Deadlock

deadlock, 'ded-"läk. n. A state of inaction or neutralization resulting from the opposition of equally powerful uncompromising persons or factions.

[October 6]

"Harry. Harry. Harry. Hey, Harry." Harry blinked blearily and rubbed his eyes.

"Wha'sgonon, Rn? Class'ntf'n'hr."

"I know class isn't for an hour," replied Ron, "but McGonagall wants to see you. Hey, what'd you do, anyway?"

Harry groped around on the nightstand for his glasses. Feeling the shape of the frames, he picked them up and adjusted them on his face. "Uh. Why, is she mad?"

Ron frowned. "No, that's the thing. She doesn't seem very upset about it."

Harry swung his feet over the edge of the bed, absently trying to pat down his hair. He yawned widely and stood up, feeling around for his robe.

"Hey, by the way," said Ron to Harry as the latter pulled a sneaker on, "have you seen my Muggle Studies book? We're supposed to be reading it and I can't find it anywhere. I just had it a couple days ago..." He bent down to look under his bed, throwing a shirt aside.

"Hermione probably took it for some pleasure readi--" started Harry before realizing with a jolt where Hermione had been the past few days. Ron stopped tossing his things and straightened up, looking at Harry sadly.

"I wish," he said, sighing.

Harry took a deep breath. "We're going to go see her," he decided, looking at his best friend's features, which were currently radiating sadness. "After I get finished with McGonagall, we'll go see her."

"What if Pomfrey won't--"

"She will," said Harry firmly. Ron gave a tentative smile. Harry sighed, finished tying his right shoe, and walked to the door. He had no idea how Madam Pomfrey would receive their request. But to get that look of irreversible pain off Ron's face, off anyone's, he would have said anything.

Harry pushed the door open, walked down the stairs and through the common room, and stepped out through the portrait. He turned left and stepped onto the marble staircase. Only once before had he been in McGonagall's office, and that was last year, for his career briefing. He was mildly surprised that he remembered where it was.

He was considerably less surprised to see his Transfiguration professor at the top of the stairs, presumably waiting for him. Sure enough, she nodded to him when he reached the top of the stairs, and motioned for him to follow as she started down the hallway to her office.

Harry occupied himself by staring at the paintings on the walls while McGonagall strode briskly in front of him. When they came to her office door, she took out a worn, tarnished key, inserted it in the lock, and pushed the door open. Harry walked inside.

The professor stood in front of him. She looked much more tired than he ever remembered seeing her. He could recall clearly the first time he'd seen Professor McGonagall in his first year; a strong and wise woman waiting to bring the scared new students inside. She had looked invincible. He thought that about people when he was younger, that there were some who never died. McGonagall had been one, Dumbledore another. He had thought that Snape wouldn't die.

There was one other when he was thirteen. An Animagus who had done the impossible, survived despite all the odds against him. A man who had escaped from prison, escaped from certain death. One who had offered his childhood home as a meeting place.

Subconsciously, he had thought that Sirius Black was invincible.

He knew now that he was wrong.

Professor McGonagall stood before Harry, her face taut with worry, dark circles under her eyes. She studied him, looking directly into his eyes. Then she spoke.

"Mr. Potter, half of my Sixth Year students have been attacked. We don't know anything about the whereabouts of Lord Voldemort. I have more important things to worry about than whether or not you're out on a late night rendezvous." Harry didn't say anything.

"So," continued McGonagall, "I am going to let it go. Try not to..." She stopped and smiled faintly. "Try not to get caught again."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, although he wasn't sure what he was going to say. He had to get out of here soon, Ron was probably waiting for him--

His thoughts were interrupted as an out-of-breath Fourth Year whose name he had forgotten burst into the office.

"Professor Mc- McGonagall," he wheezed, "I w- was sent to tell- tell you that P- Parvati Patil is out of the hospital wing." He took a few seconds to catch his breath.

"Oh?" said McGonagall, not hiding her surprise. "Would you please find her and tell her to come to my office? You may go, Harry," she added as the fourth year turned to leave. Harry followed the boy out the door, lagging behind as he started running.

At the bottom of the marble staircase, he saw Parvati Patil walking slowly but surely down the hallway toward Harry.

"Parvati!" he said. "How are you feeling? Have you seen Hermione? Do you know what happened to you?"

Parvati grinned at him. "I'm still alive, so I'm all right; our beds all have privacy screens, so, no, I haven't; and no one knows what happened to us. Not even us. I hated not being able to move," she added.

Harry looked at her, surprised. "You couldn't move?" She shook her head. "Why?" he asked.

"I don't know, I guess it was a part of the spell..." She shook her head. "No, for about a day, I couldn't. But I'm fine now, so..."

Harry smiled faintly at her. "I have to go find Ron. I'm glad you're okay."

"So am I," she called after him as he started back toward the Gryffindor common room.

In a few minutes' time, he found Ron, who had been standing anxiously outside the portrait hole.

"Come on, let's go," he said. "You didn't get in trouble, did you?" Harry shook his head, and they started walking in the direction of the hospital wing. They moved silently, side-by-side, each lost in their own thoughts. As they ascended the staircase that would take them to the hospital wing, Colin Creevey came running up to them.

"Harry! Ron! Did you hear that Parvati Patil--"

"Is out of hospital, we know," finished Harry.

"Parvati is out of hospital?" asked Ron.

Harry looked at him. "Oh, that's right," he said, "I didn't tell you. Yeah, I saw her on the way out of McGonagall's office, she looked almost normal... maybe a bit pale, but...."

"So- so Hermione is going to be all right? Do they know what spell they used?" asked Ron hopefully.

"I asked Parvati. She said even they didn't know what happened to them."

"Oh," said Ron, face falling. He had clearly expected the victims to know what had occurred.

An awkward silence followed. "Well," said Colin finally, fiddling with his camera strap, "I should get going. I'll see you, Harry..."

"'Bye, Colin," said Harry as he and Ron started walking through the corridor, Colin heading in the other direction.

Harry glanced at his best friend as they reached the door to the hospital wing. His face was a mix of eagerness and worry, and Harry knew he was much more anxious about Hermione's well being than he would ever admit.

Ron fidgeted. Harry knocked. A weary-looking Madam Pomfrey pulled the door open almost immediately and looked at them. Her eyes narrowed upon seeing Harry and she opened her mouth, looking wary. Harry cut in before she had a chance to start talking.

"Madam Pomfrey," he said quickly, "can we please see Hermione if we promise not to disturb anyone else? We know people are sick, we just want to see her, no one will tell us anything..." Ron was nodding fervently at Harry's side.

The mediwitch gave them both a look and sighed.

"Until late last evening, she was not able to talk. One word- one word with your voices raised, and I'm kicking you both out. That girl has been through an ordeal and she does not need excitement right now." She held open the door and stepped aside so they could enter.

They were led immediately to Hermione's bed. She was behind a thin private screen, which the mediwitch pushed aside. Hermione looked very small and pale in the big hospital bed. She appeared to be in an uneasy sleep; she had kicked the covers down to the edge of the bed and her hands were clenched at her sides.

"Miss Granger," said Madam Pomfrey gently, shaking Hermione's shoulder. Hermione's eyes opened to small slits. She stared at them all blearily.

"Madam Pomfrey," she said, "is something wrong?" Her eyes lit upon Ron and Harry. She pushed herself up with her arms, looking more awake by the second. She smiled widely.

"Harry! Ron! Why- I'm- It's so good to see you both! What's been happening? Do I have just a ton of schoolwork? Have they--" Her voice was slightly hoarse from getting so little use; but unmistakably enthusiastic, and, under the happiness, undoubtedly worried.

"Calm yourself, Miss Granger," said the mediwitch before smiling slightly and addressing Harry and Ron. "Fifteen minutes, and then I'm letting her go back to sleep." As the three friends started talking, Madam Pomfrey slipped away.

Hermione, predictably, had questions about everything.

"Do the teachers know what happened to us?"

"No one knows what happened, Hermione," replied Harry. She started to speak again, but stopped in mid-word and blinked.

"No one knows?" she asked. "But--"

"If you don't know," pointed out Ron, "what are the chances anyone else will?"

"How do you know I don't--"

"The first thing you asked us is 'what's been happening'. That's not the question of someone who has all the answers," said Harry.

"Which makes me think that something must be wrong with you, since you always have all the answers," put in Ron. Hermione glared briefly at him, but her face quickly slipped back into its pensive, slightly worried expression. Ron and Harry looked at one another.

"Hermione," said Harry finally, "are you all right? You're a little- I think you're still tired from the attacks."

Hermione blinked at him before giving him a small smile. "Yes, I'm sure that's it," she said.

"Maybe you should get some rest. We could leave now, I'm sure you're tired. We just wanted to know that you weren't- that you were going to be all right."

"Well," began Hermione, "I w--"

"No," cut in Ron, "really, you should, uh, sleep, because you need to rest and- I mean, it's... sleep is good. We can, we'll see you later." Hermione stared at him.

"As I was about to say," she continued, "I think I would rather like to sleep a little more."

"Oh," muttered Ron, ears turning slightly red.

"Come on, Ron," Harry said wearily, tugging on his arm. "Hermione, we're glad you're all right and we'll see you later." Hermione smiled at the boys and sat back on her pillow. Harry pulled Ron out of the wing and straight into an anxious-looking Pansy Parkinson.

Ron blinked, took a few steps back, rubbed the spot on his forehead where he and Pansy had collided, and scowled. "Why don't you watch it?" he said angrily.

"Possibly because you ran into me," she snapped, rolling her eyes.

"It's not like you're supposed to be here--" began Ron before Harry sighed exasperatedly and yanked him firmly away from Pansy.

"We're not supposed to be here, either," said Harry pointedly once they were out of earshot. He cast a quick look back at Pansy, who was looking angrily at them. She turned away and entered the hospital wing as she noticed Harry looking at her.

"I don't like her," said Ron fiercely, "she's such a snob, and there's nothing special about her except that she wants to shag Malfoy..." Harry blinked. That reminded him of his odd meeting with both of the aforementioned Slytherins the day before.

"I," Harry started, wanting to say something in response but not having anything prepared, "I- oh, come on, let's go to breakfast."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Pansy was eating very methodically. She looked around her, trying to find something of interest.

Millicent, to her left, was saying something angrily to Blaise Zabini.

A Fifth Year Ravenclaw was laughing as two of his friends surreptitiously threw bits of bread at each other.

Draco was not here yet. Pansy looked toward the door, trying not to act anxious.

And was that Parvati Patil? She was supposed to be in the Hospital Wing, wasn't she?

The girl got closer. It was indeed Parvati.

"Parvati!" shrieked Padma Patil as Parvati walked into the Great Hall. She grinned widely at the sight of her twin, who had leapt up from her seat in excitement and was currently running toward the Gryffindor.

"Hi, Padma," laughed Parvati, stopping as her sister grasped her forearms. Pansy looked up at them, taking a bite of toast. They were in the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables, both looking very happy.

"I'm so glad you're all right! And," she dropped her voice for anyone who may have been listening (though Pansy could still hear just fine), "I'm so sorry about Lavender. But, you know, a real hospital is much better for her than just the school's--"

"Padma," interrupted Parvati levelly, "what on earth are you talking about?"

Padma blinked and looked intently at her sister. "Wh- you mean, they didn't tell you? I thought you would have been the first!"

"Did something happen to Lavender?"

"She's all right, I'm sure, but--"

"Lavender went to St. Mungo's?"

"Parvati, I promise, it'll be okay--"

"No one else had to go. They told us it would be all right, even the teachers came, even McGonagall told me so!"

"Lavender was in the worst condition," said Padma. "She took the brunt of the spell."

"They told us," repeated Parvati, "that it would be all right."

Padma hugged her tightly. "It will," she promised.

Pansy watched them and wondered how you could love someone and still make them a promise like that.

[October 7]

Draco blinked blearily. How long had he been sitting here? Hours, certainly. His hand was cramped from all the writing he had been doing, and he had to shake his head a few times to return his vision to its normal state. It had to be at least midnight by now. He should stop for the night... but he was so close, he had almost all the ingredients, now if Pansy would just get here with the-

As if on cue, he heard a soft tapping at his door. He looked around the room quickly, just in case it wasn't her. He noted with some relief that there was nothing out to suggest he was doing anything other than some last-minute homework.

"Who's there?" asked Draco; not raising his voice, knowing whoever was outside could hear him.

"It's me," answered Pansy. She spoke in her normal voice, using a nice, even tone. Draco liked Pansy, she adapted to situations very well.

"Well," Draco called in a low voice, "don't just stand there. Do you have it?"

The doorknob turned and Pansy stepped into the room carrying a vial. "Malfoy, this really isn't the greatest idea," she said, walking over to the place where he was kneeling. He reached out a hand for the vial. She gave it to him.

"I'm serious," she said. "Draco, if something goes wrong..."

"Worried, Pansy?" he asked her coolly.

"Worried about you, yes. Worried about me... well, this isn't really about me. I'm nothing but your messenger girl," replied Pansy, a hint of bitterness in her voice. She sat down next to Draco. He glanced briefly away from his paper to look at her.

"As detrimentally as you put that, you don't seem to mind too much."

Pansy sighed and looked at him. "It's your funeral, Draco. I think this is the stupidest thing you could possibly do. You know what it looks like, you know what they're going to think."

Draco put down the vial and looked at her unwaveringly. "People think what they want to think," he said. "It doesn't matter what I do. If they want to think I'm-"

"They will," cut in Pansy. "They will. And you'll be expelled." When Draco made no comment, she continued, "And I probably will, too, for aiding and abetting you... Draco, you know what I would do for you but there are things I want to do."

"So you're stopping your involvement in this," said Draco.

"I was getting there."

"I can do it myself," he said quietly.

"I don't doubt that," she replied, lowering her voice to match his. "But..."

Draco picked up the vial again, looked inside and scribbled down something on his parchment. Pansy rose, smoothing her robes and looking at the focused boy.

"Just be careful, all right?" she finished, pushing open the door. "The Brown girl got taken to St. Mungo's today, you know. Her odds to live aren't- I don't remember the figures, but they're not very good. If she dies, Draco, you know what it's going to come to."

"How do you know where they took Brown?"

"Everyone knows now," she answered softly. "Well, almost everyone. Patil didn't. I heard her sister telling her. She seemed really upset." Pansy frowned, remembering Padma Patil's promise.

"I don't care about the welfare of a couple of Gryffindors, Pansy," said Draco coldly, "why do you?"

"I don't," she replied flatly. "This isn't about them and you know it."

"You seem to be acting like it."

"Merlin's sake, Draco!" hissed Pansy. "I'm not the one who told Potter I was a spy-"

"You're not a spy," snapped Draco.

"That's not the point!" Pansy screeched in a thin voice, attempting to stay quiet and properly convey her rage. "Don't act like an idiot. Why Potter, why him, of all the people-"

"I was upset," he snarled. "I didn't come crying to big hero Potter to save me from my problems. I was out to get the-" Pansy's head snapped up. Draco had yet to tell her about any ingredients he needed that she had not been sent to fetch. She stared at him anticipatorily. When it became clear he'd caught himself and would say no more, she nodded resignedly and inched out the door a bit more. Engrossed in his work as he appeared to be (as he appeared to be quite suddenly- a cover for his slip-up, she assumed), she never took her eyes off him.

The door creaked as Pansy pushed a little more on it. Draco looked up at her. She was halfway outside. "I have to do this," he said. "I have to. I know what could happen. But I also know what they're capable of. It's not your problem, so I don't need your permission. I'm a big boy, Pansy. Just try and understand." He looked back at his parchment, frowning.

"I'm trying," she said. Her gaze softened almost imperceptibly and she pulled the door shut quietly behind her.