Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Sunday, Bloody Sunday

S. Miriam Hornbach

Chapter One — How Long Must We Sing This Song?

"I can’t believe the news today,

I can’t close my eyes, make it go away.

How long, how long must we sing this song?

How long, how long?"

-U2, "Sunday, Bloody Sunday"

Saturday, October 25, 2003

He was being followed, as he slipped invisibly down the dungeon corridor of Hogwarts. He wasn’t sure whom Voldemort had sent to keep watch on him, but it was becoming clear that his cover was about to be blown wide open. Do I try to repair my cover and risk death, or do I get off the job right now, change my name, and disappear, Draco mused. In his two years of spying for Dumbledore, since the fateful day he’d been responsible for his classmate’s death, he’d been able to warn countless others. A dozen or so Death Eaters had been killed by their Master in an attempt to smoke out the turncoat, but no one dared suggest that Draco Malfoy, a member of Voldemort’s Inner Circle, would be the one to turn. After all, the manor he’d inherited when his father, Lucius Malfoy, had suicided in Azkaban the previous year had been given as a gift to the cause.

He shouldn’t be attending the meeting this night, but not attending would mean the death of a legend, the man who’d given him a second chance. Draco dropped the invisibility glamour as he approached the door to the Potions laboratory, pondering how to pass on his message without alerting the wizard on his tail. A footstep sounded in the corridor — was his tail really THAT pathetic? — and Malfoy had turned to face the sound with his wand in hand before he’d really had time to think about it.

A shocked woman stared back at him, short and rather plain looking with her brown hair twisted into a severe plait. To make it worse, she recognized him from somewhere. "Draco Malfoy...? What in the bloody hell are you doing at Hogwarts? I thought you were -" She gulped, eyes widening rather dramatically.

Before she could reach her wand, Draco had already shouted out, "Ligare ceruchus," which caused a length of rope to shoot from the tip of his wand and bind her hands behind her. She let out the beginning of a shriek, which Draco quickly put a stop to by clamping his hand over her mouth. "Scream and it’s the last thing you’ll do. Understand?" At the woman’s nod, he continued. "Who the hell are you?"

Removing his hand from over her mouth, he grabbed her upper arm and kept moving toward the Potions room. She answered indignantly, anger flashing in her eyes. "I’m not good enough to be recognized by the Amazing Bouncing Ferret, then?"

"Granger," he snarled, opening the door of the laboratory and shoving her inside. He quickly closed the door behind the both of them, hoping his act would keep the man following him from seeing anything. "You’ve managed to put yourself in the middle of something you shouldn’t be involved in — yet again. Congrats, Granger, you get to be a hostage."

Draco clamped his hand back over her mouth before she had the chance to respond and dragged her in the direction of Snape’s office. The commotion had most likely awakened the Potions Master, as the office door flew open before Draco had the chance to kick at it. Wrapped in a long, Slytherin-green robe, the annoyance on Snape’s face slowly changed to alarm. "Malfoy, let the Professor go." Draco’s silver eyes met Snape’s calculating black. The message was clear to both, time to brush up on the acting skills.

"Granger? A Mudblood professor? I’m ashamed I went to school here, Severus." Hermione struggled valiantly at Draco’s remark. With an inward wince, Draco moved his hand from her mouth to her throat, wrapping his fingers around her neck in warning. "Don’t even think about it, Granger. I can arrange for you to be the first of your friends to meet Potty’s parents first-hand."

"Draco, just let her go. It’s me you’re after. You found out about the spy, didn’t you." Snape stepped forward slowly, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Let her go and I’ll tell you who it is."

Hermione’s eyes widened in shock — obviously Dumbledore hadn’t made her partial to secrets of his resistance against Voldemort. "Don’t tell him anything, Profes -" She gurgled loudly as Draco’s grip on her throat tightened by more than a little.

"You’ll be telling me whether or not I let her go. Get the Veritaserum from your top right shelf, now. It had better be the real bottle — and I promise you, I know which bottle that is — or she’s dead." An empty threat, of course, but only Snape was aware of it.

The impassive expression on Snape’s face remained, but he and Draco had planned for any possible interruption in their business over the years. Today would be a real chance, but the only one that could save Draco’s position, and possibly his life. Snape stepped back into his office and Draco clamped his hand over Hermione’s mouth again, lowering his mouth to her ear, trying to keep a cruel smirk plastered on his face. "Listen carefully, and pretend I’m telling you how I’m going to torture you or something like that. I’m going to slip a parchment into your pocket, which MUST get to Dumbledore before Sunday morning. Act well your part, I’ve been followed."

Luckily, the shock in her eyes could be attributed to whatever horrible things he’d supposedly told her. Draco moved his face back a bit, covering the movement of his free hand by shifting his whole body a bit. "How would you like me to do that, Granger?" The delivery completed, he moved his wand back into his hand.

Finally grasping how delicate the situation was — or maybe just angry over being ordered around — Hermione launched into her role and sunk her teeth into Draco’s hand savagely. Howling in a pain, which wasn’t at all pantomimed, he yanked his hand away from her mouth and slammed his fist into her stomach, sending her crumpling to the ground in a gasp for breath. He’d meant to pull the punch, but after the damage to his hand, she really did deserve it.

Draco kept his wand trained on the door to Snape’s office, waiting for the rest of the well-planned scene to act itself out. True to the script, Snape came barreling around the door, shouting a complex spell. Draco’s swift "Stupefy!" sent the dark-haired man crumpling to the ground. Time to make his escape, then. Someone was sure to have heard his yelp of pain.

With a barely contained sneer of distaste, Draco wiped the blood from his hand onto Hermione’s sleeve. "Watch out, Mudblood. If you try something like that again, there will be more consequences to deal with than a few bruises." To emphasize his dual points, Draco leveled a kick at her spine and cast the glamour over himself again. Invisible, he made his escape from Hogwarts, hoping desperately that his message would reach its recipient.