DirtCatharsis

Chapter 4

Two days before Plan Day, the sky lay heavy around the castle, expressing itself in fitful bursts of rain. The rain got in the way of the nights of warding spells, cast in teams from the Astronomy tower, piled upon each other and anchored to the witchlight bowls nicked from the greenhouse. Hermione worried that all the magic in the high tower was acting as a lightning rod. There did seem to be something summoning forth thunderheads that had even Hagrid glancing at the sky with a worried look on his face. Nevertheless, he still set to fixing his lake-dragging nets. The sixth and seventh year boys would be dragging that lake in two days, come hell or high water. And he seemed willing to negotiate on the high water bit.

The heat wave, however, did not let up. If anything, the rain only shortened tempers further. After the Canary Creams Catastrophe, the Slytherin boys became suspiciously subdued. A portrait of five dogs playing poker, located just outside Dumbledore's office, turned up missing. Three nights later, the Gryffindors were awakened by the sound of loud baying outside the portrait hole, followed by tearing sounds, and the Fat Lady's horrified howls of outrage.

Dean and Seamus tumbled down the stairs and were just in time to catch a glimpse of the pack of dogs, still in their waistcoats and bowler hats, tearing into the portrait of the Fat Lady, and the Fat Lady herself fleeing, skirts flying as she abandoned her post. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle burst into the Gryffindor common room. Ginny, her sixth year room being a flight closer to the common room, was next on the scene. Only she forgot that because of the oppressive heat, she was wearing nothing but knickers and one of Bill's old tank tops.

Not that the boys noticed. Dean and Seamus had immediately leapt at Crabbe and Goyle, wrestling from them the sacks they'd been carrying. The sacks fell to the floor and lay there, squirming--Ginny narrowed her eyes--yes, squirming.

Draco, not having an opponent, calmly stepped around the tussling foursome and bent down, reaching for the ties that held the sacks closed.

The sacks were now hissing and Ginny didn't have to be a rocket magician to figure out what was inside. "Bollocks," she muttered. "Trust the Slytherins to be heavy-handed with the symbolism," she said, as she dove for Malfoy.

She landed hard against him, knocking him away from the bags of serpents. The wind left her momentarily as she landed sprawled on top of him.

He pushed at her, attempting to move her aside and she clamped her legs down on either side of his hips, equally determined not to budge. Malfoy, like Harry, was built on the slender side, wiry like a good Seeker ought to be. She was built like a Weasley--tall and rangy. It occurred to her that she was wrestling Draco Malfoy in her sweat-soaked unmentionables, wrapped around him like a clinging vine and the stupid git didn't even register it!

His eyes met hers then, silvery gray like the clouds outside that morning and she suddenly became aware of her own heart thudding behind her ribcage, of his chest rising and falling in time with hers, the shared intake of their heavy breathing heating the air between them. For an instant, she forgot that she was a Weasley and worse, that he was a Malfoy. For one brief, insane moment, the only thing that mattered was that his body was warm, and he smelled faintly of patchouli and limes. And a bit like snake, but the combination wasn't entirely revolting.

Before she had time to derail her train of thought, he flipped his body and she found herself flat on her back, the wooden planks of the common room floor unyielding beneath her. "Gerroff!" she grunted, thrashing around and terribly conscious of the burning contact of his thighs against hers.

He grinned then, and her breath caught. "Slytherin one, Gryffindor zero," he said, rolling off her. With a flick of his fingers, he opened the first sack and a dozen writhing, jewel-green snakes spilled from the open mouth.

Ginny recognized them as harmless garden snakes, but still could not keep an involuntary shudder from racing through her body as one of the snakes twisted its way past her ear. The hair spilling out behind her head moved as the snake slid through it and her breath came in short gasps. Flashes of a dank cavern and Tom Riddle's cold touch froze her in place for an eternal moment.

Malfoy's hand plunged into her hair. "There, there, Julius, no hiding in Weasley's hair when you've got work to do." His fingers teased her scalp as he untangled the snake from her hair. They were warm and human and alive, not the chill of a long-dead memory.

Her breath came back in a rush that sent prickles along the edges of her vision. Malfoy pulled the snake out of her hair. Its tail brushed against the skin of her neck and it was all she could do not to scream. He leaned back on his heels, his thighs still straddling hers. "Scared of a little pet, Weasley?" He set the little snake down in the direction of the door that led to the girls' dormitories and rose up, standing over her as if he fancied himself a conquering hero. "Off you go, mate. Scare the girls like a good boy for Daddy."

Dean and Seamus were still occupied with Crabbe and Goyle. Goyle seemed to be wiping the floor with the skinny cocoa-skinned boy while Crabbe and Seamus had each other in a mutual headlock that was sure to require some lubrication to extricate them from it.

Once his snakes were on their way, Malfoy stepped over her as if she were nothing more than a misplaced carpet slipper and sauntered out of the portrait hole, just as Harry, Ron, and Neville came pounding into the common room. Not a single one of them spared her so much as a look before tackling Goyle and the many-elbowed Crabbe-Seamus amalgamation.

She rolled to her feet, no longer caring about her state of undress, but firmly convinced that every male in the school--Malfoy at the head of them--was a complete and utterly unforgivabe wanker.

No, she thought, stomping back to her room, heedless of the shrieks of her dormmates as they discovered Draco's unholy spawn invading their respective sanctities, to be wankers, the boys of Hogwarts would have needed at least a little maturity first.

* * *

Hermione drifted into the Gryffindor common room, rubbing her eyes. Last night was a late night, as she'd spent much of it comforting hysterical first years who'd been rattled by Malfoy's little pets. She tossed a bit of Floo powder into the fireplace. "Slytherin common room," she said, and stuck her head in.

Millicent Bulstrode was closest to the hearth. She leaned down. "Granger! I thought we told you not to call here during daylight hours."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, Merlin forbid we should all be seen fraternizing with each other. School unity be damned while we nurse our prejudices!" Nevertheless, she darted a quick look around Millicent and couldn't stop a small bit of relief at noting the lack of male students in the immediate vicinity. "Anyway, I just called to ask you to deliver a message to Malfoy."

"You're assuming he'll talk to anyone. He's heartbroken because some of his pets have gone missing."

"How many?" Hermione asked, dread lodging in her stomach.

"Four."

"Oh, damn," she muttered. There were three of the little green fellows in a tank on her dresser. She thought she'd managed to find or chase out all of the creatures. "Filch is going to have a fit if he finds dead snakes in my dormitories. And my first years are going to have fits if they find live ones."

Millicent shrugged. "You wouldn't catch a first year Slytherin afraid of a tiny garden snake."

"No," Hermione said acidly, "I guess I wouldn't."

"We scream in private." Millicent offered her a bland smile. "Anyway, if it makes you feel any better, Draco's mother sent him a howler this morning for it."

Narcissa Malfoy chastised her son for a prank? Hermione couldn't wait to tell Ron and Harry. As soon as she started speaking to them again. "I'm astounded," she said, feeling, if not respect, then at least a lack of active animosity towards the woman that spawned the Bouncing Ferret of Hogwarts.

"Apparently, those garden snakes came from her rose garden, where they were enchanted to secrete highly customized rose fertilizer. Her garden club took away her Rose Champion title and she was furious."

Hermione's warm feelings over Narcissa Malfoy chilled. She made a mental note to send Narcissa some prizewinning roses from somewhere else, when she heard someone come into the room. "Gotta go," she said to Millicent. "Remember--the Astronomy tower, tomorrow night!" She ducked out of the fireplace just in time to see Ron.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Study partner," she said.

"So, uh." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes. "I was wondering." He looked down at his feet as he moved forward, narrowly missing one of the end tables.

He looked more like the Ron she knew than he had in a long while. Against all logic, her insides unwound a turn and she felt the beginnings of relief trickle through her. "Sit down," she said softly, her voice full of hope. She sank down into the overstuffed cushions of the sofa and patted the space next to her.

He flopped down bonelessly, his thigh touching hers. A warm glow started tingling from the contact. "I was wondering--if you're not busy on Saturday night."

The ball! "Yes?" she asked, aware that she sounded a little breathless, but since it was Ron, she didn't have anything to hide. Didn't want to have anything to hide.

"If you wouldn't mind coming with me, er--"

"Yes?" she prompted again, feeling incredibly light and giddy, and so proud of Ron for coming to his senses before she had to do something drastic.

"Coming with me and Harry when we raid the Slytherin dungeons. Fred and George sent me these righteous new cootie crackers - they cause a rash in whoever they're fired at. We're targeting Malfoy and we need you to get into his dormitory." He looked at her with a hopeful expression on his face.

The warm glow faded, followed by the pride and the relief, and the tension returned, coiling as tightly as ever, only now, after that moment of false hope, it was more bitter than ever. She jumped to her feet. "You prat! You completely insufferable prat!" She couldn't say anymore, because sudden tears of despair clogged her throat. She turned and ran from the room.

Ron's befuddled voice followed her out. "So that's a no, then?"