Red Tide Rising

Sunday morning, Ron walked out into the courtyard, looking for Blaise, but finding Morag instead. He needed to give one of them his essay for Defense, as they had decided Morag would put it together; actually, Morag had decided, and no one had suggested otherwise.

Only problem was, when he found Morag, she was sitting on the bench of a table, reading out loud to Draco Malfoy, who was sitting on the table rubbing her back.

Honestly! This was the worst case of bad taste he'd ever run into. What could any girl, especially one with Morag's sense of fun, see in a git like Malfoy? Ron didn't care if Aquarius and Taurus had the whole sex thing going for them (in fact, it was unnerving to think of Draco Malfoy as sexy, no matter what Lavender said), the whole idea was wrong, wrong, wrong.

Taking a deep breath, Ron walked over to the couple and put on a cheerful face, which was hard when Malfoy was glaring at him. Well, he reasoned, I may have the perfect opportunity to torment the git.

"Oi, Morag, spread your legs and rub my back!" he said with a laugh as he sat on the ground between Morag's feet.

While Morag laughed loudly, he could hear Draco curse his mother. "Draco!" Morag admonished. "He's only joking."

"Yeah, that's right, Malfoy. Only joking. Promise," Ron said, as he turned a wolf-like grin up to Morag. He could see half of Malfoy's face, and it was a deep red, which was fantastic, as Malfoy's face was usually a colourless, pasty white. "You're not rubbing, MacDougal!"

With another laugh, Morag began to rub his shoulders in a practical way. "Just had Quidditch practice, then?" she asked as she felt the tension in his neck.

"Yeah. Had to choose two new Chasers. Gin, my sister, got one slot, and Seamus Finnegan got the second. Katie Bell refused the Captain's position. Apparently, she needs to pull her grades up or she won't graduate, so Harry and I are going to co-Captain this year."

Ron had no idea whatsoever why he was saying any of this within earshot of a rival Quidditch Captain. He supposed it was because Morag was there to buffer Malfoy's comments. Or, perhaps it was because he was beginning to understand the snatches of Sight he received. Finally, he had begun to See things other than what dinner would be or how much rain they would have the next day. It had been odd, when the first thing he caught a glimpse of, in the Crystal Ball, was of an older Draco, fighting alongside an older Harry and Hermione. Indeed, it had been the last thing he had expected to see, and he was still working to substantiate the vision. If it was a real vision, it was a major coup; if it wasn't he'd have to take a different tack when it came to Divination. "Anyways, just came to give you my part of the essay. Sorry it's late, but I found some really good stuff just last night."

"That's all right. Budge it up," Morag said, dangling her arm into his face. He handed up the essay and was a bit surprised when Morag's hands returned to his shoulders. "So, I was thinking about how to pull it all together. I may have to change your essay a bit, just to work it all together. That won't hurt your male ego, would it? I know how you boys are." She pronounced 'boys' as 'biys'. It was cute.

"Not me, no. I've no ego, as I'm not much special."

"You're a prefect, and a Quidditch Captain," Morag pointed out.

"So? Bill and Percy were Head Boy, and Charlie was Prefect and Quidditch Captain."

"Well, and how many of you are there?" Morag asked, confused.

"Seven. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George- you may remember them-" Morag laughed, "then me, then Ginny."

"And you don't consider yourself special, Ron?" Morag asked. "Are you sure you're not trying to wring a little sympathy from me?"

"Well, now that you mention it," Ron said, a grin playing across his lips, and a thought popped into his mind.

Just then though, Hannah Abbott started to walk across the courtyard hand in hand with Zacharias Smith, and anything he would have said to Morag left his mind. Smith was too good a target to pass up, and Hannah was too delightful not to make a play for.

"Hey, Hannah. Want a massage?" Ron called. Both Hufflepuff's glanced in their direction, Hannah's eyes wide in horrified excitement, Zacarias's slitted in rage.

"Go fuck yourself, Weasley!" he shouted, gesturing obscenely.

"I can think of nicer things to shag, thanks, Smith!" Ron called back. He winked at Hannah. "Anytime, Han, the offer's there." Hannah blushed, and seemed a bit reluctant to be pulled away by a furious Smith, who still wasn't willing to go up against Ron on his own.

Morag had managed to hold her laughter in until the pair disappeared. The moment they were out of site, she let out the longest, fullest laugh he pulled from her yet. "Are you mad, King? You want every boyfriend in the school to hate you?"

"No," said Ron. "Just the ones I don't like. Smith is a git. Malfoy, you're a git," Ron said, turning his head up towards the couple. Draco cursed again, and Morag slapped Ron's head. "Sorry, then, I'll stop telling you that. I'd better go anyway," he said standing. "Thanks for that, Morag. It was- relaxing," he said with a wink. Morag grinned and shook her head, while Draco bit his tongue and sent a twitchy, half-mad look at him. "Ta!"

"Yes, cheerio!" called Morag. "No, Draco, he's just having a bit of fun with you. Oh, all right, a lot of fun. Stop growling!" Ron heard as he walked away.

**********

The more Draco thought about his future, and the more excited he became over the idea of taking a different path than his father, the more he realized he needed a plan to achieve his goals. Draco knew all about being a leader, and the first rule was one needed a following. The second was one needed a platform for ones views. The first edition of the Hogwarts Hornblower was a huge success. Knowing that at any time he could quit the paper, or possibly take it over if it suited- Granger was tough, sure, but he was a Slytherin- Draco cornered Hermione after Transfiguration.

"So, Granger, I was wondering if you had any position left on the paper?"

"What?" she asked. "You want on the paper?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Something where I can give my opinion."

"Sorry, I've nothing like that left," she replied and marched passed him.

"Come on, Granger! There must be something?"

"Well, frankly, Malfoy, there is, but I don't want you on the paper," she amended.

"Why not?" When Hermione rolled her eyes, Draco hastened his pace to keep up to her. "Come on, don't you want to try to be friends?"

Hermione stopped and gaped at him in horror. "No!"

"No?" Draco echoed. "What do you mean, no?"

"Well, Malfoy, I mean no! Why would I want you for a friend? You're rude, mean, and bigoted. You're not very clever or witty, and frankly, you're the one person I really like to hate. Why should I ruin that?"

"You don't think I'm witty?" Draco asked, a little surprised. Everyone else thought he was really very witty. Crabbe and Goyle had once tried calling him Laugh-A-Minute Malfoy, but he'd Cursed them before the nick could spread.

"Oh, yes, you were a hoot every time you called me Mudblood," Hermione said dryly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I don't fancy being late for Hagrid's class."

"Wait, stop! Come on, Granger. Anything you have, I'll take it. Let me prove I'm not completely useless."

Hermione stopped again. Looking at him with a cunning expression he didn't trust, she smiled. "Fine," she said and began to dig through her bag. "Here," she said handing Draco a bag, "review those, five hundred words on Friday, and maybe I'll print it."
"What are these?" Draco asked, opening the bag.

"Music records. Some Muggle, some not. Five hundred words, Friday," she said as she flounced away.

Draco stared down in horror. "Oh, surely not," he muttered. "You're joking, right, Granger? Granger, come back here!" he yelled as he ran after her.

By Friday he had five hundred words written.

"Malfoy!" Hermione cried in exasperation. "This isn't a music review! It's five hundred words on how your cousin isn't a complete moron for liking Muggle music! You don't even mention the new Weird Sisters album, and you misprinted the title of the Nirvana album. It's called In Utero, not In Utalo."

"Yes, I was wondering why they called it In Utero. I've never heard the term. I figured they just meant In Utalo, since they do seem rather depressed."

"Malfoy, they don't misprint a band's name on the record! Nirvana was a Muggle band! In Utero is a Muggle term, not a misprint on the Suicide Curse!"

"Oh."

"Oh? Oh?" Hermione raged, small red spots appearing on her cheeks. "Malfoy, I can't print this!"

"Give me something else, then. Something I'll enjoy writing," he said. When her eyes just slit more, he challenged, "I dare you."

Her lip curled up. "Fine! The Wizengamot has just cleared a new law for the Protection and Co-operation of Goblins. Two thousand words, by the end of today, on what it means for the community," she hollered. "And by the end of today means by ten o'clock. I'll be in the Press Room, dungeon seven!"

She stormed away, muttering nasty things under her breath. Draco smirked and felt a hand rest on the small of his back.

"Draco," Morag sighed. "You really are a horrid person, you know that?"

"Yes, well your stuck with me," he replied, nipping her ear. "And unless you break up with me now, you'd better start explaining what the hell she was talking about."

Morag gave another exasperated sigh, which turned into a laugh when he did something else to her ear.

"Fine, I'll help you. But you owe me, and I'm collecting this time!"

Walking through the halls with Ron had become a favoured activity of the Gryffindor boys, although the girls were highly disgusted.

"I expect your right, Hermione," Parvati said on the way to Defense. "Most girls are stupid pieces of fluff."

Another group of pretty girls walked past them giggling. "Hello, King!" one girl said in a high, wispy voice and all the girls broke out in fresh giggles. Rolling their eyes, Parvati, Lavender and Hermione entered the classroom, with Neville, Seamus and Dean following.

"How long do you reckon they'll keep at it?" asked Ron, as he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He was getting very good at not blushing, Harry noticed, and he'd stopped mussing his hair about. In fact, Ron didn't seem to enjoy the attention all that much- unless it came from a few, select girls. And, unfortunately for Ron, he didn't seem to fancy any of the 'stupid pieces of fluff' that paid him attention.

"'Til your ugly, old and toothless?" Harry suggested, turning to make his way into the classroom.

"Hello, King," a throaty, sultry voice sounded from behind. Spinning back round, Harry and Ron both grinned to see Blaise batting her eyelashes and blowing kisses at the two of them. Then she returned to normal, grinning widely at the ground, as Morag laughed. "Why don't they just throw their knickers at you and get it over with?" Blaise asked.

"You'd protect me, wouldn't you?" Ron teased, throwing his arm over Blaise's shoulder and turning them towards the class door.

"Maybe... it all depends on-" Blaise began. Whatever it depended on, Harry never found out, because they were interrupted.

"Mr. Weasley, five points from Gryffindor. You know very well fraternization is not allowed in school halls," Snape's voice sneered, his eyes flicking to Morag and Blaise. "Ms. Zabini, I'll let you off with a warning. Also, Mr. Weasley, another five points. You should be clean-shaven while attending classes. Your hygiene is appalling."

Ron was about to say something angry as Professor Gryffindor's voice chimed in. "Well, if that's not the pot calling the kettle black!" she mocked, a gleeful look in her eyes. She seemed quite happy to take any shot at Snape she could. "Honestly, Snape, just because you can't grow a beard," Snape's eyes narrowed into slits, "is no reason to take it out on the children who can."

"I'm sure it's none of your concern," Snape replied in a tight voice.

"Hmm? No, I suppose not. But you know us girls! We love a man with a beard... Oh! What am I saying? Of course, you wouldn't know what women like," Gryffindor said sweetly, and before Snape could retort, she continued. "In the class, kids, come on. I'll thank you, Professor," she spat the title out, "not to delay my students. I'm trying to teach them something important." She gave a small laugh. "Yet another thing you wouldn't know about." The four students hustled out of the hall, and heard the door slam smartly behind them.

"Oh, such fun!" Gryffindor said gleefully. "Now, today..."

"Potter, may I see you a moment?" called Gryffindor after she'd dismissed the class. Harry made his way up to her desk, and waited patiently as the other students shuffled out. "I've been asked to continue your Occlumency lessons, Potter."

"Oh- er, alright," Harry answered uncertainly.

"Snape claims that, with Occlumency, your useless, rude, unfocused and arrogant," she stated and Harry hung his head. Gryffindor chuckled. "Don't be ashamed, kid! It's high praise, really. Following in my footsteps, you are. Those are the exact words Snape used to describe me when I was sixteen.

"'Course, I'd just told him to sod off," she said, grinning at the memory. "And I haven't really stopped. No, Potter, I think the two of us will progress much faster. We'll practice when you have the time, shall we?" Harry nodded, excited by the idea of his schedule being taken into account. "Just give me a time, once a week at least, and we'll get on with it. Until then, clear your mind of emotion every night before sleep, alright?"

Harry nodded and turned to leave. As he reached the door, he turned back, and addressed his teacher. "Professor?" he asked and waited for Gryffindor to look back at him. "Er- well, I was wondering about something you'd said, about Potions not being important. Do you really believe that?"

Gryffindor let out a heavy sigh. "Some days, Potter, I do." She seemed sad to say it.

"But you're a Master of Potions," he said.

"Sometimes you just have to do what you can. I was told I'd study Potions, and it happened I was fairly good at it. That's why I got my Masters," Gryffindor replied. "Potions can be really helpful sometimes, and that's when I'm proud to be a Master. But on the whole, I wish I'd never laid eyes on a cauldron. And always, Potter, I wonder what I could have done if I had been sent to Hogwarts."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Well, Potter, I've never studied Astronomy, or History, or Care of Magical Creatures, or Runes or Arithmancy. I never had the time, and I was never told to, you see? And since I was a good kid, I did what I was told. Which is something you wouldn't know anything about, if your reputation is correct."

Harry grinned sheepishly, until what she said sunk in. "Wait, Professor, do you mean you don't know anything of History or Astronomy?"

"Well, I can pick out some major constellations and I know a bit of History, but I've a very limited education, Harry. In fact, most of your classmates could wipe the floor with me. It would have been nice to have had a choice in my future, like whether to continue Potions, or to learn Runes or Divination."

Harry sank into a chair. "But, Professor, why don't you learn now then?"

Gryffindor laughed. "No regrets, Potter, not ever! Don't feel bad for me Harry. It's not that horrible. It may seem odd, but it's the choice I've made; it's the choice most people have made. You'll probably do the same thing, one day. You just learn to get on with it, and not to think of the coulda'-shoulda'-woulda's anymore."

"But why don't you learn now, Professor?" Harry repeated, as he didn't understand what she was saying. Why on earth would anyone be happy with a life where they couldn't do anything but defend themselves and brew Potions?

"Potter, I will learn History and Astronomy one day, but at the moment, I've more pressing issues to deal with," she said cryptically. This, at least, Harry understood. "Don't worry about me, Potter. I've managed to do very well for myself to this point, and if that falls through- well, I suppose I could always marry a Prince," she finished with a grin. Shooing him out of her office, she reminded him to clear his mind of emotions every night. "It's very important that you allow nothing to hinder your progress, Potter."

********

Hermione was early to breakfast one morning, early in the second week of school when an owl dropped in front of her. Surprised, she retrieved the letter it held out to her and began reading.

Ms. Granger,

As part of your Defense training, you will learn the art of ambush. You have been placed with three other sixth year students (Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy), to plan and carry out ambushes against other sixth year Defense students. These groups are final, and will not be changed under any circumstances. You will learn how to work with Mr. Malfoy, or your House will pay the penalty.

Mr. Weasley will be your squad leader, as I am told he has the most tactical mind. He has received all pertinent information, and will inform you of a time and place to meet, so that you can discuss your plans.

Secrecy is crucial. Should you be discovered and identified, your house will lose fifty points.

Prof. B Gryffindor.

Just as the letter burst into flames, Ron and Harry walked in. "Tonight at ten, Moaning Myrtle's lavatory," Ron whispered non-chalantly as he slid onto a seat.

That night, as she crept into Moaning Myrtle's lavatory with Harry and Ron, Myrtle was talking to someone.

"Finally!" Draco exclaimed when he caught sight of them. He edged closer. "I can't believe you chose this place. That ghost is mad!" he whispered.

"Yeah, we know," replied Ron as he sat on the floor. Hermione and Harry followed suit, but Draco refused to sit on the ground of a lavatory; apparently, as if they hadn't known already, he was a Malfoy, and Malfoy's did not sit on the floor. That the floor in question was a lavatories floor was neither here nor there. Gritting his teeth, Ron continued. "Now, we are to attack five Hufflepuffs, Ernie McMillan, Justin-Fitch Fletchley, Zacarias Smith, Susan Bones and Michael Corner.

"I've done some planning, the five of them have Arithmancy with Hermione tomorrow while the three of us have a free period. It's the ideal time to- Myrtle? Do you think you could stop that? Thanks- as I was saying, it's the ideal time to attack."

"And how do we keep from being discovered?" Draco demanded.

"Hoods, I think, this time. I'll have to stay out of sight, as I'm so tall it would be simple to figure out who I am. We'll be more creative next time."

"And me?" Hermione asked turning to Ron. "I'm just to sit in Arithmancy with them after I've attacked them?"

"Yes, and try not to let on you saw anything, Hermione," Ron answered. "Don't be nervous or anxious, all right?"

"I can hold my own," Hermione replied tartly.

"Yes, I'm sure you can. 'But there's no wood!'" Ron joked. Harry began to laugh, but cut it off when Hermione glared at him.

"That was first year, Ron." So, Ron couldn't remember all the times he'd made an ass out of himself, but the time she lost her head in the face of her friend's sure death was a joke? "And may I remind you, you hadn't a clue what Devil's Snare was."

"I'm sure this little joke has a wonderful story behind it, but can we continue?" Draco interrupted.

"Right, then," Ron said, and leant down to pull a drawing of the corridor out of his pocket. "You're here, Harry. You're here, Draco. Hermione, you're to stay here, and back us up if one manages to get away. I'll stay here, behind this statue."

For the next ten minutes they discussed their plans. The entire time Myrtle was weeping and wailing.

The attack went off the next day without a hitch, although Zacarias Smith was taken to the Hospital Wing as Ron got carried away with the Bat-Bogey Hex. Hermione managed to sit through Arithmancy with a straight face, and only felt a little bad every time Ernie jumped at an odd noise.

Later that evening, after dinner, McGonagall explained to the Gryffindor's what was going on. In addition to the five Hufflepuff sixth-years, three Ravenclaw and two Slytherin seventh-years had been attacked. "It's important that every Defense student learn how to coordinate and launch an ambush, as well as detect one. Ambushes will continue all year in the attempts to educate the student population on these topics, as well as give practical experience. This part of the Defense course is, I will remind you, part of the course. Any inappropriate behaviour will be punished appropriately. You are not to wreak vengeance on the girl who stole your hair-tie, or the boy who pushed you around in first year. Every ambush will be reported by the Captain of the Ambush Squad, and by each person who is attacked. I will discover any wrong doing that may have occurred. Be assured.

"I would, however, ask that you take this very seriously. You have no idea how useful the ability to detect an ambush is. And will be. It isn't a friendly world you're going into, and you all need to be prepared."

As if the back McGonagall's words, the next morning, the Prophet reported that a string of ambushes the day before had lead to four deaths in the Wizarding community. Mr. and Mrs. Diggory were among those who were killed.