Missing in Action

Missing in Action

Chapter Six: There's Always Got To Be A Morning After

Ron and Hermione's current location: Edinburgh, Scotland, the United Kingdom.

Harry and Ginny's current location: En route to The Netherlands from Wales, the United Kingdom.

Ron Weasley:

Not that it's any of your business, but Hermione and I didn't sleep together. Meaning, we didn't end up having sex. We barely snogged. And I wasn't disappointed- rather, I was happy that I'd finally told her what was going on in my head.

She's really smart, though, so she probably guessed already. Christ, I love her so much.

Hermione Granger:

My eyes snapped open.

I was in an unfamiliar room, sleeping in an unfamiliar bed... and laying next to a very familiar person.

"Morning, beautiful," Ron grinned from his side of the double bed.

"Morning, yourself," I answered, reaching for the telephone at the side of the bed. "Hello, room service? Could you please send... bacon and eggs and toast and a bowl of cornflakes with milk to room 31? Thank you," I requested, and placed the receiver back in its cradle.

Ron was tickling my back gently. "Hey, that tickles!" I giggled. He didn't stop tickling. Resigned to it, I grinned and turned to face him.

Then an image of Harry and Ginny, huddling together for warmth in some freezing dungeon, cowering before You-Know-Who swam unbidden into my mind.

I shook my head to clear it of all thoughts of romance and breakfast-in-bed, and abruptly jumped out of the bed, causing Ron to jolt a bit.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Ron asked me, frowning slightly.

"We are entertaining thoughts of romance and relaxation when your little sister and Harry are alone with Goddamn You-Know-Who! That's what's wrong! We're putting ourselves before our vital quest! Come on, Ron, we've got to get moving!"

"Hermione, I have a headache already from that fucking Baileys, I feel like shit, and you're yelling at me? Shut the hell up!" Ron snapped.

"Get up!" I said, smacking him over the head with my pillow. Ron rubbed his eyes, blinked several times, and rose into a sitting position. Staring at the clock on his bed-side table, he swung his legs out of the bed and stood up, stretching and yawning.

I strode to my open suitcase and yanked out my clothes- a pair of tracksuit pants and a white t-shirt, and set my Adidas trainers beside it, and a second later I snapped the bathroom door shut to get changed.

"Oh, no," I gasped, looking at my panties. They were stained with red. Blood. My blood. I had my period again! I'd forgotten to take my Pill before bed, and I hadn't brought any pads or tampons.

"Ron," I yelled, sticking my head out of the door, "could you zip down to the chemists' and grab me a packet of pads?"

"What the fuck are those?" he shouted back.

I sighed impatiently. "They are what women use to stop menstrual blood from staining their underpants when they are menstruating. Can you just bloody well go and get some, like now?" I snapped.

"What?" he yelled back.

"I HAVE MY PERIOD!" I screamed.

"Oh," Ron said, "What kind do you use?"

"Standard Spring Breeze with wings, I think they sell them here. Just get them! There's change in my wallet. Three pounds is what they cost back home."

A door slammed shut about thirty seconds after, and then I heard the fading sound of running feet.

An Unknown Person:

I saw someone with flaming red hair run past, and I sniggered. He was probably searching for something for his Mudblood best mate. He'd be better off leaving her alone, unless he wanted to face certain death. What was Weasel doing in Edinburgh anyway?

Come to think of it, what was I doing here? I'm not a Mudblood or a Muggle, I don't really venture out into the hustle and bustle of the Muggle world. I followed his route with my eyes, and saw him dash stealthily into the sanitary products section, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be watching. Of course, his gaze missed me by a mile. My hiding place was practically impenetrable.

I was going to surprise him, I decided. Surprise him and give him the scare of his pitiful life.

I rounded the corner and came face-to-face with Ronald Weasley, youngest son of that family of paupers.

"Weasel," I greeted him, smirking. He swiveled and stared openly at me.

"Malfoy?" he asked in disbelief.

Ginny Weasley:

Dear Hermione, Harry wrote on the parchment while I hovered behind him.

We can't tell you where we are right now, because that would be far too dangerous, as if this situation isn't deadly enough as it is.

Just so you know, right now we're completely safe. We've worked out that all of our stopping places are Unplottable, and we figure that if anyone could figure out where we are, you could.

But we can give you a clue as to where we're heading. We can say that it's in Scandinavia. Take the order of this list of countries and think back to first year, and Snape's protective enchantment on the trail to the Philosopher's Stone.

Sweden, Norway, Finland, Iceland, Denmark, The Netherlands.

First, however slyly our position tries to hide,

You will always find it on the right-hand side.

Two among these are places we are yet to go,

All but one of them are falsehoods, scattered to and fro.

So choose wisely, for sure we'll be there,

And if you've really set out to find us, it's true that you care.

Take the name 'Anne Frank', and see if you remember,

Please find us, before we're all but dying embers.

Love,

Harry and Ginny.

Harry and I tied the letter to the owl that he had discovered in Voldemort's barn outside and silently opened the sliding door that led out into the terrace, then I let it go. I said a prayer inside my mind that it would find Hermione.

Draco Malfoy:

His face completely changed. And his mouth dropped open. It wasn't a flattering look.

"How have you been? Still hanging around with the clever Mudblood, then?" I asked, and watched with glee as his face turned scarlet and his hands clenched into fists.

"Don't you dare call Hermione that, you son of a bitch."

"Oh, actually, I must retract that last description of Mudblood Granger. She's obviously not that clever, if she hasn't retreated from being seen in public, being a Muggle and all."

"Hermione's got more brains in her pinky than you have in your entire yellow-topped head, you peroxide parasite."

"Still got a soft spot for the silly girl, I see."

"Oh, do you ever stop?" he snapped.

"No," I grinned, "It's just too fun, seeing your face twist into all those unflattering expressions, you know?"

"I hate you, Malfoy. And what the hell are you doing in the Muggle world?"

"Oh, don't worry. The feeling's mutual. And I'm just existing. By the way, sixth year hasn't started yet. It's still summer, you know?"

"Yes, I know."

"So where's Potty and Granger, anyway? Or can your family only afford to send one child on a holiday at a time?"

"Shut your face, Malfoy."

"Hit a weak spot, did I?"

"Malfoy," Ron began, leaning close to me so that our noses were practically touching- how revolting- and hissed, "Don't. Push. Me." The look on his face was one of complete hatred. It was actually quite frightening to see, considering the Weasleys were pretty much constantly smiling.

So for the first time in my life, the life of Draco Thomas Malfoy, I backed off.

But I couldn't resist giving Weasel a warning: "Don't stuff up. Don't tell anyone anything. Your family is in grave danger. Understand?"

Weasley's face contorted, then relaxed only slightly. "Why are you warning me?" he asked.

I had to admit, I didn't really have much of a reason. But then some of the old Draco Malfoy regenerated, and I said, "Because I pity you."