When Worlds Collide

Chapter 5: And so it starts

"Well, we're really sorry to see you go, Tony," Rosemary the receptionist said, with a sad smile.

Tony only smiled back in response, not really trusting herself to say anything. Of all the staff at the vet clinic, Rosemary and Carla were the only ones friendly enough to make the job worth getting up for every morning.

"Will we be seeing you much?" Rosemary again prompted.

Tony shook herself out of her reverie to reply. "Not likely. I'll be flying out to London soon, and I don't know long I'll be in Europe."

Rosemary's eyebrows raised subtly. "Wow - that sounds like an adventure."

Tony smiled grimly. "Something like that."

Through the doors to the reception, she saw her car drive up with Trina behind the wheel, and was relieved that she wouldn't have to make the walk back home. She started to pull on her jacket, and heard a voice down the hall, "...hold this cat for a minute..."

Moments later a young brunette woman rushed out of surgery, taking a stethoscope from her ears to rest them around her neck. She halted in front of Tony, suddenly at a loss of what to say. Eventually she settled for a resigned smile.

"Bye," Tony said. "Remember, every time a dog bites you, be thankful it wasn't Richard - dog bites don't usually renew themselves on the hour."

Rosemary gave a hearty laugh, and lowered her voice to say, "Don't let him hear you say that."

Carla leaned forward to give Tony a parting hug, spying Trina squinting from the car, trying to see what was happening.

"Ah," Carla said, "I see your ride's here."

Tony picked up her handbag. "Oh, and Carla, I left the blood sample of the Wilson cat on the Idexx - I've run the blood test already. High glucose. Just remember to dispose of the serum and equipment before you go, because I haven't done it."

Carla smiled. "Talking shop isn't going to make us forget you're not coming back. Now, get out there before your friend starts honking at you to hurry."

With one last look around the reception, and at her colleagues, Tony ducked quickly out the door, deliberately not looking back. She quickly slid into the front passenger seat of her car, shutting the door behind her, staring straight ahead.

Trina was looking at her in thought. "I thought you were glad to leave that job. Sort of."

"I'm glad to leave the boss. And the pus, and the claws, and the teeth, and the grossness." Her face contorted a little. "But I'll miss Carla and Rosemary."

Trina pulled out onto the road after Tony buckled herself in. "Are you packed?" she asked.

"Mostly," Tony responded. "What time is it?"

Her friend looked at the small glowing green numbers of the car's digital clock. "Fourteen minutes past five - Friday hectics are officially over for the day."

"Tomorrow morning the others have to be out of the motel by ten. We'll be ready to leave by then."

Trina glanced sidelong at Tony. "And your parents still think you're just going to Auckland?"

"We are going to Auckland." She kept looking resolutely ahead. Trina knew better than to pursue the subject.

They were silent the rest of the way home, until Trina pulled up outside the curb to where Tony lived. "I'll pick you up at about eight?"

Tony nodded and got out of the car. She was about to shut the door when she leaned down to speak. "Oh, and Trina?"

Trina looked up; waiting for whatever emotional and positive poignant comment Tony had to offer.

"If you wreck my car I'll flay you alive."

Tony smiled lightly, as she made her way into the house.

~<>~

Ginny trotted out of the great hall after breakfast to talk to Fred and George. The topic of Harry, Ron and Hermione's disappearance, although often thought of, was not spoken of at the Gryffindor table. This had become something of an unspoken rule, ever since a food fight had broken out from a difference of opinion a few days prior, resulting in 6 detentions.

She caught up with the twins as they were whispering schemingly to each other, next to a portrait of an old woman. When they noticed Ginny approach, they guiltily shoved something into their pockets as fast as they could.

"Hey, Gin," Fred greeted her, with faux brightness, as if he hadn't been up to anything at all.

Ginny frowned at his pocket. "What's in there?"

"Uh, a stray knut, a few biscuit crumbs...and a lolly from Honeydukes," her brother responded, with a look on his face implying that she'd just asked the stupidest question in the world.

"Really!" A voice interrupted. "If you turned out your pockets right now, I don't believe you'll find any of those things - instead a quite suspicious-looking apparatus."

Ginny looked around momentarily, startled by the intrusion, before noticing that the disapproving tone came from the old woman in the frame above their heads. She was frowning down at the two boys.

"What is it exactly, that you have there?" she continued.

The twins looked at each other, no doubt in censure at their mistake of standing beneath a disciplinary portrait while discussing unorthodox tactics.

"Something that's going to get Harry, Hermione, and our brother back," George responded with a self-assured snap. "That's a good thing, right?"

The portrait only huffed in reply, and the twins briskly walked away before she could begin again. Ginny trotted along behind them to keep up.

They stopped alongside the fountain in a courtyard, where George sat down.

"Really," he began, "that old woman thinks she has the right to discipline everyone."

"Is it true?" Ginny said, wide-eyed and a little out of breath. "Can you get them back?"

The twins looked at each other, uneasy. They obviously regretted their outburst - judging by Ginny's hopeful face, it wasn't the best way to have approached the matter. After all, they didn't have a fail-safe plan, despite whatever gadgets were at their disposal.

"Well?" Ginny prompted, with a note of desperation.

"We don't exactly have a plan or anything..." Fred said, grimacing as he saw Ginny's face fall, "...but they might help. George and I were going to do a bit of investigating."

Ginny grew excited, and hopeful, opened her mouth to ask the thing that Fred had obviously anticipated, as he added, "I don't think you should come with us, Gin."

Ginny gaped for a few seconds before heatedly replying, "Why not? That's my brother out there too, you know! And Harry's just as much my friend as he is yours!"

Fred looked at her with a face usually reserved for sighting a rampaging runaway hippogriff.

"Well..." he started, "you know how we do stuff mum wouldn't...approve of. You shouldn't get caught up in it." He tried for a more casual tone. "Besides, after Percy, you're the family's last hope of redemption for having an smart person in it."

Ginny wasn't about to let that meagre argument justify leaving her out. "I don't care!" she said. "You can't expect me to wait around helplessly while other people try to get Harry, Ron and Hermione back!"

"We won't leave you out of the loop," George said, trying to call a compromise. "We'll let you know how it's going on. You'll only stay out of the potentially dangerous situations."

"Let me help!" Ginny pleaded. "I don't care how dangerous it is!"

"I know you don't," George said. "But I'm sure Mum will. And of course we'll both feel terrible knowing you'd died when you wouldn't have if we'd left you behind."

Ginny's eyes welled up with frustrated tears. "I'm just as much an asset as either of you!" she said. "I don't care what you say - I am going to do something! With or without you! I care about them all too much to keep me away, even if you don't!"

That said, she turned and ran back toward the Gryffindor dormitory, in an effort to not to show her tears. She was so angry and upset at being excluded from any rescue plans, she quite forgot to ask about what her brothers had in their pockets.

~<>~

Harry blearily rubbed his eyes and swung an arm over to smack the radio making that infernal buzzing... The strike only succeeded in sending the white digital clock-radio diving to the floor, its alarm still sounding loudly and the red numbers still blinking '8:00'. He reached down for it, fingers brushing the backpacks Tony had given them for packing the night before, muttering something he was sure Snape would have deducted points for, and finally found the switch to turn it off.

He sighed in frustration. After such a process, it was now impossible to lull back into the comforting blanket of sleep. He sat up with a scowl, and as he fumbled for his glasses and put them on, he muttered, "Not a nice wake-up call..."

"That's not how I would have phrased it," a voice came to him, equally grumpy.

Now that he had his glasses on, Harry could clearly see Draco sitting up with a scowl to rival his. Early Saturday mornings obviously didn't agree with him either. Harry let his glance travel to the third bed in the room, where he could make out a lump under the apricot covers. It didn't appear to be moving.

"Ron?" Harry ventured.

The lump twitched.

"Ron?" he tried again.

This time the lump definitely made a sound, and it wasn't a happy one. "What?"

We have to get ready to go, the words sounded in Harry's head, but they didn't make it to his mouth. They hadn't been here long in this unknown place, and yet now they had to pack up to head into more unfamiliarity. Early Saturdays appeared to be bad enough without the reminder of that.

The bed covers were thrown back from the lump to reveal the sleepy Ron Weasley, who after taking a few seconds to blink and orientate himself, awkwardly clambered out of bed.

Harry turned to see Draco was already out of bed and the boxer-clad boy briskly headed for the bathroom, clutching a pile of clothes, and shut the door.

Harry regretfully moved to put his feet on the floor and unwrap himself from all the blankets that had somehow cocooned him overnight. He really didn't have much to pack, he realised as he pulled on some casual jeans and the first shirt he reached for. Perhaps we could have afforded to take a bit more of a sleep-in, he thought longingly.

He knocked on the door dividing them from the kitchen, wondering if Hermione had been woken by the alarm. The following 'It's okay, come on through' assured him that she was indeed awake.

He couldn't conceal the surprise on his face when he saw that she must have been up for a considerable amount of time. Her bed had been neatly made, she was dressed and with a bright smile, and the smell of toast wafted from the small kitchen. Fresh morning air drifted around the room from the open door to their unit.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully, as she buttered a piece of toast then reached for a pot of honey.

Harry groaned. Hermione was obviously a 'morning person'.

"'Morning," he grumbled, sitting down at the table with a small frown. He started a little at the loud clack of a plate being put onto the table, and Hermione pushed the plate of toast towards him.

"Eat that," she instructed. "Then hopefully you can function."

Harry didn't respond, but instead sunk his teeth into the sweet crunchy slice. As the first mouthful slid down his throat, its warmth and taste roused him into the world of consciousness.

"Thanks, Hermione," he said gratefully, before hungrily taking another bite.

He saw Hermione place another plate of toast on the table, before Ron came trudging into the room, an expression matching the one Harry had had earlier. He mumbled something that may have been intended as thanks, before bringing his toast to his mouth.

Hermione sat down with a plate of her own, and after swallowing a bite she brightly exclaimed, "Now, I've packed most of our food, so after breakfast the rest can be packed away and we'll be ready to go."

"I haven't packed yet," Ron ventured through a mouthful of toast.

"But that won't take long," Harry assured Hermione.

The arrival of Draco stilled the morning conversation. The Slytherin looked impeccable, as usual, and to his credit he threw no insults as he made his way into the kitchen. Harry saw that Hermione hadn't prepared anything for Draco - not that this surprised him. He wondered how the blond would get on making breakfast for himself; surely he was accustomed to house elves doing the work for him.

Evidently this thought had just occurred to Draco, as an irritable voice said, "How does this piece of junk work?"

Harry couldn't help the tone of sarcasm in his voice as he replied, "Bread in. Lever down. Bread out. Pick up knife. Spread honey on." An amused smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he added, "Lather, rinse, and repeat."

Draco evidently didn't find this comment as amusing as the others did. He strode determinedly back into the dining room and sat down on the couch, trying to look as though his ignorance of muggle living didn't bother him.

"Not having anything to eat, Malfoy?" Ron taunted in delight.

"I'd thought not," Draco replied, "but Juicy Pulsating Weasley Heart is beginning to sound tempting."

Hermione grimaced in disgust at the notion, and Ron looked quite alarmed. Harry was grateful for his friend's sake that Draco didn't have his wand - he knew the blond was all talk, but if he had been armed Ron would be more anxious about his personal safety. The Malfoy family's association with the Dark Arts wasn't much of a secret.

"And you'd know all about what they're like, wouldn't you Malfoy?" Ron heatedly responded. "You and your Death Eater buddies probably have it as regular menu feature."

Draco knew that anything he could say in his defence was futile - Ron was already fixed in his opinion of him, as so it had been from the beginning. Draco figured that if he was going to be accused of such nonsensical things such as eating hearts, he might as well milk it for all it was worth.

He smirked confidently as he replied, "Only the ones from babies and virgin maidens."

Apparently this was the wrong response. Ron leapt up from the table sending his chair tipping to the floor with a crash, and he glared down at Draco who at this stage didn't seem particularly disturbed by Ron's anger.

"You're sick, you know that?" Ron exclaimed, almost yelling now. "Sick! Why's that Malfoy? You think you're too good for us? Too important?"

Draco stood now, too, and his voice rose in a shout to match his opponent's. "You seem to have decided already what my motives and future plans are, Weasel, so however I answer is irrelevant!"

Harry and Hermione were looking nervously at each other. The tension and animosity had been accumulating between Ron and Draco, and had apparently now exploded. Harry suspected that they couldn't persuade Ron to recant if they tried - maybe it was better to let them battle it out. Assuming of course, no bodily harm was involved.

"...just like your father!" Ron was yelling. "Just a puppet for Voldemort to do with as he pleases, and you'll jump when he says so! That makes you no more than his personal house elf!"

"Exactly what part of my personal decisions makes itself your business?" Draco shouted back.

"It'll be very much my business when you and your Death Eater friends come and kill me and my friends and family!" Ron retorted.

"Well you're not doing very well at ensuring your safety right now, then, are you?" Draco exclaimed. "Throwing stones at a snake will make it bite!"

Harry again looked at Hermione worriedly. At this rate, intervention was going to be necessary. As much as he hated to hear this argument, Harry was interested to note that Draco had in fact neither confirmed nor denied Ron's accusations.

"That's all you know how to do, Malfoy!" Ron said loudly, on a roll now. "Becoming a Death Eater is all in your sadistic plan! Look me in the eye and tell me it isn't!"

The room became quiet in wait for Draco's response. His narrowed gaze never wavering from the glare directed at him, he stepped closer to the irate redhead. When Draco finally spoke, his steady voice had quietened to almost a whisper.

"Except it won't make any difference, will it?"

It wasn't a question.

Silence again enveloped the room, as the Gryffindor three mulled over this exchange. The silence was broken by regular sharp claps echoing around the room. They all looked up in surprise to see Tony leaning languidly against the kitchen bench as she folded her arms, an incredulous Trina behind her.

"You should have told me this was going to happen," Tony said. "I would have brought popcorn." Despite the humour of her comment, they could see she was far from amused. A frown was set in her forehead, and her tone hadn't been comical. Ron looked to be about to try to justify his part in the scene, but a slight shaking of Harry's head silenced him.

"You know what," Tony continued, as she walked further into the room to sit on the couch that Draco had recently vacated, "I'm not going to ask what that was about. I got the general gist anyway. But the point is, I'm going to be stuck in a car with you people for a considerable time, and if this is what I'm hearing before we've even left-" she cut off suddenly, dawning realisation on her face. She looked to Trina with an expression of apprehension as she pleaded, "Please tell me I'm not turning into my parents!"

Trina determinedly kept her mouth shut while looking anywhere but at her friend.

This elicited a groan from Tony, who resignedly reached for a cushion and covered her face with it as she slumped further into the couch. "Continue," she said with a wave of her hand, her voice muffled through the cushion. "Despite whatever your memories tell you, the past thirty seconds did not happen..."

Trina smiled in amusement as she said to the English four, "All ready to go?"

This flustered Hermione into action, and she started gathering up plates and cups. "I just have to pack away some of the food," she said. "Apparently the boys need to pack their clothes too, but they say that won't take long."

"We have two hours before we have to be out of the motel," Trina said, sitting down next to her still-cushion-smothered friend. "Just pack up now, and we'll check out and be on our way. And by the sounds of things, Draco and Ron will have to sit as far apart as possible." She didn't sound happy either, at the behaviour of the two boys.

"Iwis yor oyfen," came the muffled voice from under the cushion.

Everyone looked towards the cushion in confusion. "What?" Trina said.

Tony lifted a hand to pry the cushion from her face just far enough for her to whisper, "It was your 'boyfriend'" as though this somehow made Trina partly responsible, before removing the cushion entirely.

The remaining four in the room continued to look confused as Trina stood, since they hadn't heard Tony's clarification, but they saw that they weren't about to get an explanation so they proceeded to pack their things.

Trina saw the last of the boys go into their room before she turned back to Tony and said with a wry grin, "Yours too."

Amazingly, Harry was right when he said that packing wouldn't take long. When Trina and Tony returned from checking out at the office, the boys were now ready to go. Tony figured that they had just shoved everything they had into the backpacks caring little for tidiness. With the exception of Draco, who had taken a little longer than the others to get ready.

"Right," Trina said, "we're good to go?" She turned to see Tony heading out to the car with Hermione's bags, and shopping bags of their food.

Harry and Ron emerged from their room with their respective backpacks, and followed where Tony had just gone.

"Draco?" Trina said. "Are you still in there?"

"He's already out here," Tony called.

Trina backed out of the unit and locked the door behind her. Tony was already seated in the driver's seat of her car, and the Gryffindors clambered into the back.

"I'll just walk over to the office to hand this in," Trina explained, waving the key. "You can meet me there, since my stuff is already in the boot."

Tony saw that Ron had no intention of shuffling over for Draco to fit in, so she pushed open the front passenger door, and Draco quickly ducked inside with a touch of relief. When all doors had been shut (Tony thought Ron had slammed his a little louder than was necessary), she started the car and ambled it slowly down to the office.

Trina emerged, and looked questioning at the seating arrangements. "What's this?" She looked at Draco. "You're in my seat, boy."

Draco looked as though he was about to sneer a response, but Tony interrupted with the explanation, "Ron and Captain Peroxide aren't on the best of terms, as you know, so in order to avoid bloodshed, Draco had to be here. Hopefully they'll get over it soon, and you can have your seat back."

Trina looked distinctly unimpressed as she moved in beside Ron in the back, Ron looking vaguely apologetic for the disturbance.

Tony thought of her clueless family as she pulled out of the motel driveway. In a week, when she still wasn't back from Auckland, they'd start piecing together what she had done. Either that, or they'd think she'd been attacked by a city thug. She watched the Hastings landmarks that she had taken for granted over the years roll by; the paved square of the town centre with the art deco streetlamps and water sculptures; the large pool with fountains, train tracks running through the centre; the large clock that let out a large single 'dong' marking the half hour as she drove away from the area...

As the car left the last Hastings buildings behind it and entered the open road lined with trees, four low-spoken words quietly left Tony's mouth. "What am I doing...?"

She didn't let herself think of the answer.