Adamo Mortalis

Adamo Mortalis

Chapter 8

Saturday morning dawned, gray and cloudy, the sky threatening to spill rain at any moment. Nevertheless, Headmaster Dumbledore still allowed the students to go to Hogsmeade, cautioning them all to bring their cloaks and stay inside if there was lightning.

But Hermione missed that announcement, along with breakfast. It was just as well--she felt like there was a Cornish pixie rocketing around in her stomach, and knew that she wouldn't have managed more than a few bites of dry toast. She stood, partially dressed, in front of her wardrobe, and ruffled through the meagre amount of clothes she owned. For the first time, she felt as if she understood why so many girls spent so much time concentrating on coordinating outfits and the like. When she was spending time with Harry and Ron, there was no need to worry about her wardrobe--they had known her for too long to be concerned with what she wore. Certainly she didn't care what other girls thought. And Viktor Krum--well, she honestly hadn't liked him enough the right way to pay attention.

Today, though, she wanted to look pretty. She wanted to make a good impression on Seamus for the first thing they would ever do together.

Considering all her options, again, Hermione was finally able to decided on a knee-length black skirt and a gray cotton sweater with sleeves that hit just past her elbows. Glancing outside, she took her dark gray cloak from the hook on the wall, slipped on kneesocks and shoes, and headed down the stairs, through the common room, and towards the front doors.

Hermione was so involved in her own worries that she didn't see or hear Harry until he was standing right in front of her.

"Hey," he said, and then seemed to do a double take as he took in her appearance. "Er...you look...different."

"I'm not sure whether or not to take that as a compliment," she replied lightly, tilting her head and looking up at him. He seemed to be studying her face, now--she hoped that the cosmetic charms she'd applied frugally weren't too obvious, or overdone.

"It's a good different," said Harry, and looked away. "So...I assume you're going to Hogsmeade, then? I meant to ask you yesterday, but then Quidditch practice ran late."

"Oh...er," said Hermione hesitantly. This was the moment she had been hoping to avoid. "I am, but...Harry, I'm going with Seamus. He asked me a few days ago."

"Hmm," said Harry. He seemed to be thinking, and still wasn't looking at her. "Well...er...have a good time."

"I'll probably see you there," she said, feeling guilty for no distinguishable reason. "You and Ron will have a good time."

Harry snorted. "If he ever shows up. I haven't seen him today."

"Right," said Hermione, not really listening, because she had caught sight of Seamus' golden locks from across the crowded hallway. "I...I have to go, but I'll see you later."

"Sure," said Harry, and finally turned to face her again. He looked different, suddenly, but then his usual set expression came back across his countenance, and he gave her a half-smile that would have made the readers of Teen Witch Weekly go faint. "You...you look very nice."

Even though she could feel the rush of heat in her face, Hermione said lightly, "That one I know is a compliment. Thank you." She walked away from him, towards Seamus, who was smiling eagerly at her.

"Hi," he said, and put his hands in his pockets. "Well, shall we go?"

"Sure," said Hermione, in what she hoped was a casual tone.

"You...er...look...pretty today," Seamus said.

She laughed. The way he stumbled over his words was endearing. "That's what Harry said. I...I'm glad you noticed."

Seamus fingered a curl that had not managed to stay up with the rest of her hair. His fingers brushed her cheek and sent a little thrill down her spine. "I mean, you always look nice, but today you look especially good," he corrected. "Um. I'm not good at--with--girls."

Giggling, and feeling self-conscious about it, Hermione said, "It's all right. I'm used to Harry and Ron, and they're complete--well--boys, I guess, just as you'd expect them to be."

Now Seamus laughed too. "I know that for sure. I mean, I live with them."

Hermione gave a mock shudder. "I don't envy you that."

Feeling a light touch at the top of her back, she resisted the urge to jump or squirm and allowed Seamus to lead her out of Hogwarts' front doors and into the cloudy day. She could tell without looking that Harry's eyes were on her as she as Seamus left Hogwarts.

***

Ginny listened to Professor Dumbledore speak with mixed emotions. She still hadn't spoken to Draco since they'd kissed, and he hadn't made any effort to seek her out that she knew of, though she would have been hard to find. Charlie had spent a considerable amount of time explaining Lupin's case to her, and, as he was her favorite brother, next to Ron, she was glad that he would be spending time in Hogwarts, even if it meant that he would be looking after her. It seemed natural, somehow.

But now--now, Charlie was working, presumably, and Ginny shoved away her breakfast plate with one hand. She scanned the room, again, for Draco, but his silver-blond hair and gray eyes were nowhere to be found.

Sighing, Ginny pushed back her chair and momentarily pressed her forehead against the tabletop. She felt as if she had ruined it, somehow, wrecked the only good thing she'd had going for her.

Something touched her back, light as a butterfly's wings, made her start and hit her head on the table.

"Oh--I'm sorry," a smooth, drawling voice apologized to her. "Are you all right?"

"Draco," Ginny said shakily, drawing in a deep breath as she felt her head with her fingertips. "No--I'm fine."

"What time do you want to go?" Draco said to her, under his breath. People were staring at them.

"To--to Hogsmeade? Do you still want to go?" Standing, Ginny pushed in her chair and followed him around the table, ignoring the gazes of her classmates.

Once they were outside the Great Hall and away from the gawks of their peers, Draco turned to her and shrugged elegantly, a gesture that seemed to sum up his personality succinctly. "Of course. That is, if you want to."

"I thought...but what about the other day?" said Ginny hesitantly. "I mean...I...we..."

Draco glanced around, drew her around a corner, and took her hand. "I didn't mean to frighten you," he said seriously. "I thought you needed some space, and would come find me if you wanted me."

Ginny looked down at her shoes for a moment, then glanced quickly back up at Draco. "No. I...I thought since you didn't come after me..."

He smirked, although it was not malicious. The typical expression made Ginny's heart leap. "Guess we were both a little shy, then," he said, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. Almost involuntarily, she reached up to finger it, and found that it was soft and fine in her fingers, delicate as the down in feather pillows, or a flower petal.

"Professor Snape makes extra-strength conditioner for me," he told her mock-seriously. "Just in case you were wondering."

Laughing, Ginny fell into his arms. "Let's go," she murmured to his chest, and as she put her arms around him, he felt the silver bracelet he had given her catch on the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. He didn't jerk, but his skin stung where it had pulled, and the metal against his neck was cold as ice.

***

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Ron sought out Harry in the crowded front hallway where many of the school's students were meeting. He caught sight of Harry's tousled black hair above the throngs of people, and elbowed his way through to find his friend.

"Hey," said Ron indifferently, and when Harry didn't turn to look at him, repeated it again.

"Hi," said Harry, sounding glum, and barely audible among the laughing, chattering students.

"What happened?" asked Ron. "You look like Milly just ate your broomstick."

"Strangely, that hasn't happened yet," Harry said sarcastically. "No, I'm fine. What's up?"

Ron hesitated. "I think...I'm going to have to bail on you for Hogsmeade today."

That made Harry turn to face him. "Why? You were so excited about it just the other day, and you never miss a trip to Hogsmeade."

"I know," Ron said, avoiding Harry's glance. "But...I just...have other stuff to do, I guess."

"Ron," said Harry, in an oddly calm voice, "I can tell you're lying."

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Ron hesitated again. "Okay. Fine. But if I tell you the truth, will you promise not to tell anyone?"

"Of course," said Harry automatically, which Ron knew to mean that Harry would keep his promise. Harry was loyal to no end.

"Okay, so on the first day of school..."

***

Wandering mindlessly around a shop called Quidditch Quantities, Hermione wondered if it had been worth it to accompany Seamus to Hogsmeade. She'd enjoyed making conversation as they walked along the path to the town, but now she was bored. So far, all he had done since they arrived was say he wanted to spend a few minutes in the store and dashed off to talk with Dean Thomas and the Weasley twins, leaving her by a display of replacement broomstick handles.

She paused by a sign advertising the SkyThunder, which she knew to be the broom upon which Ron had injured himself earlier in the summer at Diagon Alley. Hermione half-smiled to see that the poster read, "New and improved version II! Now safer than ever."

The desire to find out the reason for Ron's accident gnawed at the back of her mind, along with the cause of his mysterious dreams, Professor Lupin's charge of murder, and the incident with the Dark Mark on the train to school. If she only had time to sit down and try to figure out the common link between them all--

"Hey." Seamus was beside her again. "Sorry about that; I'm all done now." He grinned, and gestured at the sign she had been staring at. "Thinking about buying a SkyThunder, Hermione?"

Nodding seriously, she replied, "Well, you know all about my legendary flying skills. I'm thinking of trying out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team next year."

Seamus coughed in a way that sounded suspiciously like a suppressed laugh. "I do believe I remember how you flew in our beginner lessons first year."

Hermione shook her head ruefully. "I'm not sure that tree will ever be the same. I guess I should just be glad it wasn't a Whomping Willow."

"I--I could teach you sometime," Seamus offered shyly. "I mean, I have a pretty decent broom, although it's somewhat dated now--a Nimbus 2000--and you could borrow one of the school's, or Harry's, or something. It would be fun."

Hermione was surprised to find that it did sound fun. She hated flying, partially because it wasn't something that could be learned from a book, and partially because she had never learned it properly otherwise and it scared her. But she trusted Seamus, and she might need to know how to fly some time in her life.

"All right," she agreed. "When I have some free time, perhaps. Not during the week--but maybe another weekend."

He rewarded her with a lopsided grin that made her cheeks flush. "I'll look forward to it."

***

Climbing the stairs to the Gryffindor dormitory slowly, Harry wondered why he felt so abandoned. Ron had just confided in him, for the first time in the entire school term, and it wasn't as if Hermione was eloping to Mexico with Seamus. She had gone to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum a year ago, and while that had surprised him, it hadn't made a real impact on his feelings for her. Going to Hogsmeade with Seamus was certainly less serious, and yet...

Harry consciously pushed that thought to the back of his mind and focused on what Ron wanted him to do. Reaching the top of the stairs, he entered the room he shared with the other Gryffindor fifth-year boys and pulled out his trunk from underneath his bed.

Ron had promised to pay him back, but as Harry looking at the sparkling pile of coins that was really only a small portion of his wealth, he could care less. He piled some coins together on the floor and pulled out his wand.

"Reductio," Harry murmured, pointing at the money. It was an easier way to carry wizarding currency--the Galleons, in particular, were weighty and cumbersome to lug around.

But instead of shrinking, the coins began to swell up, puffing in the way that Muggles inflate balloons. Stricken for a few seconds, Harry scrabbled for his wand, which he had dropped on the floor, and said fiercely, "Finite Incantatem! Finite Incantatem!"

"Hey, Harry, I thought you left al--" Neville stopped short as he walked into the room, where Harry continued to shout spells frantically. Neville fumbled for his own wand, quickly managing to stop the growth of the coins. Harry would normally have laughed at the sight of their dorm room full of cauldron-sized Galleons, but seeing as he had caused it, it wasn't as funny.

"Reductio," said Neville, and the money gradually returned to its normal size.

"Is your wand broken, Harry?" Neville wanted to know, when order was restored. "And...er...were you intentionally expanding your money?"

Frowning, Harry replied, "No, I was trying to shrink it--you know, everyone does that. And it's a first-year spell. I'm not sure what went wrong."

Neville offered to further perform the Reduction charm on the coins for him, but Harry declined. He didn't want to have another accident in a shop when he tried to bring them back to their usual size.

Absently piling money into a bag with one hand and holding up his wand for examination with the other, Harry mentally ran over the list of things that could go wrong when performing incantations. It seemed unlikely that his money was cursed, seeing as he was the only wizard his trunk would open for, and he knew he'd said the spell correctly. It must be his wand, then. He could probably get it looked at somewhere in Hogsmeade.

Shaking his head, Harry put his trunk away and left.

***

Ron's fingers shook as he poured the required measurement of powdered belladonna, the next-to-last ingredient, in the thickly bubbling cauldron. He felt guilty about and was distracted by how he had lied to Harry--something he'd hardly ever done before, and certainly not to the same magnitude.

But he knew that Harry wouldn't really ever be able to support his love for Fleur. Harry would see it as irrational, impossible, unrequited--all the issues that Ron himself had already overcome. He couldn't explain the full truth to Harry, or he would never get the help he needed. Besides, Harry had known for weeks now that Ron was hiding something. Ron knew that he needed to confide in Harry in some way to lower his suspicion. So he had explained things to him--basically, anyway. Harry believed that Ron was in love with Lavender, but at least he had agreed to help Ron brew a love-revealing potion, which was the most important part.

Real love potions were outlawed, as the manipulation of feelings was seen as a breach of privacy and the effect irreversible. Ron, however, firmly believed that Fleur didn't need a love potion to learn to love him--only a little help to allow her to see the light.

The last ingredient in his brew was the most crucial, and it was the only one he didn't have in his regular supply of ingredients for Snape's class. It was a paste made of Flobberworm livers, which were extremely tiny and difficult to find. The paste was incredibly expensive and hard to come by; Ron's only hope was that one of the lesser-known stores in Hogsmeade would have it and Harry would manage to fenagle a tiny bit of the paste. Only a drop was required.

It had been essential to tell Harry, Ron told himself. He needed his friend to get the ingredient so that he could finish concocting the potion, and the reason he couldn't get it was that he didn't exactly have the coins necessary on hand. Ron promised himself that he would pay Harry back sometime, but he didn't know exactly when it would be. While the Weasleys weren't as desperately poor as they had been because of the moderate success of Fred and George's mail-order joke shop, they still weren't well-off. (Mrs. Weasley treated the whole affair with a very dubious eye, but she had to like the extra money she could spend on her children.) The family hoped that once Fred and George graduated and moved into a space in Diagon Alley that the business would really take off.

Ron caught a glimpse of himself in a cracked mirror and winced. He was in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom--still the only place he felt he could confidently hide something--and while the decaying interior certainly didn't benefit his complexion, he could see that he still looked ill, and it was more than just the dingy lighting. He had been taking the Dreamless Sleep Potion from Hermione sometimes, but it made him so drowsy and took so long to wear off that he felt he couldn't take it more often than every couple of days. On the nights he didn't, however, dreadful dreams ravaged his sleep and made him tense upon awakening. He still had hope that Hermione would sometime brew him a potion to allow them to determine what his problem was, but it seemed to have been shoved to the back burner. And what with his own focus on Fleur, he hardly thought about anything else any more.

Checking the potion, Ron noticed with satisfaction that it was turning the yellowish-purple color it was supposed to be. Now all he needed was the flobberworm liver paste, and Fleur would soon be his for the taking.

***

"You look awfully nice today for just going to the Three Broomsticks," Ginny remarked, her right hand clasped in Draco's left. They had waited for most of the other students to leave, lagging behind the mobs of their peers. Draco walked briskly along the path to Hogsmeade, and Ginny had to take large steps to keep up with him.

He glanced down at her and smiled. "I thought maybe I could take you out somewhere special today. Is that all right?"

"Er," Ginny stuttered. "Draco, I'm not...dressed appropriately."

Draco stopped walking, faced her, and looked her up and down. She flushed, feeling as if he could see through her clothes.

He shrugged and took her hand again. "I think you look fine. Besides--I'm sure I can get us in. I'm a Malfoy."

"If you say so."

"I do. Trust me."

Not wanting to question his judgment, Ginny shut her mouth and dutifully trailed along, although she felt as if she were an unwanted puppy, something that is always underfoot.

Draco led her to a restaurant that was simply called The Plaza. If Ginny had been with her family, she might have gone wide-eyed at the sheer elegance of the building, and pointed and whispered at the magnificent floor-length curtains, the deep wine-colored carpeting, the beautifully upholstered Victorian-style chairs--all of which were visible from the entrance. Ginny tightened her grip on Draco's hand.

"Relax," Draco said lightly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "There's no reason to be nervous, Gin."

Nodding, she tried to believe him, and stood up a little straighter. I have nothing to be ashamed of, she told herself.

An oily-looking maitre'd in a coal-black tuxedo gave Draco and Ginny an appraising look when they reached the front of the line.

"Your names, please?"

"I'm Draco Malfoy," said Draco, with his unfaltering self-confidence, looking as upper-class as Ginny had ever seen him.

"And Ginny--er, Virginia, I suppose--Weasley," said Ginny authoritatively.

A ripple of surprise went through the restaurant staff nearby. All the waiters looked up, and the maitre'd lowered his spectacles and eyed Draco.

"I'm sorry," he said in a voice that seemed to cast a frigid chill over the room. Ginny shivered. "I don't believe we have any tables available at the moment."

Draco did a double take, although he wouldn't look at Ginny. "Why, of course you do. I see one right there--"

"Mister Malfoy," said maitre'd firmly. "We do not have tables available."

"You bastard," Draco hissed, and grabbed the shocked man by the front of his shirt. "I'm a Malfoy."

"Draco, please," Ginny begged, near to tears, putting a tiny freckled hand on his shoulder. "Let's just go. If they don't want us here--"

"You'll be hearing about this later, I assure you," Draco growled. Casting a last venomous glance at the maitre'd, Draco took Ginny's hand in an almost-painful grip and marched away.

***

"Oh, can we stop at the bookstore?" Hermione asked as they neared Durgan's, run by an eccentric old man notorious for stocking out-of-print volumes. "I just need to look at something for a minute..."

"Sure," Seamus said gamely, and held the door open for her. "Don't forget that we have to be back at school for dinner, though."

"Of course," said Hermione distractedly, missing the sarcasm in his tone. She was glad when Seamus ambled away to see if there were any Quidditch-related books.

"Excellent," Hermione murmured as her hand fell upon a volume entitled Dream Interpretation, with, in smaller print in the right-hand corner, "Includes a Special Section on Determining if Your Dreams are Really Visions." She had been disappointed to learn from Madam Pince that Hogwarts' copy of the tome had been checked out since 1794.

Hermione had a suspicion that Ron's mysterious nightmares were more than just his overactive subconscious. Before she made the potion to help him remember his dreams, however, she wanted to be able to interpret what he told her. This was just the thing.

With hesitation, Hermione flipped the book over--slowly, for it was already disintegrating in her hands, having been published in 1579--to see the price. She made an exasperated sort of huff when she located the price tag of 20 Galleons. While Hermione's family was relatively well-off, they were not rich, and she knew she couldn't really afford to waste that amount of money, if she even had that much with her.

Seamus was suddenly behind her. "Find what you were looking for?"

"...Yes," she answered. "Unfortunately, it's a little on the expensive side."

Gently prying the book away from her, Seamus glanced at the cost. He said tentatively, "I can get it for you if you want."

"Oh--no, I couldn't let you do that," Hermione said hurriedly, and tried to take the volume back from him. But he held on, giving her a mischievous smile, even as the tips of his ears turned red.

"Just let me get it for you," Seamus pleaded. He lowered his voice. "I--my family--not to brag or anything, but we're well off, you know what I mean? Money's not really a worry for me. I'd like to get you something you want. No strings attached."

"I--"

"I'll take that as a yes," Seamus grinned at her, and whirled around to find the counter. Hermione stood by, helpless, as he dug out the numerous gold Galleons necessary to pay for it and slid the stack across the counter to Mr. Durgan.

"Dream interpretation," Durgan said slowly, pulling out a paper sack for the book. "Doing some research, miss?"

Seamus started upon hearing the subject of the book. He hadn't even glanced at it.

"Er--yes," said Hermione, hoping her embarrassment wasn't obvious and that "research" would be a good enough answer for Seamus. She wasn't sure that she could come up with anything better.

"Good luck," Durgan said cheerfully. "Come back any time."

"Will do," said Seamus, and held the door open for Hermione, who was attempting to take the bag away from him. He followed her out on to the street and asked, "Why do you want a book about dream interpretation, anyway?"

"I'm just--curious," Hermione lied. "Er--you know me. I'm a bookworm. It might come in handy someday, anyway. And if it doesn't, it's still fascinating to read about."

Shrugging his shoulders, Seamus, "If it works for you, I guess that's fine."

"I meant to say--thank you," said Hermione awkwardly. "That was very nice. I appreciate the gift."

Seamus squirmed uncomfortably. "Well--you know--like I said, we have a lot of money. Might as well spend it to make someone happy."

"I really do appreciate it," she said seriously. On impulse--she felt giddy, suddenly--Hermione reached out and twined her fingers with Seamus'. He wouldn't look directly at her, but she saw the corner of his mouth turn up in a smile and the tips of his ears turned vibrantly pink.

***

Coming out of the Potions supply shop--the Flobberworm liver paste had cost him 10 Galleons for the smallest amount possible, but he was glad it was there at all--Harry stopped dead on the store's doorstep. Only about ten feet in front of him were two people, obviously in Hogwarts uniforms, holding hands. Harry had already recognized Seamus' blond hair, and the girl's dark curls were obviously Hermione's. Seamus was carrying a bag with the word Durgan's scrolling up and down on it, and Hermione was struggling to take it from him. Above the crowd, he heard her say, "Seamus--come on. I know you paid for it, but I can carry it. Really."

Harry's stomach clenched.

They can't possibly have seen me, Harry told himself. I'll just walk behind them until the go in somewhere, then take the path straight back to school.

Falling in behind a gaggle of giggling third-years, Harry tried to look inauspicious. He ambled slowly along, pretending to be interested by various shops and displays every couple of blocks, but always keeping on eye on Seamus and Hermione. It wouldn't be the worst thing to run into them, but he knew it would be horribly awkward, and he wanted to avoid it as much as possible.

They were still holding hands.

It was a relief when Harry finally spotted a small dingy-looking shop below a sign that read: "Wand Repair--All Makes and Models." Feeling self-conscious, Harry stepped inside, keeping his hand on his wand inside his cloak, glancing around as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.

"May I help you, dearie?" Very suddenly an elderly witch was at his side. She grinned crookedly at him, and Harry offered her a nervous smile, his eyes darting around the room. There were cobwebs everywhere.

"Er--yes. I--my wand--it backfired on me this morning." A little reluctantly, he pulled it from his cloak and handed it to her, trying not to show his hesitation.

"Hmm," she muttered, feeling it all over with her fingers. "Are you positive it was your wand, and not somethin' else?"

"Er--yes," Harry said, realizing as he spoke that he was repeating himself, and stuttering. "I know I said the spell right, and the object I was casting it on couldn't have already been cursed."

The old woman eyed him, then his wand again. She walked, limping slightly, through a door that spelled out, "Employees Only," making Harry slightly nervous that she'd never come back and he'd be short a wand. But she returned a brief moment later, holding a jar of purplish dust. It might have glittered, but the lighting was too dim for Harry to tell.

"Normal wands attract spell dust naturally, like a magnet," she explained to him as she set down his wand and pried open the jar. "If there's somethin' wrong with it, the spell dust won't come to it."

Harry watched carefully as she picked up a small amount of the spell dust and tossed it in the air with a flourish. Drifting downward slowly, it settled around Harry's wand, hovering in a rather disturbing manner. She picked up the wand and waved it around, and the purplish cloud followed it.

"Hmm," she murmured again, seeming to be very involved in her work. She went behind the door again, this time returning a moment later with an ordinary magnifying glass. Winking at him, she said, "You'd be amazed how helpful some ordinary Muggle things are. Most of what they've invented is rather silly, but I find this to be particularly useful."

Leaning against the counter, Harry shifted his feet but kept his eyes on the old woman as he examined his wand closely. Setting down her magnifying glass, she offered his wand back to him. "I can't find anythin' wrong, dearie. I don't see anythin' on the outside, and if the spell dust is correct, than nothin' is wrong with the inside."

"Oh," said Harry awkwardly, although he rejoiced internally to have his wand back with him. It felt comfortable, like an old worn sweater, and seemed to slip in to his hand as if it belonged there. "Well--er--thank you. I--I'll see how it does in the next few days."

She nodded at him, and winked again. "You come back here, you hear me, if you have any more trouble with it."

Offering up an embarrassed smile, Harry fled the store. He felt awfully foolish. Probably it had been something else, and his wand would be fine now--but he wasn't quite sure enough to test it in the middle of a crowded street.

Harry's mouth watered as he passed the Three Broomsticks on his way back to Hogwarts. Checking his watch, he decided he could stop in for a minute to have a butterbeer. He had plenty of time, and nothing better to do, and there was no sight of Hermione and Seamus.

Ducking inside the door, Harry chose a small table in the corner and slid down in the booth. Out of nowhere, he had a headache.

***

"Draco?"

"Hm."

"Where are we going?"

He stopped short, and because he had been pulling Ginny alongside him, she did too. They had crossed over from the upper-class part of Hogsmeade to a much grimier neighborhood. Ginny had assumed he knew where they were headed, but now, in a dirty back alley that she'd never seen before, she wasn't sure. And Draco was clearly upset--and likely, Ginny thought, to not be thinking entirely rationally.

Running a hand through his hair in a nearly-violent gesture, he said, not looking at her, "Hell, I don't know. I don't know where we are, or where I'm going."

"...Oh," she said, in a very small voice, still apprehensive about angering him. She glanced around nervously, noticing what seemed to be a movement by a trash can near her. Shuddering, Ginny pulled her gaze away from the alley and looked straight at Draco.

"Nothing like that has ever happened to me before," said Draco tightly, still unable to look at her. He kicked at something unidentifiable by his foot. "I'm a Malfoy. Things like that aren't supposed to happen to me."

"I'm sorry," Ginny whispered, as a hot blush flooded her cheeks. She was staring at her shoes now.

After a moment's silence, Draco said, "No. Don't be." He turned his gray gaze on her, the current shade of his eyes matching the ever-threatening clouds above. "I...have things happened like that before, to you?"

Ginny nodded, color still touching her face. "Just once. My father got a promotion a few years ago, just a minor one, but he wanted to take us all out for dinner. It was in the summer, so all my brothers were home. We all got dressed up in our best clothes and went to a nice place outside Diagon Alley, but they refused to serve us. It was even before we told them our name. I think they recognized him, or else they just looked at us all and judged."

"I can't even imagine what it must be like to live like that," said Draco, under his breath, but it was not derogatory. She didn't hear him, but recognized that his tone was sympathetic, and saw something soften in his eyes.

Ginny gave him a curious look. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."

"It's all right," he said lightly, and although she could tell that the anger was still hiding just below the surface, he put it away with a forced smile. "Do you mind going to the Three Broomsticks?"

The tense set of Ginny's shoulders relaxed a little bit, and she beamed up at him. "Of course not." Her eyes brightened mischievously, and she said, "Now we'll just have to figure out where we are and how to get out."

A half-smile crept slowly on to Draco's face. "Oh...right. Well...we'll figure something out." He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side. "If we don't, it's all right. I don't mind just wandering for a while, as long as I'm with you."

Ginny glowed with the compliment, and Draco planted a kiss on her forehead as they turned back towards the main road.

***

"What's it like, in Ireland?" Hermione asked, sitting across the table from Seamus, each of them with a butterbeer in their hand. "I've read a lot about it, but of course I've never been there."

Seamus shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. "I don't know. I've lived there for so long that it doesn't seem particularly exciting to me any more, but I understand how other people love it. The landscape is beautiful, of course, and my family does actually live in an old castle, although it's not as big as Hogwarts." He grinned, making her stomach flip-flop. "I assume you've read about the leprechauns?"

"I have," Hermione said carefully, "although I'm not sure I believe it all. It's a bit difficult to separate fact from fiction."

"Well, they don't actually leave pots of gold at the ends of rainbows," Seamus said, stretching his arms behind him. Hermione allowed herself to notice that they were a deep, healthy tan, more muscled than Harry's, and lightly freckled. Flushing, she took a sip of butterbeer.

"They're pretty similar to the garden gnomes here, really," Seamus continued. "They're a little bigger, I guess, but they do dress in all green. A Muggle hasn't spotted one in years, but I guess they're still pretty big on the story."

Hermione smiled. "Yeah, it's true. It's the kind of thing I thought was silly before I knew I was a witch." She giggled. "Then I had to start believing in all the the things that fairy tales are made of."

"It must have been strange," Seamus said seriously, clear blue gaze focusing on her face, "to learn about the wizarding world when you were accepted to Hogwarts. I mean, you grew up as a Muggle. What happened when you found out?"

Looking down into her drink, Hermione realized that she was definitely lightheaded, despite the fact that butterbeer really contained only a small amount of alcohol.

"Well," she said, still thinking about the butterbeer, "obviously, it was hard to accept at first. They actually sent McGonagall out to my house, to talk to me and my parents, because they knew I wouldn't have any idea about Hogwarts or anything. She actually had to transfigure a few things in our house to animals and such before I took her seriously, and my parents were even harder to convince. But they finally believed, and after a few days they decided to let me go."

Smiling at a memory, Hermione said, "My first time in Diagon Alley was incredible. I hardly even think about things like that anymore." She tilted her head to one side, realizing that she was probably rambling but not caring. "It's kind of sad, really."

Seamus grinned. "And look at this. You're sitting at a table with a wizard-to-be, in the flesh, right here."

Hermione leaned across the table in a falsely dramatic manner and looked him in the eye. "Promise you'll let me have your autograph later?"

Adapting a cocky air, Seamus said, "That's right. I'll sign it with my peacock quill, and you can sell it for a million Galleons when I'm famous."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "For what, precisely? I don't see anything special about you."

He winked at her. "You haven't seen everything yet, Miss Granger. Give me some time."

***

After leading Ginny by the elbow to a table in the Three Broomsticks, Draco said to her, "You order whatever you want. I'll be back in just one minute," and went to talk to Crabbe and Goyle, seated across the restaurant. Ginny ordered a butterbeer each for her and Draco when Madam Rosmerta came over, watched her classmates interact for a bit, and was just beginning to get bored when Harry came over and sat down across from her.

"Hey," he said lightly, and she smiled at him, a real smile, one that made the corners of her eyes turn up and the apples of her cheeks flush slightly. "So I saw you with Mal--er--Draco."

"Oh...right," Ginny said slowly, remembering that only a few of the Gryffindor girls had known about her and Draco. "Er...yes. I'm here with Draco."

Harry hesitated. "Is he...is he--I mean, he treats you nicely, right?"
"Of course," said Ginny, stung. "I wouldn't be...with him, otherwise."

"I don't mean to pry," Harry apologized hastily. "I just..."

"I understand," she told him softly. "You were looking out for me. It's all right."

He grinned, and Ginny had to admit from the sigh she suppressed that she still found her first crush attractive. "Well, and I'd take any excuse to punch Malfoy."

"Right," she said wryly, and then more seriously, "Well, you know, he's...changed, Harry. He's not like he used to be."

"I guess so," he said doubtfully. "I just don't...trust him, is all." He fiddled with something on the table. "Promise you'll let someone know if he ever...mistreats you?"

Ginny hesitated. Just behind Harry, she could see Draco coming back, and knew she should wrap up the conversation quickly. "Promise. Er..."

"Good." Harry's shoulders seemed to relax a little. "He can be a jerk, sometimes, you know. I wouldn't put it past him to hurt you."

Oh, no. He definitely heard that, Ginny thought, struggling for a response. Draco was right behind Harry now. "Yes. Right. Good. Well--"

"It just seems like the kind of thing he'd be prone to do." Harry looked at the table. "And...you know we all care about you, Ginny."

"Of course," she interrupted hastily. "Harry, maybe--"

"What about this?" Draco asked, and Harry whirled around, the color draining from his cheeks. "Does this seem like the kind of thing I'd do?" he said, his fist flying out to slam in to Harry's face.

***

Bullocks, Harry thought, when Draco's hand made contact with his nose. He heard as well as felt the sharp crack, and knew it was broken. The pain made tears come to his eyes, although he blinked them back. A second later, the blood came gushing out, running down his face and staining his white t-shirt.

Madam Rosmerta's stern voice cut through the chaos that had instantly erupted. "What's going on here?" She spotted Draco, his arm now protectively wrapped around Ginny's shoulder, and Harry, with a crimson mess puddling on the table in front of him and spreading on his clothes. "Both of you boys, out, now. Don't come back. I'll be placing a call to your headmaster."

"Bugger," Harry heard Draco mutter, although most of his own concentration was fixed on his broken nose. Ignoring the blood, he gingerly prodded it, and felt where the break in the bone was. He stood up, a little woozily, grabbing the back support of the booth for support.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione had come through the crowd somehow, biting her lip in anxiety. "You've got to go back to Hogwarts and get that taken care of. Do you think it's--"

"It's broken," said Harry, swallowing blood. "I felt it when he hit me, and I can feel it now."

"Here, come on." Taking his elbow, she pulled him along, pushing through the people that had gathered around.

"What about Seamus?" Harry asked, when they had made it out on to the street.

"I told him I was going to go see if you were all right, and he said he'd catch up with me later," Hermione said, trying not to look at the blood that was still streaming from Harry's nose. He'd pulled his t-shirt up now and was trying to use it to stop the flow. "Are you--can you make it back? That's--I mean--it's a lot of blood." She swallowed.

"I'm fine," he said thickly. "A little dizzy, but I think the bleeding's slowing down."

"Harry," she said quietly, "why'd he punch you? I thought--I thought he had changed this year. I mean, he's with Ginny now--"

"You knew about that?" Harry asked, and too late, Hermione realized she shouldn't have said anything.

"Well--yes," she admitted reluctantly. "But--she seems happy."

"Yeah," said Harry, and Hermione could hear that his tone was thoughtful, even though he sounded congested, as if he had a bad cold. "I...well, I was just asking her if he was treating her right. I insulted him, I guess, and then he was right behind me." Harry sighed, although it sounded like it hurt. "Bastard."

"Oh," said Hermione, a little distractedly. After a minute she said, "Well, he was kind of trying to protect her, I guess. And Harry--you shouldn't have said anything, even about him. It's Ginny's business, and if she's happy with him, then we have to let it be."

"I know," he said. "But...it's just so strange, the way he's different. I'm not sure I trust it, even if she does. And you know all the problems that she's already had..." Harry felt as if he should be angry with Draco, but his nose was too painful and distracting to feel very upset.

"Maybe," Hermione said vaguely, and then more loudly, "Oh, no. I left my book at the Three Broomsticks. I hope Seamus remembers to bring it."

"Why'd you let him buy it for you, anyway?" Harry asked, then closed his eyes for a minute briefly as he remembered that he wasn't supposed to know that.

"Well, I--" Knitting her eyebrows in confusion, she said, "How do you know about that?"

"Er," said Harry, trying to come up with an excuse. "Well, I--I was walking behind you, and--"

Letting go of his arm, Hermione turned to glare at him. "Harry, were you following me?"

"I wasn't, exactly," he said miserably. "I just--saw you--"

"Then why didn't you come over and say hello?" She crossed her arms. "It's not like we're strangers."

"Hermione--"

"No." She cut him off, and wouldn't look at him until they reached the castle. "I assume you can make it to the Infirmary," she said, seeming to fixate on a point beyond his left shoulder instead of looking directly at him. "Bye."

"Hermione, wait--"

But she kept walking. Harry stood for a minute, debating whether or not to chase after her, but his broken nose throbbed and he recalled that he was covered in blood, and instead walked slowly inside to the Infirmary.

***