Expectations

Expectations Chapter 4

(by elle6778)

Professor McGonagall had made her position clear on his plan. She had not been too keen on it, but she had concurred that it had a chance of working, provided that Harry was prepared. Harry had been told that if he wished to proceed with his plan, he would have to return to Hogwarts, where there would be sufficient resources to aid him in his task.

The concern of endangering the other students had been on Harry's mind ever since Professor McGonagall had told him that. But when Harry voiced it, the professor assured him that Hogwarts was as safe as it could be from Voldemort's attack. She had, however, warned him not to speak of the plans to anyone, for the fear that Voldemort would somehow catch wind of it. After what had happened between Snape and Dumbledore, they simply could not afford to trust anyone lightly.

After the lengthy discussions with Professor McGonagall, Harry had finally accepted that he had no choice but to return to Hogwarts, which brought him to his current situation.

He was standing in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by some of his classmates and some younger students. He had just told them what had happened to Hermione a few days ago. Their reaction was expected. All of them sported a horrified look on their face. He could see Ginny, Lavender and Parvati clinging onto each other with tears in their eyes.

Ron was staring at him with a shocked expression. The shocked look gradually morphed into rage, turning Ron's face almost as red as his hair.

"I can't believe you waited until now to tell me about this. You should have owled me or something the minute you found out that Hermione's missing. I could have floo-ed over to you," the furious teenager ranted.

Wincing at the attack, Harry said, "I'm sorry, Ron. I just didn't want to worry you."

Ron's eyes bulged. "Not worry me? Hermione's my best friend too! She's almost a girlfriend to me. How could you not tell me? You're unbelievable, you know that!"

"Ron!" Ginny hissed in admonition.

Already feeling awful about his role in the entire thing, Ron's words stabbed Harry deep. Straightening his spine, Harry threw back, "Look, Ron. There's nothing much anyone could do. We don't even know where they took her. It was as if she had just vanished without a trace."

"So, are we just going to sit here and do nothing?" Ron asked, his fists clenched tightly at his side.

Harry released an exasperated sigh. "Of course not! That's why I'm back here."

Ginny stepped closer to him and asked, "What are we going to do?"

Harry looked down at his shoes, feeling uncomfortable at having to keep such a secret from his friend. "I've promised to keep it to myself, so I can't tell anyone. I'm sorry," he explained, his face displaying his unease.

"Oh, come on, Harry. It's us you're talking to," Lavender said in a pleading tone.

"Yeah, Harry. We're supposed to be your friends, remember?" Ron said tightly, with a slight hint of sarcasm.

Recoiling at Ron's second attack of the day, Harry forced his voice to remain calm as he said, "I remember, Ron. Professor McGonagall specifically said that I should not tell anyone, including all of you."

Ron snorted. "Like it had ever stopped you before."

Eyes flashing behind his spectacles, Harry retorted, "This is different, Ron. If even a hint of this reaches Voldemort, the plan could fail. This is for Hermione, not for me."

Tired of defending himself, Harry decided that he should just go to bed. Turning away from the rest of his housemates, he headed for the boys' dormitories.

"Harry, wait! Where are you going?" Ginny said, running after him.

"Bed. I'm kind of tired," he replied wearily.

Ginny's worried eyes searched his. "Listen, just ignore Ron, okay? You know what he's like. By tomorrow, he'll be sorry he said all those things," she told him in a reassuring voice.

Harry looked at her, marvelling at how grown up she had sounded. He wished that they could be together, but as he had told her at the end of the last school term, they could not. Voldemort had gotten to her once and Harry had no intention of putting her life in danger again, or anyone else's. Like the way he had put Hermione's life in danger. Anyone who was close to him was fair play to Voldemort. The deranged bastard would do anything he could just to hurt Harry.

Giving her a crooked smile, he said, "It's okay, Ginny. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

Ginny did not look convinced, but she nodded anyway. "Have a good night's rest, Harry."

"I'll try," he said as he walked into the dormitory.

Lying down on his bed, his mind replayed the conversation in the common room. Arguing with Ron had never been pleasant, but this time was much worse. Harry understood that Ron was just worried, but Ron had no right to attack him like he had done. The way Ron went on, anyone would think that Harry did not care what happened to Hermione.

Harry snorted. If he did not care, he would not even dare to contemplate the plan he came up with. If his plan succeeded, he would hopefully not only find Hermione, but also the Horcruxes. But if his plan failed, Harry had no doubt that Voldemort would use the failure to his advantage.

The risk was great, but there was no other way.

...o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o...

Hermione paced the length of the room which Tinky had led her to two weeks ago, feeling completely bored out of her mind.

As furious as she was with the entire situation, she had not been able to stifle a gasp of wonder when she had first set eyes on the room. It was tastefully decorated in a black and beige theme, in complete contrast with Draco's room's black and green décor. The double bed was covered with embroidered beige coloured sheets with an overhanging black and beige canopy which seemed to have been charmed to float softly over the bed.

An archway to one side of the room led to the bathroom, which housed an oval sunken bathtub lined with black slate tiles. A row of gold finished taps protruded from one side of the tub. Hermione had found out since that like the prefects bathroom in Hogwarts, each tap had its own scents.

Humourlessly, she had thought that if she was there under different circumstances, she would undoubtedly enjoy such things. As it was, her current predicament prevented any joy she might have gained from being in such luxurious surroundings.

She exhaled a heavy sigh and went to the windows. She could see the sprawling garden all around the mansion, but she had no way of getting out. That was something she knew for sure now.

Because a week ago, she had tried.

She had pushed the windows open and climbed down, finding support in the vines which clung to the stone wall façade of the mansion. Anticipation of freedom had fuelled her courage at that time, and she had not thought to feel scared at all. When her feet had hit the soft grass, she had instantly bounced up and sprinted away from the house, eager to escape.

She had barely travelled fifty feet before she felt her own feet weighing her down. A few moments later, she had found herself on her knees, her hands grabbing desperately at the trimmed grass to pull herself forwards. Gritting her teeth at the effort, she had continued that way until she collapsed in an exhausted heap, still nowhere near the exit.

Malfoy had found her in that embarrassing position an hour later. It had been the first time she had seen him since the day he had brought her to the Malfoy Mansion. Standing over her with an irritating smirk on his face, he had informed her smugly that she had been wasting her time trying to escape. He had then told her what he had used her hair for.

It had been used to create a binding potion, ensuring that Hermione would never be able to go beyond a certain distance from a magical object which had absorbed the potion. Hermione had been furious at the revelation. Unfortunately she had been too drained of energy to give Malfoy a well-deserved smack.

Hermione sighed as she walked away from the window. She was bored, but at least she had Tinky and some books for company. The house-elf had been a life-saver. He had been the one who had brought her those books to read when she had complained of the boredom.

Hermione knew that by now, Harry and her friends would have probably guessed what had happened to her. She just hoped that they could find her and rescue her in time before Voldemort put into action whatever mad plan he had in mind.

...o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o...

Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody sat on the opposite side of the table to Harry, watching him with both his normal and his blue magical eye. Harry was silent, but his face was scrunched up in concentration as he stared at Moody.

After a few minutes, his hands few up to his head and his lips emitted a strangled sound. The pressure in his head was unbearable.

"Fight it, Harry! Concentrate!" Moody hissed insistently, his eyes not leaving the dark-haired teenager.

"I can't..." Harry choked out before he collapsed breathlessly on the table. This was the third time in a row that he had not been able to resist Moody's mind probing. And he sensed that the older man was beginning to lose what little patience he possessed.

Harry was not mistaken. Moody's lips compressed in a thin, uncompromising line before he slammed his fist down onto the table. The sound reverberated across the room.

"Two weeks! Two weeks and you're still incapable of this," Moody yelled, his grizzled dark grey hair quivering in his annoyance.

Harry shot him a glare, feeling slightly abused. "I did get it a few times," he said sullenly.

"That's not good enough. You need to be 100%. You need to be able to do it instantly," Moody told him. "It's just like the Imperious curse. You can resist that, can't you? So why not this?"

"I don't know," Harry replied, his frustration clear for all to see.

Moody exhaled a heavy breath. "Look, you're doing well in Legilimency, but you also need to master Occlumency for this mad plan of yours to work, Harry."

"Believe me, I know that," Harry said, taking off his spectacles to rub at his tired eyes. He understood what Moody was telling him, but for some reason it was extremely hard for him to get it right every time. And Harry knew that unless he perfected it, he had no chance against Voldemort, who was a much more accomplished Legimens than Moody.

They had been doing this almost non-stop ever since Harry had arrived in Hogwarts. Whenever Moody was not teaching his Defence against the Dark Arts classes, he would sit down to practice with Harry.

Harry knew that he had been performing much better under Moody's tutelage compared to the time when Snape had tried to teach him Occlumency. But he knew that he had to do better. As time ticked by, he had begun to feel more and more under pressure, and his performance began to suffer from it. It did not help that Harry had no idea whether Hermione had managed to survive or not.

But whatever it was, Harry knew he had to persevere. He had no choice.

Looking up at Moody, he said with renewed determination, "Let's try it again."

...o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o...

Draco was sitting in the drawing room, a book lying open in his lap as he stared unseeingly out of the window. Two weeks had passed and still no word from the Dark Lord as to what he wanted Draco to do with the Mudblood.

Patience was not one of Draco virtues. The waiting was beginning to unnerve him. All he wanted was for things to go back to normal, well, as normal as it could considering his circumstances, and for Granger to be out of his life. Although he had not had much contact with her, the Mudblood's presence was distracting. The mere thought of her being in the same building as him annoyed him to no end.

Her presence also brought back painful memories of better times for him. Times when his father had been around, not locked up in Azkaban. Times when his mother did not have to look nervously over her shoulders all the time and did not have to worry incessantly about him. Times when he had been able to walk proudly out of his house, head held high, instead of hiding and evading capture. Times when he had been in Hogwarts and all he had to worry about was whether or not he had finished his homework. Times when the worst thing he had done was to plot against Potter and the Weasel.

Wrapped up in his thoughts, Draco did not hear the approaching footsteps until the door to the drawing room slammed open violently.

Scowling, he snapped his head up to see the person who dared to disturb his contemplations. Draco scowl turned into a frown of worry when he noticed Narcissa at the door, looking distressed.

"Is everything alright, Mother?" he said as he got up, striding rapidly towards her.

"Draco, they're here!" she exclaimed in a tone close to panic.

Alarmed at his mother's uncharacteristic behaviour, Draco held her arms in an attempt to reassure her and asked, "Who?"

"The Aurors. They're here to search the Mansion for you. If I don't let them in, they'll get even more suspicious," she said, her voice shrill.

Draco paled as her words sank in. Thinking rapidly, he said, "Mother, stall them as long as you can. I'll get myself out."

"Draco! The Mudblood!" Narcissa called out, halting his flight to the door.

Draco groaned. In his alarm, he had forgotten about Granger. Turning to Narcissa, he said with a hint of reluctance in his voice, "She'll come with me."

"But..." Narcissa began to protest.

"We have no choice. Our reputation is bad enough without adding kidnapping to the list," Draco snapped impatiently. He really did not need his mother to fall apart on him now. Taking a deep breath, he said in a calmer tone, "Stall them, and I'll make sure I'm not here when they get in."

Touching her hand gently to his face, Narcissa said remorsefully, "I'm sorry Draco. Your father left you with..."

"Father did what he thought was best," Draco interrupted in a clipped tone. He did not even want to think of what his father had left for him to cope with.

"But still..."

"Mother, we don't have time for this now," Draco said in a rush, not wanting to delay any longer. Walking across the room, he took out his wand and pointed it to a painting of a snake curled up on a rock. "Ostendo," he uttered.

The snake in the painting hissed and lazily unfurled itself to reveal the ruby it had been hiding. Reaching out a hand, palm up, Draco said, "Eximo."

The ruby immediately took a three-dimensional form and started to squeeze itself out of the painting as the snake hissed in disdainfully. A second later, the ruby dropped out of the painting with a small pop and landed on Draco's palm.

Draco immediately transfigured it into a ring and slipped it onto his middle finger, his lips curling in distaste. Much as he disliked the thought of wearing something which had a part of the Mudblood in it, he knew that he had no choice. Otherwise it was going to be impossible to bring her with him.

Narcissa gave him a sad look. "Take care, my son" she said softly.

Unused to his mother's uncharacteristic display of emotion, Draco just gave her a curt nod, and then walked out of the drawing room.

Draco practically ran all the way to his room. When he arrived, he dragged out a small trunk from the closet. With a wave of his wand and an incantation, he shrank it to the size of a pack of a matchbox and pocketed the miniaturised trunk.

Time to get Granger, he thought in annoyance.

t.b.c.