Chapter Twenty Eight - The Beetle At Bay
The next day, Hermione found herself waiting nervously in the Three Broomsticks, a mug of butterbeer sitting in front of her.
Luna was sitting beside her with a Gillywater, stirring it absently with a cherry as she hummed under her breath.
The two girls attracted several second glances from other students – not only were they not talking, but there was probably not a more bizarre pairing in Hogwarts (okay, so maybe that was a slight exaggeration – but only slightly).
Luna was, of course, completely oblivious to these looks, but Hermione wasn’t, and she didn’t really want the attention, especially not today.
She would have preferred somewhere more private for this meeting, but there wasn’t really anywhere else, save for the Shrieking Shack. She’d learned her lesson regarding the Hog’s Head last October, and Madam Puddifoot’s was best avoided at the best of times, let alone on Valentine’s Day.
Hermione couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty for interrupting Harry’s first date with Cho (assuming it was their first date, but she was sure he’d have told her otherwise by now), but there really wasn’t another time this could happen.
Very astutely, Harry had realised that Hermione and Ginny weren’t too fond of Cho, but then Cho didn’t like Hermione very much either. Hermione would never ask Harry to choose between them, but Cho would.
Hermione knew that Harry would never make a choice like that, but Cho knew that too, and the older girl was smart enough to manipulate things so that Harry wouldn’t even realise what was happening.
That was what made Hermione feel less guilty than usual for interrupting their first date, and was the sole reason for the sick feeling she got every time she thought about them being on a date in the first place.
At least, she thought it was.
“Thank you for coming along, Luna.” Hermione said, hoping to distract herself from thoughts of Harry and Cho. “I know this isn’t the sort of thing your father usually publishes.”
“Daddy says it’s nice to branch out every now and then.” Luna responded dreamily. “And thank you for inviting me. It’s nice to have someone to sit with, even if it is for business. It’s like having friends.”
There was nothing bitter or accusatory in Luna’s voice – Hermione doubted she knew the meaning of the words – but they made Hermione feel ashamed nonetheless.
Luna was a little eccentric, definitely, but that was no reason for her to be as treated as harshly as she was by many of her housemates.
“You do have friends.” Hermione said firmly. “We’re your friends.”
Luna looked up sharply, an almost unnatural action for her, but any response was interrupted by the clicking of heels on the flagstone floor, and both girls looked up to see Rita Skeeter approaching them.
Unemployment had not been kind to Rita. Although at first glance, she seemed as well-groomed and immaculately made-up as she had during the Tournament, but a closer glance revealed chipped nails, frown lines, and dark circles under her eyes.
“Good morning, Rita.” Hermione greeted amicably. “Do sit down.”
“I still don’t see why you ‘summoned’ me here of all places.” Rita complained, sitting opposite Hermione.
“On the contrary, Rita,” Hermione smiled, “my wand was in my pocket the whole time. This is Luna, by the way. Luna Lovegood.”
“Charmed.” Rita muttered, eyeing Luna’s radish earrings with distaste. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell why I’m here?”
“All in good time.” Hermione said sweetly. “I’m sure you’ll find it mutually beneficial.” At that moment, she caught sight of Harry entering the pub – without Cho. “Harry! Harry, over here!”
Harry approached them, doing a double take when he saw Rita.
“You’re early.” Hermione said, handing him a butterbeer. “Where’s Cho?”
“Cho?” Rita asked eagerly. “A girl?”
“You can put that away for a start.” Hermione said sharply, seeing the Quick-Quotes Quill emerging from the reporter’s crocodile skin handbag.
“What are you up to?” Harry asked, staring at the three witches in confusion.
“Little Miss Perfect was just about to tell me when you arrived.” Rita threw a scathing glance at Hermione. “I suppose I’m allowed to talk to him.”
“Yes, I suppose you are.” Hermione said coldly.
Rita took a sip of her drink. “Pretty girl, is she, Harry?”
“One more word about Harry’s love life and the deal’s off.” Hermione snarled.
“What deal?” Rita asked. “You haven’t mentioned a deal yet, you just told me to show up. Oh, one of these days …”
“Yes, yes, I know.” Hermione interrupted in a bored tone. “You’ll write more horrible stories about me and Harry. Find someone who cares.”
“They’ve written plenty of horrible stories about Harry without my help.” Rita pointed out snootily. “Although they’ve stopped now, for some reason.”
“The Daily Prophet was kindly reminded that Harry’s a minor.” Hermione said with a cold smirk. “His godmother – Lady Black – made a point of visiting the editor.”
“Still, they were nastier than anything I came up with.” Rita said with relish. “How did they make you feel, Harry? Betrayed? Distraught? Misunderstood?”
“Angry, of course.” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “Because he told the Minister of Magic the truth and the Minister’s to much of an idiot to believe him.”
“So you actually stick to it, do you, that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back?” Rita asked, but she didn’t look sceptical at all. “You stand by everything Dumbledore’s been saying, about You-Know-Who returning and you being the sole witness.”
“I wasn’t the sole witness.” Harry scowled. “There were a dozen Death Eaters there as well. Want their names?”
“I’d love them.” Rita breathed, diving in her bag for her quill again. “I can see the headline now: Potter Accuses!” Then she sighed, dropping her quill back in her bag. “But the Prophet wouldn’t print a story like that. And of course Little Miss Perfect wouldn’t want that now, would she?”
“Actually,” Hermione said sweetly, “that’s exactly what Little Miss Perfect does want.”
Harry and Rita both stared at her, while Luna stirred her drink, humming Weasley is our King under her breath.
“You want me to report on this?” Rita asked finally.
“Yes.” Hermione answered. “The true story – the facts, exactly as Harry tells them. No embellishment, no lies. Hell, some of those names are so scandalous, you won’t need to embellish it.”
Harry cleared his throat. “Miss Skeeter, would you excuse us for one moment? Hermione? A word?” Without waiting for a response, he grasped her elbow and pulled her away from the table and into a corner of the pub. “What the hell are you playing at?!”
“We need to get our side of the story out, Harry.” Hermione pointed out. “That story about the Azkaban breakout had more holes than Swiss cheese, for Merlin’s sake! People are willing to listen, and they’ll listen to you.”
“And, what, you’ve just been planning this behind my back?!” Harry hissed.
Hermione froze. She had been so focussed on making sure everything pulled together that she had forgotten the most important part. “Oh, Merlin, Harry, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even think … I was so busy planning …” She sighed, looking at the floor. “I don’t even have a decent excuse. I’m sorry, Harry.”
As she spoke, Harry seemed to relax, and he took her hand squeezing it softly. “It’s okay, Hermione. I know how you get when you get an idea.”
Hermione sniffed. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re like a dog with a bone.” Harry smirked. “Must run in the family.”
Hermione smacked his arm lightly, fighting a smile. “I am sorry.”
“I know.” Harry said. “At least I know you weren’t doing it on purpose.”
“Never.” Hermione vowed. “So are you up for it?”
Harry sighed. “Why not? Can’t make things worse.”
They returned to the table, and Harry slid into the seat beside Hermione. “Alright, I’ll do it.”
“Lady Black?” Rita asked cautiously.
“Has provided her written permission.” Hermione said, handing her the cryptic note Jen had owled her. “For this interview only. Provided you report the truth exactly as Harry says it.”
“I told you,” Rita told her, a little sulkily. “The Prophet won’t print a story like that.”
“I know.” Hermione said tiredly. “They’re all in Fudge’s pocket. Luna’s father is the editor of The Quibbler; he’s agreed to print the story …”
“The Quibbler?” Rita snorted. “You really think people will take him seriously if it’s in The Quibbler.”
“Some people won’t.” Hermione conceded levelly. “But the Daily Prophet’s story on the Azkaban breakout had some gaping holes. Aside from anything else, why would Sirius Black wait three years to break out the others if he had a way out?”
“That’s true.” Rita murmured thoughtfully. The other three watched her with bated breath – well, Harry and Hermione did; Luna didn’t seem too fussed one way or the other – waiting for her response. “Alright, I’ll do it.” As the two Gryffindors breathed a sigh of relief, she opened her bag and once again withdrew the acid green quill.
“Umbridge is going to murder me for this.” Harry warned Hermione.
“Let the others deal with that.” Hermione told him with a wink. “They’ve got a plan. Ready?”
Harry nodded, looking determined. “Ready.”
“Fire away then, Rita.” Hermione instructed serenely.
*
It took several hours for Harry to explain everything to Rita’s satisfaction, leaving out the fact about the wands linking (since no one wanted that little fact plastered across the country). He gave her the names of the Death Eaters Voldemort had forgiven, told her what they said to him, and explained what happened to Cedric.
Once Rita had read over her notes once more and arranged things with Luna, they all parted ways, and Harry and Hermione made their way back towards the school.
“So why did your date end so early?” Hermione asked.
“I have no idea.” Harry admitted with a sigh. “One minute, everything was fine. Then I mentioned that you wanted us to meet you at the Leaky Cauldron, and she started going on about how Roger Davies asked her out and how Cedric used to take her to Madam Puddifoot’s. Then she started crying, said “I’ll see you around, Harry”, and ran for it.”
Hermione had a fair idea about what had gone wrong. “How exactly did you tell her I wanted to meet you.”
“I said “Hermione wants us to meet her in the Leaky Cauldron.”” Harry recited.
Hermione sighed, shaking her head. “Oh, Harry …”
“What?” Harry demanded. “What did I do wrong?”
“It’s Valentine’s Day, you idiot.” Hermione said gently. “Of course she was upset! You should have told her that I’d come up with some crazy plan and that I’d made you promise to meet me, but that you’d much rather spend the day with her, so would she come with you and maybe you could get away faster. It would have been a good time to mention how ugly you find me as well.” She added thoughtfully.
“But you’re not ugly!” Harry protested. “You’re really pretty!”
“Not the point, Harry.” Hermione mumbled, feeling her face heat at the compliment. Something inside her fluttered at the same time, and she squashed it hastily, changing the subject. “I was thinking, Harry. Maybe you should show the DA the memory of Voldemort’s return. We need to talk to Draco as well at some point.”
With Hogwarts’ help, the DA had been restarted right under Umbridge’s nose – Hermione’s growing connection with the castle was able to add an extra layer of protection to that already provided by the Room of Requirement.
“With you on the Draco front.” Harry agreed. “But the memories are personal, Hermione. I don’t know if I want everyone to see them.”
“I realise that, Harry.” Hermione said, catching his arm and making him stop and turn to face her. “But they’re all risking expulsion by doing this and we’ve technically offered them no proof that we’re telling the truth.”
Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I suppose you’re right. We do owe them the truth. Cho, at least, deserves to know …”
“Damn right I do!”
Cho was standing a few feet away from them, cheeks flushed from cold or anger, Hermione couldn’t tell. Jealousy swirled in the air as she stared at them, and Hermione bit back her retort, at least until Harry did it for her.
“Oh for heaven’s sake!” He groaned. “I can’t win, can I? I’ll see you back at the castle.”
“What the hell is going on?” Cho demanded, when Harry had stormed off.
“You tell me.” Hermione suggested scathingly. “Seeing as you’ve clearly got all the answers here – you’re the one that ditched Harry mid-date.”
“Oh please, we all know you’re the one he actually wants to be with!” Cho shrieked.
Hermione rolled her eyes, walking away from her. “Calm down. You’re making a scene.”
“Why did you let him go out with me?” Cho asked, striding after her. “Pity?”
Hermione laughed derisively, turning to face her. “I don’t ‘let’ Harry do anything – he’s not my boyfriend and, even if he was, there’s such a thing as free will that I happen to be a great fan of.”
“Then what truth were you talking about just now then?” Cho asked, with the air of someone who had proved their point.
“How Cedric died.” Hermione said bluntly. “I was suggesting Harry show certain members of the DA his memory of Voldemort’s return.”
Cho fell silent, her face paling. “Oh.”
“Yeah, ‘oh’.” Hermione scowled. “Look, I understand that you’ve been through a lot, Cho, but you’re either still mourning Cedric or you want Harry, you can’t do both; it’s not fair. Either date Harry or don’t, but stop messing him around!”
***
The following day, Hermione stood outside the Room of Requirement with her eyes closed, asking Hogwarts to guide Draco towards them, alone.
Harry, Ron and Ginny were with her, the latter far more relaxed about the plan than the first two. Harry agreed that it was the right thing to do, but wasn’t looking forward to it, whereas Ron was likely to just throw a spanner in the works.
After waiting for what felt like ages, they heard footsteps coming along the corridor. Hermione pushed herself away from the wall, as Draco came into view. He slowed as he saw them, a smirk quirking on his lips.
“Why am I not surprised?” He drawled. “I thought I felt something pulling me here.”
“You felt the castle?” Hermione asked, surprised but pleased. “Good. Maybe I won’t have to translate all the time.”
“Is there a reason we’re all hanging around the seventh floor?” Draco asked.
“Hermione thinks we should all talk.” Ginny explained. “Since we’re likely to have to deal with each other this summer.”
“That’s probably a good idea.” Draco admitted, as Hermione opened the door on to a small sitting room. “I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”
Ginny grabbed Ron’s arm before he could protest, dragging him into the room. “Wonderful.”
Hermione met Draco’s eyes for a split-second and they exchanged a wry smile, before they stepped into the room behind Harry.
“How did your essay go?” Draco asked.
“Oh, I passed.” Ginny answered. “Comparing it to Hermione’s scores now, I got an Acceptable.”
“And Snape always grades Gryffindors down, so that’s an Exceeds Expectations.” Draco concluded. “Not bad.”
Ginny smiled. “I know.” She glanced at Harry and Ron out of the corner of her eye, seeing their uncertainty. Neither of them had been in the same airspace as Draco without a fight breaking out for …
Well, since they started at Hogwarts.
Before they started, if Ginny was correct about that first train ride.
“What’s your Quidditch team?” She asked suddenly. “I’ve always wondered.”
“Falmouth Falcons.” Draco answered, a little warily. “You?”
“Holyhead Harpies.” Ginny responded immediately. “But if they’re not playing, I have a list of preferences.”
“Mostly due to how attractive the players are.” Hermione smirked.
Ginny gave her a mock-wounded look. “That’s not true. I support according to skill. However, on saying that, there are certain players that just shouldn’t get in the way of Bludgers.”
Hermione could see Ron itching to join in the discussion, and Harry’s almost pained expression as he tried to work out whether it was best to join in or let Ron take the first step. “If you support according to skill, I’m guessing the Cannons are at the bottom of that list then?”
Ginny laughed, but Draco looked thoughtful. “I don’t know … I find myself rooting for them if the Falcons aren’t playing.”
“Really?” Ginny asked in surprise.
Draco shrugged. “Yeah, I mean … they’re rubbish, but at least their games are exciting to watch.”
“That’s what I keep saying!” Ron blurted out. “Did you see the one the summer before we started, against Puddlemere?”
“That was one hell of a game.” Draco agreed. “I actually thought they’d pull it off that time.”
“Bill and Charlie came home and took me for my birthday.” Ron remembered. “Had me convinced for a while that they’d arranged for the Cannons to win.”
“I don’t think even Bill and Charlie could manage that.” Harry quipped. “I guess Puddlemere won then.”
“Blimey, I keep forgetting that you grew up without Quidditch.” Ron said morosely. “I don’t know how you did it.”
“Neither do I.” Draco said, looking faintly horrified. “Wait, so that first flying lesson … that was your first time on a broom?”
“Yeah.” Harry answered. “Thought you knew that.”
Draco snorted. “I was blowing smoke most of that year. No wonder you made the team.”
“Thanks for the help by the way.” Harry smirked.
Draco flipped him off lazily. “You have a team now at least, right?”
Harry shrugged. “Ron’s trying to make me into a Chudley fan, but I’m more of a Puddlemere guy.”
“That’s only because Jen told you your dad was.” Hermione reminded him gently.
“Okay, so I don’t really know any professional teams, so sue me.” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve never seen them play.”
Draco and Ron launched into a run-down of the different teams (something Ron, in his loyalty, had never done), listing the pros and cons of each, and the different plays they were famous for.
Ginny jumped in with gusto, staunchly defending the Harpies every time one of the boys jokingly insulted them, and Hermione sat back with a satisfied smile.
Yes, this could work very well.
Luna was sitting beside her with a Gillywater, stirring it absently with a cherry as she hummed under her breath.
The two girls attracted several second glances from other students – not only were they not talking, but there was probably not a more bizarre pairing in Hogwarts (okay, so maybe that was a slight exaggeration – but only slightly).
Luna was, of course, completely oblivious to these looks, but Hermione wasn’t, and she didn’t really want the attention, especially not today.
She would have preferred somewhere more private for this meeting, but there wasn’t really anywhere else, save for the Shrieking Shack. She’d learned her lesson regarding the Hog’s Head last October, and Madam Puddifoot’s was best avoided at the best of times, let alone on Valentine’s Day.
Hermione couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty for interrupting Harry’s first date with Cho (assuming it was their first date, but she was sure he’d have told her otherwise by now), but there really wasn’t another time this could happen.
Very astutely, Harry had realised that Hermione and Ginny weren’t too fond of Cho, but then Cho didn’t like Hermione very much either. Hermione would never ask Harry to choose between them, but Cho would.
Hermione knew that Harry would never make a choice like that, but Cho knew that too, and the older girl was smart enough to manipulate things so that Harry wouldn’t even realise what was happening.
That was what made Hermione feel less guilty than usual for interrupting their first date, and was the sole reason for the sick feeling she got every time she thought about them being on a date in the first place.
At least, she thought it was.
“Thank you for coming along, Luna.” Hermione said, hoping to distract herself from thoughts of Harry and Cho. “I know this isn’t the sort of thing your father usually publishes.”
“Daddy says it’s nice to branch out every now and then.” Luna responded dreamily. “And thank you for inviting me. It’s nice to have someone to sit with, even if it is for business. It’s like having friends.”
There was nothing bitter or accusatory in Luna’s voice – Hermione doubted she knew the meaning of the words – but they made Hermione feel ashamed nonetheless.
Luna was a little eccentric, definitely, but that was no reason for her to be as treated as harshly as she was by many of her housemates.
“You do have friends.” Hermione said firmly. “We’re your friends.”
Luna looked up sharply, an almost unnatural action for her, but any response was interrupted by the clicking of heels on the flagstone floor, and both girls looked up to see Rita Skeeter approaching them.
Unemployment had not been kind to Rita. Although at first glance, she seemed as well-groomed and immaculately made-up as she had during the Tournament, but a closer glance revealed chipped nails, frown lines, and dark circles under her eyes.
“Good morning, Rita.” Hermione greeted amicably. “Do sit down.”
“I still don’t see why you ‘summoned’ me here of all places.” Rita complained, sitting opposite Hermione.
“On the contrary, Rita,” Hermione smiled, “my wand was in my pocket the whole time. This is Luna, by the way. Luna Lovegood.”
“Charmed.” Rita muttered, eyeing Luna’s radish earrings with distaste. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell why I’m here?”
“All in good time.” Hermione said sweetly. “I’m sure you’ll find it mutually beneficial.” At that moment, she caught sight of Harry entering the pub – without Cho. “Harry! Harry, over here!”
Harry approached them, doing a double take when he saw Rita.
“You’re early.” Hermione said, handing him a butterbeer. “Where’s Cho?”
“Cho?” Rita asked eagerly. “A girl?”
“You can put that away for a start.” Hermione said sharply, seeing the Quick-Quotes Quill emerging from the reporter’s crocodile skin handbag.
“What are you up to?” Harry asked, staring at the three witches in confusion.
“Little Miss Perfect was just about to tell me when you arrived.” Rita threw a scathing glance at Hermione. “I suppose I’m allowed to talk to him.”
“Yes, I suppose you are.” Hermione said coldly.
Rita took a sip of her drink. “Pretty girl, is she, Harry?”
“One more word about Harry’s love life and the deal’s off.” Hermione snarled.
“What deal?” Rita asked. “You haven’t mentioned a deal yet, you just told me to show up. Oh, one of these days …”
“Yes, yes, I know.” Hermione interrupted in a bored tone. “You’ll write more horrible stories about me and Harry. Find someone who cares.”
“They’ve written plenty of horrible stories about Harry without my help.” Rita pointed out snootily. “Although they’ve stopped now, for some reason.”
“The Daily Prophet was kindly reminded that Harry’s a minor.” Hermione said with a cold smirk. “His godmother – Lady Black – made a point of visiting the editor.”
“Still, they were nastier than anything I came up with.” Rita said with relish. “How did they make you feel, Harry? Betrayed? Distraught? Misunderstood?”
“Angry, of course.” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “Because he told the Minister of Magic the truth and the Minister’s to much of an idiot to believe him.”
“So you actually stick to it, do you, that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back?” Rita asked, but she didn’t look sceptical at all. “You stand by everything Dumbledore’s been saying, about You-Know-Who returning and you being the sole witness.”
“I wasn’t the sole witness.” Harry scowled. “There were a dozen Death Eaters there as well. Want their names?”
“I’d love them.” Rita breathed, diving in her bag for her quill again. “I can see the headline now: Potter Accuses!” Then she sighed, dropping her quill back in her bag. “But the Prophet wouldn’t print a story like that. And of course Little Miss Perfect wouldn’t want that now, would she?”
“Actually,” Hermione said sweetly, “that’s exactly what Little Miss Perfect does want.”
Harry and Rita both stared at her, while Luna stirred her drink, humming Weasley is our King under her breath.
“You want me to report on this?” Rita asked finally.
“Yes.” Hermione answered. “The true story – the facts, exactly as Harry tells them. No embellishment, no lies. Hell, some of those names are so scandalous, you won’t need to embellish it.”
Harry cleared his throat. “Miss Skeeter, would you excuse us for one moment? Hermione? A word?” Without waiting for a response, he grasped her elbow and pulled her away from the table and into a corner of the pub. “What the hell are you playing at?!”
“We need to get our side of the story out, Harry.” Hermione pointed out. “That story about the Azkaban breakout had more holes than Swiss cheese, for Merlin’s sake! People are willing to listen, and they’ll listen to you.”
“And, what, you’ve just been planning this behind my back?!” Harry hissed.
Hermione froze. She had been so focussed on making sure everything pulled together that she had forgotten the most important part. “Oh, Merlin, Harry, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even think … I was so busy planning …” She sighed, looking at the floor. “I don’t even have a decent excuse. I’m sorry, Harry.”
As she spoke, Harry seemed to relax, and he took her hand squeezing it softly. “It’s okay, Hermione. I know how you get when you get an idea.”
Hermione sniffed. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re like a dog with a bone.” Harry smirked. “Must run in the family.”
Hermione smacked his arm lightly, fighting a smile. “I am sorry.”
“I know.” Harry said. “At least I know you weren’t doing it on purpose.”
“Never.” Hermione vowed. “So are you up for it?”
Harry sighed. “Why not? Can’t make things worse.”
They returned to the table, and Harry slid into the seat beside Hermione. “Alright, I’ll do it.”
“Lady Black?” Rita asked cautiously.
“Has provided her written permission.” Hermione said, handing her the cryptic note Jen had owled her. “For this interview only. Provided you report the truth exactly as Harry says it.”
“I told you,” Rita told her, a little sulkily. “The Prophet won’t print a story like that.”
“I know.” Hermione said tiredly. “They’re all in Fudge’s pocket. Luna’s father is the editor of The Quibbler; he’s agreed to print the story …”
“The Quibbler?” Rita snorted. “You really think people will take him seriously if it’s in The Quibbler.”
“Some people won’t.” Hermione conceded levelly. “But the Daily Prophet’s story on the Azkaban breakout had some gaping holes. Aside from anything else, why would Sirius Black wait three years to break out the others if he had a way out?”
“That’s true.” Rita murmured thoughtfully. The other three watched her with bated breath – well, Harry and Hermione did; Luna didn’t seem too fussed one way or the other – waiting for her response. “Alright, I’ll do it.” As the two Gryffindors breathed a sigh of relief, she opened her bag and once again withdrew the acid green quill.
“Umbridge is going to murder me for this.” Harry warned Hermione.
“Let the others deal with that.” Hermione told him with a wink. “They’ve got a plan. Ready?”
Harry nodded, looking determined. “Ready.”
“Fire away then, Rita.” Hermione instructed serenely.
*
It took several hours for Harry to explain everything to Rita’s satisfaction, leaving out the fact about the wands linking (since no one wanted that little fact plastered across the country). He gave her the names of the Death Eaters Voldemort had forgiven, told her what they said to him, and explained what happened to Cedric.
Once Rita had read over her notes once more and arranged things with Luna, they all parted ways, and Harry and Hermione made their way back towards the school.
“So why did your date end so early?” Hermione asked.
“I have no idea.” Harry admitted with a sigh. “One minute, everything was fine. Then I mentioned that you wanted us to meet you at the Leaky Cauldron, and she started going on about how Roger Davies asked her out and how Cedric used to take her to Madam Puddifoot’s. Then she started crying, said “I’ll see you around, Harry”, and ran for it.”
Hermione had a fair idea about what had gone wrong. “How exactly did you tell her I wanted to meet you.”
“I said “Hermione wants us to meet her in the Leaky Cauldron.”” Harry recited.
Hermione sighed, shaking her head. “Oh, Harry …”
“What?” Harry demanded. “What did I do wrong?”
“It’s Valentine’s Day, you idiot.” Hermione said gently. “Of course she was upset! You should have told her that I’d come up with some crazy plan and that I’d made you promise to meet me, but that you’d much rather spend the day with her, so would she come with you and maybe you could get away faster. It would have been a good time to mention how ugly you find me as well.” She added thoughtfully.
“But you’re not ugly!” Harry protested. “You’re really pretty!”
“Not the point, Harry.” Hermione mumbled, feeling her face heat at the compliment. Something inside her fluttered at the same time, and she squashed it hastily, changing the subject. “I was thinking, Harry. Maybe you should show the DA the memory of Voldemort’s return. We need to talk to Draco as well at some point.”
With Hogwarts’ help, the DA had been restarted right under Umbridge’s nose – Hermione’s growing connection with the castle was able to add an extra layer of protection to that already provided by the Room of Requirement.
“With you on the Draco front.” Harry agreed. “But the memories are personal, Hermione. I don’t know if I want everyone to see them.”
“I realise that, Harry.” Hermione said, catching his arm and making him stop and turn to face her. “But they’re all risking expulsion by doing this and we’ve technically offered them no proof that we’re telling the truth.”
Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I suppose you’re right. We do owe them the truth. Cho, at least, deserves to know …”
“Damn right I do!”
Cho was standing a few feet away from them, cheeks flushed from cold or anger, Hermione couldn’t tell. Jealousy swirled in the air as she stared at them, and Hermione bit back her retort, at least until Harry did it for her.
“Oh for heaven’s sake!” He groaned. “I can’t win, can I? I’ll see you back at the castle.”
“What the hell is going on?” Cho demanded, when Harry had stormed off.
“You tell me.” Hermione suggested scathingly. “Seeing as you’ve clearly got all the answers here – you’re the one that ditched Harry mid-date.”
“Oh please, we all know you’re the one he actually wants to be with!” Cho shrieked.
Hermione rolled her eyes, walking away from her. “Calm down. You’re making a scene.”
“Why did you let him go out with me?” Cho asked, striding after her. “Pity?”
Hermione laughed derisively, turning to face her. “I don’t ‘let’ Harry do anything – he’s not my boyfriend and, even if he was, there’s such a thing as free will that I happen to be a great fan of.”
“Then what truth were you talking about just now then?” Cho asked, with the air of someone who had proved their point.
“How Cedric died.” Hermione said bluntly. “I was suggesting Harry show certain members of the DA his memory of Voldemort’s return.”
Cho fell silent, her face paling. “Oh.”
“Yeah, ‘oh’.” Hermione scowled. “Look, I understand that you’ve been through a lot, Cho, but you’re either still mourning Cedric or you want Harry, you can’t do both; it’s not fair. Either date Harry or don’t, but stop messing him around!”
***
The following day, Hermione stood outside the Room of Requirement with her eyes closed, asking Hogwarts to guide Draco towards them, alone.
Harry, Ron and Ginny were with her, the latter far more relaxed about the plan than the first two. Harry agreed that it was the right thing to do, but wasn’t looking forward to it, whereas Ron was likely to just throw a spanner in the works.
After waiting for what felt like ages, they heard footsteps coming along the corridor. Hermione pushed herself away from the wall, as Draco came into view. He slowed as he saw them, a smirk quirking on his lips.
“Why am I not surprised?” He drawled. “I thought I felt something pulling me here.”
“You felt the castle?” Hermione asked, surprised but pleased. “Good. Maybe I won’t have to translate all the time.”
“Is there a reason we’re all hanging around the seventh floor?” Draco asked.
“Hermione thinks we should all talk.” Ginny explained. “Since we’re likely to have to deal with each other this summer.”
“That’s probably a good idea.” Draco admitted, as Hermione opened the door on to a small sitting room. “I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”
Ginny grabbed Ron’s arm before he could protest, dragging him into the room. “Wonderful.”
Hermione met Draco’s eyes for a split-second and they exchanged a wry smile, before they stepped into the room behind Harry.
“How did your essay go?” Draco asked.
“Oh, I passed.” Ginny answered. “Comparing it to Hermione’s scores now, I got an Acceptable.”
“And Snape always grades Gryffindors down, so that’s an Exceeds Expectations.” Draco concluded. “Not bad.”
Ginny smiled. “I know.” She glanced at Harry and Ron out of the corner of her eye, seeing their uncertainty. Neither of them had been in the same airspace as Draco without a fight breaking out for …
Well, since they started at Hogwarts.
Before they started, if Ginny was correct about that first train ride.
“What’s your Quidditch team?” She asked suddenly. “I’ve always wondered.”
“Falmouth Falcons.” Draco answered, a little warily. “You?”
“Holyhead Harpies.” Ginny responded immediately. “But if they’re not playing, I have a list of preferences.”
“Mostly due to how attractive the players are.” Hermione smirked.
Ginny gave her a mock-wounded look. “That’s not true. I support according to skill. However, on saying that, there are certain players that just shouldn’t get in the way of Bludgers.”
Hermione could see Ron itching to join in the discussion, and Harry’s almost pained expression as he tried to work out whether it was best to join in or let Ron take the first step. “If you support according to skill, I’m guessing the Cannons are at the bottom of that list then?”
Ginny laughed, but Draco looked thoughtful. “I don’t know … I find myself rooting for them if the Falcons aren’t playing.”
“Really?” Ginny asked in surprise.
Draco shrugged. “Yeah, I mean … they’re rubbish, but at least their games are exciting to watch.”
“That’s what I keep saying!” Ron blurted out. “Did you see the one the summer before we started, against Puddlemere?”
“That was one hell of a game.” Draco agreed. “I actually thought they’d pull it off that time.”
“Bill and Charlie came home and took me for my birthday.” Ron remembered. “Had me convinced for a while that they’d arranged for the Cannons to win.”
“I don’t think even Bill and Charlie could manage that.” Harry quipped. “I guess Puddlemere won then.”
“Blimey, I keep forgetting that you grew up without Quidditch.” Ron said morosely. “I don’t know how you did it.”
“Neither do I.” Draco said, looking faintly horrified. “Wait, so that first flying lesson … that was your first time on a broom?”
“Yeah.” Harry answered. “Thought you knew that.”
Draco snorted. “I was blowing smoke most of that year. No wonder you made the team.”
“Thanks for the help by the way.” Harry smirked.
Draco flipped him off lazily. “You have a team now at least, right?”
Harry shrugged. “Ron’s trying to make me into a Chudley fan, but I’m more of a Puddlemere guy.”
“That’s only because Jen told you your dad was.” Hermione reminded him gently.
“Okay, so I don’t really know any professional teams, so sue me.” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve never seen them play.”
Draco and Ron launched into a run-down of the different teams (something Ron, in his loyalty, had never done), listing the pros and cons of each, and the different plays they were famous for.
Ginny jumped in with gusto, staunchly defending the Harpies every time one of the boys jokingly insulted them, and Hermione sat back with a satisfied smile.
Yes, this could work very well.
