Warring Weasleys

Chapter Nine: Lovers' Games

Ron Weasley struggled to keep up with Harry as they ran down the corridor. He was worried about Hermione, but more worried for himself. Harry again brought him along on another harrowing adventure, and Ron was sure his red hair would be stark white by the time Harry was through with him.

The halls were empty given the late hour, but Ron watched every show and corner just in case something should leap out at them. The pictures on the walls depicted sleeping subjects draped over beds and chairs. Ron wondered how he and Harry would get back to Gryffindor tower with the Fat Lady fast asleep. His feet ached from running, and all he wanted was to be safe in his cozy bed instead of sending gilded invitations to danger and mayhem by roaming the hallways.

He followed Harry down into Hogwart's belly, past the potions classes in the dungeons and on to more creepy looking alcoves. At last Harry stopped, and Ron ran up short, almost smacking into Harry's back.

"Watch it!" Ron said, annoyed. He paused to catch his breath and looked around.

The area was dark, but a tiny pinpoint of light shone at the far end of the hallway.

"Harry, I thought we were going to the library to check for Hermione. What are we doing down here?" Ron whispered urgently, shifting his head around to check for anything that might enjoy surprising a pale red headed boy who didn't belong in the dungeons at this time of night.

"We were," said Harry. "I just had an idea."

"Oh so you had an idea and I follow you blindly, eh?"

"Come on, Ron, I think I know what may be causing that thundering underground. The problem is –"

There was always a problem, thought Ron with a sigh. "Yeah?" he urged. He was eager to get this whole thing over with.

"I need my invisibility cloak."

Ron almost reached out and choked his good friend. Instead, he bit his lower lip and tried to remain composed. "We were just up in the tower, Harry," he said slowly, letting each word sink in, "you could have brought it with you."

"Yes, but I didn't know I'd need it until now. I'll stay here and you go get it. Be sure no one sees you."

"I'll wear it on my way back down. You just better pray that the Fat Lady is still up!"

Ron lumbered off halfheartedly and heard Harry whisper, "hurry up!" as he turned the corner. He started into a slow jog and mentally listed his complaints against Harry. He was so engrossed in his negative inventory, he did not notice Crabbe and Goyle coming out from the Slytherin common room, heading for the library. The three students passed quietly in the corridor, and went on their respective ways.

Ron made it back to the tower and caught the Fat Lady just as she was about to retire for the evening. He knew that once he left the tower again, he could not get back in 'til morning. He thought of going to bed and letting Harry sit down in the dungeon alone, but resignedly gave the Lady the password, grabbed the cloak, put it over his head, and grumbled all the way back down to meet Harry.

* * *

Goyle felt woozy, as if he were walking on a cloud. In reality he was walking swiftly after Crabbe, trying to grab onto him. He needed to touch him; it was an overwhelming urge that Goyle could not understand or explain. His desire was primal and fierce. He wanted to kiss Crabbe. No, that can't be it, he thought for a fleeting second. His mind was swimming with visions of Crabbe – Crabbe with the beautiful skin, Crabbe with the harmonious voice, Vincent with the haircut in the shape of a pudding bowl. The only problem was that Crabbe was running away from him and he couldn't catch up. Every time he got near, Crabbe pushed him away.

"Get off!" shouted Crabbe, violently shoving Goyle onto the floor.

Goyle barely felt the blow to his backside as he hit the ground; he was too enraptured by the fact that Crabbe had actually made contact with him. He touched me, thought Goyle. He sat on the tiles with a stupid grin on his face for half a minute before realizing that the object of his love and affection was getting away.

"Where are you going, darling?" he cried, rolling from side to side in an effort to get back on his feet. "Wait for me!"

He did his best to dart down the passage after Crabbe. The halls were empty, and the only sound Goyle could hear was his own footsteps echoing though the darkness. He slowed to a walk, already out of breath from running. Turning a corner, he suddenly recognized his surroundings.

"Why would Crabbie go into the library?" he said aloud to himself. He pushed open the door and peeked inside. "Crabbie?" he whispered. The library was silent as a tomb. Goyle stepped in and carefully shut the door behind him. The shelves were looming high all around, making him feel claustrophobic and panicky. "Crabbie?" he whispered again, this time a bit more loudly. Still no answer, but he did catch a slight shuffling noise coming from the far end of the bookcase where he stood. He crept down the corridor, his eyes shifting from right to left, straining to see in the darkness. His breathing grew heavier – no wait, that wasn't him breathing, it was someone else! Goyle stopped dead in his tracks. Someone was standing just ahead. He could barely make out a dark form pressed up against one of the bookshelves. Filch! he thought as his heart skipped a beat. Cold sweat was forming on his brow. No, it was too short to be Filch. Must be...Crabbie!

Relief poured over him in a wave and the potion did its worst. At that moment, Goyle was about to give in to the potion's madness. He stepped forward and reached for the figure, pulled it close and gave it a long, passionate, hungry kiss.

* * *

"What was it, what did you see?" asked Fred anxiously.

Just then, Hermione and Fred heard a blood curdling scream and the sound of someone being punched.

"That," said Hermione smugly, "would be Goyle. The one getting the shit kicked out of him, that is. I just saw him outside this very doorway making out with...I can't bring myself to say it."

"Who?" asked Fred, his eyes shining.

"Draco Malfoy."

"What?"

"Malfoy. I know, I was shocked to see it, but I did, right here with my very own eyes."

"Draco? Goyle?" Fred was about to burst out laughing but tried to control himself. "That's crazy!"

"It's not so crazy, really. They do spend an inordinate amount of time together, and strange thing shave been known to happen when people are forced into tight quarters together."

"You mean like with us?" Fred stepped close to Hermione and moved his face down close to her ear. He nuzzled her neck and kissed her earlobe, making Hermione lean against him with a pleased sigh.

"Maybe," she breathed.

Fred pulled away and looked down at her.

"Don't stop," she said dreamily. "I liked that."

"Your wish is my command," he said, returning to her neck, this time sucking it gently.

"Mmm."

Suddenly Fred stopped and looked at her again. "Are you going to regret this tomorrow? I mean, is this just a 'special moment' type of thing?" He was genuinely concerned that Hermione had let her guard down in the heat of the moment and the next day would only bring awkwardness and ill feelings. He didn't want her to think he'd taken advantage of the situation.

"I can honestly say no to that question. Though," she said with a wicked smile, "I will regret seeing Goyle with his tongue shoved down Malfoy's throat!"

"I'm glad you spared me," said Fred.

"What was Malfoy doing in the library this late, anyway?"

"Yes it's pretty late – oh no!" Fred's look changed from amused to perplexed. "I forgot Quidditch practice! Wood's going to kill me!"

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean for you to miss it. I was actually planning on watching. I love to watch you play."

"I thought you were there for George."

"George? Well you do look an awful lot alike but trust me, I can tell the difference. Easily."

Fred was impressed. Hermione had been checking him out all this time, and he'd thought she was watching George. George probably thought so, too.

"How is George, anyway? Is his foot any better?"

Fred suddenly wished he hadn't brought up his brother. Things were going just fine with no mention of him.

"Yeah, he's ok. Hey, I guess we should be heading back upstairs. I mean not that I don't want to stay here longer but if it's too late we can't get past the Fat Lady and all..."

Hermione checked her timepiece and frowned. "I'm afraid it is already too late. We'll have to sleep here."

Fred had a nagging curiosity to find out what was going on with Goyle and Malfoy, but Hermione's suggestion that they sleep together in the tiny secret room took his mind off the make out mystery. No other sounds had come from outside the door, so Fred assumed the boys had stolen away for a midnight rendezvous and had gone back to Slytherin house.

Hermione took a small pillow from the chair and lay down on the floor. She placed the pillow under her head and grabbed a sweater to pull around her. Fred sat down next to her.

"I still don't understand why Draco was hitting Goyle," he said thoughtfully.

"Who knows? Maybe it was some sick and twisted lovers' game," Hermione replied with a yawn.

"Probably," said Fred, curling up beside her. Let the games begin, he thought.