Stormy Weather

The stranger's eyes darted about nervously as he was released from the spell. They settled finally on Dumbledore. "Let me go!" he ordered imperiously. The old wizard shook his head.

"I'm afraid that I cannot. The guards are already on their way to take you to Azkaban." Dumbledore watched as the other wizard grew pale at that. "What did you do before you cast the spell on Miss Granger?"

The prisoner smirked slowly, his color returning as he did. "I've set certain time release spells," he confessed, his features twisting into a dark smirk. "But you'll never find out which ones."

"Oh, we can." The Headmaster didn't look at all bothered by that. "Veritaserum can work miracles."

"Oh, no, you can't." The captive's smug grin grew even more annoying.

Albus raised one eyebrow. "May I ask why?"

"Of course, old fool. Because I don't know what they are anymore. I Memory Charmed myself before I went to take care of those two brats."

Dumbledore turned as the door to his office opened, and Lucius Malfoy stood there. As his cold eyes took in who was seated there, the younger wizard glared. "What happened this time?"

"He has attacked Miss Granger again. She appears to be well, if somewhat dizzy. Your son is with her right now. This young man has informed us that he has cast some form of time release spell on her, and has removed the memory of just what it is meant to do from himself." The headmaster told Lucius.

From his imprisoning chair, the wizard laughed, a touch of insanity in the sound. "Try as you might, you won't know what I'm going to do to that stupid Mudblood! You of all people should be praising me for this, Malfoy!"

Lucius' glare was icewater in visual form. "Whatever you do to her, you've also attacked my son. I do not forgive that. You may be smug now, but I promise you that will end once the Dementors give you a farewell kiss."

"Maybe," the other sneered. "And maybe not. You still can't stop what I've set in motion."

The frost-haired wizard stepped closer, his wand appearing in one hand, gripped tightly. "There are ways to make you remember."

"But could you make me remember in time?" the captive taunted. Albus cleared his throat politely.

"First, perhaps we should find out why he is doing this?" The ancient wizard suggested mildly. The prisoner just sneered at Dumbledore rudely.

"I don't talk to Muggle-lovers." The growl was a pale imitation of all those Death Eaters who had ever tried to be brave against Dumbledore. Voldemort wouldn't have had scum like this in his organization, no matter how much they agreed with his principles, Dumbledore reflected. He was simply too sloppy.

Lucius stepped closer. "Answer his question!" The prisoner eyed him a bit warily, then lifted his chin in defiance.

"You should know, Malfoy. You're the one who did it."

Pale eyes narrowed slightly. "I have never met you before in my life. What could I have done to you?" The other snorted, and Lucius stepped even closer, his wand pointing directly at the captive's chest. "Why are you trying to hurt my son?"

A second rude snort was the first answer. "If you're too stupid to remember, I'm certainly not going to help you."

Lucius's fingers tightened on his wand. "What is your name then?" Dumbledore could clearly see he was restraining himself from something as nasty as the Cruciatus, if not the actual Unforgiveable itself.

"Alan Molanton."

The elder Malfoy frowned as the name rung a bell. "Your father is Marcus Molanton?" Alan nodded. "He was a trusted servant before he became too ill to work."

"And he was fired!" The younger man struggled in his restraints once more, but the magic-born bonds refused to give. Lucius eyed him with distaste.

"Who told you that? Your father has been a loyal servant of my family since before I was born. I wouldn't have fired him. It was his health that stopped him from working. He and I agree that it would be for the best that he start his retirement.

Alan snorted again, even more rudely this time. Lucius pinned his cane under the wizard's chin and glared down into his eyes. "Your father never did trust you, and I can see why."

"What are you talking about?"

"You don't deserve his trust." Lucius' eyes blazed in frozen fury. "Perhaps you should allow your father to live his remaining years as he sees fit."

Alan rolled his eyes, not buying a single word Lucius said. "Whatever."

"I doubt that will matter soon." The elder Malfoy turned away to face Dumbledore. "I am going to see my son before I leave."

Albus looked at the prisoner as the door closed behind Lucius. Fury burned inside of him such as he had not felt in years. "I have little love of the Dementors, but you have gone beyond the point of forgiveness. I do not doubt you will be sentenced to their kiss."

"Stuck up idiots." Alan's only comment was just another insult. "All of you. I know what I did was right."

The Headmaster shook his head sadly. Another one lost to stupidity and thoughtless revenge. It was a pity.

"Draco." The single word drifted through the Hospital Wing like verbal ice. Draco looked over to see his father standing there, his cane in his hand, and his gaze even chillier than his eyes.

"What is it, father?" Draco returned ice for ice. His father didn't scare him that much anymore.

Lucius came closer to him, every word chipped from a glacier. "What is this I hear that this...young lady..." his eyes flicked momentarily to where Madam Pomfrey was adjusting a bed not that far away, "spent the night in your room?"

"Yes."

The hilt of his father's cane was shoved under his chin, tilting it up as Lucius leaned over, towering above his son. "If I ever hear of you doing that again, you will royally regret it. Do I make myself clear?" Draco flinched back slightly, memories of some of his punishments flickering through his mind. "The only reason I have not put a halt to this farce of a relationship already is because your mother likes this...Mudblood." He pulled his cane away and stalked out the door, not looking back at all.

Draco slumped down into his chair, shaking his head just a little. Some days I think I can stand up to him no matter what. Then when I see him and he's like that... He knew that the Malfoys had only married purebloods for centuries, but he wasn't even thinking about marrying her. This was just something for school. She was obviously going to do something important; she had all those brains and all that favouritism from the teachers. He was just making connections for the future. It wasn't his fault that one of the witches with the most opportunities was a mudblood.

He glanced down to see Hermione looking back at him worriedly. She must have seen that. His guess was confirmed when she asked, "Why do you let him do that to you?"

"He's my father." That was the only answer there could ever be.

She shook her head, though. "That doesn't give him the right to do that." Draco just shrugged casually, then frowned as she started trying to get up.

"Stay down!"

A hot-eyed glare shot towards him. "I have to use the bathroom!"

He stifled a chuckle and set his face into a firm look. "All right." He helped her over to the bathroom and waited for her to take care of what needed doing. Once she was out, he got her back into bed, tucking her in neatly. Did she just say something? He bent a little closer, hoping she'd say it again. As the softly whispered words came, he jerked back. She...said she loves me??

Hermione kissed Draco softly and smiled at him. "Good luck." The pale-haired boy grinned back at her.

"I don't need luck." He knew he was going to win. That was as certain as sunrise and moonset. What was luck? Something Potter needed, not him. He was a Malfoy.

Hermione's eyes held a trace of wistfulness. "I wish I didn't feel so torn between cheering for you or cheering for my House."

"I'm going to win anyway," Draco grinned cockily at her. "So just go ahead and cheer for me."

She laughed a little. "It's hard to choose between slugging you or hugging you right now." She leaned over and kissed him lightly, then stepped back. "I think I'll go the library instead of the game."

Draco tilted his head. "Don't you want to see me fly?" She'd always come to every other game Slytherin had played against the rest of the school. He couldn't understand why she was backing out of the last game between Gryffindor and Slytherin now.

"But I won't feel like I have to choose between you and my friends," Hermione told him. He just shrugged.

"You can just watch you know. And cheer when I win."

She hugged him again. "You and your ego."

"I am what I am."

The brown-haired Gryffindor whacked him on the arm. "You can be a pompous ass at times. And you can be so gentle others." She wrapped her arms around him softly, not wanting to leave his embrace even as people started heading to the Quidditch pitch.

"I think it’s time," Draco finally said. She shook her head briefly.

"I don't care." In the last couple of weeks since she had emerged from the Hospital Wing, two very odd accidents had occurred. At least she thought they were accidents; something just seemed a little off about them. One had resulted in her arm being sliced up, while the other had simply turned her robes a very shocking shade of green. "But I suppose there's nothing that can be done. I'm just glad I was able to get the green out of my robes." She took a deep breath and stepped away. "I'll see you."

Draco headed for the rest of his team while Hermione headed over to the stands after all. There's no way I'd be able to just sit in the library while this game is going on. Regardless of who won, she had to be there. She sat beside Sam as Gryffindor scored a quick five goals, getting fifty points ahead before the small Snitch fluttered by, chased swiftly by Harry and Draco alike.

Hermione bit her lip as both of them reached for it, going as swiftly as they could, hands battling for the winged ball. No one could've told what was the deciding factor, Draco's somewhat slightly longer reach or just dumb luck of the moment, but his fingers closed on the Snitch a bare second ahead of Harry's.

The moment that he had it in his grip, an explosion rocked the stands bare inches from Draco's face. He plummeted towards the pitch, still holding onto his prize, while the viewers in the stands stood up as one to watch.

He landed with a thunk on the pitch, his father and Hermione arriving there only seconds later. "Don't move," Hermione murmured, pushing him down gently, then she held a hand in front of his face. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Draco blinked, trying to focus. He couldn't be awake yet; he had to have been knocked out. He'd landed pretty hard, after all. He could hear what was going on, but he couldn't see it. There was just...blackness. "W...what?"

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Hermione repeated. She sounded distressed about something. Why wasn't her voice fading? He wasn't fully awake; he should be heading into unconsciousness. But he could hear her so clearly.

No. This had to be wrong. This couldn't happen to him. He was a Malfoy, for Merlin's sake! "I can't tell...I...have my eyes closed...can't open them." That was what this had to be.

"Draco, your eyes are open." That was his father, nothing else could match that irritated tone. He tried to think about something else, and realized there was some kind of weight in one of his hands.

"What's...in my hand?"

There was pressure on the hand he could feel the whatever in, then he heard Hermione. "You caught the Snitch." He grinned a little; he'd won the game! That was worth some blindness. Droplets of water hit his hand, and he heard a sniffle.

Hermione...is crying? This was a very weird day.

"Madame Pomfrey is coming," she sniffled again. "Just relax."

"At least I won." He tried to get up, and felt himself being pushed back down again. It wasn't by a cane, so it had to be Hermione.

"Stay still!" She ordered him bluntly. "You're going to be all right."

He heard a familiar rustle, and then the brisk voice of the mediwitch as she arrived. "We're going to need to get him to the Hospital Wing. Miss Granger, I will need you to let go of his hand."

Draco remained as still as he could as he was carried inside and up to the Hospital Wings. A cloth was laid over his eyes, presumably by Pomfrey, and she told him, "Your eyesight will return shortly. You'll be unbalanced for a while, though."

"How long?"

She must have been shaking her head or something like that. "I can't be sure right now. It's too hard to tell this soon."

"Have there been any other incidents like this?" That was his father. Draco just shook his head; nothing had been happening to him recently. "Anything to Miss Granger?"

"Just a couple of things. Normal hexes, though." He suspected it was probably Blaise. The other Slytherin had a sense of humor to rival the Weasley twins at times. "Her arms got cut up some a while back, and then her robes were turned green."

Silence stretched out, broken by Lucius. "Three down."

"Three down?" Draco wanted to know what was going on here. This was important!

The Headmaster spoke up from somewhere in the room. "Certain spells that the wizard who kidnapped you and Miss Granger were set into place by him. Three of them have went off already."

Draco frowned in what he hoped was where Dumbledore was standing. "Why weren't we told?" This was the kind of thing they should've known about, but Dumbledore hadn't seen fit to let them know! So much for caring about his students.

"We were in hopes that we could defuse them in time." The old wizard sounded almost regretful. Draco wasn't buying into it, though. He was a Slytherin, and that said everything that needed saying.

He leaned back into his pillows and thought. "This was one of them. How many were there total?"

"Five."

The Slytherin nodded slightly at the Headmaster's number. "The ones that have hit Hermione have been minor. But..." He didn't have to finish it. The explosion hadn't been minor at all. They're going to get worse. He started to sit up, then quickly laid back down again, groaning. Sitting up fast is not a good idea, it seems.

"Stay where you are." The Headmaster told him sharply. Draco didn't mind hearing that at the moment, not with the way his head was spinning so very merrily.

"Is he all right?" Hermione's voice came from what was most likely the doorway. He was pretty certain he remembered it being in that direction from the bed, based on how far he'd been carried into here.

"Ah, hello, Miss Granger." Dumbledore's voice had assumed it's normal cheery happiness. Draco could almost hear how hollow it was now. Not that he hadn't suspected before.

"Is Draco all right?" She actually sounded worried about him. He liked that. It was a bit annoying, but somewhat cute at the same time. I wouldn't have thought that a few years ago. Well, that was a few years ago.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione's voice came from closer to him now, and he felt her familiar hand on his. He wanted to roll his eyes again, but Malfoys didn't repeat actions so frequently.

"Hurt." That was a completely idiotic question. He had just fallen off his broom, after something blew up in his face. He'd thought she was smarter than that.

She patted his hand a little. "You'll be fine." She sounded disgustingly cheery, so very Gryffindor-ish it was revolting.

"What about you?" Had any of those things went off while he was in here? He didn't think so, something would have alerted him, a noise, if nothing else.

Hermione obviously had no idea of what he was talking about. "Draco, what do you mean? I didn't just fall off of my broom!"

"There are time released spells on us." Draco told her cooly. "That's what's been happening. There are two others that have yet to go off."

"Oh." She sounded a little thoughtful, and he could already envision her wanting to get into the library and find out what she could about this. "No, no more have gone off near me." She was quiet for a few moments, then, "I'm going to head back to Gryffindor Tower. I'll see you soon."

He heard the rustle of robes as she left, and leaned back into his pillows, a wave of exhaustion washing over him. He really needed some rest.

Ron grinned as he finished telling one of the adventures that he, Hermione, and Harry had experienced during their previous year to Sam, enjoying the way she paid attention to his every word. Harry was just a few seats away working on his Defense Against The Dark Arts homework; not saying anything to take away from how Ron had polished the narrative up a little.

He was about to get started on another story when the portrait hole opened up and something almost seemed to fly by them without even a broom. Harry stared as the door to Hermione's room slammed shut. "That was fast," the Boy Who Lived muttered. "Even for Hermione."

"I'll go see what's up." Ron got up at once; he and Hermione were still best friends, no matter what. Sam, Harry, and Ginny followed without the slightest word.

"Come in!" Hermione called from behind the closed door as Ron knocked. He swung the door open and came in, not that surprised to see her working on her homework before she looked up. "Hi, Ron...and Sam...and Harry...and Ginny..." She blinked a little in confusion. "Is the rest of the tower out there too?"

Ginny made a show of looking behind her. "No. Just us." She closed the door quietly and sat down on Hermione's bed beside Harry. The Head Girl looked at them all questioningly.

"So what do I owe this visit to?"

Ron shrugged a little. "We saw you going by like you were on fire, and we're worried about you. You've been a little busy to talk to us, you know."

"Sorry," she flushed, knowing that he was telling the truth. "I just wanted to finish this report, it's due tomorrow."

She couldn't be certain if they believed it, since there'd never once been a time when she'd been that late working on something, but they weren't disagreeing, at least. Harry looked at her a little more closely. "How's Malfoy?"

"Good."

"Anything else?" He wondered. She shook her head quickly, staring down at the parchment intently.

"Not really. He's got to stay in the hospital wing, though. His eyes aren't fully healed yet." Madame Pomfrey had mentioned something about eyes being very tricky to heal magically, which was what was taking so long. None of the others moved for so much as a microsecond, however, all four of them just sitting there and looking at her. "Something else I can help you with?"

"Just checking to be sure you're all right." Harry told her. "You're looking pretty frazzled, you know."

She just shook her head. "Why wouldn't I be all right? And I'm not frazzled, I just need to get a little more sleep, that's all. I've been studying hard."

Harry moved a bit closer to her. "Well, your boyfriend is in the hospital wing."

"I'm fine." Hermione stared down at the report again, trying not to let them see the due date she'd written at the top of the page, where it clearly said it didn't have to be turned in for at least another week.

"You expect us to believe that?" Sam asked, just looking at her cousin with an amused tilt to her lips. Hermione eyed them warningly.

"Why not?"

Sam snorted rudely. "Because we all know you. Some better than others, of course." She glanced over at Harry, Ginny, and Ron, reminding her cousin that there were things that the four of them had shared that went far beyond any blood bond the two of them did.

Hermione sighed quietly as she put her quill down. "I don't know how I feel." She put her head into her hands, feeling her fingers shake against her cheeks as she did. "That git who nabbed us cast some time release spells on us. The cuts and the green robes weren't pranks. They were the first two spells. What happened to Draco today was the third of five." She trembled, feeling the urge to run to the library to research until she fell over on some way to stop all of this. Wouldn't do any good. I researched them all last year for extra credit. There's nothing to do but let them go off. She touched the parchment lightly. "I really do need to work on this."

"All right." Ron nudged Harry and Ginny out the door ahead of him as Hermione kept on staring at the parchment. She slowly sank her head back into her hands again, trembling from her crown to her soles.

"Want to talk about it?" Sam asked quietly, moving closer to her cousin. Hermione closed her eyes, hoping to find some kind of answers behind the closed lids.

"It scares me that if one of those spells is meant for me, and Draco is there..." Hermione shuddered at the thought. "I don't want him hurt anymore."

Sam looked at her curiously. "So what are you going to do?"

"Stop seeing him for a while, I guess. Just to keep him safe." She glanced over at Sam, noting the disapproval in her cousin's eyes. "You would do the same with Ron, wouldn't you?"

"I don't know." Sam shrugged. "I think I'd ask him what he wanted to do first. It's not like he's not involved. Maybe Draco thinks staying near you is worth what could happen. Why don’t you ask him?"

Hermione nodded; Sam occasionally had a way of pinning down what she was thinking in a slightly different way, just enough so she could get a handle on things. "Tomorrow. His father is with him right now." She grinned a bit. "I'm glad that you and Ron are getting on so well."

Sam grinned right back at her. "So am I." There was a certain mischievous tilt to her lips that spoke entire volumes.

Hermione shook her head, then headed over to the closet and pulled out her nightgown. Just as she did, a shaking voice came from the door. "H...Hermione?" She looked over to see Neville Longbottom standing there. "M...Mr. Malfoy wants to see you." There was a certain look in his eyes that said he was amazed in he had been in the same room with two Malfoys and had lived to talk about it.

"Where is he?"

"He said he was going to wait for you in front of the Great Hall. And to hurry." From the way he was acting, Malfoy Senior had probably said a great many other things than that. It was common knowledge that Malfoys and Longbottoms just did not get along.

Hermione chuckled a little, then shooed Sam out of her room in Neville's wake and tossed the nightgown onto her bed before heading off to find her boyfriend's father. He stood just outside the doors of the Great Hall, hands folded over his cane, and a cool expression frozen to his features. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes." He didn't look all that thrilled to be talking to her, and given what she'd overheard in the infirmary, she wasn't that surprised.

"How is Draco?" She wanted to know that more than anything else.

Lucius frowned down at her. "Resting comfortably." Something in his eyes clearly said that he would gladly Crucio her before he'd answer her if he had the option.

"That is good to hear. Is there something I could do for you?" Best to get this out of the way.

He nodded ever so slightly. "My wife wishes to extend you an invitation to come to our home for a small celebration with our respective parents." She nodded briefly, and he held out an envelope. "Your invitation is in here. Keep it with you; it's what will get you past the wards at Malfoy Manor, and informs you of when the celebration is. If we should change the date for some reason, that will show up on the invitation itself."

Hermione nodded as she took it, then looked at him. "I know you don't like me because of what my parents are, but I'm not a bad person, and I would never do anything to hurt your son, emotionally or physically." His icy look never so much as twitched. "I hope you understand how much your son means to me, and I couldn't stand it if anything happened to him."

Lucius summed up his opinion of her in one word: "Mudblood."

"Not entirely." She looked at him cooly. "My great-grandparents weren't Muggles." He didn't appear to be all that impressed by it, however. He turned on his heel and walked away without another word to her.

She shook her head briefly, then headed back up to Gryffindor Tower. Sam was waiting in the common room, and followed her all the way back to her room silently, Ginny joining them once more as they passed the door to the sixth years' rooms. "Well?" Her cousin finally asked when Hermione didn't appear to be saying anything.

"I was invited to Malfoy Manor." Hermione looked down at the envelope and pulled out the invitation. "For a small function with the respected family to celebrate Draco's mother's birthday."

"Are you going to go?" Ginny wondered. Hermione shook her head.

"I don't know. Curiosity is getting the better of me."

Sam snickered softly. "When doesn't it?"

Hermione chuckled, then picked up her nightgown, intending to finally get into bed. She noticed Ginny practically staring at the outfit and stared. "What is it with you people? Draco saw this and nearly fell off of his broom!"

"Well, there's not that much there!" Ginny told her, and Hermione almost wondered if her redheaded friend was wanting a copy of this to use on Harry!

"Is there a reason why there should be?" The Head Girl wondered. Sam snickered softly as she nodded, and her cousin snorted even more. "Give me one. And it had better be good."

"So you're not showing everything." Sam told her. Hermione shook her head; this was too easy.

"Well, normally no one sees this on me." She reminded her cousin. Both Sam and Ginny looked a little surprised.

"Normally?" The youngest Weasley wondered. Hermione blushed lightly as she recalled that night.

"Draco saw it on me once. Like I said, he just about fell off of his broom."

Sam tilted her head and eyed the outfit, her gaze flicking between the two of them for a few moments. "I wonder if I'd look as good in that thing as Draco thinks you do." She grinned mischievously. "I wonder if Ron would have the same reaction."

"I might let you borrow it one weekend." She glanced over at Ginny for a moment. "Has Ron told your parents about Sam yet?"

"I don't think so." Ginny thought briefly, then shook her head. "At least he hasn't told me if he did."

"Oh?" Sam raised one eyebrow. "Is he ashamed of my purple hair?" She ran one hand through her violet-tinged locks and grinned. Ginny just shrugged.

"Probably. Mum hates Bill's long hair." That was one thing that hadn't changed, and probably never would change, in the Weasley family.

Sam flicked her hair a little. "Maybe I can tone it down a little. Exchange the purple for blonde?"

"It would look nice if you went for red," Hermione suggested, eyeing the impressive locks with a critical eye. She wasn't a fashion expert, but some colors just went better with others. "A subtle kind of red." Her eyes narrowed briefly. "Now, get out! I want to go to bed!"