Sometimes the Dragon Wins

SOMETIMES THE DRAGON WINS

By Krisis

Chapter 4 - The plan

The Gryffindor common room was uncharacteristically silent. The only audible sounds were the rustling of pages and the humming of minds devouring knowledge.

Even Harry and Ron, who were doing their Divination homework, were concentrating, except for the occasional whisper. They were learning to conjure spirits in class - the science of séance, as Professor Trelawney referred to it.

"I'm going to say my spirit's name was Sir Marmaduke Porkington," Ron whispered to Harry, who grinned.

Hermione also smiled. Doing homework in the Gryffindor common room reminded her of old times.

"I'm going to say my spirit was an omen of death," Harry whispered back. "That will make her eat it up."

Hermione was doing Arithmancy, and as always she was absorbed. The numbers and calculations made her forget all her problems. Somehow, she felt that life should be like an arithmetic calculation. Logic, the correct steps and a ruler would be the ideal in solving a problem easily.

But life was not like Arithmancy, much as Hermione's logical mind wanted to see it that way.

She sucked on the nib of her feathered quill. Take Draco's kiss. That had been supremely illogical. And then him snidely walking away. That didn't fall under her definition of a correct step. It was an incorrect step.

Lots of cold, calculating, incorrect steps back to the Slytherin common room.

If that had been an Arithmancy problem she would have deducted marks from him.

She felt strangely calm about it though. Wanting to kiss Draco Malfoy was also an incorrect step. Luckily, she reminded herself, she hadn't been emotionally involved. It had only been an errand for Harry.

She bit the nib indignantly and glared towards him. He was treating her like a whore, which he could sell to people in exchange for information.

He looked young and innocent, screwing up his face as he stared at the Divination assignment.

She felt a pang of pity for him. He hadn't looked innocent for two years now.

He hadn't been either carefree or happy since Cedric Diggory's death and Voldemort's return. She suspected that she'd also taken some of the childlike wonder out of him by being a petulant, know-it-all, smart-ass girlfriend.

She sighed. Perhaps he'd had reason to...

The Gryffindor portrait snapped open with a bang. Hermione jumped in surprise and stared as Professor McGonagall appeared through the portrait. Her face was white and her mouth was tight. In contrast, her normally airtight hair bun was in disarray. Her eyes were the worst. They were wild.

On calm, strict Professor McGonagall this was frightening. Hermione had never seen her looking so bewildered. And so helpless.

She clapped her hands loudly.

"Gryffindors, listen to me!" her voice was harsh.

She had their full attention.

"Our headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, has been arrested on charges of kidnapping the minister of magic, Cornelius Fudge."

Hermione felt her ribs heaving painfully.

McGonagall swallowed. "The other heads of the departments of the ministry have also disappeared."

Ron let out a hiccoughing sound. Hermione put her hand on his arm. Ron's father worked for the ministry as the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department.

"We don't want you to panic, but we suspect that they will arrest the rest of the Hogwarts staff as well."

McGonagall smiled feebly. "Don't worry children. Remember the old adage - innocent until proven guilty. We will get out of this soon enough."

Hermione's mouth was rather dry. She would have actually been happy at the thought of no teachers, except that there was no chance that professor Dumbledore had kidnapped the minister.

It could mean only one thing.

Voldemort.

A glance towards Harry confirmed that he was thinking the same thing. His jaw jutted angrily.

"Now," Gryffindor's head of house continued, "I suspect that they will come to arrest us in a few minutes. Professor Dumbledore has already been detained. You will be looked after by ministry wizards and aurors for the time being, and those who wish to go home," here she glanced at Ron who was still looking stunned, "Can do so, until otherwise notified." She rubbed her hands together and shivered as if it were cold. "Now, if by any chance we are not deemed innocent within three days, a temporary staff from the ministry will take over classes until we come back."

Hermione stared.

"Before I go, remember that you are Gryffindors. Do not panic. Do not be afraid. Stay in the common room whatever happens tonight. Every one of you here is brave and noble. Act like it."

With that, and one last strangely gentle smile at them all, she turned on heel in a dignified manner and walked out of the portrait hole.

There was a traditional moment of stunned silence, followed by a sudden buzzing as the Gryffindors started worrying and speculating.

Hermione dug her fingers into the armchair she was sitting on and ran professor McGonagall's speech through her head.

Ron and Harry were just as silent, each preoccupied with their own troubling thoughts.

So, Dumbledore had been arrested for kidnapping Cornelius Fudge. And the other ministry heads of department had also vanished. And apparently the Hogwarts staff was responsible for this?

She shook her head.

"Bloody hell," Ron growled.

It was true that Dumbledore and Fudge were on bad terms. Fudge refused to believe that Voldemort was alive. Dumbledore believed that all the magical inhabitants of the United Kingdom should have been warned in order to be able to defend themselves, but he'd been rendered useless without the support of the minister. They'd been having frequent squabbles according to the Daily Prophet.

Dumbledore was an obvious suspect, but he would have never done that. The man was made of honesty and integrity.

Hermione looked up at Ron.

"My dad," he said simply. "Do you think he's all right?"

"He has to be," Harry said fiercely.

"You think it's..." Ron started.

"Voldemort," Harry snarled. "Who else? Dumbledore?" he laughed mirthlessly. "McGonagall? Flitwick? Hagrid?"

"Yeah, I know. It has to be You-Know-Who," Ron said resignedly. "You think he has my dad?"

Hermione squeezed Ron's arm. "I'm sure he doesn't. Anyway, the aurors will find him. Everything will be fine."

"Ron?" Harry and Hermione looked up to the forlorn face of Ginny Weasley, Ron's sister.

Ron looked up at her soberly. "He'll be fine Ginny," he told his sister. "Everything will be fine."

Hermione couldn't stand not knowing what was going on. She stood up and walked to the portrait and out of Gryffindor, wondering whether her same words had also sounded so hollow and unconvincing.

****

"...Before I go. You're Slytherins. You are ambitious. You are smart. Nothing stands in your way. This shouldn't either. Hold your heads up and make your house proud." Professor Severus Snape, head of Slytherin house, had a strangely crooked smile on his face as he turned and left the Slytherin common room with his cloak sweeping behind him.

There was a traditional moment of stunned silence.

"Whoohoo! How cool is that?" Darren Gallagher, a 5th year yelled, jumping onto a chair. "No teachers!"

"Pa-a-arteee!" someone else yelled.

Draco rolled his eyes. Typical. He glanced around the suddenly writhing common room and saw Bryce Avery, Edward Nott and even Crabbe and Goyle looking strangely contemplative.

'Children of the Death Eaters,' Draco thought grimly.

They knew that Dumbledore had definitely not been behind Fudge's kidnapping. That was as likely as, say, himself kissing Mudblood Granger.

Or himself being the Dragon.

Except that this was really, really unlikely.

Edward Nott, whom Draco suspected had the mark on his arm wore a carefully blank expression.

'He knows what's going on,' Draco realised. He ambled towards Edward, putting on an equally neutral expression.

Most of Slytherin, or scratch that, most of Hogwarts thought that Draco was a Death Eater. Edward Nott most probably also did.

If he could get some idea what was going on...

"Draco," Edward said politely. He was a quiet, scrawny boy with eyes that made him look ten years older than he really was. And he never raised his voice or provoked anybody.

"Edward," Draco nodded coolly. He was a much more public figure than Edward was. Few people knew who Edward was, in fact. But behind that overlarge nose and aged eyes a magnificent mind lurked. Draco admired his intelligence immensely. Not that he'd ever show it, or say it, of course.

Edward, never losing his dignified calm, softly intoned the words, "I was born to dance."

Draco almost burst out laughing, and then realised that this was probably some sort of code.

Yes! He remembered eavesdropping on his father and Goyle's father saying the words.

"Hail, hail, the conquering Mariner," Draco replied, feeling rather ridiculous. What a dumb password.

Edward relaxed visibly. "So you are one too."

Draco assumed he was referring to the Death Eaters.

"Yes," he lied smoothly.

"What is your task in all this?" Nott asked.

Draco didn't falter for a second. "I'm just a spy."

"Ah yes, of course," Edward said. "They wouldn't want to let you into trouble."

"Why? What are you doing Edward?" Draco asked casually.

"I'm a warder," Edward replied. "I'll be watching over the prisoners."

Draco squirreled the information away for further consideration.

"What do you think about the operation?" he inquired, leaning against the wall.

"I think it's incredible. I'm proud to be part of it," Edward said, sounding like a stunned soldier.

"No, what do you really think about it? Voldemort's not here. Tell me."

Edward blew out his breath. "It really is a good plan. But there are risk factors. Like the taking of Hogwarts."

"True," Draco said sagely. His head was spinning. The taking of Hogwarts? Were they mad?

And prisoners? Why were the Death Eaters going to look after the prisoners?

"Good luck Draco," Edward said sagely.

Draco nodded, feeling perturbed. It would be very suspicious if he tried to get more information out of Edward right now.

He needed to think.

He strolled towards the portrait and was unsurprised when his way was barred by Pansy.

"Draco, where are you going? You heard what Snape said, we're not allowed to go out tonight. And anyway, we're going to have a wild party." She waggled her eyebrows in an attempt to look suggestive. "We could be having some fun."

Draco scowled. "I don't want to have fun with you Pansy. That wouldn't be right. You're the millstone around my neck."

"But Draco, you can't go out!"

Draco flipped his wand out of his pocket and twirled it in his fingers lazily. "Do you want to be cursed? What will it be Pansy? Boils, warts, a horrible disfiguring disease?"

She moved aside sullenly and he walked out of the Slytherin common room towards the Hogwarts grounds, humming to himself.

He loved being nasty. People never expected it. They were always willing to give you a second, third, hundredth chance at being nice. They expected you to grow a conscience sometime. He loved disappointing them.

He took a deep breath of Hogwarts air and attempted to clear his mind. It was reasonably easy these days. He focused on his love for Pansy and found himself confronting a blank space in his head.

He sat on the grass peacefully.

All right. Fact 1: The teachers and Dumbledore had been arrested for kidnapping Cornelius Fudge and his minions.

There was no way in hell that Dumbledore or any of his staff had done that. It had to have been dad, Voldie and the rest of the old gang.

But why had Dumbledore and his staff been accused of something that was obviously not their work?

Fact 2: Edward had said that the Death Eaters were taking Hogwarts. How could they do that publicly? Well, with Dumbledore and the ministry gone, few people could probably stop them.

But it still didn't all make sense.

He momentarily wished that he were a Death Eater so that he could know what was going on. Whoever had said that ignorance was bliss was ignorant.

"I thought you'd be here."

He frowned. Granger. Another one who couldn't stand being ignorant.

He looked up at her tiredly. He wasn't in the mood for word games or smart little parodies right now.

"What are you doing here Granger?"

"I need to talk to someone who knows what a Death Eater thinks like," she said, but quietly. She sat down next to him.

"They've taken the teachers. I saw them."

"Who took the teachers?" he asked sharply.

"Well, that's what we don't know. They look like aurors and officials..."

He turned to look at her. "Are you implying that they were not aurors and officials?"

She sighed softly. "I don't know. Harry thinks Voldemort is behind this."

"He's right," Draco said absently.

Death Eaters posing as aurors and officials?

Granger had an idea there. And then it hit him.

The only way Voldemort and his cohorts could take Hogwarts peacefully was by posing to be other people. Like officials. Or aurors. One word fixed in his head. Polyjuice Potion.

The Death Eaters were going to take over Hogwarts peacefully. The outside world, still scandalised by Dumbledore's apparent atrocious behaviour would not notice that Voldemort was ruling Hogwarts.

Draco could just imagine Hogwarts being governed by the dark lord. Random torture of Muggle-borns, unreasonable beatings and a vegetarian menu, excepting the occasional chicken.

And Potter. Draco whistled through his teeth. God have mercy on Potter's wretched soul. There was no being on earth that Voldemort despised more than Harry Potter. Voldemort would probably carefully remove every one of Potter's fingernails before skinning every inch of his skin off his body. And then...

Even Potter didn't deserve it.

Drat Voldemort and dad and their ways of messing up one's day.

"Granger, we are in deep shit," he said. Hermione looked at him inquiringly.

"Tell your boyfriend to run like hell."

"Who?" Hermione asked, genuinely puzzled for a moment. "Oh, Harry."

"Yeah, him. Voldemort is coming to Hogwarts."

"Damn. I thought it would be something like that."

"Tell him to leave Granger. Trust me, the dark lord hates Potter more than he could possibly imagine."

And hadn't the subject of Volders' hate for Potter bored him at mealtimes. Draco disliked the poor bugger as well, but Voldemort's hate was so intense, so consuming, that it made him forget reason.

"I'll tell him," Hermione said, getting up abruptly. "But he won't leave. He'll think of himself as a coward if he runs."

"Bloody idiot," Draco muttered.

Hermione almost nodded her head. "He's just a good guy, Malfoy."

"Good guys don't win battles, smart guys do."

She kicked a knoll in the grass and cleared her throat. "Malfoy, everything will be all right, won't it?"

He frowned. "No Granger, it won't."

She sighed. "I figured that too."

And then she was gone.

*****

Lucius Malfoy's shoes made ominous "thunking" noises on the stone floor of the dungeon.

"Albus, Albus, Albus," he said, shaking his head slowly in an attempt to imitate the torturer in his favourite book.

How he'd always wanted to be an inquisitor. It had been his dream even as a little boy.

"Tssk, tssk. If you struggle, it will only be more painful," he said, fingering his moustache just as Brutus in the book had done.

He was presently looking at a pair of dangling feet. He allowed his gaze to travel upwards to where Albus Dumbledore was hanging with his wrists tied to the ceiling.

From below, Dumbledore was a pair of splayed, bare feet, a large stomach and a cascade of white hair.

He looked quite peaceful from Lucius' vantage point. "Ah Lucius. I was expecting to see you sometime."

"You won't sound so calm once your wrists begin to burn," Lucius snarled. "And your whole body becomes numb from being suspended in one position..."

"I'm aware of the after-effects of dangling from a ceiling," the headmaster of Hogwarts said quite pleasantly. "I want to know why I am hanging here though, if you would enlighten me? My first jailer was quite unresponsive. He tended to laugh brutishly or slap me if I asked questions."

Lucius rolled his eyes. Typical Crabbe.

His heart suddenly wasn't into the mean torturing thing anymore.

"Albus, you are here because you are unfit to rule the school. Your ideologies of good are old-fashioned and..."

"I'm quite aware of what you think of my ideologies, Lucius," Albus interrupted. "I mean, how did you manage to pull this off?"

Lucius looked up at the white beard.

"Lots of patience, Albus. And lots of polyjuice potion."

"Ah, thank you. Things seem clearer now. So you posed as myself and my staff and kidnapped the minister?"

"Yes. I was Professor McGonagall. It was rather strange." It had been. Who knew that women had so many repressed emotions?

"May I ask what you plan to do next Lucius?"

"No. You may not," Lucius said.

He stared at the feet for a moment. They were wrinkled, callused, hairy and liver-spotted. So ugly, and yet, so full of character.

And so unlike his own neat, pale feet.

"Thank you for being so civilized Lucius," Dumbledore said from above.

"Hmm," he grunted in answer. So much for torturing and acting tough. He thought for a moment and looked back at the feet apprehensively.

He'd always wanted to hear those words.

"Albus, this may sound like a strange request," he said reluctantly, "But would you mind terribly yelling at me and saying: "You foul, brutish bastard! Mercy on your soul! I'll see you in hell!"? "

Lucius blushed.

Dumbledore's feet twitched slightly, but he didn't laugh. "Why Lucius, it will be a pleasure," he said, quite sincerely.

******

Draco woke up to the sound of Blaise Zabini's wizarding wireless. Some witch was having a screaming contest with a wailing guitar. He rubbed his eyes and sat up.

It would have been nice to say that the sun was streaming through the window and that the bluebirds were chirping outside, but the 6th year Slytherin boys' room was underground.

Crabbe and Goyle thought this was awesome, but Draco preferred sunlight. It enhanced other people's bad complexions and showcased his own perfect one.

He smirked to himself and glanced around the room.

Crabbe and Goyle were still snoring peacefully, looking rather like drowsy pigs. Draco glanced towards William Thornton's equally green bed and felt his eyebrows rise.

A girl, conspicuously lacking clothes, was curled up in William's arms. The party had been quite wild then.

He looked over to Blaise's bed. Blaise wasn't in it, but another girl, also quite naked, was nestled in the velvet bedcover's folds.

She was awake. Draco recognized her as Emma Jonas, a very sexy 7th year with dimensionally impossible curves. She was staring at him quite provocatively.

"Emma," he said, stifling a yawn. He got up, quite unconcerned that he was wearing only boxer shorts, and reached for his towel

"Draco," she purred. "You like tired. Don't you want to get in?" She patted Blaise's bed invitingly.

Draco looked at her appraisingly. She really was very sexy, with her tousled white blonde hair and her mischievous blue eyes.

But did he really want to? He banished the thought quickly. Of course he wanted to. He was Draco Malfoy, not some honourable, moral hero.

"You're right, I am a little tired," he said nonchalantly, walking over to her slowly.

She grinned and lifted the bedcovers for him to get in. He'd barely put his one foot on the bed when she started gushing.

"Oh god Draco, this has been my dream since the first time I saw you."

He frowned slightly, but allowed his motor neurons to complete the task of getting into bed.

He reached over to kiss her.

"Wait, I have to remember this moment," she said. "Me and Draco Malfoy. I never thought..."

As she prattled, Draco found himself becoming increasingly annoyed and decreasingly aroused.

"...I feel so vulnerable. I've wanted you forever. You won't just make love to me and leave me, will you?" she asked.

He sighed irritably. "Of course not," he lied, putting his hand around her waist and attempting to draw her towards him.

"Because I really think you're amazing. I know Pansy's your girlfriend and she's my friend but..."

She'd said the magic word. Pansy. All his lustful urges disappeared in one fell swoop.

He took his hands from her soft, bare waist.

"Shut up," he growled. "Goddammit Emma, your mouth and your eyes don't match."

She stared at him, trembling. She was a frightened little girl.

"I'll be quiet," she quivered.

"Don't bother," Draco said warily, throwing the bedcovers off and stalking out of the door and into the shower.

He hadn't been using the prefect bathroom since his encounter with Potter. Ostensibly, Potter had been trying to look at his dragon mark, but Draco couldn't be too sure.

If he wanted men to lust over him, he'd rather leave it to the Slytherins.

He threw his boxers over the towel railing, remembering that he had forgotten his soap.

"Accio Tobacco soap," he said casually. A few seconds later the brown soapbox spun into his hand.

He turned the shower on.

Stupid girl. She'd been planning the entire thing since the first time she'd laid eyes on him? Pathetic. He liked spontaneity in a woman and the last spontaneity he had occurred had... hadn't been too long ago, actually.

He reached for the soap slowly.

Mudblood Granger.

She'd stood there in her tight little jeans and had announced that she wanted to kiss him.

Not because she liked him, or wanted his children or his money, but because she'd simply felt like it.

And she'd been warm to touch and she's tasted like toffee.

He was alarmed to suddenly realise that he'd liked it.

And he was even more alarmed to notice that other parts of his body seemed to like it as well.

He turned off the hot water. It seemed that a cold shower was imminent after all.

*****