Turning Points

Turning Points: Chapter Eleven

"The good guys always do the right thing--even if they don't want to."

"So you're saying Harry's the good guy?"

"In the perspective of good versus evil, yes."

"Mm... and what about the bad guys?" she asked.

"That, m'dear, would be us."

Draco and Hermione were seated in a booth at the back of a bustling restaurant in Hogsmeade talking about what would be mentioned at the meeting when they got sidetracked.

Hermione had voiced her worries that Harry would decide he didn't want to have anything to do with Voldemort, just like he had said, but Draco, in his infinite wisdom, had brought up the fact that Harry was bound by the laws of Gryffindor goody-goody's all over the world to do the right thing--regardless of the end result.

Attempting to get her mind on other, less stressful things, Draco changed the subject. "About the meeting, Hermione..."

"Yes?"

"I think we should go as ourselves. Or you as this you, anyway," he said.

"I don't know, Draco. That might be a little bit too risky--Blaise is going to be there."

"Look, it'll be fine. He doesn't remember your first offer and it makes sense for them to know at least one of their leaders by face, if not name."

"You seem to forget, Malfoy, that I am the one in control. You're merely my second-in-command. And a second-rate one, at that," she added as an afterthought.

"I don't think so, Granger," he growled. "We're either equals or you're on your own."

"That's just bloody brilliant. I was fine with planning this before you came along and I'll be just as fine without you."

Draco stood and began walking away, furious he had opened his big mouth and even more pissed off that she'd just let him go so easily. He wasn't generally one to get attached to people, girls in particular, so he was not used to the feelings of sadness and rejection overwhelming him.

"You're the one who'll suffer, you know," she called after him. Draco stopped dead in his tracks and waited for her next words. "I mean, you're the one stuck at the head of the line to become a Death Eater like Daddy Dearest. There's no way to get out of that, as far as I can tell. You'll be just another lackey to a disillusioned half blood bent on the purification of a race he can't even technically claim he fully belongs to. But have fun, Draco. I know I will."

He finally turned around and headed back to their table, once again passing several booths full of curious patrons, all looking back and forth between himself and Hermione. He gave them all a glare that told them to bugger off and not be so nosy. When he arrived back at their table, Hermione was still sitting almost exactly as she had been before. Draco's smug face adopted a shocked look for the first time since he could remember.

There was an evil glint in her eyes and smile on her face that slightly frightened Draco. He was used to his father's threats and demands, but the maliciousness Hermione's face was capable of conveying made Lucius' tortures seem like child's play. Her blue eyes shone with anger and it worried him almost as much as it scared him. He was okay with Hermione being twisted and evil--it excited him to some extent, but the level of utter cruelty that shone in her face was definitely not something the Hermione Granger he knew was capable of, even as mad at Voldemort as she was.

"So," he said, "you're in charge and I'm chopped liver, to quote an American Muggle?"

"Basically, yes," she replied, nodding her head.

Draco was glad to see the evil look was quickly retreating from her face and she was soon back to looking like the Hermione Zabini he had met earlier that day at the Shrieking Shack. "I hardly find that fair," he drawled.

"That's your prerogative. Just as it's my prerogative to not care. It's my plan so I'm in charge." She smirked.

"And what about after the plan has been completed? What then?" he asked.

"Then we can form a new plan."

"No, I refuse to allow you to claim total control over me."

"Draco, you can refuse all you want. I don't care. But what is, is, and it will bloody well stay that way!"

"No. we do this together, as a team, equals, partners..."

"You do realize you're pushing your luck here, right?"

"Malfoys don't push their luck. We take charge and succeed."

"That is a load of Slytherin bollocks," she replied.

"Yes and your parents must have been so disappointed when you were sorted into Gryffindor."

She snorted. "I believe they cried for days, yes."

"So?"

"So what?"

"So... we're equals in this little game we're playing?"

"Draco..." she warned.

"No, darling, you agree to us being equals or I'll go to Dumbledore under the influence of Veritaserum and tell him everything." Draco smiled a nasty smile and gave her a look that said, 'You know I'll do it, too.'

"Find, Malfoy."

'And another point is awarded to Draco Malfoy,' he thought, triumphantly. Feeling sure of himself, he asked, "Now that that's settled, who am I going to be after I take the polyjuice?"

"Hah, if you think I'm going to tell you everything just because you blackmailed me into letting you rule by my side rather than below me, you're bonkers. That will be one of my surprises for you."

"Come on, Hermione, that's not fair at all. I need time to analyze the person's movements and language to make it seem real," he said, attempting to appeal to her logical side.

"Oh, you'll have no trouble with this one, Dray-kie."

***

"POTTER!" he roared, looking at himself in the mirror. "You turned me into POTTER?"

"Yup," she replied.

"You are one very sick and twisted wench! My body has been defiled! Now I know why my father swore off Zabini women. The whole lot of you is barking mad!"

"Yup."

Draco eventually turned away from the dirty mirror entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, framed with rusty snakes, and ended up coming face to face with Moaning Myrtle. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell Hermione was trying her hardest to not snicker at his predicament.

Groaning, he said, "Hello Myrtle."

"Ooh, Harry Potter! Why haven't you come to see me lately?" she asked, already starting to break out in sobs. "Nobody cares about poor old Myrtle, stuck in the U-bend all day with nobody..." Myrtle trailed off and began full-out wailing, heading back to her stall.

Draco, still mad Hermione had turned him into his worst enemy, called out to stop her. "Wait, Myrtle! I care! In fact, when I die, would you mind too terribly much if I shared your toilet?

If Moaning Myrtle noticed the mischievous glint in his eyes, she dismissed it. "Ooh! Really?" she asked, her ghost-like face turning colors into what Draco and Hermione could only assume was a blush.

"Yes, Myrtle. It'll be great fun!" he said with his voice full of mock enthusiasm. Myrtle only giggled, flew back to her toilet and submerged, splashing water all over the place.

Hermione was thoroughly confused. "How did you know she offered to share her toilet with Harry?" she demanded.

"Did she? I was just trying to make the wanker enjoy his last few weeks with Moaning Myrtle following him all over the place declaring her love for the four-eyed snot."

"Hah, I like the fact that you're still harboring animosity toward the so called 'four-eyed snot' even though he's the one who will end up helping us the most."

"Yes, but he will help us the most by dying. And that is unwittingly, on his part. I don't see you acting all giddy and friendly towards him either. You are the one intent on ki--"

"DON'T SAY IT! Somebody could be listening!" she hissed.

"In the girl's loo? Or more specifically, in the girl's loo in which Moaning Myrtle resides? Get it together, Granger. Even you can't be that thick. Or I didn't think you could be anyway."

"Put a cork in it, Malfoy, and let's go." She picked up a red and gold flask for around the neck and handed it to him.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "It's Gryffindor-ish."

"And you are currently Harry Potter and need to take a certain medicine every hour once the meeting starts. For all that talk about Malfoys being the best, you sure are lacking in the brains department, aren't you?"

"Shut your gob, Granger. Malfoys are the best. I should know, I am one."

Hermione just laughed as she gathered their things and got ready to head to the Room of Requirement to prepare for the meeting, motioning for Draco to follow.

'Stupid bint. I'm not following her like some love-sick puppy. Even if I suppose I technically could be classified as such if I was a lower specimen of man, but that's not the point. I am a Malfoy. I don't take orders from anyone, much less a one-time Mudblood.' Draco was completely beside himself that she had the audacity to laugh at his supreme status as a Malfoy and ignored her request to follow her. Instead, he headed for the Slytherin dungeons for some peace and quiet time, not noticing the menacing and threatening looks he was receiving from the Slytherins currently lounging in the dark hallway.

Hermione, meanwhile, was having a conversation with who she had thought was Draco. When she didn't hear any sarcastic replies as soon as she paused for air, she stopped and turned to look at the figure standing next to her. Instead of seeing the platinum blonde hair of Draco Malfoy, she saw the mousy brown hair and slightly pudgy face of Neville Longbottom, whose emotions flickered between confused and scared before sticking on the latter.

"Oh, why, hello Neville," she said calmly, while inwardly cringing.

"Uh, hi Hermione. Why did you think I was M-Malfoy?" He actually seemed frightened at the thought.

"Oh! Well, he was walking near me and throwing insults, but I guess he got bored and left or something," she laughed, disappointed that she couldn't come up with a better excuse. 'Whoever said that Gryffindors are terrible liars definitely hit the nail on the head with that one.'

"But then wouldn't you have been yelling at him and trying to slap him or... or something else? You were being nice," Neville pointed out. After saying this, however, he blushed and looked toward the nearest portrait, looking as if he wanted to magically jump into it and run far far away. Sir Cadogan was watching the scene unfold with mild interest and seemed to be having a debate with himself over whether or not he should offer to rescue a damsel in distress or not. Apparently, even Sir Cadogan could tell that Neville would never hurt so much as a fly.

After some heavy internal debating, Hermione decided to let Neville in on her plans. "Okay Neville, everything will be explained tonight if you come to the Room of Requirement in about an hour. I think you'll like what's said. Be there! But I've got to run so see you later, okay?" Before he even had a chance to reply, Hermione dashed off in the opposite direction of where she had originally been headed.

As she raced down into the dungeons, she received almost as many strange looks as Draco had. When she finally arrived at the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room, Draco was just about to give the password. "Harry!" she called out. Draco's head snapped up and he looked around, anticipating a nice duel with the wizard.

'This time, he's the weakling,' Draco thought, triumphantly. 'What a sniveling little annoying prat! Crying and moping about like some girl.'

After several seconds of searching and not finding anyone who looked even remotely like Harry Potter, Draco turned and sought, instead, the owner of the voice that had called out the illustrious Potter's name. Spotting Hermione, it all came rushing back to him.

"Oh," he said out loud. "I'm Potter."