Expectations

Expectations Chapter 1

Usually at this time of the year, the Burrow would have been buzzing with activity as the younger Weasleys prepared for their departure to Hogwarts.

This year, however, was different.

This year, the atmosphere was subdued as Ginny and Ron half-heartedly packed their belongings into their trunks. Their parents, Bill, Fleur and even the twins, regarded them with concern.

Turning to her husband, Molly Weasley said for the umpteenth time, twisting her hands nervously, "I'm not sure it's a good idea to send them back to school."

"Mom, it's okay," Ginny interjected softly before her father could reply. "We'll be fine."

Throwing up her hands in agitation, Molly exclaimed, "After what had happened last year, I'm not sure anymore. If Dumbledore could get killed..." She sighed as her eyes strayed to the Weasley family clock, all its hands pointing to 'mortal peril', and then continued, "Maybe it would have been better if they have decided to close the school after all."

"Mom, please stop!" Ron pleaded without looking up, not wanting to hear about it again.

They had discussed the topic repeatedly over the last few Summer months. Arthur Weasley felt that his children should go back to Hogwarts as Minerva McGonagall and the Ministry had pronounced it safe. Molly wanted her children home with her. Ron and Ginny wanted to go with Harry, who had told them that he was not going back to Hogwarts.

Ron had caught up with Harry over the summer holidays. Although he had been invited to stay over at the Burrow with the Weasleys, Harry had declined, saying that he needed to stay at the Dursleys and later, sort out his new residence, the unplottable No12 Grimmauld Place. He had not been the same ever since Dumbledore's death, becoming more withdrawn but Ron could see that there was a tightly coiled anger within him waiting to break loose.

"We spoke about this, Molly. Ron and Ginny are going back, and you know that Minerva wouldn't open the school unless she's reasonably sure that it's safe," Arthur said wearily. He did not like the idea either, but he felt that it was necessary for the children to resume as much normality as possible in this chaotic time.

Looking up from her packing, Ginny said, "Dad's right, Mom. And anyway, what are we going to do if we stayed here? At least at Hogwarts we'll be learning more stuff, making sure we're prepared if anything happens."

Finally had enough of the discussion, Ron threw the book he had in his hand to the flow. As the book landed with a thump, he shouted, his face tinged with red, "I'm sick of all this! First, you stopped me from going with Harry, and now, you're arguing about letting us go back to Hogwarts. I'm 17 now. I'm of age. Why can't you just let me make my own decisions? Even Hermione's parents, who are muggles, let her decide for herself, and now she's with Harry. Both of them need me right now."

He stood up abruptly and stalked out of the room.

"Ron..." his mother called out, a look of despair on her face.

"Leave it, Mom. He'll get over it," Ginny said, placing a reassuring hand on her mother's shoulders.

Her mother sighed. "I hope so."

.................................

Draco Malfoy sank into the rich, velvet-covered couch in the Malfoy Mansion drawing room. The flames in the fireplace was burning low, lending heat to the room, which was chilly despite it being only September.

For the past six years, at this time of the year, he had been instructing the house-elves to pack his belongings for the trip back to Hogwarts. The yearly routine had also included his mother's usual advice about his behaviour and his studies.

Draco's lips twisted. But not this year, he thought unfeelingly.

He had only been back to the mansion a week ago. After the incident with Dumbledore and the fight in Hogwarts, he had been in hiding, apparating from place to place with Snape. He shuddered as he thought of the seedy, dark places they had visited in their flight from the Ministry and the Aurors. Although he had missed the luxury he had grown accustomed to, Draco knew that it had been necessary for them to lose themselves in those places.

But that was nothing compared to what he had endured when the Dark Lord summoned him.

At first, Snape had suggested that they tell Voldemort that it was Draco who had killed Dumbledore, but the idea was quickly discarded. Voldemort would know in an instant that they were lying, not only by probing their minds, but also from the news which had leaked out when the Daily Prophet reported the incident.

So they had told the truth.

As expected, Voldemort had been highly displeased with Draco, especially after Lucius Malfoy's failure. The meeting had been stalled as Voldemort fired rounds and rounds of Crucios on the younger Malfoy, taking pleasure in his screams of pain as the spell hit his body. The rest of the Death-Eaters had just stood around, watching wordlessly. Some even with satisfaction.

Draco swallowed as he remembered the excruciating pain he had been subjected to. Thinking back now, he felt ashamed of his screams but he knew that he could not possibly have held it in. At that time, he did not give a shit if anyone thought he had been weak. No doubt that would be another thing Voldemort hold against him, he thought sourly.

And right now, he had an even bigger problem; Voldemort had told him that he would have a new task for Draco soon.

Another bloody way to prove my loyalty, no doubt, Draco thought wearily.

.....................................................

Hermione had only been staying at 12 Grimmauld Place for the last one week, but she felt as if she had been there forever.

Harry had taken Dumbledore's advice and had remained with the Dursleys during the summer, ensuring that he was protected by the ancient magic invoked by Dumbledore. But once he had reached his seventeenth year, Harry had wasted no time in moving out from the place which had brought him nothing but misery and moved into the house Sirius had left him. The place was a mess and Sirius's mother, Mrs Black's portrait was still as cranky as ever, but thankfully, Kreacher was still in Hogwarts under the watchful eyes of Dobby.

Her parents had not been happy when she had announced that she would join Harry. But Hermione was not anything if not persistent. She had told her parent about Voldemort and the Death-Eaters, explaining the necessity of someone being with Harry at this critical time. Slowly but surely, they had capitulated under her persuasion.

Persuading Harry to let her stay had been almost as difficult. Although he had not commented when she and Ron had told him that they would stay with him instead of returning to Hogwarts, the time they had spent apart had caused Harry to change his mind. He had told her that it was too dangerous for her to remain with him. She had not bothered to argue with him, instead, she had just refused to leave. Now, a week after she had turned up at his doorstep, he finally accepted her presence.

Hermione stood at the doorway, watching Harry as he stared thoughtfully at the tapestry of the Black's family tree on the wall. She could hear Mrs Black, muttering rudely about mudbloods from her portrait, but Hermione had heard it so many times since she had arrived that it had become a background noise to her.

"Small world, isn't it? Everything and everyone seems to be related somehow. Except me. Everyone who had anything to do with me seem to just die," he said softly.

Stepping into the room, she said consolingly, "Harry, it's not your fault."

Sighing heavily, he said, "Yeah, not directly maybe. But indirectly, definitely. The bloody boy-who-lived lives while everyone close to him die."

"Stop that! You've got to stop feeling this way. It'll do you no good when you have to fight Voldemort," she persisted.

"Can't help it, Hermione."

She put her arms around his shoulders, feeling his tension ebb slightly as she rubbed his arms. "It's going to get better, Harry. It can't go on like this forever," she said with more optimism than she felt.

"I hope so," he said quietly, not sounding convinced at all.

Plastering a smile on her face, she said brightly, "Well, let's go get some food. I'm starving."

He turned to her with smile which did not reach his eyes. "You go. I'm not hungry."

Trying to hide her disappointment, Hermione said, "I'll bring something back for you, okay? Just in case you need it later."

Nodding half-heartedly, he said, "Thanks."

................................................

Hermione sighed when she shut the front door behind her, hardly noticing when the entrance magically disappeared following her exit.

Harry's attitude worried her, but she had not idea what to do. Having Ron around would probably help, but his parents had decided that he would be better off back in Hogwarts. She understood their actions. Much as she missed Ron, she knew that Mr and Mrs Weasley only wanted what they thought was the best for their son.

Walking down the street, she headed towards Kings Cross. It was a weekday night and the place was dotted with a small number of partygoers, all merrily going about their businesses. She ignored the calls of some drunken group of young men as she crossed the road.

She was only seventeen, but after what had happened in the last one year, she felt much older than her age. Most girls around her age would be more worried about exams and boys, not worrying about the safety of the Wizarding and the Muggle world.

Hermione smiled. It was not as if she had no interest in boys. Ron had caught her fancy for a while now, but the git had been exceedingly blind where she was concerned. She could hardly do anything now considering that she would not be seeing Ron for a while. The earliest she could see him would be the Christmas break, if he was allowed to come out. Otherwise it would be just before their NEWTs in June next year.

She was glad that Professor McGonagall, who was now the Headmistress of Hogwarts, had given her special permission to take the exams. Her outstanding academic performance in the last six years had convinced the Headmistress that Hermione would manage to study from home, and just turn up to Hogwarts a month before the exams to do a crash course the practical side of the subjects.

Lost in her thoughts, she tripped over a pair of legs which was sticking out behind a stack of unwanted cardboard boxes, sprawling ungracefully on the pavement. Cursing out loud in irritation, she picked herself up and brushed the dust off her clothes. She was glad that this particular part of the street was not as crowded, and that nobody seemed to have noticed her tumble.

Turning around to give the owner of the offending pair of legs a tongue-lashing, she snapped, "What in the world do you think you're doing down there? I could have-" She broke off suddenly with a gasp as she noticed the state of the owner of the legs. Swallowing hard, she forced herself not to scream.

The man was covered with blood, lying there unconscious. There was no telling if he was dead or alive. Hermione knew that she probably needed to check first before she called the ambulance.

"Please be okay," she muttered under her breath as she knelt beside him. Wanting to check his pulse, she lifted his hand. The metal box he in his hands fell to the ground with a clank.

Holding his wrist with her fingers, she noted with relief that there was a strong pulse. She had to go call an ambulance now, she thought when she saw the box.

Wanting to put it back in the man's hand, she picked up the box. Her eyes widened in shock as a sensation of tugging appeared around her belly.

She realised too late that the box was a portkey.

..............................

t.b.c.