Something unexpected

Ron awoke. His head hurt. He glanced around his cell warily and gasped in surprise when he saw Harry regarding him from a corner, through half-lidded eyes. He slowly sat himself upright, massaging at his temples with the tips of his fingers.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.

"What do you mean, what am I doing here? I was here first. What are you doing here?" Ron retorted, his dark mood deepening.

"Ron, this is no time to get all pompous on me," Harry responded, his gaze hardening.

"Pompous? Who's pompous? I was here first!" Ron yelled and turned away slightly.

"Anyone would think you would have been glad to see your best friend," Harry riposted to Ron's back.

"Glad? GLAD?! You didn't even stick around to watch my duel yesterday! A little moral support might have been nice! And while you were at it, you might have been able to stop me getting thrown in a nineteenth century jail cell! And does the fact that I got hit on the head really hard by a guard and was beaten in the duel mean nothing to you? Some friend you are, Harry Potter. At Hogwarts it was always 'Harry Potter, wonderful, Harry fucking Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived and that red-haired person who hangs around with him from time-to-time. You know, what's his name - Don Beasley?' Do you realise how difficult that was, being a celebrity's best friend? Do you know that people had given up caring by the time you had won the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup for the seventh year in a row? I am fed-up of playing second fiddle, Harry. With you I was nothing, a non-entity, a sidekick. Girls didn't want to be with me, but would gladly have slept with me if it meant they could have spent five minutes alone in a room with you." Ron finished his rant and took a few deep breaths. There was a cold silence in the room once more.

"I am sorry," Harry began, "that this," he pointed to his forehead, "is such a disability to you. I will remember that in future and won't offload my unwanted fame onto you. Sorry that these past seven years have been such a trial for you." He turned to face the wall. Both boys glared at the wall for a few minutes.

"So, why are you here?" Ron asked curiously.

"Ron, I will give you two options: either A; shut the fuck up and never bother talking to me again for as long as you live, or B, my personal favourite; figure out a way to get out of here and then shut the fuck up and never bother talking to me again for as long as you live," Harry answered coldly, still facing the wall.

Ron looked out the window and yawned. It was nighttime. He lay down on his straw mattress. "Night, Harry," he mumbled sleepily, appearing not to have heard.

"Piss off, Ron," came the reply.

******
Draco spluttered and turned red. "No, it's not!" he protested, his voice rising several octaves, "it's cleaning stuff, for the bathroom," he finished lamely.

Hermione snorted and looked at him with an amused gaze. His blush deepened along his cheekbones and he pushed his hair agitatedly out of his eyes. He set her back down on the floor. "Hey! That doesn't mean you get to put me down! I'm not done with you yet!" Hermione exclaimed, a little crestfallen.

Domething and trudged hurriedly from the room. It had sounded like 'see you at dinner,' but Hermione couldn't be sure. She felt a little guilty now. She sighed and picked up the discarded towel from the floor. She wound it around her body and raked a hand through her mass of wet hair. She padded from the bathroom and into her temporary room. Draco had thoughtfully provided her with some clothes to change into. She took her time getting dressed, but she has decided that impeccably dressed though he was, Draco was clearly clueless when it came to women's clothing. She raided the wardrobe and was pleased to discover a trove of forgotten dresses, robes and clothes. She selected one and wriggled into it. Hermione examined herself critically in the mirror.

"Dearie, that dress is just not your colour," the mirror said in soothing tones, "may I suggest a periwinkle blue? Or perhaps a black satin, edged with red lace?"

Hermione flopped onto the bed and took the dress off, admiring the beautiful sewing and intricate pattern. She had to make it up to him, somehow. An idea struck her, and she wriggled into the black satin dress. It was a little on the tight side, however, it did give the illusion of outrageous curves. She smoothed it down with clammy hands nervously. She crossed to the dressing table and raked a brush through her hair, only succeeding in tangling it more. Hermione sighed. "Stratus," she said resignedly, and pointed her wand at her hair.

Now almost ready, she crossed to the wardrobe once more and riffled through for some shoes. There were some, but all seemed far too dainty and made her feet look positively ungainly in comparison. Hermione looked at the clock beside the bedside. Twenty minutes until dinner was served. She had just enough time. She pattered down the corridor in bare feet, the chill of the stones creeping through her body. She skidded down the main staircase and turned into the kitchens. Herard at work. Breathlessly, she tapped one on the shoulder, causing it to jump and drop the bowl it had been holding.

"How fast can you make dinner?" she wheezed, clutching at her side.

"We can whip it up in a jiffy, madam, but will you not be dining with Master Malfoy this evening?" the House-elf questioned, looking at her with its bulbous eyes.

"Master Malfoy and I will be dining together, but not in the Dining Hall. I was wondering if you could put me together a picnic basket instead?" she asked, fixing the elf with an ingratiating smile.

"No problem, good lady," the House-elf replied and clapped his hands together. Elves appeared from various places in the kitchen. "This good lady requires a picnic basket," the elf commanded and the elves scattered. Presently, they were back, staggering under the weight of a large wicker picnic basket, which was full to bursting of various delicious looking food items. She took the basket from them and walked from the kitchens.

"Mobili Baskus," she said and the basket floated along after her. She climbed the stairs, taking them two at a time excitedly. She padded lightly down the hallway, coming to rest at Draco's door. It was slightly ajar. She was about to push it open, however, when she heard voices coming from inside. It was the impatient voice of Draco and the angry sounding voice of his father. She stood motionless by the door jamb, listening intently.

"Draco, do not lie to miss still here. The dirty little Mudblood is still in our house!" the angry voice of Lucius yelled from the fireplace.

Draco went silent for a moment and took a deep breath. "Yes, it is true, Father, she is still here," he answered, avoiding eye contact with his father, "but it is not without good reason. I have kept her here so I can bring her to you. Potter and Weasley will be eating out of the palm of your hand just to get her back." He sneered after he said this, jamming his hands into his pockets as he did so.

"Yes, my boy. You are growing up just like your Father. I must be going." Lucius gave a curt wave from the fireplace.

"But wait! Father, where can I find the Portkey?" Draco asked urgently.

Lucius seemed to be rummaging around. He tossed an object carelessly through the flames. It was a brooch with a lion on it. That lion was all too familiar...

"Goodbye, son," Lucius' head disappeared from the fireplace. Draco sank onto the bed, holding his head in his hands.

The Gryffindor Lion! Hermione thought to herself suddenly, I've only seen it before because that's the Gryffindor Lion! And I only know ONE person with that brooch... She gasped aloud. "Ginny!"

Draco's head snapped around and his eyes locked with hers, which were still peering at him through the gap. Hermione shook her head, tears running down her face. She ran.

******
Draco was up off of the bed in an instant. How much had she heard? What must she think of him now? Didn't she realise it was all a ruse? He ran to the door and wrenched it open, catching sight of the retreating back of Hermione far down the passage. Funnily enough, the picnic basket was still following her. She skidded down the main staircase and into the kitchens. Draco ran after her, his shirt-tails flapping.

"HERMIONE!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "HERMIONE! STOP, PLEASE!"


"You bastard," she hissed, "you disgusting, piece of shit."

Draco looked up at her through his damp locks of hair. Sweat poured down his face. "Whatever you heard, it's not true. I just said that to appease my father," he gasped, clutching at his side.

Hermione regarded him coldly. "You aren't worthy of a minute of my time. I fell in love with you and now you are going to turn me over to your father for him to do as he will to me? If this is what love is, so help me, I'll become an old maid. I want no part of it," she said and turned back to the fence.

Draco's mind slowly chugged away, going through the thought processes. Love. Love was such a strong word. "It wasn't true. I wouldn't let him take you," he said, breathing normally now. He straightened up and laid a hand on one of Hermione's, which was clutching the iron railing.

"Why?" came the stony voice.

"Why what?" Draco asked, confused.

"Why wouldn't you let him take me?" Hermione turned slowly to face him, not letting go of the railing.

Draco realised his hand was still on Hermione's and he removed it quickly. "Because...Because..." he fI like you, Hermione. You just aren't the same as you were at Hogwarts. You're better, you have matured," he finished, looking at her in earnest.

"I'm such a 'likeable' girl, aren't I? Just 'likeable'. Not loveable in the least bit," she muttered, looking down at the grass.

"You'll be loveable one day," Draco said, smiling, "you'll age into it, just like others age into beauty. At most at the moment, I think you are quite tolerable."

Draco grinned and Hermione smiled warily.

"I'll never be beautiful, either," she whined, more to herself.

Draco sighed. "Whilst I don't love you, I do like you a lot, Hermione," he said seriously, "you aren't half bad for a Mud-, Muggle-born."

Hermione smiled and let her hand drop from the iron railing. She tentatively wound her arms around his neck and melted into his body. Draco stood stiffly for a moment before placing his arms awkwardly on her waist. He planted a kiss on her head. She raised her head up so her face was level with his and offered her lips to him, offering her heart as well. Draco hesitated. Offering her heart. Draco felt his arms pull away. He couldn't bring himself to do it. To steal her heart and never give anything back in return. He saw Hermione look up at him, uncomprehending. He looked down. And it was then that he did something for the first time in his life. He walked away.

******
Lucius stormed down the corridor, clutching his wand with whitened knuckles. He stopped and stood at the door to Ginny's cell, blocking out the light from the burning torches. Blake looked up and his eyes locked with Lucius'. His arm was still around Ginny and he made no attempt to move it.

"Not intruding, am I?" Lucius asked, in a dangerously sweet voice and ran his fingers up his wand in agitated excitement.

Ginny looked around her eyes widening in fear. She shrugged Blake's arm away from her, aner of the cell.

"Lucius-" Blake started but Lucius held out his wand menacingly. He began to advance on Blake.

"Dear, dear, Blake, what would the Dark Lord think to hear you are disobeying me? Perhaps I should let him know..." He let the sentence trail off. It had the desired effect. Blake looked suitably petrified.

"No! Lucius! You know I'm still hiding from him!" Blake exclaimed, backing away.

Lucius smiled cynically. "Oh! That's right! You are the boy Voldemort's been looking for, for all these years. You are the one who is evading death, ultimately. Your poor father would turn in his grave if he could see you now-"

"Don't you talk to me about my father." Blake's voice became cold. He regarded Lucius furiously.

"Why?" Lucius asked, "it was him who got you into this position in the first place, was it not?" When there was no reply, Lucius advanced still further on Blake until Blake was pressed up against the wall. "I have no need for you any longer, Blake. I am not going to hide you," he hissed, jabbing his wand into Blake's chest.

"No, Lucius! Don't do it! Doing it would only mean you would get caught, too! You wouldn't want to be hauled up for conspiring against the Dark Lord, would you?" Blake yelped.

Lucius paused. His cold grey eyes bored into Blake's blue ones. Blake seemed to relax slightly. "Obliviate!" Lucius said lazily.

Blake's face immediately took on an expression reminiscent of that of dreamy ignorance. "What? Why am I here? Can I go now? Who are all you people?"

"Blake," Ginny whimpered softly.

"Yes?" said Blake uncertainly, "here, don't cry!" He handed her a handkerchief.

"Quiet, Ginny. Blake, you must leave. Right now," Lucius said, sounding impatient, "here, let me escort you to the door..."

Blake to be led away, still looking very puzzled. The door to Ginny's cell slammed shut.

******
"Incendio!"

"Shut up, Ron! I am trying to sleep!" Harry groused and covered his ears with his hands.

"Engorgio!" Ron said, a little louder and swishing his wand around.

"RON! IF YOU DON'T SHUT UP, I SWEAR..." Harry bellowed and sat up. Ron was sitting on the floor cross-legged, aiming his wand at cockroaches on the floor.

"Harry. I am conducting an important experiment. Please shut up," Ron replied, absentmindedly chewing the tip of his wand and sending sparks fizzing from his lips. He pointed his wand at another cockroach. "Tarantallegra!" When nothing happened, he sighed and turned to Harry. "We can't get out of here using magic. Notice how none of my spells worked? We can't use Alohomora to get out. We're stuck."

"Ten points to Gryffindor," Harry said sarcastically.

"So what do you want to do about it?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he replied stoutly and rolled back over and proceeded to go back to sleep.

"Look, Harry, if it's about yesterday, then I didn't mean it. It was in the heat of the moment that I said it," Ron said quickly, flushing a deep red colour most unbecoming to him.

"Forget it," said Harry, still facing the wall.

"But I just wanted to-" started Ron, before Harry interrupted.

"I said forget it. I don't care. Most of it is true anyway. But the least you could have done was told me. I couldn't help it anyway. I suppose you can't relate to me in that sense, I mean, you aren't alive because your parents died for you. You don't have a Dark Lord on your tail doggedly, day after day. You haven't had to contend with the likes of Colin Creevey. You have had a relatively normal life and I really envy that. At least yo by your family. At least they aren't ashamed of who you are," Harry finished.

Ron scratched his head thoughtfully. There came a timid knock at the door. "Piss off," snapped Ron. The door opened slowly and Calantha peeked in warily.

"I've come to free you. You must take leave now! Make haste before they put you to death!" she said, handing them a long cloak each. "Broomsticks are by the garden wall on the other side of the kitchens. From here, take left down the corridor and then up the stairs. Go right from the stairs until you reach the kitchens. Go through the back door in the kitchens, go to the far wall and take the broomsticks. Then leave."

"You expect us to trust you after what you did?" Harry burst out angrily.

Calantha didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed. "I warn you gentlemen, if you do not leave now, my family will raise the alarm. Please go."

Harry stared at her. "Aren't you even going to apologise?"

"Harry-" said Ron.

"You made out that I tried to seduce you. I wouldn't touch you with a barge pole! And I get put in here!" Harry shouted, going red in the face.

"Harry!" Ron warned.

"I cannot believe this family. With all your 'morals' and 'graces', yet you keep people locked up for no good reason. I should've known better, you being Malfoys and all that-"

"HARRY! SHUT UP AND LET'S GO ALREADY!" Ron yelled.

Calantha regarded Harry coolly. "Your little friend is right. I am giving you the chance to escape. Now go, before I send my guards after you!"

Ron seized Harry's arm and dragged him from the cell, wrapping himself in his cloak as he did so. "Run," Ron muttered and they sped down the corridor, never looking back.

******
Blake was chivvied out of the gates by a man whom had only identified himself as Lucius. He felt the gates shut behind him, his mind turned back to the sobbing red-haired girl he had seen before he had left. He was certain he had seen her before, yet he did not know her. He sighed and trudged down the muddy path, not knowing where he was going. Presently, he came to a small village, alive with activity, the houses packed together, so there was a feeling of kinship, closeness, and community. The villagers looked at him quizzically in his bizarre somewhat futuristic robes and he stared back, gawping at their unashamed drudgery.

"'Ere, we don't none of your sort round 'ere! Clear off!" shouted one of the villagers in a thick accent.

Blake neatly sidestepped a fresh pile of horse dung and carried on down the street, puzzled by this reception. He stopped suddenly, outside a ramshackle cottage on the village's furthest reaches. If he ventured any farther, he was sure he would become lost. He sighed and leant up against the cottage, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"...and another thing: next time we get stranded in the nineteenth century, never, under any circumstances try and get off with anyone, despite how gorgeously attractive she is. God, don't you know anything?" an angry voice sounded, somewhere off in the distance.

"Calm down," came a second voice, "you're shouting loud enough for the two of us. And I didn't try to get off with her! She tried to get off with me! I don't throw myself on women like that! And you're hardly one to talk, you got yourself involved with a Wizard's Duel, you stupid pillock!"

"At least I didn't betray my friend and go and get off with some historic tart!" the voice exclaimed. Blake opened his eyes. It seemed to be coming closer.

"Ron, for the last time, I DID NOT SHAG CALANTHA!" the second voice screeched. "Now can we please get on with what we inadvertently came here to do: save Ginny?"

Blake's head jerked up. That name - where had he heard it thought hard to himself. With that strange man. In those dungeons. He straightened up and walked towards the two men who were still arguing. He approached them cautiously.

"...I never thought you would have been such a manwhore, Harry. And was sleeping in the bed next to me HALF-NAKED absolutely necessary? If you were gay, you just could have said, rather than used such a blatant act!"

Blake raised his eyebrows slowly. "Erm..." he tried, but the men named 'Harry' and 'Ron' seemed not to notice.

"GAY?! I am most certainly NOT gay! I can't believe you thought I was gay!" Harry huffed, looking extremely angry.

"Excuse me..." Blake tried again, but to no avail.

"Well, you have to admit it, Harry, you are kind of...well, camp," Ron responded, looking at the floor.

"SHUT UP!" Blake bellowed, losing his temper. Both Harry and Ron stared at him in amazement. "This Ginny you speak of...Does she have red hair?" Blake asked, looking from one to the other.

Ron nodded. "Yes, she has, she's my sister and she's missing." His eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Then, I think I can help you..." said Blake.