Murder at Malfoy Manor

Chapter Fifteen

Clear and Stormy Skies

Harry did not sleep well that night. He bid goodnight to Ron and crawled into his own bed, exhausted, yet sleep did not descend. His mind crawled over recent events: Snape's murder, Hermione's apparent betrayal, and Voldemort...something cold and slimy twisted through Harry's stomach. After Hermione fled into her bedroom, Voldemort stood in the hallway, glowering at Harry. Harry had contemplated what would happen if he and Ron just rushed him, tackled him to the ground and put their hands around his thin white neck and strangled him to death. They never got the opportunity, however. Voldemort's lips had curled into an evil little smile, and he laughed at them.

'Gentlemen,' Voldemort had said in a mocking voice. Then with a practised swirl of his robes, he was gone back into the shadows.

'Evil bastard,' Ron had muttered after him, shooting a glare at Hermione's closed door.

Harry tossed in his bed, pounding the pillow in remembrance, half-wishing it was Voldemort's face he could sock like a champion. He did not understand girls. Why did Hermione want to follow the Dark Lord? And what was going on with Ginny and Draco Malfoy? Ginny seemed to have some kind of annoyance/hatred/sexual tension thing going on with Malfoy. It was driving Ron to distraction to see his sister in the clutches of the Slytherin git, and Harry felt jealous too, even though he had no claim over Ginny.

Then, there was Pansy Parkinson. A warm liquid feeling settled over Harry at the thought of her and her kisses. Who would have guessed Pansy might go for him? Part of her appeal was the idea of thwarting Malfoy, but Harry was beginning to appreciate her small helplessness, her practical comments, her utter femininity. But with all the brouhaha during the day and night, Harry had not seen her since she went in search of Draco. She was in bed, he presumed, without Harry Potter to watch over her.

And then, transcending Harry's girl problems, there was Dumbledore. Harry did not know what was going on with the old man. He thought he knew Albus Dumbledore, but this weekend shattered the notion that Dumbledore was predictable, sane, and reasonable. Dumbledore knew more than he let on; that was normal. It was that feeling of orchestration, with Dumbledore always in the right place at the right time, that made Harry distrust the Headmaster. Harry was being left out of the loop.

'Grrrr,' Harry growled to himself.

After indeterminate hours spent in wakeful tossing and turning, the room finally drifted to black and Harry slept. With the storm outside it was impossible to tell when morning rose. His bedside clock read eight-thirty, however. He got out of bed feeling groggy and worn from his restless night. A splash of cold water on his face helped, and he adjusted his glasses to a straight angle on his nose.

He made up his mind to check up on Pansy first. He wanted her to know that he cared about what happened to her. After all, had they not been assigned as partners the first night? It was Harry's duty to keep watch over 'the girl.' He left his room dressed in his last change of clothes for the weekend; he had expected to be leaving today, Sunday.

Pansy's room was one right-hand turn and five doors down on the left, if he remembered correctly. He faced the glossy door, took a breath, and knocked.

There was no answer. Harry knocked again. 'Pansy?' he called softly. The door creaked open an inch. He saw a pair of long-lashed olive eyes blinking at him.

'Oh, it's you,' she said.

Harry nodded.

She opened the door, and Harry fought hard not to smile in triumph. Pansy was in night-time dishabille, a pretty lacy garment that seemed to have no part in solid cloth. It was short, riding up her thighs, and the thin spaghetti straps looked fragile against her sharp collarbone. Harry cleared his throat; he had a funny strangled feeling.

'What is it?' Pansy asked, batting her eyelashes in perfect innocence of her appearance.

'I, uh, I just thought I should, um - I wanted to check on you,' said Harry. 'Make sure you were safe. I was worried.'

'Oh!' Pansy smiled. 'Thank you. I slept very well, though.'

'G-good,' said Harry, hating himself for the stumble. 'Listen, Pansy -'

'Do you want to come in?' she said, pulling the door open wider. The motion made Harry think of legs. Oh no, not now, he thought as his mind created a wild variety of scenes with Pansy Parkinson as the star.

'I better come in,' said Harry. He stepped inside Pansy's room and stood, feeling awkward. He clasped his hands over his front. He made himself focus on anything but her, and settled for reciting potions ingredients in his head. And that reminded him of Snape. 'Have you heard?' he said. 'Snape was killed last night.'

'What?' Pansy's hands flew to her mouth in genuine shock. 'What?'

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Ron and Dumbledore and I found him. He was in his room, just...dead. I guess it was a murder. I couldn't really tell.'

'Oh, Merlin,' Pansy breathed. 'Oh, no.'

'Don't tell me you really liked him!'

'I did, actually!' Pansy crossed her arms over her chest. 'He was a good professor, and a good Head of House. He was very loyal to Slytherin.'

'Yeah, if you were a Slytherin, I guess he was just great,' Harry muttered.

'I think you're prejudiced against him,' Pansy said.

'Me? Prejudiced?' Harry was aghast. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! Pansy Parkinson was a pure-blood snob, one of the girls who hassled Hermione about her Muggle-born status, an elitist and discriminatory soul. 'You're the one who's prejudiced,' he finally said.

'How?' she challenged, setting her feet firmly into the carpet.

'How? You think you're better than everyone else just because you have pure blood. What does that even mean anyway? If it weren't for Muggle-borns, or mudbloods as you call them, wizards would have died out centuries ago. But you go prancing around like you're better, like you're better at magic just because your family is magic. And you're not.'

Pansy's cheeks flushed with anger. 'I'm not prejudiced!' she shrilled. 'It's just a fact about pure-blooded wizards. We handle magic better because we're used to it. Muggles can't be trusted! Don't you pay attention in History of Magic?'

Harry did not pay attention in History of Magic. But he figured that if there was something important, Hermione would have told him.

'Muggles used to kill wizards!' Pansy continued. 'They used to capture them and burn them! That's why Slytherin didn't want Muggle-borns at Hogwarts, because he was afraid they would betray the school. I think you're ignorant, and you don't know enough about magic!'

'Oh, so I've gone from 'most powerful wizard in school' to not knowing anything about magic?' Harry said.

'You weren't brought up as a wizard. There are some things you just don't understand.' She leaned back as though she had won the argument.

'Great. Perfect. So it's up to me to save the wizarding world, but I can see the kind of appreciation I'm going to get for it. Thanks, Pansy. You've helped out a lot.' Harry turned to go. 'Hope you don't get killed while I'm not here to protect you,' he could not resist shooting at her.

Pansy scowled and glared, but did not say anything as Harry left the room.

Back out in the corridor, Harry discovered that the naughty thoughts about Pansy Parkinson had fled his mind; for that he was a little bit sorry. He sighed as he shuffled along with a mind to find some breakfast. A spot of tea would help calm his temper. Pansy's upset words ran through his head, and Harry wondered about her perspective. How could she accuse him of being prejudiced? He wasn't, was he? Everyone knew that Slytherins were evil and nasty and exclusive about their company. They looked down on others and were horrible. Each and every one of them.

Or perhaps Harry did have prejudices against Slytherin? The uncomfortable idea wormed its way in, and with rare introspection Harry thought about it. Why did he hate Slytherins? Voldemort had been a Slytherin, and he was always trying to kill Harry. Snape was a Slytherin, and he was always unfair and mean and awful to Harry. Draco Malfoy was a Slytherin, and he did his best to make life miserable for Harry and his friends. But what about the rest of them? Harry admitted to himself that these were personal conflicts with people who happened to be Slytherins. There could not be an entire Hogwarts house that was uniformly evil. Maybe Pansy had a point.

He scowled as he walked down the stairs toward the morning room. Ah, well. He could hardly be blamed for having a thing against the serpent house...even if he was a Parselmouth, and might have fit in well amongst them... 'Ginny!' he called out, seeing the long fiery mane of his best friend's sister at the bottom of the stairs.

'Hi, Harry!' she waved. Then she glanced over to her left, where Harry could not see. When he reached the bottom of the steps, however, he discovered the object of Ginny's attention. Super. It was Draco Malfoy.

'Malfoy,' Harry said, suddenly determined to prove that he could be polite even to a Slytherin.

'Potter,' Malfoy said, looking exhausted. He had shadows under his eyes and a fragile air about his tall, thin frame.

'Do you guys know?' Harry addressed Ginny. 'About Snape?'

'Yeah,' said Ginny. 'Mrs. Malfoy told us last night.'

'Ah,' said Harry. Wait a minute. Dumbledore had said that Snape was the signatory on Lucius Malfoy's will. And Narcissa stood to gain the Manor without the physical will present...perhaps she had murdered Snape! Covering her tracks. Harry stayed quiet with Draco standing there; he would run his theory by Ron later, and hopefully Hermione as well.

'Hungry?' Ginny said. Harry thought she was talking to him, but she walked over to Malfoy and touched his arm.

'Yeah,' said Malfoy. 'Coming, Potter?' he tossed over his shoulder in a gloating fashion.

'Absolutely,' said Harry.

***********

For Ginny, breakfast was strange. Harry sipped on a cup of tea and ate scrambled eggs, staring at his plate as though the weight of the world were on his shoulders. Beside her, Draco was normal enough, aside from the occasional nudges from his foot, the hand that crept to her knee. Ginny tried not to giggle, especially once Dumbledore entered the cool, glittering morning room. The Headmaster ate nine crumpets with marmalade (Ginny counted them) and once or twice he smiled knowingly between Draco and Ginny. How did Dumbledore know everything?

That was when Ginny remembered Hermione from the night before. She had turned to the dark side, Ginny was positive. She recognised that look of adoration; she'd felt it once toward Tom Riddle, too, crazy manipulative bastard that he was. She wondered if Dumbledore was aware of Hermione's betrayal, as well.

'Harry,' Ginny said.

Harry looked up from his plate, his eyes very green in the morning light.

'Have you seen Hermione this morning?' Ginny asked, raising her eyebrows in significance.

'No,' Harry said darkly. 'She's probably with her new master. Voldemort.'

Next to Ginny, Draco spluttered over his pumpkin juice. 'Excuse me?' he said.

'That's right, Malfoy,' Harry said. 'Count one for your team of evil.'

'Hey,' said Draco. 'I'm not my father, y'know. Besides, Granger, join the Dark Lord? You're making it up.'

'He's not, ferret,' Ron's rejoinder echoed from the doorway. He sat on Ginny's other side, heaping Scottish pancakes onto his plate.

'Just a minute,' said Dumbledore, his blue eyes looking wide and flat. 'What's all this about Miss Granger?'

Ron nodded at the Headmaster. 'Last night, Harry and I found her. She was with You-Know-Who, of course, and we flat-out asked her if she's thrown in her lot with him. She said she wanted to sleep on it. To sleep on it!'

'I see,' said Dumbledore, stroking his beard, worried.

'Really?' said Draco.

'Really, Malfoy,' Ron spat. 'You ought to throw a party. Another evil-doer to join the ranks.'

'Why does everyone seem to think I'm a Death Eater?' Draco whined.

'I don't think you're a Death Eater, Draco,' Ginny said. Everyone turned to stare at her. 'What?' she said. 'I don't. He doesn't have the Mark.'

'Thank you,' said Draco.

Ron gave her a funny look. 'Ginny, how would you know whether Malfoy has the Dark Mark?' His eyes darted past Ginny to give Draco a look of deep warning.

'Don't mind your head about it, Ron,' Ginny said. 'Pass the jam, would you?'

The rest of breakfast went in awkward silence, and Ginny felt the tension seep into the air between Draco and her brother. She was in the middle of it, and the two were each tugging on her, pulling her in opposite directions. I'm probably imagining things, she thought. She sighed and pushed her plate away. 'Anyone up for a game of...um...let's see, what could we play...?'

Draco smirked. Ginny avoided meeting his eyes. There would be time for that later, she hoped.

'Exploding Snap?' Dumbledore suggested, pulling out a pack of the playing cards from his pocket. 'You're more than welcome to use my cards.'

'Oh! Thank you, Headmaster,' Ginny smiled. 'I think we will.' She turned to the three boys. 'We can have a tournament.'

Ron made a small noise of disgruntled dissent, but got up from the table to follow them upstairs to Ginny's room, where the Exploding Snap tournament would take place.

'The drawing room would be most comfortable,' Draco said.

'It's out of commission, remember?' Harry said. 'Your father?'

'Oh. Yes.'

'We'll go to my room,' Ginny suggested. It seemed like neutral territory and the boys agreed.

'Hey, Ginny!' Ron cried as they entered her pretty green guest room. 'Why isn't your bed slept in?'

'Um...' Ginny shifted on her feet. Darn it all! Think of an excuse, quick!

'Don't you know anything, Weasley?' Draco interrupted. 'Oh, that's right. I forgot. Your humble abode doesn't have the luxury of house-elves to make up the beds in the morning. Tell me, do your sheets ever get washed?'

That works, thought Ginny. Even if it was rude. As of late, she was so annoyed with Ron and his possessiveness that she could not muster sympathy for him. So, she stayed silent as Ron glared, and Harry stepped in front to ward off any fistfights. Ginny had to admit that Ron would likely win a physical, blow-by-blow fight with Draco.

'Come on, guys,' she said, when the tense silence stretched out too long. 'It'll be Harry and Ron to play first, then Draco and I. The winners of both will play each other. Double elimination, like.'

It might have worked. Ginny hoped that some friendly Exploding Snap would defuse the hard feelings, the fear of being murdered, the untenable situation of being stranded in the storm. She and Draco sat on her bed (she just knew what he was thinking, although he sat at a respectable distance) and watched Harry and Ron play their round of cards on the floor. It started to feel normal. Ginny began to hope.

Then, a knock on the door sounded, and Pansy Parkinson walked in. Harry, apparently distracted by her entrance, lost the game of Snap as Ron trounced him at the last moment. Pansy walked over and plunked herself down on the bed between Ginny and Draco. She put her arm through Draco's, and whispered something in his ear. Ginny felt a flash of hot jealousy flood through her veins, and she wanted to punch Pansy in the face. Through the haze of anger, Ginny noticed that Harry held a similar expression as he stared at the display.

'Drakey,' said Pansy, 'why don't we go somewhere else? You don't want to hang out with these Gryffindors, do you?' She pronounced 'Gryffindor' like a bad taste in the mouth.

'Uh,' Draco said. 'No?'

'No, you won't go somewhere else, or no, you don't want to hang out with us?' Ginny fired.

'He doesn't want to hang out with you,' Pansy answered for Draco. She glanced over Ginny before looking at Harry with utmost disdain. 'Right, Draco?'

Draco was silent.

'Right?'

'Yeah,' said Draco. 'Let's go.'

Ginny's heart sank when she heard the words. Of course, last night had been a one-off event. Of course, Draco would never associate with her outside this insane weekend. Of course, Draco had only kissed her because Pansy was making him jealous by partnering with Harry. The heavy lead vise of knowledge clamped around Ginny's heart, and she could feel the tears start to throb behind her eyes.

Pansy dragged Draco out of the room, shooting one more backwards glance at Harry, and then the pair was gone.

'Good riddance to them,' said Ron. Neither Harry nor Ginny could bring themselves to agree.

Ginny was glum for the rest of the morning. She played Exploding Snap with Ron, but lost because her heart was not in it. Harry did not help matters; he crossed his arms and slumped into the armchair, staring out the window into the black, howling storm.

It was into this downer atmosphere that Hermione appeared in the afternoon. Ginny glanced up at her friend, noting the earnest expression of worry. Hermione fiddled with a lock of her hair, twisting it round and round her finger. 'Hi, guys,' she said.

'Look who's decided to join us,' said Harry.

'Had a nice sleep, have you, Hermione?' Ron added.

Ginny watched the exchange, waiting with simple curiosity to see what Hermione would do. She was too caught up in her own drama with Draco to feel much of anything about Hermione's decision, but it was interesting to witness. All of us have our dark sides, Ginny thought.

'I'm sorry,' Hermione said. 'I don't know what I've been thinking. How could you believe I would turn on you? Does our friendship mean that little?'

'No, Hermione!' Harry said. 'It's just that the way you've been spending time with him, we thought -'

'We were really worried about you,' Ron interrupted, standing. 'We were afraid he'd affected you.'

Hermione sighed. 'I'll admit he's an interesting person. Harry, don't look at me that way! He is! But I'm not going to be a Death Eater, for heaven's sake. Just because I worked with the Dark Lord to solve this murder mystery doesn't mean I'm a follower.' She gulped, and Ginny wondered if she were trying to convince herself. 'I stand with you, Harry, and you, Ron, one hundred percent.'

'Really?' Harry stood from the chair. 'You mean it?'

'Of course!' Hermione said, a little sob in her voice. 'I just thought for awhile there that you guys didn't really like me, you just used me for schoolwork. That I didn't have real friends.'

That's what Voldemort told her, Ginny thought. Trying to drive her towards him by making her doubt what she has. It was the same technique the Dark Lord had used on Ginny, through his old diary, telling her that he was her only friend, no one else liked her, why doesn't she just tell him everything instead of making bonds with flesh-and-blood people? On someone like Hermione, Ginny imagined it might work well.

'Of course you have real friends,' Ron said. 'You have us! And although we love that you help us with schoolwork, that's not the only reason we like you.'

'Well said, Ron,' Ginny laughed. 'Hermione, no matter what these louts do,' she gestured to Harry and Ron, 'I'm always your friend.'

'We're not louts,' Harry protested.

It ended with hugs all around, and Hermione had an uncharacteristic sheen of tears in her eyes. But to Ginny's perception, there was something else behind them, a shadow of knowledge that she had not possessed before this weekend. Ginny wondered what the situation really was between Hermione and Voldemort. Her friend was not lying about staying true to Harry; Hermione was too clean and dry to pull off a deception like that. Still...

After they procured some sandwiches from a house-elf and ate in Ginny's room, Ron mumbled something about giving the Exploding Snap cards back to Dumbledore, and Ginny barely noticed his departure. After the Hermione situation was resolved, Ginny's traitorous heart turned back to the subject of Draco.

'So, are Draco and Pansy together, then?' she could not resist throwing out into the conversation.

'I always thought so,' Hermione said.

'They're betrothed,' Harry added with vehemence. 'Pansy said so.'

The words pierced through Ginny. It was to be expected; the old pure-blood families often made such arrangements. Still, for Draco to have made her think he cared...what a wanker.

Hermione raised her eyebrows at Harry. 'What's going on with you and Pansy Parkinson, Harry?' she asked.

'Nothing,' Harry muttered.

'Yeah, right,' Hermione persisted. 'I saw you two in the kitchens. You pulled, didn't you?'

Ginny looked up at this. She had gotten the vibe that Harry thought Pansy was cute, but had they actually snogged? Harry's blush confirmed that they had. 'It doesn't matter,' he said. 'This weekend is crazy. Nothing that happens here counts as real.'

'I like that,' Hermione said. 'What happens in Malfoy Manor, stays in Malfoy Manor!'

Ginny laughed in spite of herself. It made it easier to think of Draco that way, for some reason. 'It's a deal!' she declared. 'Call it temporary insanity.' The three put their hands in a pile as a gesture of solidarity.

'Now, let's go find Ron and Dumbledore,' Harry suggested, grabbing his discarded jumper and pulling it over his head. 'It'll be dinner-time soon. Maybe the group of us can work out what to do next.'

'Sounds good to me,' Ginny said, feeling happy. It would be nice to have a reunion of the old Dumbledore's Army team. However, something else nagged at the back of Ginny's brain; she felt off, as though she were listening for something that wasn't there. Probably Draco Malfoy's sexy, NO! horrible voice. Shrugging off the inner warning, Ginny ran a comb through her hair and put on some lip gloss. Looking good always gave her more confidence to face the world.

'Ready?' Harry said to the girls.

'Uh, Harry?' Hermione said. A strange quaver floated through her voice as though she, too, felt something different. She stared at a place on the floor behind Ginny.

Ginny tilted her head in puzzlement. What now? She turned around to see what Hermione stared at, and for a moment it did not register. The exquisite green and gold Oriental carpet looked as it had all weekend, except for one key difference.

A bright square of yellow sunlight streamed in from the window.

'It's quiet,' Ginny whispered. Indeed, there were no further sounds of atmospheric disturbance from outside; the wind had died and the lightning stopped. That's what it was, the feeling of something off: there was no thunder.

Harry strode across the room, yanking back the curtains. Beyond the glass pane, the late afternoon was golden, clear, and bright. Somewhere close by, a bird chirped. Harry opened the window and a faint breeze floated inside the room. The air was fresh, magnetised, full of promise and danger.

The magical storm was over.