The Snape Who (Almost) Stole Christmas

Chapter 4

Harry looked down at Ron's watch. It read: 11:28 p.m. Close enough, thought Harry, and he got up out of the squashy red armchair he had been sitting in. Surprisingly, considering how late it was, the Gryffindor common room was almost full; all the tables scattered around the room had at least two people sitting at them. But none of those people were Hermione. Harry was worried. What did Malfoy have in store for her at their "secret" midnight rendezvous?

"Ron," said Harry loudly, nudging the tall redhead who was passed out on a couch a few feet away from Harry.

"Whozzere?" said Ron, startled, and he jumped up off the cushion. "Oh, it's you," he said, seeing Harry's face. "Is it time already?"

"Uh huh," said Harry anxiously. "What are you doing, napping at a time like this?"

"At a time like what?" asked Ron, annoyed. "For all we know, Malfoy wants to give her flowers."

"I doubt it," said Harry. "Unless the flowers have Devil's Snare growing in between them."

"I suppose," said Ron as they exited through the portrait hole. As soon as they were on the other side, Harry extracted his father's Invisibility Cloak, the Marauder's Map, and the pocketknife Sirius had given to him for Christmas one year. Harry stared down at the silver pocketknife, which was glinting innocently in the candlelight, and he was overcome with memories of his godfather Sirius, who still be alive today if he hadn't fallen in that stupid hole in that gateway in the Ministry of Magic last summer. He closed his hand around the knife tightly, making his knuckles white.

"What didja bring that for?" asked Ron, eyeing the knife. "I thought you melted it in the--er, last summer."

"I only melted the key part," said Harry, as he and Ron set off down the corridor. "There's all sorts of other stuff on here, like this, this um, pointy sharp thing, and, well, I really don't know what this does, but we can stab Malfoy with it, oh and these are scissors---er, we could trim his, er, hair, and---"

"With scissors that small, you'd more likely be trimming his nose hairs," said Ron.

"Right, I'll just put it away then," said Harry, and he pocketed the knife.

"Where's Filch tonight?" whispered Ron.

"Let's see," said Harry, looking down at his map, "He's... he's in the Trophy Room, with Peeves."

"Any sight of Hermione or Malfoy?"

"Yeah, they're already at the greenhouses," said Harry. "Hang on--there's other people too...."

"Who're they?" asked Ron, looking over.

"Don't do that, that makes our feet visible," said Harry, patting Ron's head down so that his height would not make the bottom of the cloak lift. "It's... Pansy Parkinson, and Crabbe, and Goyle, and--and Bridget Morrison."

"Bridget Morrison? I thought they broke up," said Ron.

"Here we are," said Harry, as he and Ron came in view of Greenhouse Four. They could just make out Hermione's bushy brown hair in the candlelight coming from the greenhouses.

Harry took out his wand. "Lumos," he said, and a narrow beam of light appeared. He and Ron crept behind the greenhouse, steered clear of some protruding tree roots, and they stopped behind a large bush in the shape of a dragon some five feet away from where Malfoy, Hermione and everyone else was standing. Malfoy was speaking.

"Do you agree, Pansy?" he said calmly. Pansy was sobbing.

"I...." Sob. Sniffle. "I suppose," she stammered.

"Good. Do you agree, Bridget?"

"Yes," Bridget said in a confident voice, her blue eyes boring into Malfoy's.

"Alright. Do you agree, Crabbe, Goyle?"

"Uh huh," they said in deep, disoriented voices.

"Right. Anyone who has any objections, speak now."

"Don't I get a say?" said Hermione's voice.

"No, as a matter of fact, you don't," said Malfoy. "You had a say earlier today."

"Right," said Hermione. "I really had a say, with you saying--"

"I told you, you don't have a say," Malfoy said. "The end."

"Please, Draco, rethink this," said Bridget.

"No, Hermione is mine. You could have been it, but you aren't, so get over it," Malfoy said.

"Oh, you made me go all teary," said Bridget sarcastically. "Really, do you think I'd want to be it? Been there, done that."

"Just shut up for now. Any, Crabbe, Goyle--come stand over here, next to me. Pansy, Bridget--stand there next to Granger. And we'll be standing here, Hermione, turtledove, the wings of the bat in my heart," added Malfoy sweetly.

"More like the wings of a dead bat," muttered Hermione under her breath.

"Alright everyone, we're starting. Crabbe, you can start singing now."

Crabbe took a deep breath, followed by a sound that oddly resembled the screeching of a banshee. "Heeeerrrreee comesss teeee bbbriiiddddeeee," he screamed.

"Softer Crabbe, and it's bride, not bridee," sneered Malfoy.

"Heeeerrreee comesss theee briduh," said Crabbe.

Pansy and Bridget threw flowers in the air above Hermione, their pink petals landing in Hermione's bushy hair and in Malfoy's sleek hair.

"Uh oh." Harry heard Ron say from his right.

"Oh--my---kneazles, it seems that they're---"

"Getting married," said Harry, horrified. "We have to get away. Now."

Harry ran behind Greenhouse Four and across the lawn towards the front doors. Hermione and Malfoy, getting married? With Crabbe as their wedding singer? But more importantly, was this even legal? Did Hermione even want to marry Malfoy anyway?

A million questions raced through Harry's mind as he ran up to the Fat Lady after tearing down the halls in his cloak. He could hear Ron behind him, but he didn't care--he had to go to sleep, in his bed, because he was sure this must have been a dream. He gave the Fat Lady the password, clamored into the portrait hole, and dashed up the boy's staircase.

Almost there, he thought. Almost there, almost there, almost there--

And he leaped into his bed, yanked the covers over his head, and fell asleep almost instantly, not because he was tired, but because of his desire to do so so badly.

That night Harry had fitful dreams of Hermione and Malfoy's wedding day. There they were standing at the altar, and the priest had just said, "If anyone has any objections to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace." Harry had a very big objection to make, but as soon as he opened his mouth, his jaw fell off. It grew legs and walked up the aisle towards Hermione and started whacking her. She threw a dirty look at Harry, and then she turned into a giant blueberry muffin with sharp knife teeth. Malfoy turned into a gigantic bran muffin, oddly enough, and they both came after Harry, snapping their muffin jaws open and shut, saying, "I do! I do! I do!"

Harry's eyes popped open the next morning. He threw the sheet off his bed, got up, and changed out of the clothes he had been wearing yesterday into new ones. He grabbed his schoolbag, tore out of the room, and took the steps two at a time leading down to the common room. Hermione and Ron were sitting at a table in the back corner, talking quietly, both looking slightly shocked. When Harry jogged over and sat, their surprised expressions faded. Hermione regarded him curiously.

"What's the matter?" she asked, sounding concerned and almost motherly.

"What's the matter? WHAT"S THE MATTER? I'll tell you. Let's see, hmmmm--- oh yeah, there's you, and Malfoy, and a secret marriage ceremony---"

"You're marrying the enemy, Hermione! Think about it! And let this sink in before you respond: YOU'RE MARRYING THE ENEMY!" said Ron, turning red.

"Calm down, both of you," said Hermione coolly. "I didn't marry anyone last night, especially not Malfoy."

"Then what were you doing?" asked Harry angrily.

"Oh, Draco wanted us all to join The Evil Drama Club, at least, that's what he said," sad Hermione casually.

"And since when do we believe "Draco"?" asked Ron, making quotes in the air.

"Since the twelfth of never, but I think he really may be telling the truth this time. He seems to really have a passion for drama." Hermione took a book out of her bag and started flicking through the pages.

"You just joined an evil drama club, and all you can do is read?" asked Ron, annoyed. "Does the word evil mean anything to you?"

"That's just what I call it when Malfoy's gone, honestly, Ron," said Hermione.

"What's the play you were doing about, then?"

"Oh, please, Ron, it's just about Muggles and wizards and hoedowns, nothing too serious," said Hermione while flipping through the index.

"Howhatsits?" asked Ron.

"Nevermind," muttered Harry. To Hermione, he said, "You've got to unjoin, now."

"Yeah," said Ron. "Come on, Hermione. Please?"

"Why do you care so much, anyway?" said Hermione to Ron.

"Well--because...." He looked over at Harry. "Because I love you?" he squeaked.

"Oh, do you?" she said. "Prove it." She sat back in her chair and folded her arms over her chest stubbornly.

"Don't," Harry said softly, but it was too late. Ron had already timidly walked over to Hermione's chair and kissed her squarely and surely on the lips. Harry's mouth dropped in shock, but he quickly closed it.

Hermione slowly opened her eyes. "I was, kidding, Ron," she said softly in his ear.

"Would you go out with me?" asked Ron on impulse. He looked shocked once he had realized what he had said.

Hermione looked over at Harry, with a look that said I'm sorry all over it. She choked out a "yes" finally, but she wasn't looking at Ron, but rather at Harry. Harry averted his eyes quickly, trying to focus on anything else, like their upcoming test in charms....

If he squinted hard enough at Hermione, it was like she wasn't there....

Was that a good thing? Maybe... Maybe not....

"Harry? Hello?" sad Ginny's voice from a distance.

"Huh?" said Harry, snapping out of it.

"I asked if we could talk for a moment?" she said with a pleading look.

"All right, said Harry, looking over his shoulder at Hermione and Ron as they watched him be dragged away by Ginny's firm grip.

"Harry, I hate to do this to you... but Dean, he just wouldn't take no for an answer... I'm so sorry." She was crying.

"Are you... are you breaking up with me?" said Harry uncertainly. "After you begged me to go out with you?"

"Um, Harry, I know you're mad, but, please, understand... I, Dean, he said, well, I just couldn't say no, he wants to give it another go, and so..."

"Oh, no, I won't pretend like I care," said Harry. "Oh no, not me. When you and Dean are snogging in the corner, I won't care, I'll just stroll right on over to the opposite corner and pretend you don't exist."

Ginny was sobbing now. "Please, Harry, we can still be friends. Don't do this."

"I can do whatever I want." He started to walk away. He didn't care what she had to say, because he didn't care what someone had to say when he had just started to love her and then she went and did stuff like this....

Girls, Harry thought.

"Please..." Ginny pleaded.

Harry didn't look back at her. If he had, he would have seen tears streaming down her face, and her bottom lip quivering.

A half an hour later, Harry was sitting in Charms class, trying to focus on his test on S Sound Repelling Charms. He was next to perform the spell on Professor Flitwick, and he had forgotten the exact wand movement.

Was it a flick? Or was it a slash? Harry thought. As he thought, he noticed that he kept singing something to himself inside his head. He identified the song finally.

He oddly enough had "The Cheese Stands Alone" stuck in his head, which was pretty stupid, but he did feel alone. Now that both Hermione and Ginny were going out with other people, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he would be alone for a long, long time.

"The cheese stands alone, the cheese stands alone, high ho the dairy-o the cheese stands alone," Harry muttered under his breath.

He then realized how stupid this was.

"What the hell am I doing?" he said, and slapped himself. He looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but nobody had. Oh yeah, he thought, that's right, I'm alone.

He wasn't really, Lavender, Parvati, Seamus, and Dean were standing next to him, but oh well.

"Mr. Potter?" came Professor Flitwick's squeaky voice from inside his classroom. "Would you come in here, please?"

Harry walked in. He saw Professor Flitwick standing in the middle of the room on a stool, wand at the ready to fix any mistake Harry might make, like accidentally removing his ears like Neville had. Harry took a deep breath and took out his wand.

"That's it, Mr. Potter, no need to be nervous," said Flitwick. "Now, what I want you to do is pretty simple. All I want you to do is do the Sound Repelling Charm correctly on me, and then, for extra credit, if you can remember the charm that makes loud rock and roll and bubbles come out of my nose, I will give you twenty extra points. Ready?"

"Yes," said Harry. He lifted his wand, pointed it at Flitwick's ears, and said "Couvertus oregado!" while making a downward slashing motion and then flicking his wand tip back up at the end.

"Can you hear me, Professor?" asked Harry loudly.

"What?" said Flitwick, cupping his hand to his ear.

"Nevermind," sad Harry, though he wasn't heard. Now for that charm that would make rock and roll and bubbles come out of Flitwick's nose.

"Sonorus nasale!" said Harry, and a blinding flash of light shot out of his wand and hit Flitwick dead-on, and he toppled over off his stool.

"That wasn't supposed to happen," muttered Harry as he rushed over to help Professor Flitwick up.

But Harry could hear loud rock music coming from Flitwick's nasal cavities. The only problem seemed to be---

--The giant buffalo coming out of his right nostril.

"I wanted bubbles, not buffalo!" Harry exclaimed as the buffalo had fully emerged from Professor Flitwick's nostril and was now sitting on top of his tiny body. "Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry said, and lifted the buffalo off of Professor Flitwick. "You're okay now, Professor," sad Harry as he helped Flitwick to his feet.

"What?" said Flitwick, and almost immediately afterward he looked like he was about to sneeze.

"Aaaa--CHOOO!" Flitwick sneezed with extreme force. The rock music got louder, and several pieces of chicken toppled from Flitwick's nose to the floor.

"Buffalo wings?" asked Harry. "Oh, crap--"

"What?" said Flitwick again, looking confusedly at the wings and barbeque sauce all over the floor.

"Great. Now all I need is chicken fingers, and I could pretend like I'm at KFC."

"Aaaa--CHOO!"

Several chicken fingers toppled onto the floor. They were still frozen.

"I had to ask..." said Harry.