A Sackful of Holiday Horsefeathers

We bring you the second installment of

A Sackful of Holiday Horsefeathers

Now in Exciting Stereophonic Sound!

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The teachers were still enjoying their gossip in the Grand Hall. The fire was burning steadily in the hearth, the chairs were comfortable, and there were at least five full bottles of Spumante yet untouched. Nobody was about to go anywhere.

"Ooooh, I wonder where Dumbledore and McGonagall have gone," said Madam Pomfrey, hinting at some conspiratorial element in their meeting.

"Perhaps Master Lupin could answer that for us," said Snape, fixing his powerful eyes upon the former Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher. Snape had always had a schoolboy grudge against Lupin, disliking Sirius Black and James Potter as well.

Lupin looked up suddenly. "I don't have any idea what they're doing," he said.

"And why, may I inquire further, were you so secretive about arriving here yesterday? Stealing in here in the middle of the night, like some hunted beast?" Snape asked him with an accusing tone.

"I had Dumbledore's permission a long time ago, Severus. I told him in advance that I planned on visiting," said Lupin. He could feel Snape's eyes boring into him.

"Oh, really?" Snape leered at him. "Might this visit have anything to do with your weakness for Professor McGonagall? I noticed the way you were going after her at the end of the year. We all noticed."

Lupin chuckled when Snape mentioned this, for he hadn't known until now just how miserably his attempts at subtlety had failed. He said, "My personal affairs are none of your business, Severus."

Snape was about to say more, but Hagrid interrupted. "There's nuthin' wrong with seein' an old friend. I think I speak for everyone when I say that Lupin and McGonagall are very cute together. We saw how they started gettin' chummy towards the end o' the school year, and we were all for it, weren't we?"

Except for Snape, everyone nodded vigorously. Madam Pomfrey affirmed, "Yes, we were. I remember, we used to talk about you two--" she looked fondly at Lupin "--in the lounge, and we said, 'Oh, those two would make a fine couple.' So you see, there's nothing to be shy about. We knew it all along."

Lupin smiled bashfully; his face was a bright shade of pink.

Pomfrey continued, "And I said it first, didn't I? Even before Sibyll predicted it."

"Sibyll Trelawney even knew about us?" exclaimed Lupin.

Pomfrey giggled. "Well, you could say so. Anyway, Minerva was so sad when you resigned from Hogwarts. There really was no way to console her."

"No way at all," echoed Flitwick. "I offered to perform a Cheering Charm on her, but she refused every time."

"I wish I'd known," said Lupin. His thoughts trailed off to the previous evening, reliving that breathtaking second when McGonagall threw her arms around him, thus breaking their long separation. She reminded him of an animal--some graceful and dignified beast, like a lioness. But that was understandable, seeing as how McGonagall was an Animagus and could transform herself into a cat.

Lupin sighed wistfully, wondering where McGonagall and Dumbledore were. "Say, Poppy," he said to Madam Pomfrey, "where have Dumbledore and McGonagall gone off to?"

Instead of answering his question, Pomfrey giggled. "Aaaawww. Somebody has a girlfriend," she gushed in a sing-songy voice. "He can't be apart from her for one minute, isn't that adorable?"

At this point in the conversation, Remus Lupin opted to let them gossip on their own, and he went out to search for McGonagall.

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Lunch was scheduled for one o'clock in the afternoon, and almost everyone arrived on time. The black cauldron was gone, but it was replaced by a charming little harp about two feet high. It was carven out of bone into the shape of a beautiful mermaid, and she was enchanted to sing along with the harp's music. They played on their own, unaided by human hands.

The plates and silverware were already laid out upon the bright red tablecloth. Dumbledore was the first one seated, early as always. He ordered up some eggnog while he waited.

Draco and Hermione entered the room side by side, walking quite freely and naturally. They were even laughing together over something. At the mere sight of this unlikely couple, Albus Dumbledore jumped out of his seat and accidentally knocked his glass over--spilling eggnog all over his new red tablecloth. The exclamation, "What the-" was out of his mouth before he could stop it. Luckily, nobody witnessed Dumbledore losing his composure. He quickly righted the glass, which was now empty, and covered up the stain with several napkins.

Eventually, everybody came into the hall and took a seat. Only Mme Trelawney was absent. She usually took meals in her own quarters, however.

Dumbledore looked around, waiting for the food to appear, and then remembered that the diners were expecting him to make some sort of announcement. 'Not another announcement!' Dumbledore thought. He had--without fail--greeted his staff and students at each and every meal since he became Headmaster. Frankly, he was tired of it. And his voice was hoarse today. Perhaps he could use International Sign Language. Hmmm... And what would happen if he also did his spells in sign language rather than in Latin? Those ancient Greek wizards didn't speak Latin... Latin didn't even exist back then...

With a start, Dumbledore realized that he had kept his congregation waiting long enough, and he cleared his throat importantly.

"I'm only going to say one thing before we eat, because frankly, I'm sick of making announcements," stated Dumbledore. "This morning, when you read the name on your Secret Santa note, you were obligated by a magical contract to choose an appropriate gift for that special someone--even if he or she is not so special to you. If you purposely give this person a gift that you know will be unappreciated, you know--something they'll really hate, you will have seven weeks of bad luck. And by reverse logic, if you really put some thought in your gift and give them something you know they'll really like, you will have seven weeks of good luck. I do hope this is enough motivation for you people to be nice to each other," said Dumbledore, keeping a watchful eye on Draco Malfoy. The boy was sitting between Hermione and Ginny and was wearing a particularly innocent expression on his face.

Dumbledore clapped his hands, and the food suddenly appeared on their plates. (It was prepared in the cellar beneath the Grand Hall by the Hogwarts house-elves.)

Draco whispered something in Hermione's ear, and she nodded her head. He then withdrew a package from a pocket inside his robes and opened it up. It was filled with delicious-looking chocolates. Draco took one from the end of the box and gave it to Hermione. After a polite thank you, she put the succulent sweet in her mouth and licked her lips. Ron looked as if he would throw up any second.

"Oh, mint creams! My favorite," declared Hermione.

Draco turned to his left and offered one to Ginny. She checked to make sure nothing strange had happened to Hermione, who had already swallowed hers, and then nodded. Draco placed the mint-cream chocolate up to Ginny's lips and raised his eyebrows ever-so-slightly. It is one of those exquisite mannerisms that all men share, whether they have bushy eyebrows or plain, straight or curved, brown or gray. The man simply tilts his head (while giving the lady a puppy-dog look) and raises his eyebrows in that familiar token of cuteness.

Ginny could not resist that look coming from the gorgeous Slytherin, Draco Malfoy. She opened her lips and let him slide the chocolate inside her mouth. She closed her lips on his fingertips as he gently pulled away.

Ron yelled, "You sick, perverted bastard!"

Immediately, everybody stopped whatever they were doing to look at him. The harp played on.

Ron ignored them, directing his ranting at Draco, "What are you doing with my sister? What the hell are you doing? How dare you! With me sitting right across the table!"

Another awkward hush befell the dining room, the strains of "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" filling in the gaps between the boys' outbursts.

"Oh, sorry, Ron," said Draco rather unapologetically. "I didn't know she was already taken. But now I see how things are in the Weasley family."

Ron shuddered. "No, Draco. That's only in your family. Which reminds me, you've got plenty of female cousins, right? So why don't you hit on one of them?"

"Whoa, whoa. Let's get something straight, Weasley. I am not hitting on anybody," said Draco.

Professor Snape finally spoke up, "What is all this fuss about, Weasley?"

"Sir, he started it," declared Ron. "He's been feeding my sister chocolates--"

"Chocolates?" snapped the Potions teacher. "How dreadful. We must reprimand him immediately." Now grinning in amusement, Professor Snape assured Draco, "But of course, we won't do that. It's Malfoy's business what he does with his Christmas presents, and I don't want to hear another peep out of you, Weasley. Believe me, you don't want to be scrubbing floors during your vacation."

Ron's face had turned deathly white. He looked again at Ginny, who was very embarrassed that she'd caused so much uproar. She settled her eyes upon the bowl of soup in front of her, too shy to look elsewhere. The meal ended with Ron forcing down his stew in sullen silence, and Harry resolved to go to the school library right after lunch. He had to find a reason for the way Hermione was acting around Draco Malfoy. And Ginny was affected now, as well. Some dark, unnatural magic was afoot, and it was only fitting that Harry and Ron should come to the aid of their friends and loved ones in their darkest hour.

Harry felt rather noble as they made their journey to the library. The thought, 'It's what Hermione would do,' kept running through his head, and it goaded him on. He wouldn't stop looking through the books. He would be like Hermione, and search and search and SEARCH until the Mystery was unraveled, and a Solution was found, and Order was once again restored!

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Severus Snape was searching that day, as well. He was looking for a present for Hagrid among his collection of oddities. Snape's office was dismal and smelled of mold, and it was crammed from ceiling to floor with strange concoctions, shrunken heads, crows' feet and bat wings, and many expensive potions ingredients. There must be something in here that he could give; he surely didn't want to dig into his paycheck for that mindless oaf. Good grief, what was Dumbledore thinking when he set up the rules for this idiotic game? Snape had better things to do with his time than this.

Ah! On the top shelf, he saw an old beaver hat! It was almost the same style as the beaver hat Uric the Oddball once wore to a Wizard's Council Meeting. Old Uric had tried to prove that listening to Fwooper Song was beneficial to the health, but it only served to drive him insane. Actually, it wasn't a beaver hat that he had worn to the meeting; it was a dead badger, as Snape recalled now. Yes; this beaver hat was definitely the sort of thing Hagrid would wear.

Snape dragged a footstool over to the shelf so he could reach the hat. As he put his foot upon the top rung, the ladder started to wobble, and he lost his balance. Severus Snape came crashing to the floor, banging his head on the cement and losing consciousness.

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"Where do we look first?" Ron said with a sigh as they walked into the library. Already, he felt this task was extremely daunting, and he looked to Harry for help, as he always did, even though Harry was equally unqualified for the fine art of investigation.

Luckily, the Hogwarts' Library had a card catalog. You may remember what a card catalog is, dear reader, if you were alive before the years of computerization. It's a wonderful device that has a card printed up for every book in the library. Harry suggested they look up 'infatuation' and 'impaired judgment' underneath the subject headings.

They found several books that had directions for love spells and potions, a few books with counter spells, but nothing under 'impaired judgment.' Looking under 'judgment,' they found loads of volumes on court trials, divination, and how to discern between witchcraft and dark magic. The last type would be useful to Aurors, or dark wizard catchers.

Ron and Harry took a couple books for love spells and began skimming through them at a nearby table.

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Lupin longed to run his fingers through McGonagall's strawberry blonde hair, but not in public. The couple was sitting on the veranda, making idle chitchat as an excuse to gaze into each other's eyes.

"I believe the library is free today," said McGonagall demurely.

"Oh, really?" said Lupin, raising his eyebrows. He loved the way McGonagall was sitting there, resting her elbows on the table and propping up her head lest she fall over by simply looking at him.

McGonagall said, "With the kids on break, it's sure to be empty."

"So there was no need to make a reservation?" said Lupin, admiring the neckline of her bodice as she leaned forward.

McGonagall smiled. "It wasn't necessary. And besides, I feel like being spontaneous."

Lupin checked his watch. "Well, the library closes in about five hours. I hope we have enough time."

McGonagall chuckled. "Five hours! Well, I should only hope! And if they come by to lock up, we can hide in the broom closet."

"Or in the Restricted Section," said Lupin.

"Oh, you naughty boy!" cried McGonagall, giving his arm a mild slap.

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Dumbledore opened his office window to let in a furious-looking owl. It flew straight onto Dumbledore's desk, brandishing an envelope in its beak.

"Well, well," murmured Dumbledore. "Who can this be from?" He took the envelope out of the bird's beak, absentmindedly patting him on his fluffy head.

The letter was from Lucius Malfoy.

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I am certain that I dropped off one child by the name of Draco Malfoy at your school earlier this year. Now, unless I am capable of misplacing such a large object as my son, I believe he is still at Hogwarts. Narcissa and I demand an explanation for your failure to send him home properly. Right now, we are supposed to be attending a prominent dog-sled race in Canada. Draco was looking forward to it very much, so--pray tell me--what on Earth has kept him from returning home?

Sincerely,

Lucius Malfoy

Dumbledore laid the note on his desk, saying, "I wish I knew." Then patting the owl again, he remarked, "What are they feeding you, steroids? You made that journey in a single night! Those crazy Malfoys."

The Headmaster sat down to pen his own letter.

Dear Lucius Malfoy,

Your son Draco is alive and well and shows no signs of going home this winter. Heaven only knows why he is staying here, but he seems very content. I will ask him to send you a letter as soon as possible.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Dumbledore blew on the ink a bit to dry it, and then he carefully folded it up and stuck it in a new envelope. The owl looked at him eagerly.

"Why don't you rest a while?" said Dumbledore soothingly. "It's not going to kill them to wait a few more hours to hear from their darling Draco."

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"Sudden attraction to an otherwise unappealing mate," Ron read aloud to Harry. "As depicted in William Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, in which Titania, the Queen of Fairyland, was bewitched by her husband to fall in love with a man who had the head of an ass."

Harry snorted. "What the hell kind of story is that?"

"Wait! There's more," said Ron. "This man had the head of an ass because he was bewitched by the hobgoblin Robin Goodfellow, and guess what: the man's name was Bottom."

"Like Neville Longbottom! Ha, that is funny," said Harry.

"So, this Queen fell in love with an ass, just like Hermione fell in love with Malfoy," said Ron. "So it must be some sort of love spell."

"But why would Malfoy want Hermione to like him?" said Harry. "He's always hated us."

"I don't know! But just look at them!" shouted Ron. "He obviously likes her now! Maybe someone else has bewitched them both. I don't know."

"Maybe it was Snape!" cried Harry, with a mad gleam in his dark eyes.

"I wouldn't put it past him!" said Ron.

"But why would Snape..."

"To torture us, Harry!" yelled Ron. "Snape has always hated us, and he knows how much we despise Malfoy. He knows how much it would kill us to see Hermione and Malfoy together--ignoring us--pretending that he isn't the Muggle-hating son of a Death Eater he is!"

"Okay, okay. I get the picture," said Harry.

The door to the library opened again, and Lupin and McGonagall slid through the opening. McGonagall started to giggle, and Lupin hushed her.

"Why are you shushing me? There's nobody here," she told him.

"But there might be," said Lupin, grinning boyishly. He wrapped his arms around her waist while she looked about furtively. "Just imagine that we're sneaking out after curfew, and we're trying not to get caught..."

"Oh, like a game," said McGonagall.

"Exactly, my little Mini Muffin," said Lupin, kissing the tip of her nose.

"I like this game," she said.

"I like it, too," he said, bracing her against the wall and kissing her lips.

Harry heard a noise, most likely human voices, coming from the direction of the library door. "Ron, did you hear that?"

Ron nodded. "Snape's spying on us!" he whispered feverishly.

"No, I thought it sounded like Professor McGonagall," insisted Harry. "But it couldn't be; I heard laughing."

"Do you hear anything now?" asked Ron, straining his ears.

"No, it's gone away," said Harry.

Ron stood up and moved very cautiously toward the windows. "I'll sneak up on it, Harry, ever so quiet. You wait here and keep watch."

"Why don't we just ignore it, and hope it doesn't come back?" asked Harry.

"Good question. And one that I don't know the answer to," said Ron. "Oh, wait. Aren't you supposed to be the courageous one?"

"All Gryffindors are supposed to be courageous," said Harry, side-stepping the issue of his own bravery.

"Oh," said Ron. "But suppose that it's your turn today."

"Good grief, Ron. It's only some stupid person looking for a book," exclaimed Harry. "Come with me." He yanked Ron's arm and dragged him across the library.

McGonagall and Lupin heard the boys' footsteps approaching, and they hastily made themselves presentable again. Lupin pulled his hand out from beneath her dress and pulled his shirt back on. McGonagall tidied up her hair.

They had just finished fastening the clasps on their robes when Harry and Ron walked by.

"Oh!" Harry gave a yelp of surprise. Ron accidentally bumped into him.

"Why, hullo Harry. Ronald," said Lupin shortly. "Quite the coincidence running into you two here."

"Er, yes," stammered Harry.

"Well, we must be off," announced Lupin. "I'll see you at dinner time." He and McGonagall scurried out of the library in search of greener pastures.

"What was that all about?" said Ron.

"What do you think it was about?" said Harry.

"I dunno," said Ron, who was obviously not thinking the way a fifteen-year-old boy should be thinking.

"Oh, come on," said Harry. "They were fooling around."

"No!"

"Yes," Harry said. "They were making out."

Ron thought about it. "But--but--but that's disgusting! You're talking about Professor McGonagall! She's not a--she's not a--well, you know, she's Professor McGonagall!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "She's the same age as your mother. And Lupin went to school with my father. They're not exactly old..."

"But they're not young, either!" cried Ron, still in shock.

"That doesn't matter." Harry explained, "They're adults; they're allowed to have a little fun sometimes."

"But not in our library!"

"You're right. It's okay for teachers to make out, but we have to draw the line somewhere." Harry sadly shook his head. He would never be able to think about Lupin the same way again. He had to admit, he had a new respect for the man. But at the same time, Harry had to keep forcing out mental images of Lupin and McGonagall--naked. It was not a pleasant daydream for the young Harry.