Mother, Mother, Mother

Mother, Mother, Mother

Chapter 2 - Crookshanks and Trevor

"Hey, what is going on in here?" It was Fred, his arm around Angelina, standing in the doorway.

"I dunno," shrugged Ginny.

Hermione just looked confused. Ron looked like he might be sick.

"Erm..." was all Harry could manage. This didn't look good...

Fred looked quizzically at his twin, now lying on his back, clutching two empty Butterbeer bottles, "What the..."

"The Veela Potion!" moaned George.

"What?!? --- Nooooo!" Fred exclaimed, looking from George to Ron to Harry to Hermione to -

"GINNY!! Put that bloody punch down, right this instant!" yelled Fred.

"I thought George said he was going to put the Veela Potion in the Butterbeer?" said Angelina.

"I did! And they drank it!" cried George.

"Well Ginny still shouldn't -"

"Um, excuse me," Hermione looked slightly annoyed. "Would someone mind explaining what in Merlin's Beard is going on here?"

Angelina answered, trying to suppress a giggle "Well, today in Potions class, George was trying to chat up Fleur..."

"Was not!" interrupted George.

"Anyway, he was hinting around about how he didn't have a date for the Yule Ball yet, never mind that it was just announced today and won't happen for another two months. George said something smarmy about Veelas never lacking for dates, and Fleur told him that he could harness the irresistibility of a Veela with a special Love Potion."

"Aren't Love Potions illegal?" asked Hermione.

"IT ISN'T A LOVE POTION!!" wailed George.

Angelina continued. "Right... anyway, smarm, flirt, flirt, smarm, and Fleur was giving him a formula. A very simple one, even a first year could do it. Only thing George needed was a strand of Veela hair. So when Fleur had her back turned, he managed to snag two strands of her hair. Enough to make two draughts."

"Er.... so two of us drank Fleur's hair.... and we are going to fall in love with George? That's just sick," said Ginny, wrinkling her nose.

George sighed heavily. "No. Whoever drinks the potion becomes irresistible to anyone of the opposite sex. Meaning..."

"Two of you are about to become hotter than the fiery wake of a Blast-Ended Skrewt," grinned Fred. "Now let's see, how to tell... does anyone feel the uncontrollable urge to snog anyone else silly?"

No one said anything. Ron let out a moan and slumped into the armchair. Ginny sighed and took another swig of the punch. Hermione looked thoughtful.

"Maybe it takes a while to kick in," offered Harry. "Is there any other way to tell who drank it at least? Maybe there is some kind of charm we could use?"

"Maybe we can ask Professor Trelawney who drank it? She is supposed to be the best clairvoyant in all of Scotland," suggested Ginny.

Hermione looked extremely incredulous at this suggestion. "What, that old fraud?"

Harry was shaking his head. "There is no way we are letting Trelawney get her hands on those bottles. She'll be predicting a crazed, star crossed romance that will inevitably lead to my sad and untimely demise."

No one said anything for a while.

Hermione, brow furrowed, twisted a lock of hair that had fallen down from the pile on top of her head around her finger. Harry watched her. She was really kind of cute when she was thinking hard about something. Then, as if a switch had been thrown, her eyes lit up and the wayward lock slipped from her fingers. "I know!" Hermione said suddenly. "We can dust the bottles for fingerprints!"

Everyone looked confused except Harry. He and Hermione had to explain to Angelina and the Weasleys about how Muggle detectives used fingerprints to solve crimes.

"Um, but wait a minute, Hermione," said Ron, interrupting Hermione's excited commentary on various Muggle forensic techniques. "Even if we can do this dusting thing, all of the bottles will have more than one set of fingerprints. It'll be impossible."

Harry privately agreed.

"No it won't! Think about this logically," said Hermione. "Honestly, it is really quite simple."

She paused. "Ok, all of the bottles will have my fingerprints..."

"And mine," said George glumly. "Not that it matters, since we all know I didn't drink the ruddy stuff."

***

Hermione patiently questioned everyone on who may have touched their bottle and whose bottle (besides their own) they may have touched. She made notes. She made notes in different colors. She was in her element. She had that excited gleam in her eye she got whenever she was on the verge of solving a very difficult Arithmancy problem or Potions reaction. Harry had never seen anyone get so excited about thinking. It was one of his favorite things about her, no matter how much he and Ron teased. If it wasn't for Hermione's thinking... well, he didn't like to think about it. He would be lost without her, he knew that. He'd known that, but as he watched her, excitedly questioning Ginny, her face flushed pink with excitement, eyes flashing brightly, having lost all traces of tears, making gestures, drawing diagrams, he realized something.

She must have been the one to drink the Veela Potion. He didn't feel anything remotely like this for Ginny, so either he or Ron must have drunk the other one. I can be logical too, he thought, somewhat bitterly.

"Harry, it's your turn." Hermione was smiling at him. She had an ink smudge on her right cheek. Her hair was going out in all directions, looking like a great bushy halo in the candlelight. The left side of her kimono had slipped down, revealing a bare shoulder. Harry felt like he might just die.

"Well, take a seat," she said, indicating the ottoman someone had dragged up next to her desk.

He sat. Hermione began her questioning. Harry tried not to look directly at her. He kept mumbling to the floor, and she kept having to ask him to repeat himself. It was a kind of torture just to look at her, to listen to her chat excitedly about where people's hands had been, to smell her tuberose scented... whatever it was girls put on themselves. His heart kept racing and his voice kept embarrassingly skipping octaves without notice.

Finally, it was over. Harry gratefully got up and began pacing the room. Hermione went to scratching furiously at a parchment with her quill. When she finished, she held up something extremely cute and Hermione-like. It was a chart.

"Now... all we have to do is put our own fingerprints on parchment with some ink, dust the bottles with a bit of talcum powder and compare them!"

"Talcum powder?" asked Ron, looking puzzled.

"Where are you going to get talcum powder, Hermione?" asked Harry, not really sure if talcum powder was something a girl might normally have in her medicine chest or if it was a substance strictly associated with babies and detective work.

"I have some Cover Witch Shimmering Pixie Lust Dust," said Angelina brightly. "Would that work?"

"Hmmm... you know, it just might," said Hermione, grinning mischievously.

"I know how it might work," said Fred, giving Angelina a knowing wink.

Angelina blushed, gave Fred a playful punch on the arm, and bolted out the door

***

An hour later everyone was a bit inky and covered with shimmery dust. Ginny was sprawled out in front of the fire reading Teen Witch and sucking on a Sugar Quill. Ron sat in the armchair, staring morosely into the fire, and absentmindedly stroking Crookshanks who was curled up in his lap. Fred and Angelina were laying across Hermione's bed, whispering and giggling to one another. George sat in a corner looking very serious and writing a letter on WWW letterhead (Dean Thomas had designed the logo). Hermione, wearing cotton gloves, was very carefully analyzing the butterbeer bottles and fingerprints at her desk.

Harry had dragged the ottoman closer the fire. He sat there, back to the fire, chin in his hands, watching Hermione work. She was completely engrossed in her task, oblivious to everything else around her. He watched her carefully pick up a bottle, bite her lip, set it down, pick up a piece of parchment, squint, study the bottle... over and over again. She looked like she was enjoying herself immensely. Harry thoroughly enjoyed watching her. Quite aside from any effect the Veela Potion may have been having on him, he was amazed at how wonderfully intense and methodical she was when she set herself to solve a problem.

Suddenly, her face fell. She said something not very Hermione-like in French. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked over at her.

"Well?" asked Ron, looking anxious.

Hermione looked positively stricken.

Before she could say anything, however, a loud commotion erupted out in the hallway. Trevor, Neville's toad, came bounding into the room, leaping higher and farther than really seemed possible. Neville, followed by the Creevey brothers, was in hot pursuit. Trevor leapt up onto Hermione's desk with a single bound. What happened next was a blur.

Ron let out a pained yelp as Crookshanks leapt from his lap, hissing madly and heading straight for Hermione's desk. He landed, skidding on a piece of parchment, which sent two of the Butterbeer bottles shattering to the floor. Trevor then bounded onto the bed, between Fred and Angelina. Angelina screamed as Trevor bounced back up into the air again, sailed across the room and landed near the door. Crookshanks tore off after him, but Neville somehow managed to miraculously grab Trevor before Crookshanks got to him.

Crookshanks was crouched, back arched at Neville's feet, every single ginger hair sticking straight up. His ears were flat against his head and he was growling and hissing furiously.

"Crookshanks!" cried Hermione, snatching up her cat and pulling him away. Crookshanks struggled against her, leaving angry red marks all over Hermione's arms.

Ron yelled to Neville, "GET THAT BLOODY TOAD OUT OF HERE!"

Neville, his face completely white, ignored Ron and instead addressed Hermione, now bleeding and still fighting a hissing, growling Crookshanks. "Your... your cat tried to kill Trevor," he stammered, looking oddly betrayed.

"He never should have been in here!" Ron shot back.

"It... it wasn't my fault, it was that purple stuff. Trevor drank it, and started bouncing out of control," said Neville. "What is wrong with Hermione's cat? Has he gone mad?"

"Wait a minute, Lee Jordan's punch made Trevor bounce out of control like that?" asked Harry.

"No," George groaned, "it was the Blueberry Bounce I was testing out. I gave some to one of the first years who was asking for the punch..."

"...and Trevor drank it. It was sitting on a table. Someone must have left it there," finished Neville.

Harry glanced over at Hermione, still struggling with Crookshanks. She looked absolutely miserable. Ron had steam coming out of his ears. "Um, Neville... really, you have to go. Now."

Neville, looking extremely shaken, backed out into the hall, leaving the bewildered Creevey brothers standing in the doorway.

Less than five seconds later, there were more noises out in the hall. Pavarti and Lavender had arrived and they were elbowing their way between the Creevey brothers to get into the room. They did not look very happy to find the place full of people and glittering dust.

"What are all of you doing in here?" asked Pavarti, looking confused and irritated.

"Boys aren't supposed to be up here!" exclaimed Lavender.

"...unless the boy is Seamus Finnegan," Fred whispered loudly to Harry.

As Lavender looked around for something suitable to throw at Fred, her eyes landed on Hermione. "Hermione! Oh my god! Look at your arms!"

"Gee Lavender, I bet she'd have never noticed the scratches if you hadn't pointed it out," said Ron sarcastically.

Lavender scowled at him.

Hermione was still holding Crookshanks, now calm and purring loudly. She looked extremely shaken.

Pavarti was surveying the room. Harry watched as her eyes landed on the broken Butterbeer bottles, a very scared looking Ginny, a somewhat disheveled Angelina lying on Hermione's bed, scattered scraps of ink blotched parchment, George sitting on the floor with his head against the wall, the so far silent Creevey brothers staring from the doorway, a very angry looking Ron, a very amused looking Fred, and then on Harry himself. Her eyes narrowed. "Was there something pervy going on in here?"

"um..." was all Harry could manage. No one else said anything.

While they all looked around at each other, waiting for someone to say something, there was a click and a puff of purple smoke. Everyone's eyes shot to the door.

"Sorry," said Colin Creevey sheepishly, camera in hand. Harry thought he must have Summoned his camera, as he hadn't had it only moments ago. Dennis Creevey giggled, and both Creevey brothers bolted off down the hall.

"I knew it!" screeched Pavarti. "Get out of here, all of you!"

"Except you, Hermione," said Lavender, her eyes barely slits. "You've got some serious explaining to do."

***

Half an hour later, Harry and Ron sat slumped in armchairs in front of the Common Room fireplace. The room was deserted. George had gone to bed right away, indicating that he might be endangering the whole school if he didn't call it a night. Not long after, Ginny was discovered asleep on a sofa. Fred and Angelina carried her up to her room then headed to bed themselves.

Neither Harry nor Ron had said anything for at least fifteen minutes. Both were looking at the fire, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Ron turned to Harry.

"Why do you suppose Crookshanks attacked Trevor like that?"

"I dunno." Harry wasn't all that concerned about Trevor. He was too busy thinking about the stupid Veela potion. Was it the potion causing him to look at Hermione like that? He tried to think back... before the match... had he felt something then? When she was standing in front of the portrait hole, looking so vulnerable? Hadn't he felt at least a little bit jealous that Krum had made Hermione at least partially unavailable? When she had kissed him on the cheek last year at King's Cross, hadn't he felt something? Didn't she look really pretty at the Yule Ball last year? Yes... but he had been too busy focusing on Cho and Cedric. No, it had to be the potion. Had to be.

Just then, Harry heard someone in the direction of the girls' dorm coming down the stairs. He looked over his shoulder. His heart leapt up into his throat. It was Hermione.

"So... what did you tell them?" asked Ron, as Hermione flopped down on the nearest sofa.

Hermione groaned. "Well... I told them that I hadn't been feeling very well and that all of you had come to cheer me up. I left out the part about the Veela Love Potion, and skipped to where Trevor had come in after drinking the bouncing stuff George had made. That explained the mess."

Harry felt a little bit relieved. The last thing they needed was for news to get out about the stupid potion.

"Did they buy it?" asked Ron, looking doubtful.

"Well, sort of," sighed Hermione. "I mean, really... it's not like I have a reputation for hosting wild orgies or anything. I think they just wanted to get to sleep."

She looked pale and small sitting on the dark, oversized sofa. She was hunched over, her arms resting on her thighs. For the first time Harry noticed she had a small diamond shaped scar on her right knee. He wondered for a moment how she might have gotten it, and hoped it had nothing to do with any danger he may have put her in. The thought made him shudder.

"Is something the matter Harry? Why are you looking at me like that?" Hermione asked, giving him a concerned look.

"Oh.. I uh," stammered Harry. He could feel his face turning red. "I was just noticing... er..." He couldn't very well admit he was looking at her bare legs. "I was just noticing your arms," the thought suddenly came to him. "You should definitely see Madam Pomfrey about your arms. Where Crookshanks scratched you."

"Yeah, Hermione, that has got to smart," Ron agreed. "What got into Crookshanks anyway? He hasn't acted that way since..." he trailed off, looking at the floor.

Since Scabbers... and Scabbers had turned out to be Peter Pettigrew, the man who betrayed my parents to Voldemort, thought Harry with some bitterness.

"But he's never acted that way around Trevor before," said Hermione, frowning.

"That was really weird," said Harry, shaking his head. "Maybe it was something George put into that bouncy drink?"

"Maybe Trevor has turned evil on us," joked Ron, grinning mischievously. "Maybe Malfoy made Trevor his evil toady."

Hermione laughed. "Doesn't Malfoy have two evil toadies already?"

After a few more jokes at the expense of Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, Harry went upstairs to fetch his Invisibility Cloak. Strictly speaking, going to the infirmary was a perfectly legitimate excuse to be roaming the halls at night, but they didn't want to be caught out by Filch or Snape all the same. Harry sometimes wondered when those two ever got around to actually sleeping. Luckily, Madam Pomfrey never asked too many questions. So while she may tut tut them for being up so late, she wouldn't pry.

As Harry quietly rifled through his trunk, he suddenly felt the hairs on his neck stand up on end. He felt like he was being watched. A quick look around the room only revealed his sleeping dorm mates. He shivered, and then shook the feeling off. Finally, he found his prized cloak, once belonging to his father, underneath the Christmas jumper Mrs. Weasley had knitted him the year before. When he finished, he crept silently to the door, being careful to make as little sound as possible.

Harry returned to the Common Room to find Ron and Hermione waiting by the portrait hole.

"Ready?" Harry asked.

"I suppose," Hermione sighed.

Harry noticed Hermione was still wearing her thin, satiny robe and house slippers. Why couldn't she have changed into something more decent? He wasn't sure he was going to be able to take being so close to her under the Invisibility Cloak as it was, but with her wearing... well, let's face it, with her nearly naked, he was sure he would inevitably embarrass himself in some way.

"Well, let's get on with it then," said Ron, his face betrayed some discomfort.

It suddenly occurred to Harry that he would not be the only one affected by the potion. Ron would be affected too. So would every boy in the school. A wave of horror, jealousy and indignation washed over Harry. They would all be having the thoughts he was having about her. Ron was probably having those thoughts right this moment.

Harry looked at Ron with narrowed eyes. Ron returned a similar look.

"What is with you two?" said Hermione. "Are we going or what?"

Harry and Ron both quickly looked at the floor and mumbled in the affirmative. Hermione climbed through the portrait hole first, Harry and Ron both finding fascinating things to look at around the Common Room while she did so.

Once they were all out, Harry took out the cloak. All three just stood there for a moment.

"Um, Harry..." said Hermione. "I think we'll have to move in a bit closer together to get under the Cloak."

"Uh... oh yeah."

With some amount of awkwardness, they moved in closer together. Harry threw the Cloak over their heads only to discover...

"It shrunk!" whispered Ron.

"Don't be silly, Ron," said Hermione. "The Cloak is the same size. We have gotten bigger, especially the two of you. We just have to move in really tight and hold on to one another."

"Ok then," said Ron. "Hermione, you get in front. I'll hang on to you and... OUCH! Harry, that was my foot!"

"Sorry!" Harry whispered.

"How about this," said Hermione, in a strained whisper. "So we can all see where we are going, we will line up in height order. I'll go first, Harry will hold on to me and Ron will hold on to Harry."

Harry and Ron just stood there.

"Ok... maybe one of you should just stay here then," said Hermione, sounding irritated.

"NO!" they both said at once.

"Alright then... "

Harry timidly put his hands on Hermione's shoulders. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin, satiny fabric of her robe. Her sweet smelling, unruly hair tickled his nose.

"Harry," Hermione whispered. "You have to get closer than that, I can still see our feet."

Harry gulped.

"Ron, you too. Why are you..." she trailed off, suddenly her tone became more brisk and businesslike. "Let's just get down to the hospital wing as best we can."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief once they actually got to the door of the infirmary. The trip down had been slow and agonizing. He wasn't sure which was worse: the torture of having Hermione's body so close to his (even touching at times!) or Ron stepping on his heels every few feet. Harry had begun to think that Ron might be doing it on purpose.

Madam Pomfrey, wearing a long nightshirt and bed cap, let them into the hospital wing. She shook her head at their being up so late, but saw to Hermione's scratched arms right away. Harry and Ron stood watching awkwardly as Hermione winced at the foul smelling ointment being applied to her wounds. Finally, Madam Pomfrey shooed them away. They crossed the empty infirmary and took seats near the door.

Neither said anything for a time. They both just sat there, looking at their feet. Finally, Ron turned to Harry and whispered "It was Hermione who drank the Veela Love Potion."

"Oh, you think so?" said Harry, trying to sound noncommittal.

"I know so."

"Why do you say that?" asked Harry.

"Don't be stupid, Harry. You heard her before Trevor came into the room. I saw the way you were looking at her. You never looked at her that way before."

"I don't know what you are talking about," said Harry defensively, trying to avoid Ron's gaze.

"Yes you do," Ron hissed.

"Well then, if she is the one who drank it, then you must be -"

Harry didn't have a chance to finish. Just then, the doors to the infirmary burst open. It was Snape.

He was carrying the limp, unconscious body of Harry's Godfather, Sirius Black