Cheryl Dyson

Chapter Forty One – Grave News

            Draco was bored out of his mind by the time Snape arrived.  The Muggle girl had been right—Stonehenge or not, they were rocks.  They were only interesting for about twelve minutes.

            Snape walked out from among the stones and Draco assumed he had boldly Apparated somewhere close by.  He was surprised to see Snape in Muggle clothing.  Snape wore black trousers similar to Draco's, and a high-necked black shirt with long sleeves.  The outfit looked far too warm for the balmy summer day, but Snape was probably immune to discomfort.

            Snape's eyes flitted from person to person as he approached Draco, alert for anything.  There was no recognition in his eyes when his gaze passed over Neville and Luna.  Hermione and Ron were out of sight.

            “You're looking well, Draco,” Snape said with something that vaguely resembled a smile.

            “I'm doing all right,” Draco replied.  “Better than I was trapped in my room at Malfoy Manor, at any rate.”  He followed Snape's lead by scanning the area, alert for Death Eaters or other potential danger.

            “Your mother asked me to bring you a message.”

            “How is she?” Draco asked quickly.  Snape grimaced.

            “As well as can be expected.”

            “And Father?”

            “The same.”  Snape jerked his head sharply.  “There are too many Muggles here.  Walk with me.”

            Snape turned and Draco flicked a glance at Hermione, barely visible now in the shadow of one of the stones.  He shrugged and followed Snape.  As soon as they were out of sight of onlookers, Snape turned, gripped Draco's shoulder, and Disapparated them.

            Draco staggered a bit when they arrived at their new destination.  After a moment of disorientation, he realized they were on a pier.  He scowled at Snape.

            “You could have bloody warned me before taking me through like that,” he snapped.  Snape shrugged.

            “You should know by now you can trust me, Draco.  This place is away from prying eyes and Muggles.”

            A sound made them start and they realized a man was walking down the pier toward them.  He carried a fishing pole and tackle box.

            “You were saying?” Draco said blandly.

            The man approached and Draco saw he was a rather old, somewhat pudgy gentleman in a flannel shirt.

            “Hey, lads!  Where did ye come from?  Thought I 'ad the place all to meself today, I did.  You 'ere fer the fishin'?”  As he approached, he seemed to notice they carried no gear at all.  His brows beetled down.  “Now, ye ain't them damn environmental types, are ye?”

            When the man was three meters away, Snape pulled out his wand and downed him with a single blast of green light.  He looked around carefully to make certain the man had been alone.  There were no others signs of life along the barren coast.

            “Damnable Mudbloods,” Snape growled.  “They multiply like rabbits.  You cannot go anywhere without running into a nest of them.  Too bad Voldemort was lying about exterminating them.”  He laughed sharply.  “Or not lying, exactly.  He just plans to exterminate the rest of us, as well.  The bloody half-blood freak.”

            Draco was taken aback.  He'd never heard Snape spew such pureblood venom before, and decided it would be a bad idea to mention Snape's own half-blood ancestry.  He tried to ignore the fallen Muggle, as Snape did when he walked casually farther down the pier toward the water.

            “The Dark Lord is keeping a close eye on your parents, especially in light of the curious disappearances of four Death Eaters, recently.  You wouldn't know anything about that, I suppose?”

            Snape's black eyes glinted with merriment.  Draco was well aware of Snape's ability as a Legilimens, but he didn't get the impression Snape was using it.

            “Which four?” Draco asked casually.

            “It doesn't matter.  I can't stay long.  I've left Goyle and Avery in a stupor and I must get back in time to modify their memories.  I've come to warn you, although there is a limit to what I am allowed to say.  You know he's placed his version of the Fidelius Curse upon us.”

            “Where are my parents?”

            “That, of course, is one of those closely guarded secrets.  I can tell you, however, that he plans to attack the Ministry of Magic.”

            “When?  And why is that knowledge not protected by the Charm?”

            “Within the next few days.  The Dark Lord did not bother to silence us because too many Death Eaters are aware of the plot.  What they do not know is that the attack is merely a diversion.  The Dark Lord does not care if it succeeds or not.”

            “A diversion for what?”

            The Galleon on his chest suddenly grew hot.  Draco wondered if it would be possible to send a message without touching the coin.  Then again, he was touching it with his skin…

            I'm fine, he sent to Hermione.  I'll be right back.

            “It's difficult to answer direct questions, Draco,” Snape said and Malfoy had to backtrack his thoughts for a moment.  The Ministry attack… a diversion.  “Instead, perhaps you should ask yourself what the Dark Lord wants.”

            The words brought back Draco's conversation with his father.  Voldemort wanted the Ministry of Magic crushed.  And Hogwarts.

Chapter Thirty Seven - Irresistible

            Hermione returned to the Great Hall and tried to contain her seething anger.  There was no need to start a screaming match in front of everyone.

            Ron was talking to Luna.  Susan Bones and Neville seemed to be arguing vehemently.   They were blocking Hermione’s path to Ron, so she heard a brief flash of their conversation as she passed.

            “…can you possibly defend him?” Susan hissed.  “Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater!”

            “All I know is that Draco Malfoy saved my life,” Neville persisted.

            “Do you know that for certain?  Or did they just tell you it happened that way?”

            Neville drew himself up angrily.

            “Are you accusing my friends of intentionally lying?  About something like that?”

            Hermione paused and looked at them curiously.  Her eyes narrowed at Susan, who flushed, even though her face retained its defiant expression.

            “Maybe he put them under an Imperius Curse.”

            Hermione laughed without humor, even though she felt like smacking Susan across the face.  She answered for Neville.  “Really?   If so, it was very clever of him to break his own leg and nearly bleed to death.  I’m certain he did that in order to force Harry to rescue him and rush him to St. Mungo’s for some nefarious purpose.  And then he managed to be captured and dragged into the forest where he could conveniently be mauled by Fenrir Greyback, whom he subsequently captured, by the way, but I’m positive it was all some sort of elaborate plot!”

            Hermione’s voice had risen to a near shout.  Susan and Neville both stared at her as though she had grown two heads.  She felt tears of frustration prick her eyes and flung herself about.  No wonder Draco didn’t want to be here!

            “What’s got into her?” she heard Susan ask behind her.  “I thought she hated Malfoy more than anyone.”

            She didn’t hear Neville’s response as she propelled herself forward.  She could barely even remember hating Draco.  It seemed a lifetime ago.  Now, she just wanted to wrap her arms around him and protect him from those who did not understand the sacrifices he had made.  Like the person standing before her.

            “Ronald?” she asked sweetly, forcing herself to use as normal a tone as possible and not speak through clenched teeth.  “May I speak with you for a moment?  Privately?”

            Ron grinned, not suspecting the effort Hermione made not to snatch a fistful of his red hair and drag him from the room.  She kept her eyes fixed on Luna so he wouldn’t notice the simmering rage therein.  Luna caught it and blinked at her in surprise.

            “I must ask Father how to dispel Creeping Parcleps.  We seem to have an infestation.  I’ll send him an owl right away,” Luna said absently.

            Hermione forced a smile, as usual having not the foggiest notion what Luna was talking about.  She didn’t care, either.

            “Good idea.  Come along, Ronald,” Hermione said and led the way past Susan and Neville, who were silent and watched her curiously.  She led Weasley through the doors and cast about for a private place where no one would hear him screaming for help.  She grinned maliciously at the thought, but shoved the notion aside.  She must maintain control.  Ron trotted to keep up with her purposeful stride.

            “Where are we going?” he asked in puzzlement.

            “Right over here,” she decided, heading for the small chamber where First Years’ waited to be sorted upon their arrival at Hogwarts.  Hermione didn’t think she’d been in the room since that day.  The place was quite dusty.  Apparently it wouldn’t be cleaned until the first day of the next term approached.

            She walked to the center of the chamber, trying to collect her thoughts.  Ron had halted when the door shut, possibly picking up some of her tension at last.  Wisely, he remained quiet, especially when she turned around to give him a scathing glare.

            “Tell me something, Ronald dear,” she said mildly.  “Is it true that Draco Malfoy owes you a favor?”

            Ron’s gaze shot to the floor at the same time a bright red flush crept into his cheeks to drown the freckles.

            “Where… where did you hear that?” he stammered.  She could practically envision his brain trying to seek an out, spinning erratically.

            “Jungle drums.  Is it true?” she demanded.

            “Well… I suppose, sort of.”

            “You suppose, sort of.  Did you, perchance, ask Draco for something?  In return for this ‘sort of’ favor?”

            “What are you getting at?” he demanded.  She glared.  Typical Ron.  Defend and deny.  She marched forward until she stood directly before him.  She had to look up a bit to stare him in the eye, but she was not daunted.

            “Did you or did you not warn Draco Malfoy to stay away from me?” she asked.  With each word, she poked her index finger sharply into Ron’s chest.  By the end of the sentence, he was wincing.

There was a long silence and then Ron blurted, “Did Malfoy tell you that?  He’s bloody lying!”

Hermione snatched a fistful of Ron’s shirt and pulled him closer.

“No, Ron.  Malfoy didn’t say anything.  He’s just been acting bloody peculiar and so I had to ask myself why.  When Harry mentioned you owed Malfoy a favor, everything seemed to click into place.  Now, suppose you tell me the truth before I plant one of Ginny’s Bat Bogey Hexes on you that you won’t forget!”

His blue eyes widened and he struggled to pull himself out of her grip.  She raised her wand with her free hand and he looked at it fearfully.

“No!” he cried.  “You wouldn’t do that to me!”

“Oh wouldn’t I?” she gritted.

“Fine, you’re right!  I told Malfoy to keep away from you!  But it was for your own protection, don’t you see?”

She released him and shoved him away.  Ron stumbled, but caught himself before he fell.

“For my own protection?” she yelled.  “What can you possibly be trying to protect me from?  I’m nearly eighteen years old, Ronald!  I’ve been of age for months.  You aren’t trying to protect me from anything!  You’re just being bloody selfish and you know it!”

Ron glared at her.  “No, I’m trying to protect you from yourself!  You seem to think that Malfoy is oh-so-good, now!  How can you possibly feel that way, after the way he’s treated you?  The way he’s treated us?  He’s rotten to the core and he always will be!”

She shook her head.  “You’re wrong.  You accuse me of being blind, yet you are the one that refuses to believe your own eyes.  Look at what he’s gone through and tell me you still believe he’s a Death Eater!”

“I’ve been deceived before and I don’t plan to fall for it again!” Ron shouted.  “Peter Pettigrew pretended to be my damned pet for twelve years, so no!  I’m not going to trust that Draco Malfoy has suddenly turned into our best friend after six bloody days!”

“You’re telling me that everything he’s done has been part of an elaborate ruse?”

Ron groaned and shook his head.  “Probably not everything.  I think running into Greyback was unexpected, but yeah, I think it was pretty convenient that Wormtail snatched him up and took him into the forest.  It’s totally possible that was prearranged.”

“Even though Draco looked more like Harry at the time, as well as the fact that Wormtail could just as easily have snatched Harry Potter himself?  Think for a moment, Ronald.  Stop trying to justify your hatred.”

“I don’t need to justify it!” Ron snarled.  “I can hate him without any justification at all.  But don’t you find it interesting that he managed to warn you about your parents, but he couldn’t do anything to tell us about the Burrow?”

Hermione couldn’t explain that, so she didn’t try.  Maybe Malfoy could have told them and chose not to.  She only had Draco’s word that he hadn’t known in time.  She sighed.

“I don’t know, Ron.  If you’re determined to hate him, then so be it.  But leave me out of your machinations from now on.”

“Machinations?  Now, I’m the bad guy for trying to keep you from getting hurt?”

“How am I in danger of being hurt, Ron?” she asked placidly.  Ron scowled and kicked at an invisible piece of debris on the floor.

“I don’t know,” he muttered.  “It just seems like you’re spending an awful lot of time with Malfoy.  What happens if you… fall in love with the bastard, or something?”

“Then I suppose I’ll have my little heart crushed, won’t I?”  She walked forward and put her hands on Ron’s shoulders.  “It’s my risk, Ron.  You can’t force people to feel what you want them to feel.”

Ron’s blue eyes reflected pain and defeat.

“You’ll never love me, then?” he asked sadly.

“I do love you,” she insisted, gripping him tightly.  “Very much.  Just not in a romantic, passionate way.”

“I should never have gone with Lavender Brown,” he said morosely.   “I only did it to make you jealous.”

She grinned.  “Well, you did seem to enjoy your never-ending snogfest at the time, Won.”

He flushed.  “It wasn’t her I wanted to kiss, at all.  It was you.”

“I know.”  She sighed.  “Time has a way of changing everything, doesn’t it?”

Ron suddenly put his hands on her waist, leaned down, and kissed her.  He put everything he had into it, sliding his hands up to pull her against him tightly.  She didn’t resist, but she also felt nothing but a curious detachment.  He released her with an eloquent sigh of regret.

“Nothing, eh?” he asked as she stepped back.

“I’m so sorry,” she said truthfully.

“I bow to Malfoy’s superior power of attraction, damn him straight to hell.”

“You’ll release him from whatever stupid vow he made?”

“Yes.  Feel free to have yourself a snogfest, or whatever,” he said bitterly.  He turned and started out.  When he reached the door, she called to him.

“Ron?”

He paused.  “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

He said nothing and the door closed softly behind him.

Chapter Thirty Five – Pensieve, Parchment, Party

            Harry wasn’t tired enough to go back to bed and Hermione seemed agitated after their visit with Draco.

            “Never a dull moment with Malfoy, is there?” Harry commented mildly.

            “He’s bloody annoying, exasperating, and impossible to understand,” Hermione snapped.  Harry nodded thoughtfully.  She would never have to worry about a placid, predictable relationship with that one.

            “Want to go up and use the Pensieve before McGonagall wakes up?” he asked.  Hermione nodded and in short order they found themselves standing before the basin.  Harry shook the vial experimentally and dumped it in.

            Strangely, this memory took place outside, near the lake.  Hermione popped into existence next to Harry.  Dumbledore was absently conjuring handfuls of grain and scattering it on the lake for the ducks that greedily snapped up the treat.  Snape, of course, stood beside him.

            “Why didn’t you bring the damned thing to me?” Snape said bitterly.  “It was stupid of you to destroy it alone.  You’re lucky I was able to stop the curse before it took your whole arm.  Or worse.”

            “Will you stop nagging me like a mother hen?” Dumbledore said impatiently, although he raised his withered hand and looked at it with a grimace.  Harry realized with a start that the memory was recent—it must have been right after Dumbledore had destroyed the ring Horcrux.  “I’m aware of my failings.”

            “No, I really don’t think you are,” Snape said with his usual sneer.  “Next time you have the urge to traipse off after a Horcrux, you should bloody well take someone with you.  If you don’t trust me, then take your little Gryffindor hero.  Isn’t it past time you started letting him in on some of your secrets?  The brat’s nearly of age.”

            “I’m certain Harry would agree with you.”

            “Well, that would be a first, wouldn’t it?”  Snape’s black eyes flashed.

            “Why do you hate the boy so much?” Dumbledore asked tiredly and then held up a hand to forestall Snape’s reply.  “Never mind.  I don’t wish to get into another argument about Potters and purebloods and perceived wrongs.  I thought your opinion had softened somewhat, after Sirius.”

            Snape rolled his eyes.  “Not in regards to Potter.  Frankly, I don’t see why you fancy those Gryffindors so much, except for their insane propensity to race headlong into danger without a moment’s thought for the consequences.”  Snape looked pointedly at Dumbledore’s withered hand.  “Rather like you, I suppose.  Gryffindor to the core, are you not?”

            Dumbledore chuckled.  “Guilty as charged.”

            “Yes, well, as Headmaster, I would expect you to place a bit more value on some of the students in Houses other than your own.”

            “Several students joined ‘my Gryffindors’ last year, including some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, I believe.”

            “Yes, well, Cho Chang was smitten with The Boy Who Lived and Luna Lovegood is hardly a prime example of a Ravenclaw.  What of Slytherins?  Are none of them are worthy to stand beside The Chosen One?  Potter’s opinion seems to be quite tainted in that regard.”

            “And who would you choose to stand beside Harry Potter against Voldemort?  Frankly, most of your Slytherin students seem more likely to carry banners proclaiming Voldemort’s imminent reign than stand up to prevent it.”

             “I’ve done my best—“ Snape began.

            “You’ve done your best to encourage the same purebood nonsense they believe Voldemort stands for!” Dumbledore snapped.  Snape’s face flamed.

            “It isn’t nonsense!  My most talented students are purebloods—“

            “As are the most imbecilic!  If purity of bloodline equals talent, then how to you explain Crabbe and Goyle?  Without young Malfoy’s assistance, they would have been tossed out of school years ago!”

            Snape sniffed.  “They have the talent.  They just do not apply themselves.”

            Dumbledore glared at him.  “You are babbling nonsense.  Explain Hermione Granger.”

            It was Snape’s turn to scowl.  “An aberration.  Freak coincidence.”

            Hermione balled up her fists and punched Snape in the stomach.  Her fist went right through the vaporous memory without effect, but Harry grinned, applauding the effort.

            “Aberration.  I’ll give you an aberration, you horrible, small-minded—“ Hermione began, but Harry hushed her in order to hear the rest of the memory.  She folded her arms and glared daggers at Snape.

            Dumbledore dragged his good hand through his hair in a credible imitation of Harry Potter.

            “Enough!  This discussion has not been resolved in over fifteen years.”

            Snape grinned evilly.  “And yet you continue to bring it up.”

            “I keep hoping that you will see the error of your ways,” Dumbledore said sadly.

            “As do I,” Snape replied with a superior air.

            The two were silent for a time and Dumbledore went back to feeding the ducks.  Finally, Snape asked, “Do you intend to go after another Horcrux?”

            “Possibly.”

            “Do you agree that you will not go alone, next time?” Snape asked blandly.  Dumbledore looked at him suspiciously.

            “Out with it, man,” he said.  Snape shook his head.

            “Not without your promise.”

            “Fine.  I promise to take at least one other person on my next Horcrux hunt,” Dumbledore said with finality.

            “Excellent.  Then, I may know where you can find one.”

            Dumbledore stopped feeding the birds and turned his full attention to Snape.

            “There is a cave by the sea…”