous children.
Professor Dumbledore observed the hubbub calmly from his chair at the Head table. Surmising that the sunny skies and excellent food had put many of the young men and women in a good mood, he smiled to himself. Seeing the students this way, happy and at ease, was his job's greatest reward.
In the midst of the clamor, one last owl arrived. A few people around the room heard its faint screech and looked up. The bird was heading toward the Slytherin table.
Draco soon recognized it as Dionysus, Narcissa's pet, but it looked like it was flying a bit off kilter. Crabbe guffawed, making some insipid remark as he nudged Draco and pointed toward the ceiling. The bird was flying straight for its mistress's son, who put his hands up in front of his face, just in case it had a flying mishap or misjudged its landing. At the last possible second, Goyle threw his large hands over his plate, jealously guarding his fourth helping of French toast from any wayward feathers or talons.
Dionysus collapsed in front of Draco, causing the Slytherins who remained to back away from the table, even Goyle. Most of them laughed nervously. Michael Grant couldn't resist and sneered, "What the hell happened to your bird, Malfoy? Looks like it got totally pissed and lost a duel with the Whomping Willow!" His supporters laughed riotously, but Draco was in no mood to be toyed with. His harsh glare told his housemates to bugger off, and most of them scampered away like frightened mice. Grant was not one of them. He just smirked at Draco and sauntered away, his entourage of Crabbe, Goyle, and Pucey at his side.
Draco returned his attention to the wretched creature on the table before him. It looked to be on its last leg, most likely suffering from sheer exhaustion. At first, he assumed that the bird had drunk too much wine and had given itself a massive hangover. But on closer examination, he saw that the normally beautiful bird must have been whipped around by the most vicious weather or perhaps even beaten. The few students that remained in the Hall peeked over cautiously, and he barked at them, "Scram!"
Turning the bird over, he noticed something that he hadn't before. His letter for Mother had been removed, but the package with her potion remained. Baffled, he wondered silently, Did you get caught in a storm? But that didn't seem plausible, since the skies had been clear. Was this elegant bird -- attacked? He felt some pity for the creature as he speculated, Who could have done this to you? And why?
And where the hell was the letter? It made no sense.
Lifting the potion bottle carefully, he examined it with a jaundiced eye. He pulled the stopper, sniffed at its contents, and prepared to take a sip. Professor Dumbledore, who had been seated moments before, stood next to the Slytherin table, looking at Draco with a bemused twinkle in his eyes. He stared at the young man intently and asked in a bold voice, "Are you sure you want to do that, Mr. Malfoy?"
Draco shook his head as if coming out of a stupor. "Sir?"
The Headmaster's eyes narrowed slightly as a faint smile graced his thin lips. He inquired shrewdly, "Is there something you wish to tell me, Draco?"
The young Slytherin stood alone. Unsure as ever, he set down the bottle and stated plainly, "No, sir. Nothing." Dumbledore's bushy gray eyebrows rose to the edge of his pointed hat, prompting Draco to take advantage of his second opportunity to speak. "Well, sir, what could have happened to my mum's bird? And what is this -- this potion? Is it . . dangerous?"
He studied it briefly then replied, "It looks like one of Madam Pomfrey's bottles. So if she made it, then no, I can't imagine it being 'dangerous', as you say. But indiscriminately taking something you know nothing about can sometimes be hazardous. Surely, you remember the Weasley twins."
Draco remarked, "Madam Pomfrey gave it to me to send home to my mother. I'd like to know what it is; is the Healer here?"
"No, I'm sorry, she and Professor Sprout are both out of the country for a few days. Little side trip to the United States. Michigan, to be specific."
Who cares? If she's not here, I don't give a damn where she is! was the boy's first thought. Then he snapped impatiently, "Then what's to be done about this? Does Professor Snape know what it is?"
"He might, but he has already gone down for his first class. Speaking of which, shouldn't you be going there yourself, Mr. Malfoy?" the Headmaster prompted firmly. "Come, now. Hagrid can look after your bird." He turned around and asked casually, "Hagrid? Would you please take care of this creature?"
"Of course, Professor Dumbledore, sir," the half-giant replied courteously. "I'd be happy to fix the little feller right up." Neither of them saw Draco's appalled expression.
"Not so fast," the young man interrupted. He had never trusted Hagrid, especially not since his third year when that vicious hippogriff had brutally attacked him. "I don't want you touching him," he scoffed rudely.
"Sir," a girl's voice spoke up from the middle of the room. "I'll look after Mr. Malfoy's bird."
"Ginny," Draco couldn't keep himself from saying. His relaxed smile said it all; of course, she could help. He was just surprised she was still there and had witnessed everything. Watching her walk toward his table, he mused, I wonder what she thinks happened to Dionysus?
She explained, "I have Care of Magical Creatures for first period, so I was going to his class anyway." Then she added diplomatically, "And since, strictly speaking, Hagrid cannot perform magic, I would be happy examine and treat the owl."
Professor Dumbledore smiled at her. "That's very kind of you." Turning back to Draco, he asked, "What do you say, Mr. Malfoy? Would it be acceptable if Miss Weasley were to look after your bird? I would do it myself, but I am expecting the Minister of Magic and some other guests within the hour."
Draco knew he could trust Ginny and believed that her skills were at least O.W.L. level when it came to magical creatures. "All right," he agreed at emotionlessly as he could manage.
Professor Dumbledore waved his hand and created a comfortable, light-weight carrying cage around Dionysus so he wouldn't have to be physically handled to be moved to Hagrid's hut. Draco sighed heavily, but Ginny's smile seemed to reassure him, her eyes saying, It'll be all right. She murmured, "Wingardium Liviosa," and left the room with Hagrid, carefully floating the cage a few inches in front of her to avoid jarring the bird and possibly injuring it further.
"Thank you, sir," Draco said. The few remaining students and professors departed to their assigned classes. Now, he thought as he headed toward the dungeons, to see what's in this accursed bottle.
He arrived in the Advanced Potions classroom a few minutes late. Luckily, Professor Snape had gone into his office to collect some notes, thus allowing Draco's tardiness to go undetected and unpunished. None of this was lost on Granger, who gave him a cold stare. Contemplating what Ginny could possibly see in him, and expecting at least some sort of nonverbal exchange, she was frankly surprised when he ignored her completely. Instead, he just kept staring at the bottle in his hand. Then setting it aside, he focused on today's assignment.
Truthfully, Draco didn't have the time to trifle with picking on Gryffindors or mudbloods anymore just for the sake of it, and such activities had been steadily losing their appeal over the past few months. He had more important things to think of now -- primarily, Ginny. Being involved in an actual relationship took a lot more time and effort than just shagging someone. It meant that he had to think of someone other than himself. It meant—
"Psst!" a girl hissed from behind him. But he paid her no heed, his thoughts alternating between Ginny and the potion they were brewing this morning. He opened Mastering of the World's Most Powerful Potions to page 406, skimmed the first three paragraphs, and scribbled some notes on his parchment.
"Pssssst! Malfoy!" the voice whispered persistently.
"What?" he growled irritably, turning around to find himself face to face with Granger. "What is it, you know-it-all? Am I on the wrong page?"
"I can tell you what's in that bottle," she said under her breath. She had to act quickly and discretely, as Parvati Patil was already on her way back to their table with this morning's supplies. Using her book, Hermione nudged a small slip of parchment off the front edge of the table. She kept her eye on it as it floated to the floor, landing face-down. A few seconds later, Draco deliberately dropped his quill; he bent down to get it, swiping it and her note up in one swift, nonchalant movement. The parchment read:
UCD-I
He murmured, "Yes, I've heard of UCD-I somewhere." Then he asked abruptly, "What is it? What's its purpose?"
"Not 'I', like the letter -- it's a one. It—"
"Class," Professor Snape interrupted their conversation, "today will be your first attempt at concocting Dreamless Sleep Potion. It is a complex variation of the simplest sleeping draught that most of you no doubt mastered when you were a first-year." As he strolled around the classroom, his deceptively smooth voice commanded everyone's full attention. "The four best batches will be sent to Madam Pomfrey for final testing. Those she approves, if any, will be used by her patients. Anyone whose potion meets her strict standards will be excused from the next essay assigned to this class. Understood?" Heads nodded around the room.
"Perhaps a few of you could manage to brew a decent batch of it, while I expect others of you may miss its more subtle aspects, as do many fully-trained wizards. Due to its complexity, you will work in your assigned teams. As this task is quite demanding, it will take all your skills and attention, as well as those of your partner. Wouldn't want to give anyone . . " He paused momentarily then sneered at Hermione, "Nightmares."
He concluded by saying, "As your cauldron will need to heat and cool several times, it will take you at least an hour to brew this potion properly -- so I suggest you get straight to work."
Once he had finished speaking, Parvati returned to the table, carefully cradling her and Hermione's supplies. She lowered them gently to the surface and sighed, "Well, that's just about everything. Would you please grab the last few items, Hermione?"
"Sure, no problem," Hermione said. "We still need . . " She stopped, glancing up at the directions, then read, "the pewter spoon, the dry ice, and a shatterproof thermometer?"
"Yes. If you don't mind?"
"Not at all." She proceeded to the supply cabinet where Professor Snape stored his specialized utensils and his magically-enhanced Absolute Zero Freezer. Draco took his cue and followed her to gather the supplies that his partner had not.
As each one pretended to search the shelves for their remaining items, she whispered cautiously, "UCD-I is what the Advanced Herbology students have been trying to achieve all term. All of its properties are not fully known, but now that the beta testing is finished—"
Draco was losing patience with her incessant rambling. "Never mind all that -- just get to the point! Why did Madam Pomfrey think my mother needs it?! And furthermore, why did the bottle come back to Hogwarts, unopened?"
Before Hermione could reply, Professor Snape turned around sharply and faced his charges. When he saw her, he barked, "Miss Granger, why are you not yet in your seat? Ten points from Gryffindor for blatant disregard of my punctuality rules!"
"Uh, sir—" she began, motioning toward Draco.
But Snape had his own brand of justice. Seeming not to notice his protégé, he leaned forward. He placed his hands on the nearest chair, eyed her sternly, and threatened in a soft hiss, "Perhaps you would like to make it twenty?"
Draco, who wanted to talk with her a bit longer, spoke up, insisting, "Sir, it's just prefect business. You know, Interhouse Cooperation Week and all that."
The Potions Master chuckled, "That's even better. Thank you for the suggestion, Mr. Malfoy. Five points for Slytherin." Looking at Hermione, he asked, "Miss Granger, how would you like it if I swapped partners for you?" Narrowing his eyes, he looked around the room to find the two students whose partners were presently missing. "Miss Patil can work with Mr. Pucey; you, Miss Granger, will work with Mr. Malfoy, since you two obviously have so much to talk about." Hermione gasped softly, and Draco's mouth fell open.
"Yes, capital idea," Snape drawled thoughtfully, adding with a cool sneer, "an excellent test of one of Dumbledore's more . . . erratic theories." He considered the possibilities a few seconds longer then concluded abruptly, "Let's watch this hair-brained scheme of 'Interhouse Cooperation' blow up before it even begins, shall we? Go on, you two; switch places!"
Several of the students, most of them Slytherins, found Professor Snape's suggestion to be highly amusing. They snickered at the oddly-paired students, unaware that Draco was secretly grateful for the opportunity to pick his new partner's brain. Yet he covered up his delight by silently glaring at his mentor and housemates as he returned to his seat, supplies in hand. Hermione sat back down next to Parvati, hoping the man wasn't actually serious.
When the professor saw that none of the students had yet moved, he growled, "Well? Did you think I was joking? What are you waiting for? The clock is ticking."
Hermione packed up her things and moved forward one table. She snorted and blushed furiously, thinking, That biased creep! He's probably still punishing me to make up for that Order of Merlin he lost in our third year! Of course, we did knock him out . . and change time . . . all highly illegal . . . .
But as it happened, there simply wasn't time to discuss Draco's mysterious potion at all; the one they were brewing would require their undivided attention. It turned out to be quite complex and draining. When the team was finished and their potion sample bottled, the double-class period was over. Pucey walked out with Draco, who could be heard to say that he almost had a newfound respect for Madam Pomfrey. Hermione watched the two housemates as they rounded the corner, heading for their next lessons. She sighed then turned to make her way to Ancient Runes.
Well, she told herself, it wasn't exactly dreadful working with him . . . Ginny certainly believes he means her no harm.
But what if she's dead wrong?
Trusting him was an awfully big risk -- one she decided not to take just now.
Ginny worked feverishly to mend Dionysus's injuries, trying her best to set him to right. A few of his bones were definitely out of joint, so she magically manipulated them back into place and secured them with a few gentle Binding Charms. The more difficult task, however, was to figure out what had caused the damage in the first place.
She spent most of the morning at Hagrid's hut, yet despite her efforts, she actually achieved very little. By lunch time, she was sorely tempted to just Floo her brother Charlie and ask for his advice. Instead, she gave up for now and started to go to the Great Hall for lunch, mostly on the off-chance of getting to see Draco. Besides, she reasoned with herself, how else can I decline whatever so-called 'food' Hagrid might offer me?
She forcefully pushed the large, heavy door of the hut open, nearly knocking Sophia Bellucci off the front porch in the process. "Oooh!" the young witch exclaimed. Wobbling to regain her balance, she said, "Hallooo, Miss Weeeeasley."
Ginny, slightly embarrassed and still frustrated by her lack of progress this morning, was not terribly polite to the young girl. Brushing her off rather tersely, she snipped, "Miss Bellucci. What brings you out to Hagrid's hut? Shouldn't you be going to the Great Hall for lunch?"
Moving inside, she replied, "No, no, I have lunch," indicating a rather large, deep purple velveteen bag slung over her shoulder. "I came arrrly for Care of Magicule Crea-toores -- eat here and watch Hagrid's aneeemals." Then as if it were an afterthought, she held out her bag and offered kindly, "You need lunch? We could . . eat togezzzer?"
Now she felt like an absolute arse for having been so short with the poor girl. "That's very kind of you." She apologized, "I'm sorry, Sophia. It's just that -- well," she indicated the bird, "I've been working with this little guy since breakfast, and I still have nothing concrete to show for it!"
"Con - crete?" The young lady seemed confused by the word.
"Solid. Something I can grab a hold of and say, 'Eureka! That's it!' Know what I mean?" No, Ginny thought, you don't, do you? She explained, "I'm trying to figure out what happened to this owl. Looks like it went through a violent wind storm, but I checked the Wizard Wireless Network radio, and there haven't been any in England since he sent it 24 hours ago."
Sophia touched the poor creature and observed, "Maybe Signore Grant was right. Perhaps it was . . the Wau-Whomping Willow?"
"I don't know," Ginny answered distractedly. "I don't think a bird could survive a punch like that can deliver. Besides, surely all of the owls know to stay clear of it."
Sophia petted the bird very gently. As she continued, the creature seemed to respond more to her touch than to anything Ginny had tried thus far. She was impressed. "See how he reacts to your strokes? You have a gift, Sophia. A healing touch, perhaps?"
The younger girl shrugged shyly and dipped her head as she continued to caress the animal, which seemed to grow stronger by the moment. Intrigued, Ginny asked, "Is that . . . wandless magic? How did you manage to keep your ability? Most kids outgrow that long before they come to Hogwarts. Then they need to 'retrained' all over again to use their natural talent when they're older—"
She looked up suddenly, peering at Sophia intently and asked, "Aren't you a second-year? Care of Magical Creatures is only for third-years and above. Did you get a special exception to get in?"
Sophia sighed and closed her eyes. Losing all traces of her Italian accent, she admitted, "Ginny, I'm not who you think I am."
~End of Chapter~
Nimue (pronounced Nim'-a-way) was Merlin's girlfriend, according to some King Arthur legends. Thanks a lot for reading, and please review! :-)
P.S. And if you think you know who Sophia may be, please be a considerate reviewer and e-mail me instead of posting it in your review -- because spoilers are definitely uncool. (When "The Empire Strikes Back" came out, an overzealous friend of mine told me who Luke's father was before I had the chance to see it; practically ruined the movie for me, and it sure didn't help our friendship...!)
Leave a Review