Araminta Malfoy-Potter: Taking Hogwarts

LXXI.

Araminta opened her eyes, but she couldn't see anything. The world was a dark, dark place at the end of a dark, dark hall in a dark, dark house. It was like something in a horror film, but she couldn't hear anything that sounded dangerous.

"What," she began, but her throat was dry and it was difficult to speak. "Where?" she forced out through dry, cracked lips that were badly in need of Chapstick.

"Here," said a motherly voice. A scraping sound met Araminta's ears and a match flared against the darkness like a beacon in a storm. Madam Pomfrey used it to light a lamp next to Araminta's bed. She put a hand to Araminta's forehead. "How are you feeling, dear?"

Araminta wiggled her arms, legs, and nose experimentally. "Nothing's broken? What happened?"

"Any weakness or shaking?" Madam Pomfrey asked as she checked for a pulse.

"No, I'm just very thirsty," Araminta complained.

Madam Pomfrey poured her a glass of water. "Here, dear. Drink up."

Araminta swallowed the glassful greedily. She wiped her hand with her mouth and held the glass out for more. It wasn't until she'd had three cups, or the equivalent of three bottles of Evian water, that she felt almost like herself again.

"Madam Pomfrey, can you pretty please tell me what happened?" Araminta asked as sweetly as she could manage.

"Well," said Madam Pomfrey, "it appears that you accidentally swallowed a Fainting Fancy. We found a packet of them in your cloak, and one was missing. We gave you the other half as soon as we figured it out, but it was too late. You've been knocked out for hours."

Araminta gasped. She'd been playing Quidditch when that had happened! "What happened? Who won the match, Gryffindor or Slytherin?"

Madam Pomfrey patted her arm. "You have visitors who have been waiting outside of the infirmary all night long. How's about I let them tell you themselves?"

Madam Pomfrey walked over to the door and opened it a crack. "She's awake." Araminta heard a huge sigh of relief. "You may come in and visit with her now." She stepped back and let two figures through the door.

***

LXXII.

"Harry! Draco!" Araminta exclaimed with pleasure. She was happy to see them both, and even happier that they didn't appear to have beaten each other up since she last saw them. They were both wearing damp Quidditch uniforms, so they must not have changed at the end of the game.

"Araminta!" they cried out and ran from the door to her bedside.

"We're so glad you're okay!" Harry said.

"You really had us worried there for a while!" Draco said.

"I don't know what I would do if I ever lost you," said Harry, his eyes softening from fiery to emerald green. He twined his fingers with her. "I couldn't stand it," he said in a wistful voice.

"Me either," Araminta said, her throat feeling tight. "Can either of you tell me what happened?"

"It was awful," said Harry.

"Really terrible," Draco added. "We saw you diving down to catch the Snitch--"

"And we both decided to go for it too, of course," Harry continued.

"I was obviously going to get to it first, and so I wasn't surprised to see Potter not paying attention." Draco sneered at no one in particular. "But then I realized he was looking at you and he looked like he was looking at the worst thing in the world."

"I was," said Harry. "I saw your stupid face, Malfoy!"

"All right, stop it. Tell the rest of the story," said Araminta.

"Anyway," Harry continued, "I was going for the Snitch, and I saw that you were closer, and when you grabbed it you made a funny face, like you had a bug in your mouth or something."

"It wasn't very becoming," Draco added. "But still better than Potter's usual expression."

"Be quiet. Anyway, you grabbed the Snitch but then your eyes closed and you slid forward off of your broom, plummeting toward the ground like a ton of bricks!"

"I, of course, forgot about the Snitch and came to your rescue..." Draco started, but then he saw Harry's angry expression and started over. "Oh, all right. You fell off your broom holding the Snitch and Harry and I caught you at the same time and flew you down to safety on the ground." He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Harry.

"So, the match? Who won?" Araminta asked, curiosity after her like she had whiskers and a tail.

"It was a tie," said Harry. "You split the points evenly, and since we also saved your life at the same time, Dumbledore awarded more points to our Houses evenly. Everything's tied up for the Quidditch Ball."

"That's wonderful!" Araminta hugged Harry and Draco separately. "This makes things absolutely perfect. So, when are you two going to reveal your costumes to me? I promise I won't tell anybody else..."

Draco and Harry just laughed. "'Night, Araminta. Get some sleep. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow!"

************************************************

LXXIII.

The day of the Quidditch Ball dawned clear and bright. Araminta blinked sleepily in her bed in the infirmary, and it was a long moment before she realized when--and where--she was.

All of the energy drained out of Araminta, leaving her 'too pooped to pop' as some would say. There were the little victories, but she still wasn't any closer to getting Draco and Hermione together or to figuring out how to get back to her right future.

At least today had the Quidditch Ball in it. When there were costumes and dancing to be had, what could go wrong?

Araminta rolled out of bed and woke up Madam Pomfrey so that she could be released from the Hospital Wing. She visited her room to get a set of green and gold robes, and joined Sarah Michelle at the Ravenclaw table for breakfast.

Most of the people in the Great Hall were Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws. "Of course," Sarah Michelle noted. "The Gryffindors and Slytherins are probably still asleep. Everyone was frightened half to death when you fell out of the sky like an angel who had lost her wings." Sarah Michelle stopped her explanation for a moment to insert a hug for her friend. "But when Snape came--well, he was sort of running, really awkwardly--down to the field and announced that you would be okay, the crowd went crazy and the parties started! I went with Ron to the Gryffindor common room for a while, and boy, do they know how to party!"

Sarah Michelle chattered on, and Araminta tuned her out as she stared at her plate. She'd missed the parties, but it didn't seem like such a big deal this morning when she thought about all of her worries. "Sarah Michelle, I have to go now." She stood up and stacked up her plates of unfinished waffles and breakfast burritos, grabbing a pop-tart for the road. "I'll see you tonight, okay!"

"Okay!" Sarah Michelle replied.

Araminta chewed thoughtfully on her pop-tart as she wandered back to her room to start the preparations for the Quidditch Ball. She could pull everything off, she decided, if she could only keep her wits about her and if she used her powers of observation--and maybe her powers of mind reading, too.

***

LXXIV.

Araminta was just painting her toenails when she heard a knock on her door. "Come in," she called.

The door opened to admit Professor Severus Snape. He made sure that no one was looking and came inside. "Hi," he said, twisting his hands together. "I need some help." He turned sideways, and Araminta could see that his pregnancy was showing when he pulled his cloak aside. "I can't think of a costume that would cover this up, and since you're sort of a clotheshorse, I thought, well, maybe..."

"I'd be happy to help." Araminta beamed and put her nail polish to the side. "Hmm, it should probably be something loose and comfortable."

"Can it be a seated costume? My feet are killing me," Snape complained.

Araminta giggled. "Sit down for now, then, but later you'll want to dance anyway."

Araminta rummaged through her closet until she found what she wanted: a sequined vest and bowtie that had obviously been a leftover from the Hogwarts jazz choir days. The last occupant of the room had either been involved in a whole lot of activities or Araminta owned a Closet of Requirement.

"That's so icky!" Snape exclaimed.

"Just wait a second." Araminta buttoned the vest over his round belly and put the bow tie around his neck. She added white powder to his face and slicked his hair back. With a little bit of red lipstick and some light purple eyeshadow around his eyes, he looked like Dracula! "Ta da!" Araminta let him look in the mirror.

Snape turned his head from side to side. "Perhaps this could work. Thank you, Araminta."

"Anytime," she replied.

Not two minutes after Snape left, there was another knock at the door. Araminta sighed; she hadn't gotten any nail polish on yet. She swore that if there had been a phone it would have rung because she reached for the bottle. "Yes?"

Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode slipped into Araminta's room. "I'm sorry, I lied to you before. I don't have a costume for the Quidditch Ball!" Pansy looked like she was going to burst into tears. Millicent patted her on the back.

"I think I might be able to help both of you." Araminta dug around in the closet until she came up with two costumes. The first was spotted spandex and had a little hood and an eye mask.

"This will be perfect for you," said Araminta as she handed it to Pansy.

Pansy looked at the costume dubiously. "What is it?"

"A giraffe," said Araminta. She whispered, "An animal that shows a lot of neck. Hint, hint."

"Do you have any others?" Millicent asked.

Araminta looked through the closet one more time. Nothing jumped out at her, but at the last second she spotted something at the back. "Well, you could be a nun."

Millicent tried the costume on, and it fit, so Araminta and Pansy helped her make an eye mask for herself. Once Millicent and Pansy were dressed, they thanked Araminta profusely and left.

A bell chimed far away and distant.

"Oh no!" Araminta cried out in horror. The ball was beginning and she wasn't anywhere close to being ready! She dove headfirst into her red satin gown and moved her arms like a contortionist to get it laced up just right. She pulled on her black fishnet stockings and gave up trying to get the wig on at all; instead, she put a spell on her hair to make it the right color. She added gloves and a mask and a pair of strappy heels, then picked up her skirts in both hands and ran for the Great Hall. She didn't want to miss this for anything!

************************************************

LXXV.

Araminta's dress billowed around her like a red parachute as she ran down the stair toward the Great Hall. She could already see the crowd pouring in through the double doors for the pre-dance meal.

Wheezing, she got into line and adjusted her mask to cover her memorable eyes. It wouldn't do to have someone recognize her too soon! That would take all of the fun out of the whole thing.

She stopped at the door and handed over her gaudily embossed invitation. "Hmm, all seems to be in order," said a grumpy girl. "Put your name on this card." She attached a silk cord with a heavy square of parchment and a golf pencil to Araminta's wrist. "If someone wants to dance with you, they'll have to sign their name on this card. You can promise dances to people, or lie and tell them that your card is full--but that's really, really dishonest."

Araminta peered closely at the grumpy girl, who was apparently dressed as a teacher for the costume gala. She had on a turban, huge, glittery glasses, many sparkling necklaces, and a fringed shawl. She held a crystal ball in one hand. However, in spite of the ridiculous getup, Araminta knew by the girl's tone that this was Hermione.

"Score," she said to herself. One down, a few to go. "Thanks!"

Araminta walked carefully through the many round tables, looking for her seat. This was going to be so much fun--she had a dance card just like in all the books she'd read as a child, and now she had to find the table with a phoenix painted on the vase, just like the one on her seating assignment.

At last Araminta spotted the vase at a table right near the front. As she took her seat, the lights dimmed and cutlery appeared, along with a garden salad.

"Let's dig in!" she heard a voice say next to her.

On her left, Tweedle Dum was drowning his salad in ranch dressing, and on the other Tweedle Dee was examining a cherry tomato as if to discover the angle to spear it with a fork so that it would explode. Araminta opened her mind briefly--there were too many people around to read minds clearly--but she found she did not know this pair. "Who are you?"

"Gate crashers," they said together. The jesters joked with the other occupants of the table (a clown, a ghost, and a Mary Kay lady) through the veal, pasta, and chocolate mousse. Everyone finished eating at the same moment, and the tables, chairs, and dishes disappeared. This caused a moment of chaos as the partygoers picked themselves up off the floor, but all was forgiven when they heard the first blissful notes of the orchestra tuning up.

The Milky Way appeared on the ceiling (the stars, not the candy bar) and a rousing dirge began to play. Most people hung back, but a few brave couples started to turn about the floor. Araminta wished she could be out there with them--she was an excellent dancer--but she had an evening of work ahead of her. She needed to find certain people and make sure that they hooked up before the dance was over. To begin her quest, she turned her feet toward the place where girls always retreat when the going gets tough: the girls' restroom.

***

LXXVI.

Araminta had hardly made any progress toward the girls' bathroom before a suitor blocked her. "May I have the first waltz?" asked the spandex-clad, red-caped superhero.

"Oh, you rake." Araminta giggled behind her hand. "I'll let you have a reel if you tell me your name."

"Not a chance." Superman grinned cheekily and scribbled 'Kal-El' on Araminta's card. "May I get you some punch?"

"Um, I think I've already had enough," said Araminta, inclining her head toward the loo. "If you'll excuse me?"

After taking her leave of the strange man with his bottoms on wrong-layer-out, Araminta managed to make it to her destination relatively unscathed--Snape had made her promise him a tango, and Dumbledore, as godfather, claimed the cha-cha.

"Hermione?" Araminta knocked on the doors of the stalls, but was greeted with Moaning Myrtle's tears instead. Surely Hermione couldn't be enjoying herself on the dance floor? How could she stand to be a wallflower when her true love was in the same room? Adjusting her fishnets (which had drooped down to the point that Araminta felt akin to a penguin), she resumed her search.

Hermione wasn't staffing the punch bowl, nor was she in the garden, by the lake, or in the Astronomy Tower. It surprised Araminta that the Great Hall could be so crowded when so many students were pursuing pleasures elsewhere--every bench in the garden had a couple exchanging sweet nothings upon its stony seat.

Araminta's card lit up and flashed until she put her finger on the first reel. "Almost time for a turn about the floor!" it chirped merrily.

Sighing, Araminta went inside and was pounced upon by the superhero. She decided to let her partner lead; this made it easier for her to look over his shoulder at the other dancers. No eyes met hers across the crowded room. Finally, winded, she gave a little bow to her overzealous dance partner and broke away. Remind me never to wear spandex, ever, she thought.

"Everybody!" Dumbledore shouted over the din. "Time for the Hustle!"

"No!" Araminta exclaimed. This meant that the dancing was at its midpoint, and she hadn't located her mother or Draco much less danced with her one true love. She stood very still and opened her mind. There were too many people in the room to read clearly and if she didn't move soon she would be stepped on.

There

. Half-hidden by a palm (tree, not hand), Hermione Granger lurked in a shadowy alcove on the far side of the room. Araminta patted her corset. Yes, her secret weapon was ready. The time was at hand, but she still needed one more person before she could dare make her attempt.

"Ah, Araminta." Araminta's dance card blinked rapidly as Dumbledore, dressed as a farmer, took her arm and cha-cha-cha'd to the lively tune. "Where have you been all evening?"

"Oh, here and there," Araminta replied, trying to keep up with him. Dumbledore was certainly lord of the dance. "I've been trying to guess the identities of the attendees. You wouldn't tell me a few of your favorites?"

"Not for anything, dear." He bowed to her as the music came to a halt. "Thank you. It will be many years before we shall dance again."

"What?"

"You are not long for this time," Dumbledore answered. He took a small slip of paper out of his pocket and pressed it against Araminta's wrist. It glowed red and green and then shimmered with every color of the rainbow. He looked at her fondly but seriously. "If we do not meet again, I wish you the best of luck. I have not known anyone quite like you."

"Nor I you," Araminta replied, unable to stop herself from clasping his hand in her own tightly.

"There's the tango," he said. "Minerva will be expecting me. Goodbye, Araminta."

Araminta's heart nearly broke free of her ample chest. If she was to travel again in time, and very soon, she was moments away from complete victory or utter failure.

***

LXXVII.

Snape extended his hand to Araminta. "Shall we?"

Araminta nodded a response. She began to count to herself: and one and two and three step together... She held her head tall on her neck, her back straight, and quelled the urge to lead, trusting that Snape would steer them through the awful crush.

"How are you enjoying the evening?" Araminta asked politely.

Snape smiled, revealing that he'd transfigured his canines to match the rest of his costume. "Would you believe that there is an animal with so much neck, one might never tire of biting it? As for the rest, I chased seven students out of the Astronomy Tower, stopped Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum from spiking the punch, and forced the lute player to tune the damn thing."

"Quite satisfying, then." Araminta checked to make sure that Hermione was still lurking in her alcove. She was; now, she appeared to be knitting something with very sharp, shiny needles. They gave Araminta the heebie-jeebies.

"Ready?" Snape tilted her backward into a dramatic dip. "Guuuuuuuh," he moaned, dropping Araminta on her derriere.

"Ouch, you jerk," she yelled at Snape. He put his arms around his bulging stomach and grimaced. "Oh, you big baby."

"The problem," he snarled, "is the little one."

"Dear Merlin!" Araminta exclaimed. She slung Snape's arm over her shoulder. "Come on. Hospital wing," she grunted. Snape certainly hadn't gotten any more graceful since she'd last helped him walk (chapter fifty-five). After the initial panic subsided, Araminta found her wits and magicked a stretcher for Snape (which sped things up considerably).

She levitated the moaning, groaning, and generally grumpy wizard through the corridors to the hospital wing, which was dark and conspicuously deserted. "Madam Pomfrey! Come quick!" Araminta cried as she transferred Snape to an empty bed.

"Argh!" Snape ejaculated. "I think I'm going to be rendered in two!"

"Shh. Madam Pomfrey will make everything all right. Just try to relax."

"Relax?" A vein throbbed in Snape's forehead. "How am I supposed to relax when an evil demon is trying to claw its way past my intestines?"

Araminta patted his hand reassuringly. "Don't worry about a thing. Do you know what Madam Pomfrey is wearing?"

"Of course...oh, oh, ow...not," Snape replied.

"Well, then, I'll just go and look--"

"No!" Snape clutched at her arm. "Don't leave me here alone! Ooooh, please, please...make it stop..."

"All right." Araminta looked around the room for help.

Hedwig, Harry's owl, had flown into the room and was inspecting a carefully made-up bed. Araminta crossed the floor and picked up the chart. It read: "Reserved for Harry Potter, as he generally shows up injured after important Hogwarts events."

"Hedwig! Be a dear and take this to Madam Pomfrey, won't you?" She scribbled a cryptic note: Too late for Potions Master; need extraction assistance immediately in Hospital Wing. Emergency! Hedwig held out her leg for the scroll, and took off with a hoot.

Snape's wailing grew ever louder. "I want...someone else's mommy," he cried. "I'm going to kill Parkinson for this."

"It takes two to tango, or have you forgotten about the Quidditch Ball already?" Araminta asked, annoyed.

"She told me," Snape panted, "that...that she just wanted to put her finger there to get the lint out, and aaaaaaah."

"Breathe. Like a puppy. Ha, ha, ha," Araminta demonstrated.

"No! That sounds like laughing, and Snapes do not laugh!"

"They don't when they've turned blue and passed out." Araminta decided that it was time for some tough love. "Madam Pomfrey will be here any minute, so you can stop whining."

Hedwig soared back into the room and dropped a scroll into Araminta's lap. "Hey, this was for Madam Pomfrey..." She looked at the address. It was now overlaid with a stamp that read 'return to sender, addressee in disguise.'

"No," Araminta whispered.

"Araminta," Snape cried, arching his back and squeezing his eyes shut. "You'll have to do it. You'll have to deliver this baby."