Draco: Phoenix Rising

Chapter Forty - Draco's Fan Club

Draco was mortified. "That's low, even by the Dark Lord's standards."

"I suspected it last time we were here," Hermione said. "It looked as if the soil had been disturbed somewhat recently. I didn't want Harry to know, for obvious reasons."

"How the hell are we going to get it out of there?"

Ron was watching them both. His complexion was ashen.

"What are you talking about?" Neville asked in confusion.

Hermione looked at him gravely. "We think there is something buried in Lily Potter's grave that is important to Voldemort. Something we need to retrieve and destroy."

Neville was aghast. "But, that's... that's sick!"

Hermione nodded. "Quite his style, though. It would amuse Voldemort to defile the grave of the woman who brought his worst enemy into the world. Especially if you consider the effect it would have on Harry."

"Are you positive about this?" Draco asked. For reply, Hermione cast a spell. A glowing webwork of lines hovered over the grave and disappeared into the ground. Draco swore lightly.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"Some sort of warding." Hermione passed her hand through a glowing line with no effect. "It won't be triggered by surface movement, but I bet the minute we try moving the dirt we'll be surrounded by Death Eaters. Or Voldemort himself."

"What if we approached it from a different angle?" Draco suggested. "Like we did at the Riddle house?"

Hermione looked around. "You mean dig beyond the ward lines and then angle toward the grave?"

He nodded.

"The wards likely extend all the way around the coffin. That would be a lot of digging, too. I'd rather break the spell."

"Can you?" Ron asked.

"I think so. It would be similar to the working we did with... with the Cup. Contain and dissipate."

"We can't do it now."

"Of course not. We haven't the time, for one thing. Nor are we prepared. We'll have to come back."

"When?"

"Better sooner than later, but we'll have to do so without alerting Harry, or the Order of the Phoenix. Neville can stand in for Harry. Since Luna hates to Apparate, she can stay behind and keep an eye on Harry. Tonight is too soon--we need to gather supplies and I need to research these wards."

"You know there will be other traps in place, as well," Draco commented. She nodded.

"We'll have to be prepared for anything."

"All right then," Draco said. "Let's concentrate on the meeting with Snape. I'm not sure I want him to know I've been making nice with Harry Potter. As you said, we have no grasp of his motives. His hatred of The Boy Who Lived has always seemed genuine."

"The four of us will hang back, out of sight. You can signal if you need us." Hermione touched the coin on her chest. Draco shook his head.

"If it is a trap, there will be Death Eaters hanging about, as well. It's too bad we didn't think to use Polyjuice Potion--you could all impersonate Muggles."

"Maybe we can, anyway. Enough to pass cursory inspection, that is. How many Death Eaters can recognize us on sight? Except for Lucius Malfoy, none of them has more than a passing acquaintance with any of us."

Ron laughed shortly. "Yeah, passing over several blasts from a wand while they were trying to kill us."

"Exactly. Now, how did you swap hair colors with Harry? That will be a good start."

Draco spent the next forty minutes playing hairdresser, and having far too much fun with it, he admitted to himself. They tried several hair colors on Hermione and finally settled on platinum blonde. She worked on straightening it while Draco moved on to Luna. Draco had to conjure a mirror for her so she could admire her new mouse-brown hair streaked with pink and violet.

"Are you sure Muggles do this to their hair?" Draco asked Hermione dubiously.

"She won't draw a second glance," Hermione assured him. Neville was given a similar treatment with hair a vibrant shade of lime green that Hermione teased into wild spikes. She transfigured his clothing into black leather with silver studs. Longbottom was mortified, but utterly unrecognizable. Luna giggled at him.

"You two look a pair," Hermione commented. She gave Luna a short black shirt overlaid with black organza and fishnet stockings. A hot pink tank top was covered with a long black jacket. Luna admired herself in the mirror from every angle.

Then it was Ron's turn. He and Draco glared at each other.

"Too bad we can't get rid of Weasley's freckles. We could shave him bald and it would still be obvious he's a Weasley."

"Maybe we can get rid of them," Hermione said thoughtfully.

Ron looked worried. "What are you going to do?" he asked nervously.

"Don't worry, it's just makeup."

She produced a small round case and proceeded to powder Weasley's face--which wasn't easy since he squirmed like an eight-year-old the entire time. Draco marveled at the bickering the two exchanged. How could Weasley even think to be romantic toward Hermione? She acted more like his mum than a girlfriend.

"It bloody stinks!" Ron protested.

"I don't care if it's Eau de Skunk, it's working. Or would be if you'd hold still."

"How long can this take? You've been over my nose six times."

"Well, you have a lot of freckles there!"

"If I wrinkle my nose, my whole face will crack."

"Then don't wrinkle your nose, dimwit."

"Don't call me dimwit. Gaaah! You got some in my mouth! It tastes awful!"

"If you would shut up, you wouldn't get it in your mouth. Now hold still!"

"How do you girls wear this crap? It's horrid."

Hermione sighed in exasperation, but finally finished and looked at her handiwork with a grin at Draco.

"Not bad," he admitted and tapped Weasley on the head with his wand. A bit harder than warranted, perhaps. Weasley glared. His hair turned pitch black. "For some reason, he still looks like a Weasel."

Hermione conjured some gel and slicked Ron's hair straight back. Then she turned his clothing into a black Muggle suit and tie. She giggled at the outcome.

"That's better. You look like a young funeral home director. Or a used car salesman."

Draco and Ron looked at each other in incomprehension, but neither asked. It was enough that Ron was no longer identifiable. Neither was Hermione. With her hair straightened, it now hung far below her waist. She made a stunning blonde. She had changed her clothing into a short, pale green dress with a high waist and delicate pink flowers. White sandals covered her feet. She topped the outfit with a white jacket to hold her wand. She wouldn't have looked out of place at one of his mother's garden parties, except that no witch would ever be caught dead in a skirt that short.

"What about you, Malfoy?" Ron asked. Draco shook his head.

"Why bother? I don't want Snape scrutinizing every face looking for me. If it's to be a trap, I'd rather be the bait than the catch."

"How are we going to Apparate to Stonehenge in broad daylight? Popping out of nowhere is certain to give the Muggles a fright and send the Ministry seeking our blood."

"It doesn't help that the damned place is on a bloody flat, barren plain."

"There are a few trees, though. Do you recall? A rather long walk, granted, but we have time."

Draco sighed. "No help for it. Weasley, have you been there?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah. I think I remember the trees, too. I can get there."

"Longbottom?"

"It's been too long. I barely recall the stones."

"I'll take you through, then. Hermione can take the flibbertigibbet. Shall we?"

They appeared at various places along a copse of trees. Draco and Neville could see Weasley, who was several meters away disentangling himself from a bush. Draco could not spot Hermione, but he could hear Luna laughing nearby. They followed the sound and found the two girls climbing out of a muddy bog. Luna had left her shoes behind in the mud and was stomping happily in the muck.

"This feels great!" she called, waving excitedly at Draco. "You should try it! Some mud has healing properties, you know."

Hermione's expression was the exact opposite of Luna's and her lips were set in a white line.

"The only 'properties' in this mud are sheep droppings!" Hermione growled. She staggered out of the mire and cleaned off her legs and shoes with a sharp snap of her wand.

"If you've finished wallowing, Luna, can we please get moving?" she snapped. Luna reluctantly joined her on dry land and Hermione levitated Luna's missing black boots from the bog and Scourgified them. She did the same to Luna's feet and the Ravenclaw girl threw herself on the ground to replace the boots, heedless of the twigs and debris that attached to her skirt.

Ron had caught up to them.

"We should probably not arrive together," Hermione suggested. "Draco, you go first. But, be careful, of course. We seem to be right near the road, so just follow it. Ron and I will go next. Neville, you and Luna wait a few minutes and then trail us."

Draco started off and quickly reached the road. He'd only been walking a couple of minutes when a small car screeched to a halt next to him. Four Muggle girls were packed into the tiny car. One of them leaned out the window.

"Hey, gorgeous! You want a lift?" The other three girls whooped and laughed loudly. Draco smiled. A moment later, he was wedged in the back seat between two voluptuous girls. The driver kept winking at him in the rear-view and the girl in the passenger seat had turned herself about to face him.

"So, going to Stonehenge, then?" she asked. He nodded.

The one on his left had a kinky mass of red hair and she wore something resembling a black bra covered in torn red netting that revealed more cleavage than it concealed. Her eyes were lined in black and her lips were bright red. She leaned against him and crooned in his ear.

"What you doin' all alone, peach?"

The one on his right was blonde and similarly dressed, but in glaring violet and orange.

"We're on holiday," she said. "Girl's day out."

"We're definitely out!" the brunette passenger cried and hooted.

"What's your name?" the driver asked.

"Devlin Whitehorn," Draco replied quickly.

"Nice name, love," the redhead said and gave his knee a squeeze. Draco decided to have a long talk with his father one day. He'd been raised with some serious misconceptions about Muggles. If he'd known Muggle girls behaved this way, he'd have abandoned the wizarding world every holiday.

Thus accompanied by four adoring fans, Draco made his way to the Stonehenge monoliths. He walked to the very center of the circle and looked carefully around for Snape, although it was still early. The two girls from the back seat were still clinging to his arms.

The redhead looked around in disappointment.

"This is it, then? A bunch o' rocks?"

"A bunch o' rocks! It's history! Where's your sense o' pride? Our ancestors had to haul these bloomin' things 'ere and stack 'em up like this!"

"What for?"

"No one knows."

The redhead shook her curly locks. "Can we leave? Let's take Devlin 'ere back to Salisbury and party."

"How 'bout it, Devlin?" the driver asked.

"Sorry, girls. I'm meeting a man here."

The redhead released him. "A man? Don't tell me you're a woofter!"

"Say it ain't so!" the blonde cried. "That would be a crushin' blow to girls everywhere!"

"You don't go for the gents, do you, Dev?" the brunette asked.

"No," Draco assured them. "Definitely not."

The four girls swarmed on him in glee and it was at that particular moment that Hermione arrived in the center of the circle. Draco was somewhat surprised the four Muggle girls did not erupt into puffs of smoke from the heat of her glare. She marched straight over to Draco.

"Hello, darling," he said before she could speak. "I got here a bit ahead of schedule."

"Apparently," she said through clenched teeth. "Who are your little friends?"

The girls began to back off. The redhead was indignant.

"Devlin, you fibber! She looks awfully... female, for a man."

"You'd better keep an eye on this one, dearie," the blonde warned Hermione. "'E's a tricky one."

"I've noticed," Hermione said glacially.

"Easy come, easy go," the driver quipped. "Let's go, girls. Nice meeting you, Devlin, you naughty boy."

They skirted Hermione and pranced, giggling, down the path. Draco grinned innocently.

"They gave me a ride."

"I'll bet."

"They seem to like me."

"No doubt."

"Should you be seen standing here with me?"

"I'm certain I was barely noticeable among your giggling admirers."

"Which have departed."

"Try not to attract any others. I'll be over there, with Ronald. Lurking." He watched her stalk away in high dudgeon and turned his attention to the rocks as though fascinated. Every so often, he would chuckle to himself.