Author Notes: Thank you all for reading! As always, a big round of applause for my beta-reader, fyrechild. Thank you for keeping me out of trouble with the die-hard fans who know the canon, inside and out.
This chapter is named for the song by Heart. The action resumes the same morning that Dionysus returns with the potion. Cue Draco!
CHAPTER 17 – Magic Man
By lunch time, Draco was fully convinced that this qualified as his new ‘Worst Day Ever’ for several reasons. His mother’s beloved bird had been beaten savagely, quite possibly sustaining permanent injuries, and the potion it had been carrying was returned unopened. Said potion was, for the moment anyway, still largely unidentifiable. And as if all that weren’t bad enough, he’d had to endure the unfortunate task of brewing Dreamless Sleep Potion with Granger as his partner. He still shuddered at the thought.
Yet as it turned out, although he was loath to admit it, she was actually fairly . . good at it. Once she even managed to keep him from singing his brows and eyelashes clean off his face by tossing in a few well-aimed chunks of dry ice, at what appeared to have been a most crucial moment.
Oh, well -- I always knew the silly bint had to be good at something, aside from annoying the entire staff and student body.
At three minutes of noon, he could be found pacing about outside the doors to the Great Hall. He was practically starving, a fact accentuated by the fierce pounding behind his eyes. But he dared not leave; he anxiously waiting to see Ginny. Part of him wanted to see if she could shed any light on what had befallen Dionysus, and the other part -- well, it just wanted to see her.
Soon, two of Ginny’s friends came into view. As if on cue, Draco’s mask went up.
“Well,” he sneered rudely, “if it isn’t Colin Creepy and Loony Lovegood.”
Colin stopped in mid-step and turned to face him, keeping Luna close to his side. With as much courage as he could muster, he said, “Stuff it, Malfoy.” His heart practically in his throat, he asked, “What do you want, you Slytherin?”, saying the last word as if it were poison in his mouth.
“Nothing from you, you low-life, Potter-worshipping Gryffindor. I wanted a word with your . . your girlfriend, is it?” he said with a malicious smirk.
Colin scowled in reply, whereas Luna glanced up at Draco as if she were barely aware of him. Completely unafraid and unconcerned about so little a thing as Draco Malfoy, she asked, “Yes, what is it?”
At first, he hesitated. “I -- I was just wondering . . . something,” he murmured weakly.
Creevey practically sang, “Oh, so Draco Malfoy, the great ‘Cassanova of Hogwarts’, actually gets nervous talking to girls.” Luna’s shoulder was already under his arm, and he tightened his grip on the other possessively, pulling her even closer into his side. He snarled, “Well, you can forget about this one, playboy -- she’s mine!”
It was an action that he regretted almost immediately, but not because of anything Malfoy did or said, or the disgusted look on his pale face.
Luna physically loosened Colin’s grip and took a step back from him. Boring into him with her large, expressive eyes, she said slowly and clearly, “Colin, I’m surprised at you -- Mr. Malfoy deserves a chance to be heard. Listen, would you please go and find us a seat? Somewhere at the Gryffindor table, all right?”
He nodded to her then scowled at his enemy. Luna touched Colin’s arm and whispered, “Thank you. I’ll be right there.”
Turning to face Draco, she said sweetly, “Now, Mr. Malfoy. What were you wondering?”
It was difficult to find the words; they were right there, on the tip of his tongue. But he hadn’t told anyone about his thing for Ginny, not even Blaise had known that—
“I’m looking for Ginny Weasley,” he blurted out. “I mean, you two do have lessons together, don’t you?” She nodded blithely, so he rambled on. “Have you seen her since breakfast? Has she been to any of her lessons today? Do you know where she is?”
Luna grinned softly and said, “No, I’m sorry, I don’t. We haven’t had any lessons with the Gryffindors since yesterday.” Seeing the distress on his face, she offered helpfully, “But don’t worry, Draco. I’m sure she’ll turn up for lunch. She always does.”
She started to leave, when out of the clear blue, she asked him, “By the way, have you written any new verses to Weasley is our King? I thought it was a very peculiar song. I didn’t really know what it meant, but it did have a nice tune.”
“No, not lately,” he said as snidely as possible. He furrowed his brow and attempted a scowl or some other hateful sign that said she absolutely disgusted him. He abhorred that he had to ask her in the first place, when it was obvious she was a nutter. Who else but a loon would actually like a song that was supposed to be an insult aimed at one of Hogwarts’s golden trio?
Finally able to produce at least one syllable -- an almost inaudible “Thanks” -- he turned tail and practically ran away from her.
“You’re welcome.” Luna chuckled to herself. As he bolted toward the distant front doors, his opened robes billowed behind him, exposing his retreating form. Luna casually observed, Hmm, nice buns. She sauntered toward the entrance to the Great Hall where her boyfriend was saving her a seat.
When she placed a hand on the door, she glanced over her shoulder once more and thought, So you’re Ginny’s new love. Most interesting, Miss Weasley.
And she went inside.
*****
“I see. You’re not who I think you are,” Ginny repeated. “Then who are you? And why would a 12-year-old be involved in such pretense and secrecy?”
“Because . . . I’m not really 12 . . ?” Sophia began weakly. This did not appease Ginny, whose temper was starting to flare, something Sophia had not been looking forward to. “Well,” the girl hesitated, “perhaps this will help.”
She exhaled deeply and closed her eyes in concentration. A minute later, her arms extended a bit farther down the side of her robes, which drew up a slightly on her calves as she literally grew three to four inches. Her eyes rounded out slightly, her skin tone lightened a shade or two, and her nose widened, just the teeniest bit, giving her a more mature look. The faintest hint of laugh lines appeared on her nearly-perfect adolescent complexion, and when her shiny black tresses were replaced with several short, pink spikes, Ginny’s mouth fell open in shock as a single word escaped her.
“Tonks!!”
She couldn’t think what else to say. Excited and confused at the same time, she stammered, “What -- what the bloody hell is this all about, then? What have you been doing? It was you all the time?!” Then she had another thought, an almost horrid one; her eyes drew wide as she gasped, “Does Professor Lupin know?”
The young woman looked down and sighed. “Yes. He knows. And a few other staff members, including Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape, and Madam Pomfrey. But if anyone else finds out, I’m done for, so please, Ginny, this must be our—”
There was a loud thump against the front door, causing Ginny to panic. “Oh, Merlin -- Hagrid’s back! Does he know about any of this?”
The door of the hut abruptly swung wide open. Whoever it was didn’t bother to knock or stop the door from falling shut with a loud bang.
Draco, breathless from sprinting across the grounds, panted, “Nymphadora! What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Hello, Draco. How’s your mother? I was—”
Ginny butted in, “Wait till you hear this, Draco -- she’s Sophia Bellucci. Or rather, Sophia is actually your cousin. A right laugh, huh? She had us all going, didn’t she? Actually, you’re just in time; she was just about to tell me why.”
He could tell by her voice that she was exasperated about something, but what she’d just said didn’t make any sense. “What are you babbling on about, Weasley?” he asked irritably in between gasps for breath.
Tonks interjected, “She’s right. I . . I’ve been pretending to be your housemate, second-year transfer student from Italy, Sophia Maria Bellucci.” When both students glared at her, she cried, “But I did it for a good reason! I never meant to hurt or deceive anyone.”
He snorted, “Well, this day is just full of bloody surprises, I must say. And what, might I ask, was so sodding important and ‘secretive’ that you had to deceive everyone in Slytherin, including our Head of House?”
“No, actually, Severus knows,” she corrected him. “I’m on a mission from Dumbledore. It has to do with . . . Michael Grant. Or rather, the not Michael Grant.”
“I knew it!” Draco roared. “He’s Polyjuiced, isn’t he -- or is it some form of Glamour?”
But Ginny wasn’t clued in yet. She asked them, “What are you two talking about?”
He explained his suspicions about the enigmatic student from New Zealand: the strange behavior, the fact that Michael had lied to either Warrington or Draco about his education, and for Tonks’s benefit, the bizarre ritual in front of the Mirror of Erised.
“Yes,” she replied, “Mrs. Norris told me about that.”
At their dumbfounded expressions, she quickly recanted, “I mean, Madam Pomfrey, of course.” Then she muttered to herself in an attempt to cover her faux pas, “Mrs. Norris, indeed -- what am I saying?”
Draco just shook his head; even though she was a Black, the witch was absolutely bonkers. “I have no idea, but -- say, what’s that on the table? Is it . . edible? I mean, Hagrid’s culinary skills are legendary, but not in a good way—”
His cousin snapped, “Yes, it’s ‘edible’. I brought it from the kitchens, you prig; I figured your girlfriend would be hungry.”
Once more, their mouths were agog. “What did you say?” Draco snarled threateningly, “Ginny and I are not . . . ”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Tonks smirked and cocked an eyebrow as her nose started to extend like Pinnochio’s. “Hmmm, of course not. And I’m just a wooden little puppet who wants to be a real boy.”
Draco flushed slightly, and Ginny cringed as she shut her eyes. They knew they’d been caught. Turning to Ginny, he laughed sarcastically and murmured, “Does anyone at this school not know about our alleged ‘secret relationship’?”
Ginny returned to the subject at hand. “So, Tonks, tell us. Why are you at Hogwarts, pretending to be a 12-year-old Italian girl?”
Tonks’s nose was now restored to normal, and she said, “I’ll explain the ‘why’ to both of you during lunch.” The three of them sat together at Hagrid’s large table to eat, as she divulged the details of her mission, which her friends at the Ministry had jokingly nicknamed, ‘Will the Real Michael Grant Please Stand Up?’
Tearing a cheese roll apart, she said, “See, it’s like this. I used to know Michael’s family. I spent part of one term on their lovely island, going to school with his oldest brother.” She nibbled at the roll, took a sip of her pumpkin juice, and went on.
“The Grants have four boys, and the family’s Quidditch skills are legendary. In fact, they’re so well-known that each time a new one arrived as a first-year, he was immediately placed on his House team, sometimes bumping a current team member into alternate status. They were even sorted into different houses -- mostly so one of them wouldn’t have to compete with his brother for the same position.”
“Then why didn’t he go out for our house team?” Draco asked just before polishing off the last bite of his first sandwich.
“No posts, remember? Slytherin’s team was full up. And, lucky for you, England isn’t like New Zealand -- over there, Quidditch is more popular than air. Besides, Warrington didn’t know about his reputation until after the season had begun, so apparently, your position was safe.
“But your captain’s no idiot; he reads up on his sport,” she added confidently. “One of his favorite titles is Up and Coming Quidditch Stars: The Hope of the Future for the Sport. I’d seen him curled up by the fireplace, devouring it night after night. And Grant’s name and picture are in there.” She finally stopped to take a breath and dig into her lunch in earnest.
Her cousin spoke next. “So this not-Michael-Grant -- this imposter -- does he look like the real thing?”
“Oh, he’s the spitting image,” Tonks confirmed. “You couldn’t tell them apart. But it’s not him.” She paused for emphasis. “I saw him fly once. His style -- it’s all wrong. He’s no Grant,” she attested, then stopped again, this time to gather her thoughts and take another drink of her juice. “The real questions are . . . who is he really, how is he pulling this off, and most of all, if he’s not here to play Quidditch -- then why is he?”
Draco, aggravated that Tonks had figured something out that he hadn’t, grasped at his last straw to try and disprove at least part of her theory. “What about Grant’s mum? Is she an educator?”
She looked at him warily and said, “Michael’s mother is dead, Draco. She died when he was about six.”
Filling her glass, Ginny interrupted them, “There’s just one thing I’m not following. Why did you get called in for this assignment?”
“Simple. New Zealand, not to mention his family -- they want him back. He’s one of the country’s most promising Quidditch players . . perhaps their best shot at the World Cup for three decades. And that’s the extent of my mission at Hogwarts.”
Draco snorted. “That’s what this is about? Fucking Quidditch? Meanwhile, he’s here, recruiting Death Eaters, scaring innocents, commanding those known to be in league with You-Know-Who . . .” Laughing at the irony of it, he speculated, “I wonder if whoever it is that’s pretending to be him knows who they’ve gotten a hold of?”
“Yeah, I was sort of wondering that myself,” Tonks said.
After a few moments of silence, Draco suddenly had an alarming notion. He eyed his cousin with suspicion. “Wait a second -- you’re not going to Oblivate us after this, are you?” he asked distrustfully. “’Cause I hate that; it ruins my focus for the rest of the day.” Ginny nodded in agreement, her expression anxious. She desperately wanted to know all that Tonks had to say, but she had Transfiguration that afternoon, and she had to be sharp for it.
The woman rolled her eyes and said with a laugh, “Oh, gods, no.”
“Good,” he said with a sigh.
“Because I stink at Memory Charms. I’d probably fry your brains.”
The looks on their faces were priceless.
She stuttered faintly, “I . . I was going to ask Charlie to do it.”
Ginny wrinkled her nose. “Charlie? My brother Charlie?”
Draco nearly choked on his drink.
The girls looked at him then Tonks said, “Yeah, well, I was going to ask him to come here anyway. You know, to look at the bird. He has this rare sort of . . touch with magical creatures. Suppose that’s why he’s so gifted at dealing with dragons.”
“I’m outta here,” Draco muttered as he rose quickly and forced the oversized chair back away from the table, scraping the floor loudly as it went.
“What?” Tonks asked, shocked that there could actually be someone who didn’t like Charlie.
Heading for the door, he shot back, “If he’s here, then I’m not.”
“Impedimenta!”
“Ginny,” Tonks said with mild awe, “you continually surprise me.”
“Well, he can’t run away from my brothers forever. Besides, it’s become rather apparent that our relationship isn’t as secret as we would like it to be.” She helped him back over to the table then replaced the spell with a Restraining Charm.
He glowered at the both of them. “You two,” he growled, “I’ve just about had enough of this. I want to leave. Now!”
Ginny sympathized, but she tried to convince him to stay. “Don’t you want to know what happened to Dionysus? And what Michael Grant is up to? Aren’t you the least bit curious?” He stewed in his spot like a cornered animal, fidgeting and wishing he could just go, and becoming even more agitated because he couldn’t.
She sighed, “I promise, Charlie’s not going to ‘get’ you. Nothing will happen.” She whispered, “And trust me, he won’t Memory Charm us.”
“It’s not that. I just don’t fancy my stones being ground to dust and put in a jar above anyone’s fireplace -- say, where’d she go?” They looked around for Tonks, finding her just in time to see her grab a pinch of glittery powder from her pocket and toss it into the flames.
Ginny looked a bit surprised. “I didn’t know Hagrid was on the Floo Network.”
“He’s not,” Tonks replied. “We’re using a connection path. We start at Fred and George’s place over in Hogsmeade, and they ‘patch us through’ so we can get to Charlie in Romania. Via the continental gateway, of course.”
“Amazing what they don’t tell you at this place!” Ginny marveled. “That fireplaces not on the Floo Network can be interconnected to reach the continent. Rather like the muggle internet, isn’t it? A truly fascinating concept. Why, I learned in Muggle Studies that—”
Seeing the confused expressions on both of their faces, she said sheepishly, “Never mind.”
“Well, Ginny,” Tonks said encouragingly, “Dumbledore will tell you almost anything you ask -- you just have to know to ask it first.” She turned her face to the flames and shouted, “Charlie! Are you there?!” At first, she got no response, so she yelled louder and more shrilly, “CHARLIE WEASLEY!!”
A red-haired man with a ruddy complexion appeared in Hagrid’s fireplace. Draco paled slightly. He hadn’t forgotten what happened the last time he’d met Charlie; he only hoped that the dragon handler had. When Charlie began to speak, Draco shuddered nervously.
“Yo, Tonks! So you wised up and decided to dump the werewolf and take me back, did ya, love?”
“No, silly, I need your help. It’s my aunt’s bird -- he’s badly hurt. Your sister and I have been tending to his injuries, but would you mind taking a look at him?”
The man peered in through the fireplace and asked suspiciously, “That depends. Which aunt?”
She laughed, “Cissy, of course. I never have anything to do with Trixie. Please, give me some credit.”
Draco scrunched up his nose. “Cissy and Trixie?” he whispered to Ginny, looking over his shoulder to be sure he was staying clear from Charlie’s view. “That’s hilarious; I never heard them called that.”
“Yes, Bellatrix definitely fits her better. It sounds more . . . demented, don’t you think?”
He looked at her defiantly, saying, “She’s always been good to me. Maybe she just doesn’t like you—”
He stopped short when the burly man rolled out of the fireplace and onto the floor, covered lightly in dust and sputtering. Draco panicked. Shit, he’s here! He tried to bolt, but the Restraining Charm still held him firmly at Ginny’s side. Instead, he ducked behind Hagrid’s massive bed, grabbing her hand and pulling her down with him.
“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Let go! He knows I’m here, so he’ll be looking for me!”
“Well, he’s not expecting to find me!! He wants to pummel me! And didn’t you hear what just I said about some particular body parts of mine ending up in a specific jar above the fireplace in your home?”
“Ginny? Draco?” Tonks called out.
Bloody hell. I’m dead.
Both students stood up slowly. “She fell down. I was helping her get her bearings,” he lied smoothly.
Charlie raised an eyebrow and smirked. “So it is true. You two are seeing one another.” Eyeing their surroundings, he added sarcastically, “And in some most unusual places, it would appear.”
Ginny groaned, “Oh, Charlie, you big lug! It’s wonderful to see you again!” She walked over to him. Draco, still under the Charm, followed along reluctantly. After she hugged her brother, she said, “I expect you know Draco Malfoy.”
Charlie grimaced and shook the boy’s hand, practically crushing his bones in the process.
“Yes. We must get to know each other, Draco. But for now, since you are Ginny’s . . friend, as well as Dora’s cousin -- then I suppose you deserve at least one chance.”
Draco wasn’t sure if the man was serious or not, but he certainly looked to be. Charlie smiled tightly as he slapped the boy’s shoulder. Then pulling him in for a loose hug, he whispered in a threatening tone, “This is your one chance, boy. Don’t fuck it up.” He finally released his grip and spun around to Tonks. “So, where’s the bird, sweetheart?”
She directed him to where Dionysus lay. The owl was resting peacefully and breathing evenly, thanks to the girls’ efforts thus far.
Charlie held his wand over the creature and muttered a few unintelligible words that sounded either Russian or Czech in origin. He gently laid his fingers on its feathers. Closing his eyes, he spoke intermittently. “Oh. Oh, dear. The poor thing. He . . you pitiful creature. But you’re her pet -- how could they?”
“What?” Tonks asked anxiously. “What is it, Charlie?”
“Yes, what?” Draco echoed.
Soon, Charlie’s eyes fluttered open, as if he were pulling himself out of a trance. He began rather vaguely, “It seems that your home has some sort of . . . long-standing protection Charm in place.”
“So?” Draco snapped. “It has several, but why do we need protection from our own bird?”
“Not the bird, you idiot; what he was carrying. It seems it had the magical signature of a person who is on some sort of ‘forbidden’ list. Someone whose magic is not permitted to enter your property. The shield around the home—”
He paused then sighed. “It would have beaten this poor bird to bloody, unrecognizable pulp; fortunately for him, he is either more intelligent, or less determined, than some other owls.” Stroking the bird again, he concluded grimly, “Good thing he gave up when he did, or he would have eventually died, on the grounds just outside your home.”
“But all I sent was a letter from myself and a potion from—”
“Madam Pomfrey!” Ginny chimed in. “At least, I think she made it -- but why would your home have a spell to keep her magic out? She’s harmless!” she insisted. They all sat there quietly, thinking, taking all this new information in.
Draco spoke next. “Then how did the letter get removed? As far as I know, she got that.”
Charlie concentrated for a moment then asked, “Did she? It might have been removed by someone else or maybe even lost while the owl was being knocked about. Did you contact your mother, just to be sure?”
“No,” he said sullenly. “We rarely speak.”
“Can’t you just Floo her now?” Tonks suggested. “They are on the network, aren’t they?”
“Errr, not really. You can only Floo out from Malfoy Manor -- no incoming calls are allowed that aren’t scheduled a week in advance.”
The four of them sat in silence once more when Dionysus perked up and fluttered his wings. He appeared to be ready to go home. Ginny told Draco, “Quick, write your mum a note and send it with him!” He did, asking that she stop by in the next day or two and see him. He wrote that he had something very important to tell her that could affect his future.
“There. That should get her attention,” he concluded firmly. He sealed the envelope and tied it to Dionysus’s leg. “Off you go, then.” The bird flapped its wings proudly and flew out the nearest window, taking off for home.
Turning to the others, Draco smiled weakly and said, “Thank you, Charlie, Dora. And you too, Ginny. Couldn’t have set him to rights with you.”
His girlfriend said, “Finite Incantatum,” removing the Charm that held him there. Then she reminded them, “We’ve got to get to our classes.” She paused then added, “Thanks a million, you two. I know Narcissa will be very grateful when she hears what you’ve done for her favorite bird.”
As they turned to go, Charlie commanded abruptly, “Not so fast, Ginny. Dora said she needs me to Memory Charm the both of you about her mission. She can’t be found out.”
“But Charlie,” Ginny insisted, “we have lessons this afternoon. I have a test with Professor McGonagall; I can’t be the least bit off, or I could cause some serious damage.”
“She’s right,” Draco agreed then added slyly, “and I have Quidditch practice in a few hours. I can’t risk falling off my broom, or I’ll end up in hospital, needing repairs myself.”
Charlie sighed then reconsidered. “All right, then -- just a little one, so the after effects won’t be so bad. I am sorry, but I have to do this.”
Draco and Ginny both nodded quickly, urging him to hurry up before he had the chance to regret his decision. Meanwhile, Tonks morphed back into a 12-year-old girl girl from Italy.
When Charlie muttered, “Obliviate,” Ginny turned to Draco and kissed him fervently, wrapping her arms around his neck. His arms went instinctively around her waist; his eyes fell shut as he responded enthusiastically, heedless of his girlfriend’s brother who had been threatening him just minutes before. The passion the couple felt was written all over their flushed faces.
Seconds later, they both let go and Ginny blinked as if slightly confused. “Oh, Charlie, thanks again for helping with the bird. And Sophia, thank you so much for lunch.” Then she took Draco’s hand, and they exited the hut. As they walked along, she fought to keep from giggling aloud. Soon she couldn’t contain herself as she burst into peals of laughter.
Draco asked with a grin, “What is so funny?” She just kept laughing at her own private joke. “Did . . did your Memory Charm . . not work either? I mean, you do still know she’s Dora, right?”
Snickering at her own cleverness, she said, “Yes. That’s what I meant: I knew he’d cast a Memory Charm, but I also knew that it might not work properly.” She elaborated, “If a person is feeling a strong emotion while placed under that particular spell, the emotion will sometimes partially override it.” Then she added, “Emotions are a funny thing when it comes to magic, especially when it comes to Memory Charms and . . . well, love.”
They stopped walking. He looked at her curiously, but no words came to mind -- at least, no meaningful ones. “Huh?” was all he could manage.
She looked at him and sighed. “Let’s just say that you can thank Miss Granger for her hours of painstaking research on the subject. And her obsession with my closest brother. See, it was that same obsession which caused her to carelessly leave her notes for an extra credit Advanced Charms essay she was working on, just lying about on the Common Room table, while she snuck off with him for a quick midnight shag in the Prefects Bathroom.”
“You little devil, you. No wonder I’m nuts about you,” he murmured. Standing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, he kissed her with intensity. The sunshine that filtered through the sparse trees was glorious. It only enhanced what they were feeling, making him rue the fact that they both had classes to attend this afternoon. Leaving her side was sure to be difficult; in fact, it was becoming even more so every time they were together.
They wisely decided to stop before they found they absolutely couldn’t. Breathless, he stroked her cheek tenderly and implored, “Meet me after practice again tonight -- please? I love the way you wash my back.”
“I can’t tonight,” she whispered as she kissed him, less fiercely but somehow more passionately than before. “I wish I could. But after this morning, I’m sure I’ll have so much homework, I’ll probably spend the entire evening in the library.”
They let go of one another and walked on, hand in hand. When they were in view of the front doors of the castle, she released her grip -- just in case there was someone on campus who didn’t know about their relationship yet. Don’t want to give Ron a coronary, she thought as she took a slight step away.
But he reached out and took her hand once more; he didn’t care who knew. At least, he thought he didn’t. Charlie accepted him -- for now, anway -- so maybe there was some hope. He trusted her emphatically and was dying to ask her something, a question about the potion.
“So, Ginny—”
“What’s in that bottle?” she asked, accidentally cutting him off.
“That’s funny -- that’s what I was about to ask you. Hermione told me it was UCD-I—”
“Since when do you talk to Hermione?” she interrupted him again. “I mean, other than to insult her.”
He rolled his eyes. “She was my partner in Advanced Potions this morning. We were brewing Dreamless Sleep Potion, which, believe me, is not easy, and Professor Snape forced us to be partners.” When she just looked at him with her mouth slightly open, he added, “Yes. We actually worked together -- but it certainly wasn’t my idea.” He didn’t elaborate on how it had happened, and Ginny knew better than to ask.
Instead, she settled for laughing inside at the mental image of them working side by side. It was a funny sight, one she could barely imagine: Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger working in concert -- cooperating even. They’d had to, since neither one of them would ever turn in a less than perfect potion, even if it meant giving the ‘filthy little mudblood’ half the credit and an equal number of points.
Letting go of Ginny’s hand, he returned to the topic he’d wanted to discuss. “Anyway, she only told me its name. But you . . ” He pointed a finger at her and said, “You see her notes, from time to time . . . Do you know what UCD-I is?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” she replied with a frown.
“Can you find out?” Then with a wicked grin, he said, “I promise, I’ll wash your back next time.”
She smiled. “Of course, I will. Besides, Hermione isn’t my only housemate who’s in Advanced Herbology, you know. Plenty of them take the class. And I am in Professor Sprout’s fifth-year class tomorrow afternoon, so maybe we’re in luck.”
As he reached out for the door, he thought of the possibility, however unlikely, that Ron Weasley and Harry Potter could be standing just on the other side of it. He cleared his throat and gave Ginny the harshest look he could manage. Well, maybe I do care who knows about us.
Just a little.
He opened the door for her to enter ahead of him and said briskly, “Thanks for looking after my mum’s owl, Weasley. He seemed to feel better.”
“No problem, Malfoy,” she replied carelessly, and the pair parted company.
He looked at the nearest clock and saw that he had about fifteen minutes left before he was due in Professor Binn’s class. Heading toward Granger’s favorite room in the castle, his lip curled as he schemed: Perfect. Just enough time to check out a book.
~End of Chapter~
Post-Chapter Notes: So did Sophia’s true identity come as a surprise to anyone? If you knew, thank you for not spoiling it in your reviews - ! I tried to leave a few clues, so here’s a review:
(1) After Blaise’s funeral (in Chapter 11), when Ginny sees her, Sophia is so happy that she’s practically skipping. This happens right after Tonks receives Remus’s proposal.
(2) In the same scene, Sophia says she's been watching Hagrid's animals. Given that she's so young and some of his creatures are on the dangerous side, I don't think she would be allowed to be alone with them without supervision. Remember, Hagrid had just escorted Draco and Ginny back inside the school grounds and said he had to the greenhouses, so Sophia probably wasn't at Hagrid's. Also, she stammers a bit when Ginny asks her, as if she's searching for a good excuse (Ginny thinks she's struggling with her English).
(3) In the detention scene (in Chapter 9), Sophia shows a couple of Tonks’s trademark features: she’s a bonafide klutz (she drops several dishes), and she can alter her appearance at will. (Her skin color seems a bit off; Draco thinks it’s a Tanning Charm gone awry.)
(4) The mere fact that Tonks is at Hogwarts all the time. Where would she find so much time to visit if she worked at the Ministry?
So were the hints too subtle? Too obvious? Either way, please let me know. I’m practicing my mystery-writing skills here . . . :-D
Bonus ‘Trivia’: “Nice buns” – This is one of our family’s personal jokes. One of my daughter’s friends (also a girl) made the remark to her teasingly at the pool one day. It shocked me at first, but when we had a good laugh about it, she got rather embarrassed. They were only nine years old, and the phrase has become a source of a lot of laughter in our family. We quote her often, sometimes in different accents and voices (Yoda is a favorite). The poor girl will never live it down; if we see her again when she’s 65, one of is sure to bring it up. Yeah, we’re just mean. ;-)
Okay, enough rambling. There is good news, however; the next chapter is already one-third of the way done! :-) It was supposed to be part of this one, but it just got waaaaaay too long, as in 7000+ words, so I just sliced it into sections. In order to motivate, inspire, and perhaps help me get the next chapter out more quickly, please review and recommend!!! Thanks! Sue B.
This chapter is named for the song by Heart. The action resumes the same morning that Dionysus returns with the potion. Cue Draco!
CHAPTER 17 – Magic Man
By lunch time, Draco was fully convinced that this qualified as his new ‘Worst Day Ever’ for several reasons. His mother’s beloved bird had been beaten savagely, quite possibly sustaining permanent injuries, and the potion it had been carrying was returned unopened. Said potion was, for the moment anyway, still largely unidentifiable. And as if all that weren’t bad enough, he’d had to endure the unfortunate task of brewing Dreamless Sleep Potion with Granger as his partner. He still shuddered at the thought.
Yet as it turned out, although he was loath to admit it, she was actually fairly . . good at it. Once she even managed to keep him from singing his brows and eyelashes clean off his face by tossing in a few well-aimed chunks of dry ice, at what appeared to have been a most crucial moment.
Oh, well -- I always knew the silly bint had to be good at something, aside from annoying the entire staff and student body.
At three minutes of noon, he could be found pacing about outside the doors to the Great Hall. He was practically starving, a fact accentuated by the fierce pounding behind his eyes. But he dared not leave; he anxiously waiting to see Ginny. Part of him wanted to see if she could shed any light on what had befallen Dionysus, and the other part -- well, it just wanted to see her.
Soon, two of Ginny’s friends came into view. As if on cue, Draco’s mask went up.
“Well,” he sneered rudely, “if it isn’t Colin Creepy and Loony Lovegood.”
Colin stopped in mid-step and turned to face him, keeping Luna close to his side. With as much courage as he could muster, he said, “Stuff it, Malfoy.” His heart practically in his throat, he asked, “What do you want, you Slytherin?”, saying the last word as if it were poison in his mouth.
“Nothing from you, you low-life, Potter-worshipping Gryffindor. I wanted a word with your . . your girlfriend, is it?” he said with a malicious smirk.
Colin scowled in reply, whereas Luna glanced up at Draco as if she were barely aware of him. Completely unafraid and unconcerned about so little a thing as Draco Malfoy, she asked, “Yes, what is it?”
At first, he hesitated. “I -- I was just wondering . . . something,” he murmured weakly.
Creevey practically sang, “Oh, so Draco Malfoy, the great ‘Cassanova of Hogwarts’, actually gets nervous talking to girls.” Luna’s shoulder was already under his arm, and he tightened his grip on the other possessively, pulling her even closer into his side. He snarled, “Well, you can forget about this one, playboy -- she’s mine!”
It was an action that he regretted almost immediately, but not because of anything Malfoy did or said, or the disgusted look on his pale face.
Luna physically loosened Colin’s grip and took a step back from him. Boring into him with her large, expressive eyes, she said slowly and clearly, “Colin, I’m surprised at you -- Mr. Malfoy deserves a chance to be heard. Listen, would you please go and find us a seat? Somewhere at the Gryffindor table, all right?”
He nodded to her then scowled at his enemy. Luna touched Colin’s arm and whispered, “Thank you. I’ll be right there.”
Turning to face Draco, she said sweetly, “Now, Mr. Malfoy. What were you wondering?”
It was difficult to find the words; they were right there, on the tip of his tongue. But he hadn’t told anyone about his thing for Ginny, not even Blaise had known that—
“I’m looking for Ginny Weasley,” he blurted out. “I mean, you two do have lessons together, don’t you?” She nodded blithely, so he rambled on. “Have you seen her since breakfast? Has she been to any of her lessons today? Do you know where she is?”
Luna grinned softly and said, “No, I’m sorry, I don’t. We haven’t had any lessons with the Gryffindors since yesterday.” Seeing the distress on his face, she offered helpfully, “But don’t worry, Draco. I’m sure she’ll turn up for lunch. She always does.”
She started to leave, when out of the clear blue, she asked him, “By the way, have you written any new verses to Weasley is our King? I thought it was a very peculiar song. I didn’t really know what it meant, but it did have a nice tune.”
“No, not lately,” he said as snidely as possible. He furrowed his brow and attempted a scowl or some other hateful sign that said she absolutely disgusted him. He abhorred that he had to ask her in the first place, when it was obvious she was a nutter. Who else but a loon would actually like a song that was supposed to be an insult aimed at one of Hogwarts’s golden trio?
Finally able to produce at least one syllable -- an almost inaudible “Thanks” -- he turned tail and practically ran away from her.
“You’re welcome.” Luna chuckled to herself. As he bolted toward the distant front doors, his opened robes billowed behind him, exposing his retreating form. Luna casually observed, Hmm, nice buns. She sauntered toward the entrance to the Great Hall where her boyfriend was saving her a seat.
When she placed a hand on the door, she glanced over her shoulder once more and thought, So you’re Ginny’s new love. Most interesting, Miss Weasley.
And she went inside.
“I see. You’re not who I think you are,” Ginny repeated. “Then who are you? And why would a 12-year-old be involved in such pretense and secrecy?”
“Because . . . I’m not really 12 . . ?” Sophia began weakly. This did not appease Ginny, whose temper was starting to flare, something Sophia had not been looking forward to. “Well,” the girl hesitated, “perhaps this will help.”
She exhaled deeply and closed her eyes in concentration. A minute later, her arms extended a bit farther down the side of her robes, which drew up a slightly on her calves as she literally grew three to four inches. Her eyes rounded out slightly, her skin tone lightened a shade or two, and her nose widened, just the teeniest bit, giving her a more mature look. The faintest hint of laugh lines appeared on her nearly-perfect adolescent complexion, and when her shiny black tresses were replaced with several short, pink spikes, Ginny’s mouth fell open in shock as a single word escaped her.
“Tonks!!”
She couldn’t think what else to say. Excited and confused at the same time, she stammered, “What -- what the bloody hell is this all about, then? What have you been doing? It was you all the time?!” Then she had another thought, an almost horrid one; her eyes drew wide as she gasped, “Does Professor Lupin know?”
The young woman looked down and sighed. “Yes. He knows. And a few other staff members, including Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape, and Madam Pomfrey. But if anyone else finds out, I’m done for, so please, Ginny, this must be our—”
There was a loud thump against the front door, causing Ginny to panic. “Oh, Merlin -- Hagrid’s back! Does he know about any of this?”
The door of the hut abruptly swung wide open. Whoever it was didn’t bother to knock or stop the door from falling shut with a loud bang.
Draco, breathless from sprinting across the grounds, panted, “Nymphadora! What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Hello, Draco. How’s your mother? I was—”
Ginny butted in, “Wait till you hear this, Draco -- she’s Sophia Bellucci. Or rather, Sophia is actually your cousin. A right laugh, huh? She had us all going, didn’t she? Actually, you’re just in time; she was just about to tell me why.”
He could tell by her voice that she was exasperated about something, but what she’d just said didn’t make any sense. “What are you babbling on about, Weasley?” he asked irritably in between gasps for breath.
Tonks interjected, “She’s right. I . . I’ve been pretending to be your housemate, second-year transfer student from Italy, Sophia Maria Bellucci.” When both students glared at her, she cried, “But I did it for a good reason! I never meant to hurt or deceive anyone.”
He snorted, “Well, this day is just full of bloody surprises, I must say. And what, might I ask, was so sodding important and ‘secretive’ that you had to deceive everyone in Slytherin, including our Head of House?”
“No, actually, Severus knows,” she corrected him. “I’m on a mission from Dumbledore. It has to do with . . . Michael Grant. Or rather, the not Michael Grant.”
“I knew it!” Draco roared. “He’s Polyjuiced, isn’t he -- or is it some form of Glamour?”
But Ginny wasn’t clued in yet. She asked them, “What are you two talking about?”
He explained his suspicions about the enigmatic student from New Zealand: the strange behavior, the fact that Michael had lied to either Warrington or Draco about his education, and for Tonks’s benefit, the bizarre ritual in front of the Mirror of Erised.
“Yes,” she replied, “Mrs. Norris told me about that.”
At their dumbfounded expressions, she quickly recanted, “I mean, Madam Pomfrey, of course.” Then she muttered to herself in an attempt to cover her faux pas, “Mrs. Norris, indeed -- what am I saying?”
Draco just shook his head; even though she was a Black, the witch was absolutely bonkers. “I have no idea, but -- say, what’s that on the table? Is it . . edible? I mean, Hagrid’s culinary skills are legendary, but not in a good way—”
His cousin snapped, “Yes, it’s ‘edible’. I brought it from the kitchens, you prig; I figured your girlfriend would be hungry.”
Once more, their mouths were agog. “What did you say?” Draco snarled threateningly, “Ginny and I are not . . . ”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Tonks smirked and cocked an eyebrow as her nose started to extend like Pinnochio’s. “Hmmm, of course not. And I’m just a wooden little puppet who wants to be a real boy.”
Draco flushed slightly, and Ginny cringed as she shut her eyes. They knew they’d been caught. Turning to Ginny, he laughed sarcastically and murmured, “Does anyone at this school not know about our alleged ‘secret relationship’?”
Ginny returned to the subject at hand. “So, Tonks, tell us. Why are you at Hogwarts, pretending to be a 12-year-old Italian girl?”
Tonks’s nose was now restored to normal, and she said, “I’ll explain the ‘why’ to both of you during lunch.” The three of them sat together at Hagrid’s large table to eat, as she divulged the details of her mission, which her friends at the Ministry had jokingly nicknamed, ‘Will the Real Michael Grant Please Stand Up?’
Tearing a cheese roll apart, she said, “See, it’s like this. I used to know Michael’s family. I spent part of one term on their lovely island, going to school with his oldest brother.” She nibbled at the roll, took a sip of her pumpkin juice, and went on.
“The Grants have four boys, and the family’s Quidditch skills are legendary. In fact, they’re so well-known that each time a new one arrived as a first-year, he was immediately placed on his House team, sometimes bumping a current team member into alternate status. They were even sorted into different houses -- mostly so one of them wouldn’t have to compete with his brother for the same position.”
“Then why didn’t he go out for our house team?” Draco asked just before polishing off the last bite of his first sandwich.
“No posts, remember? Slytherin’s team was full up. And, lucky for you, England isn’t like New Zealand -- over there, Quidditch is more popular than air. Besides, Warrington didn’t know about his reputation until after the season had begun, so apparently, your position was safe.
“But your captain’s no idiot; he reads up on his sport,” she added confidently. “One of his favorite titles is Up and Coming Quidditch Stars: The Hope of the Future for the Sport. I’d seen him curled up by the fireplace, devouring it night after night. And Grant’s name and picture are in there.” She finally stopped to take a breath and dig into her lunch in earnest.
Her cousin spoke next. “So this not-Michael-Grant -- this imposter -- does he look like the real thing?”
“Oh, he’s the spitting image,” Tonks confirmed. “You couldn’t tell them apart. But it’s not him.” She paused for emphasis. “I saw him fly once. His style -- it’s all wrong. He’s no Grant,” she attested, then stopped again, this time to gather her thoughts and take another drink of her juice. “The real questions are . . . who is he really, how is he pulling this off, and most of all, if he’s not here to play Quidditch -- then why is he?”
Draco, aggravated that Tonks had figured something out that he hadn’t, grasped at his last straw to try and disprove at least part of her theory. “What about Grant’s mum? Is she an educator?”
She looked at him warily and said, “Michael’s mother is dead, Draco. She died when he was about six.”
Filling her glass, Ginny interrupted them, “There’s just one thing I’m not following. Why did you get called in for this assignment?”
“Simple. New Zealand, not to mention his family -- they want him back. He’s one of the country’s most promising Quidditch players . . perhaps their best shot at the World Cup for three decades. And that’s the extent of my mission at Hogwarts.”
Draco snorted. “That’s what this is about? Fucking Quidditch? Meanwhile, he’s here, recruiting Death Eaters, scaring innocents, commanding those known to be in league with You-Know-Who . . .” Laughing at the irony of it, he speculated, “I wonder if whoever it is that’s pretending to be him knows who they’ve gotten a hold of?”
“Yeah, I was sort of wondering that myself,” Tonks said.
After a few moments of silence, Draco suddenly had an alarming notion. He eyed his cousin with suspicion. “Wait a second -- you’re not going to Oblivate us after this, are you?” he asked distrustfully. “’Cause I hate that; it ruins my focus for the rest of the day.” Ginny nodded in agreement, her expression anxious. She desperately wanted to know all that Tonks had to say, but she had Transfiguration that afternoon, and she had to be sharp for it.
The woman rolled her eyes and said with a laugh, “Oh, gods, no.”
“Good,” he said with a sigh.
“Because I stink at Memory Charms. I’d probably fry your brains.”
The looks on their faces were priceless.
She stuttered faintly, “I . . I was going to ask Charlie to do it.”
Ginny wrinkled her nose. “Charlie? My brother Charlie?”
Draco nearly choked on his drink.
The girls looked at him then Tonks said, “Yeah, well, I was going to ask him to come here anyway. You know, to look at the bird. He has this rare sort of . . touch with magical creatures. Suppose that’s why he’s so gifted at dealing with dragons.”
“I’m outta here,” Draco muttered as he rose quickly and forced the oversized chair back away from the table, scraping the floor loudly as it went.
“What?” Tonks asked, shocked that there could actually be someone who didn’t like Charlie.
Heading for the door, he shot back, “If he’s here, then I’m not.”
“Impedimenta!”
“Ginny,” Tonks said with mild awe, “you continually surprise me.”
“Well, he can’t run away from my brothers forever. Besides, it’s become rather apparent that our relationship isn’t as secret as we would like it to be.” She helped him back over to the table then replaced the spell with a Restraining Charm.
He glowered at the both of them. “You two,” he growled, “I’ve just about had enough of this. I want to leave. Now!”
Ginny sympathized, but she tried to convince him to stay. “Don’t you want to know what happened to Dionysus? And what Michael Grant is up to? Aren’t you the least bit curious?” He stewed in his spot like a cornered animal, fidgeting and wishing he could just go, and becoming even more agitated because he couldn’t.
She sighed, “I promise, Charlie’s not going to ‘get’ you. Nothing will happen.” She whispered, “And trust me, he won’t Memory Charm us.”
“It’s not that. I just don’t fancy my stones being ground to dust and put in a jar above anyone’s fireplace -- say, where’d she go?” They looked around for Tonks, finding her just in time to see her grab a pinch of glittery powder from her pocket and toss it into the flames.
Ginny looked a bit surprised. “I didn’t know Hagrid was on the Floo Network.”
“He’s not,” Tonks replied. “We’re using a connection path. We start at Fred and George’s place over in Hogsmeade, and they ‘patch us through’ so we can get to Charlie in Romania. Via the continental gateway, of course.”
“Amazing what they don’t tell you at this place!” Ginny marveled. “That fireplaces not on the Floo Network can be interconnected to reach the continent. Rather like the muggle internet, isn’t it? A truly fascinating concept. Why, I learned in Muggle Studies that—”
Seeing the confused expressions on both of their faces, she said sheepishly, “Never mind.”
“Well, Ginny,” Tonks said encouragingly, “Dumbledore will tell you almost anything you ask -- you just have to know to ask it first.” She turned her face to the flames and shouted, “Charlie! Are you there?!” At first, she got no response, so she yelled louder and more shrilly, “CHARLIE WEASLEY!!”
A red-haired man with a ruddy complexion appeared in Hagrid’s fireplace. Draco paled slightly. He hadn’t forgotten what happened the last time he’d met Charlie; he only hoped that the dragon handler had. When Charlie began to speak, Draco shuddered nervously.
“Yo, Tonks! So you wised up and decided to dump the werewolf and take me back, did ya, love?”
“No, silly, I need your help. It’s my aunt’s bird -- he’s badly hurt. Your sister and I have been tending to his injuries, but would you mind taking a look at him?”
The man peered in through the fireplace and asked suspiciously, “That depends. Which aunt?”
She laughed, “Cissy, of course. I never have anything to do with Trixie. Please, give me some credit.”
Draco scrunched up his nose. “Cissy and Trixie?” he whispered to Ginny, looking over his shoulder to be sure he was staying clear from Charlie’s view. “That’s hilarious; I never heard them called that.”
“Yes, Bellatrix definitely fits her better. It sounds more . . . demented, don’t you think?”
He looked at her defiantly, saying, “She’s always been good to me. Maybe she just doesn’t like you—”
He stopped short when the burly man rolled out of the fireplace and onto the floor, covered lightly in dust and sputtering. Draco panicked. Shit, he’s here! He tried to bolt, but the Restraining Charm still held him firmly at Ginny’s side. Instead, he ducked behind Hagrid’s massive bed, grabbing her hand and pulling her down with him.
“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Let go! He knows I’m here, so he’ll be looking for me!”
“Well, he’s not expecting to find me!! He wants to pummel me! And didn’t you hear what just I said about some particular body parts of mine ending up in a specific jar above the fireplace in your home?”
“Ginny? Draco?” Tonks called out.
Bloody hell. I’m dead.
Both students stood up slowly. “She fell down. I was helping her get her bearings,” he lied smoothly.
Charlie raised an eyebrow and smirked. “So it is true. You two are seeing one another.” Eyeing their surroundings, he added sarcastically, “And in some most unusual places, it would appear.”
Ginny groaned, “Oh, Charlie, you big lug! It’s wonderful to see you again!” She walked over to him. Draco, still under the Charm, followed along reluctantly. After she hugged her brother, she said, “I expect you know Draco Malfoy.”
Charlie grimaced and shook the boy’s hand, practically crushing his bones in the process.
“Yes. We must get to know each other, Draco. But for now, since you are Ginny’s . . friend, as well as Dora’s cousin -- then I suppose you deserve at least one chance.”
Draco wasn’t sure if the man was serious or not, but he certainly looked to be. Charlie smiled tightly as he slapped the boy’s shoulder. Then pulling him in for a loose hug, he whispered in a threatening tone, “This is your one chance, boy. Don’t fuck it up.” He finally released his grip and spun around to Tonks. “So, where’s the bird, sweetheart?”
She directed him to where Dionysus lay. The owl was resting peacefully and breathing evenly, thanks to the girls’ efforts thus far.
Charlie held his wand over the creature and muttered a few unintelligible words that sounded either Russian or Czech in origin. He gently laid his fingers on its feathers. Closing his eyes, he spoke intermittently. “Oh. Oh, dear. The poor thing. He . . you pitiful creature. But you’re her pet -- how could they?”
“What?” Tonks asked anxiously. “What is it, Charlie?”
“Yes, what?” Draco echoed.
Soon, Charlie’s eyes fluttered open, as if he were pulling himself out of a trance. He began rather vaguely, “It seems that your home has some sort of . . . long-standing protection Charm in place.”
“So?” Draco snapped. “It has several, but why do we need protection from our own bird?”
“Not the bird, you idiot; what he was carrying. It seems it had the magical signature of a person who is on some sort of ‘forbidden’ list. Someone whose magic is not permitted to enter your property. The shield around the home—”
He paused then sighed. “It would have beaten this poor bird to bloody, unrecognizable pulp; fortunately for him, he is either more intelligent, or less determined, than some other owls.” Stroking the bird again, he concluded grimly, “Good thing he gave up when he did, or he would have eventually died, on the grounds just outside your home.”
“But all I sent was a letter from myself and a potion from—”
“Madam Pomfrey!” Ginny chimed in. “At least, I think she made it -- but why would your home have a spell to keep her magic out? She’s harmless!” she insisted. They all sat there quietly, thinking, taking all this new information in.
Draco spoke next. “Then how did the letter get removed? As far as I know, she got that.”
Charlie concentrated for a moment then asked, “Did she? It might have been removed by someone else or maybe even lost while the owl was being knocked about. Did you contact your mother, just to be sure?”
“No,” he said sullenly. “We rarely speak.”
“Can’t you just Floo her now?” Tonks suggested. “They are on the network, aren’t they?”
“Errr, not really. You can only Floo out from Malfoy Manor -- no incoming calls are allowed that aren’t scheduled a week in advance.”
The four of them sat in silence once more when Dionysus perked up and fluttered his wings. He appeared to be ready to go home. Ginny told Draco, “Quick, write your mum a note and send it with him!” He did, asking that she stop by in the next day or two and see him. He wrote that he had something very important to tell her that could affect his future.
“There. That should get her attention,” he concluded firmly. He sealed the envelope and tied it to Dionysus’s leg. “Off you go, then.” The bird flapped its wings proudly and flew out the nearest window, taking off for home.
Turning to the others, Draco smiled weakly and said, “Thank you, Charlie, Dora. And you too, Ginny. Couldn’t have set him to rights with you.”
His girlfriend said, “Finite Incantatum,” removing the Charm that held him there. Then she reminded them, “We’ve got to get to our classes.” She paused then added, “Thanks a million, you two. I know Narcissa will be very grateful when she hears what you’ve done for her favorite bird.”
As they turned to go, Charlie commanded abruptly, “Not so fast, Ginny. Dora said she needs me to Memory Charm the both of you about her mission. She can’t be found out.”
“But Charlie,” Ginny insisted, “we have lessons this afternoon. I have a test with Professor McGonagall; I can’t be the least bit off, or I could cause some serious damage.”
“She’s right,” Draco agreed then added slyly, “and I have Quidditch practice in a few hours. I can’t risk falling off my broom, or I’ll end up in hospital, needing repairs myself.”
Charlie sighed then reconsidered. “All right, then -- just a little one, so the after effects won’t be so bad. I am sorry, but I have to do this.”
Draco and Ginny both nodded quickly, urging him to hurry up before he had the chance to regret his decision. Meanwhile, Tonks morphed back into a 12-year-old girl girl from Italy.
When Charlie muttered, “Obliviate,” Ginny turned to Draco and kissed him fervently, wrapping her arms around his neck. His arms went instinctively around her waist; his eyes fell shut as he responded enthusiastically, heedless of his girlfriend’s brother who had been threatening him just minutes before. The passion the couple felt was written all over their flushed faces.
Seconds later, they both let go and Ginny blinked as if slightly confused. “Oh, Charlie, thanks again for helping with the bird. And Sophia, thank you so much for lunch.” Then she took Draco’s hand, and they exited the hut. As they walked along, she fought to keep from giggling aloud. Soon she couldn’t contain herself as she burst into peals of laughter.
Draco asked with a grin, “What is so funny?” She just kept laughing at her own private joke. “Did . . did your Memory Charm . . not work either? I mean, you do still know she’s Dora, right?”
Snickering at her own cleverness, she said, “Yes. That’s what I meant: I knew he’d cast a Memory Charm, but I also knew that it might not work properly.” She elaborated, “If a person is feeling a strong emotion while placed under that particular spell, the emotion will sometimes partially override it.” Then she added, “Emotions are a funny thing when it comes to magic, especially when it comes to Memory Charms and . . . well, love.”
They stopped walking. He looked at her curiously, but no words came to mind -- at least, no meaningful ones. “Huh?” was all he could manage.
She looked at him and sighed. “Let’s just say that you can thank Miss Granger for her hours of painstaking research on the subject. And her obsession with my closest brother. See, it was that same obsession which caused her to carelessly leave her notes for an extra credit Advanced Charms essay she was working on, just lying about on the Common Room table, while she snuck off with him for a quick midnight shag in the Prefects Bathroom.”
“You little devil, you. No wonder I’m nuts about you,” he murmured. Standing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, he kissed her with intensity. The sunshine that filtered through the sparse trees was glorious. It only enhanced what they were feeling, making him rue the fact that they both had classes to attend this afternoon. Leaving her side was sure to be difficult; in fact, it was becoming even more so every time they were together.
They wisely decided to stop before they found they absolutely couldn’t. Breathless, he stroked her cheek tenderly and implored, “Meet me after practice again tonight -- please? I love the way you wash my back.”
“I can’t tonight,” she whispered as she kissed him, less fiercely but somehow more passionately than before. “I wish I could. But after this morning, I’m sure I’ll have so much homework, I’ll probably spend the entire evening in the library.”
They let go of one another and walked on, hand in hand. When they were in view of the front doors of the castle, she released her grip -- just in case there was someone on campus who didn’t know about their relationship yet. Don’t want to give Ron a coronary, she thought as she took a slight step away.
But he reached out and took her hand once more; he didn’t care who knew. At least, he thought he didn’t. Charlie accepted him -- for now, anway -- so maybe there was some hope. He trusted her emphatically and was dying to ask her something, a question about the potion.
“So, Ginny—”
“What’s in that bottle?” she asked, accidentally cutting him off.
“That’s funny -- that’s what I was about to ask you. Hermione told me it was UCD-I—”
“Since when do you talk to Hermione?” she interrupted him again. “I mean, other than to insult her.”
He rolled his eyes. “She was my partner in Advanced Potions this morning. We were brewing Dreamless Sleep Potion, which, believe me, is not easy, and Professor Snape forced us to be partners.” When she just looked at him with her mouth slightly open, he added, “Yes. We actually worked together -- but it certainly wasn’t my idea.” He didn’t elaborate on how it had happened, and Ginny knew better than to ask.
Instead, she settled for laughing inside at the mental image of them working side by side. It was a funny sight, one she could barely imagine: Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger working in concert -- cooperating even. They’d had to, since neither one of them would ever turn in a less than perfect potion, even if it meant giving the ‘filthy little mudblood’ half the credit and an equal number of points.
Letting go of Ginny’s hand, he returned to the topic he’d wanted to discuss. “Anyway, she only told me its name. But you . . ” He pointed a finger at her and said, “You see her notes, from time to time . . . Do you know what UCD-I is?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” she replied with a frown.
“Can you find out?” Then with a wicked grin, he said, “I promise, I’ll wash your back next time.”
She smiled. “Of course, I will. Besides, Hermione isn’t my only housemate who’s in Advanced Herbology, you know. Plenty of them take the class. And I am in Professor Sprout’s fifth-year class tomorrow afternoon, so maybe we’re in luck.”
As he reached out for the door, he thought of the possibility, however unlikely, that Ron Weasley and Harry Potter could be standing just on the other side of it. He cleared his throat and gave Ginny the harshest look he could manage. Well, maybe I do care who knows about us.
Just a little.
He opened the door for her to enter ahead of him and said briskly, “Thanks for looking after my mum’s owl, Weasley. He seemed to feel better.”
“No problem, Malfoy,” she replied carelessly, and the pair parted company.
He looked at the nearest clock and saw that he had about fifteen minutes left before he was due in Professor Binn’s class. Heading toward Granger’s favorite room in the castle, his lip curled as he schemed: Perfect. Just enough time to check out a book.
~End of Chapter~
Post-Chapter Notes: So did Sophia’s true identity come as a surprise to anyone? If you knew, thank you for not spoiling it in your reviews - ! I tried to leave a few clues, so here’s a review:
(1) After Blaise’s funeral (in Chapter 11), when Ginny sees her, Sophia is so happy that she’s practically skipping. This happens right after Tonks receives Remus’s proposal.
(2) In the same scene, Sophia says she's been watching Hagrid's animals. Given that she's so young and some of his creatures are on the dangerous side, I don't think she would be allowed to be alone with them without supervision. Remember, Hagrid had just escorted Draco and Ginny back inside the school grounds and said he had to the greenhouses, so Sophia probably wasn't at Hagrid's. Also, she stammers a bit when Ginny asks her, as if she's searching for a good excuse (Ginny thinks she's struggling with her English).
(3) In the detention scene (in Chapter 9), Sophia shows a couple of Tonks’s trademark features: she’s a bonafide klutz (she drops several dishes), and she can alter her appearance at will. (Her skin color seems a bit off; Draco thinks it’s a Tanning Charm gone awry.)
(4) The mere fact that Tonks is at Hogwarts all the time. Where would she find so much time to visit if she worked at the Ministry?
So were the hints too subtle? Too obvious? Either way, please let me know. I’m practicing my mystery-writing skills here . . . :-D
Bonus ‘Trivia’: “Nice buns” – This is one of our family’s personal jokes. One of my daughter’s friends (also a girl) made the remark to her teasingly at the pool one day. It shocked me at first, but when we had a good laugh about it, she got rather embarrassed. They were only nine years old, and the phrase has become a source of a lot of laughter in our family. We quote her often, sometimes in different accents and voices (Yoda is a favorite). The poor girl will never live it down; if we see her again when she’s 65, one of is sure to bring it up. Yeah, we’re just mean. ;-)
Okay, enough rambling. There is good news, however; the next chapter is already one-third of the way done! :-) It was supposed to be part of this one, but it just got waaaaaay too long, as in 7000+ words, so I just sliced it into sections. In order to motivate, inspire, and perhaps help me get the next chapter out more quickly, please review and recommend!!! Thanks! Sue B.
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