Abyss

Abyss

Harry barely paid attention to the other boy as he took his cape off of him, and threw it at the counter. He then walked into the kitchen, purposely strode between Hermione and Malfoy, and laid the sack he held on the table. As he was taking the contents out of the bag he heard Malfoy mutter, "Oh, thank Merlin for whatever kind of brain you have inside your head. You bought us food! Edible, delectable, scrumptious--"

He turned around, and showed Malfoy what he bought: a piece of round cheese and a loaf of bread.

"--bread and cheese." Malfoy scowled deeply, crossing his arms over his chest as he did so. "Do you have house elves that you keep around here, Potter? If so, then where are they, and why on earth would you think of buying food for those things first before--"

"This is what we have to eat," Harry told him, point-blank.

"You're joking." Silence. Then, "Oh, so you're not joking. All right, I take it back. One chance that I praise you for anything and you screw it." Malfoy cocked his head to one side, assuming the look of arrogance that Harry only knew so well. "You really don't have brains inside that thick skull of yours if you expect me to eat that."

"Then feel free to starve," said Harry, dead serious. "This is what we have to eat because this is what I got. Deal with it, you pompous--"

"That's fine, Harry, really." Hermione finally left Malfoy's side and went to Harry's, fidgeting with her hands as she did so. "The children are already up, but I told them to stay in their rooms and just wait until I tell them to come out."

"Good," Harry retorted, his tone still crisp, his manner still cold. "Let's prepare the food first before you tell them to."

"I'll help you," she said quickly.

"That was why I said 'let's' instead of 'I'll'." He finally smiled, and once again he saw the relief that filled her face as he did. Harry opened a drawer and retrieved a tray and two knives. He handed one to her. "You handle the cheese and I'll take on this bread. Make sure you cut it for thirty people or so."

Harry began to slice the loaf when he heard sharp, repeated tap-taps on the floor. He was about to comment, but Hermione spoke first.

"And you're doing that because..."

"Because I don't have anything else to do," Malfoy said dryly. "Captain Potter here didn't give me any assignment."

"So you're bothering us instead of doing something more productive?"

"Well--"

"Hermione," Harry interrupted, feeling his blood boil again at having Malfoy distract her so easily, "cut the cheese."

She bit her lip, and turned to do as she was told.

"In case you haven't noticed, Granger," Malfoy spoke once more as if he wanted her attention on him only, "I don't have something productive to do."

"And the reason you're--"

"Cheese, Hermione," Harry gritted out, as he noticed that she hadn't been able to touch the food just yet. He pointed at it with his own knife.

She said nothing, and finally began doing what she was supposed to do.

For a very little while nothing but the sound of knife against board could be heard. Then, "Oh, look, isn't this just the prettiest picture ever," Malfoy snickered, after a mere three seconds of silence had elapsed. "Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter inside their measly, dingy kitchen preparing breakfast for their thirty gifts to the world--"

"Shush!"

"--I mean, seriously, Potter, ever heard of contraception? Or hobbies, perhaps? Don't you have something else to do except--"

Hermione lifted the knife she held and pointed it at him. "So help me, Malfoy, if you don't shut up I'll--"

"Cut. The. Cheese, Hermione!" Harry exploded, slamming his own knife to the table. When the others just regarded him in surprise he grabbed another loaf from the sack and started murdering it again.

"Go on, Granger," Malfoy intoned after a few awkward moments. "Cut the damned thing before high and mighty Harry Potter burst a vein on his head."

"Better shut that trap of yours or your head will be the one to explode," Harry muttered darkly, already entertaining himself with pictures of Malfoy covered in his own blood.

Admittedly, it was not an ugly sight.

"I'm sorry," he said, "But I didn't hear what you said, Harry. Are you making a retort or talking to yourself again? You retards are just so hard to understand."

"Malfoy--" Hermione tried.

More with murdering the bread from Harry, and less with saying anything.

"What?"

"Just keep quiet," she said.

"How can I be quiet if I can see that Wonder Boy here is mutilating the bread? Continue that, Potter, and you'd have to give the students bowls and hot water as well so they can make porridge out of that thing."

Harry had enough. Whirling on the other boy with his knife clutched on one hand he said, "Oh, so you think you can do better than I can?"

Malfoy smirked. "It's already a proven fact."

"Here we go again," Hermione muttered.

She swiped the knife off of Harry's hands in one swift movement, but this barely affected him. He only noticed that now, he could easily clench his hands into fists without any hindrances. "Proven?" Harry scoffed. "With what?"

"Let's see." Malfoy displayed the most obvious stance of thinking, with his finger continuously tapping the side of his head. "I'm the one with the badge that has 'Head Boy' written on it in big, bold letters while you have... well... what do you have? A miserable looking scar stamped on your forehead?"

"Yes," Harry hissed. "I have that. But I also have..." He flashed a triumphant smile. "Quidditch Cups."

The smirk vanished for an instant, replaced with an angry expression. Then that, too, flickered, and once again displaced with a sneer. "Indeed, you have those cups," admitted Malfoy. "You must be proud to see them on your shelf each night."

"You're absolutely right," agreed Harry, glad to grab a chance to gloat. "I even stroke them before I go to sleep."

"Each piece?"

"Each piece."

"Each night?"

"Each and every single night."

"Huh." Malfoy bared his teeth in an almost animalistic grin. "Now I know the reason why you've had to take additional classes from both Snape and McGonagall this past year. Three each, if I'm not mistaken, though of course I'm not counting."

Harry's eyes widened, and flew towards the silent figure of his friend. "Hermione--"

"Ah, ah, ah! Don't blame me if he knows. I didn't tell him anything."

"But she didn't have to, for it was rampant those days. The knowledge that Famous Harry Potter, defeater of You-Know-Who, was behind in his subjects was not something to be taken too easily. And the reason for this? He was too busy stroking his--"

"If you two don't mind," drawled Hermione, two knives on her hands, "I'd like to end this battle of wits and testosterone right this instant. The food is already prepared, thanks to me that is, and we better get these up to the children before they starve to death."

"Don't tell me that you're going to do exactly what you told them you'd do, Granger!"

"Why, yes, Malfoy," said Hermione. "There's a little thing called integrity that I live by. When I told them that I'd be bringing the food to their rooms, that was exactly what I meant to do."

"Don't you think it's too much a bother for you to carry the food to their rooms? What are we here for, substitutes for slaves? Just send Potter to call them, tell them to come down." Malfoy snatched a slice of cheese from the tray she picked up. He bit into it, screwed his face in disgust, and swallowed. "I'm sure they'd listen to him."

"Glad to hear you know that," Harry said. "But I don't think I have to wonder why they listen to me and not to you."

He regarded Harry with a sly smile. "Yes you don't, because as we all know Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs - especially Hufflepuffs... and Ravenclaws - are stupid. And as they say, birds of the same feather--"

"--can be killed the same way, by shooting at them. End of discussion." She marched off, carrying the tray and leaving the two boys in her wake.

Harry looked after her in confusion. "That's not how it goes," he thought, and said aloud.

It thoroughly annoyed him to see Malfoy laughing, bouncing like a wild ferret as he did so.

*

"I can't bear this anymore," Hermione thought to herself, as she watched the students pile up at the middle of the living room to get their ration of what little food they had. Harry did call them, and down they came so fast for a minute the whole house sounded of a raging stampede. She felt pity, then anger, at having to see these innocents being subjected to this kind of life: a life of constant threat and fear, a life as fugitives, when they should not have anything else on their minds but their studies. She looked at Harry, and found him to be leaning on the doorway, his face thoughtful as well. Hermione searched for Malfoy amidst the little rampage in the room, but from where she stood she could only see the top of his blond head for he was sitting on the couch. She looked at Harry again, and walked towards him. "This is ridiculous, Harry," she said, low enough to not let the others hear.

"What is?" he asked, dusting his hands on his sweater.

"This." She made a sweeping motion around them. "All of it. I don't understand it and I need to know. Tell me, what happened in all the days I was... gone?"

Harry turned his eyes on her, orbs glinting underneath his glasses. "I was wondering when you're going to ask me that," he admitted, smiling a little. "You always want to know everything, Hermione."

Was that an insult or something else, she didn't know, and at this moment she truly didn't care. "Please," she said. "Watching these kids live like this, without knowledge of how they began to, is driving me insane. I need to know, Harry. I want to understand."

"All right," he said. Harry took her hand, and led her away from the room, towards the direction of the stairs.

"Why do we have to leave?" she asked, trying to keep up with his pace.

"I don't want the others to hear," Harry answered. "They're too young. They won't understand."

"But what do they know?" Hermione asked again, as Harry let go of her hand, having reached the top of the stairs. "I mean, what do you tell them? Don't they ask you why they're living this way?"

He let out a short laugh. "You can't imagine." Harry stopped in front of a door, and opened it. "This is my room. We can talk here."

Hermione stepped inside, careful to not walk over mountains of discarded clothes and blankets. "Wow, Harry, this place needs a lot of work," she muttered dryly, eyeing the disgruntled state of the room. What she'd give to handle Malfoy's wand right now... a little flick should do the trick.

"Here." Harry shoved a whole pile of clothes on one bed and sat on the clear space he created. He patted the empty space beside him.

"Uh, no thanks. I'll stand."

"Suit yourself." Harry laid his palms on either side of him, assuming a more comfortable position. "Ask away, Rita."

She glared at him. "Right."

He held his hands in the air. "Kidding."

"I get that. But what I don't get is..." Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest. "How did these students end up here?"

"Tunnels," Harry said. "Remember the routes that the professors were teaching us to take? Remember the times when we ask why those routes seemed to always end up in places we know already - the dungeons, the kitchen, the Potions classroom--"

"Yes, yes," she cut in. "I remember. Ron even mentioned..."

Their eyes met, as though a shadow fleeted over them for just a brief period.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Ron even mentioned that Snape's just trying to get us cornered by leading us to the dungeons."

"But he's not," Harry said. "Turned out that there were a lot of tunnels leading to and from Hogwarts, and the doors of these tunnels are located at those areas that the professors were showing us. Dumbledore had a map of Hogwarts, a very detailed map, kind of like the Marauder's Map, only more... detailed. There were still a lot of hidden doors and passageways that my father and the others had not discovered yet."

"So you took those tunnels," she summarized, "and you ended up here. But why here? What's in this place that could guarantee these children's safety?"

"This house," said Harry, standing up, "is located in a little town called Minas Deep."

"Minas Deep?" Hermione repeated. "There's such a place?"

"Yes, and you're standing on it."

"But I've never--"

"--read it in books?" He shrugged. "Dumbledore told me this place isn't located in any map, because it's meant to be kept non-existent - a place that only members of the Order knows. The whole town is surrounded by a lot of complicated spells, charms that would alarm us if ever there were coming evils or not."

"The safest place," Hermione murmured, and then returned her attention to Harry. "So this is basically the most protected area in all of the wizarding world. But... but does Dumbledore have the assurance that as long as we stay here, we'll be safe?"

"That's why I'm here," Harry told her. "Or at least, that's why I was assigned here, to protect the students in case..."

Silence.

"But these couldn't be the entire number of the students that were saved," she said. "I mean, thirty individuals--"

"They're not the only ones who survived, Hermione," he said. "Of course there are others. They're in the other safe houses, also guarded by spells and some seventh year students. Most of those in our year are already deemed capable enough to be given such a task."

"Do you know where the others are?"

"Well, as far as I know Seamus and Dean are guarding the house nearest to us. I've heard of Hannah and Justin on the ones over the west. Neville and Susan are supposed to be on the house after that, but I haven't seen them yet."

"And the aurors? What are they doing? I mean, not that I doubt our classmates' abilities but still, aren't they too young? Aren't we too young? Can't the aurors be the ones to guard us?" she said, bombarding him with questions already bordering on accusations. "What is the Order doing exactly?"

"Planning," Harry replied, his eyes and his tone grave all of a sudden.

Hermione couldn't help but fell nervous. "Planning...?"

"To regain Hogwarts."

"...oh."

He stared at her, never minding her obvious state of shock. "That's what Dumbledore told me last night. The aurors and members of the Order are already plotting an attack to reclaim Hogwarts from the Death Eaters."

"Malfoy's parents," she whispered, and doubted that Harry heard her speak.

True enough, he didn't show any indication that he did. "Dumbledore said that, though he consider this place the safest the longer we stay here the higher the risk of all of us being caught. He can't lose more of the students. A lot had been killed already."

She said nothing.

"The Order had to think of another place to relocate the students in case we do attack Hogwarts. We can't put their lives at risk, and we've been in here too long. But as long as we make the move first... we might have a chance."

"When?" Hermione asked, her tone brisk. "When are we going to make our move?"

"As soon as Snape gives us the signal. But if you ask me, we shouldn't even wait for that. I think we should attack them now."

"And if you ask me, I think it's best that we wait," Hermione told him. "If we make a much too irrational move... it'd be the end for all of us."

A few minutes passed by, with each of them contemplating their own thoughts. Then, "Well," Harry muttered. "I've told you my version of the story. Care to tell me yours?"

Hermione blinked, startled out of her own reverie. "My what?"

"Your story," Harry said. "On what you were doing with Malfoy, and why you're with him all the time you were... gone."

She gave him a weak smile. "Where to begin?" Hermione asked.

"You could begin by telling me exactly what happened on the night we were attacked."

*

Draco turned away from the sight of students stuffing their faces full of the dry bread and the most tasteless cheese he ever had the displeasure of tasting. Of course, he couldn't just as easily turn away from the growling of his stomach, the hunger that was slowly and torturously gnawing at his insides. "Damn you, Potter," he murmured darkly. "Damn you and your being poor and idiotic."

Of course, his entire cursing and imagining Potter lying in a pool of his own blood wasn't helping his current state at all.

He caught sight of Joey with his thick fat neck just begging to be wrung. Happy to shove his thoughts of hunger away, and at the thought of actual shoving, Draco stood from his seat and made a beeline towards his poor, unsuspecting victim. "Hello, Joey Garson!" he greeted, all sunshine and happy. He heartily patted the boy three times on the back. "How have you been fairing, my good lad?"

Joey only nodded meekly, and started mumbling.

"What?" Draco said. "I can't hear you. Must be because of all the food in your mouth. Didn't your mother ever teach you manners? Never talk with your mouth full!"

Joey swallowed his mouthful of bread and cheese, his eyes wide and his fat face pale all of a sudden. "I'm... I'm okay."

"Really? Wonderful!" Draco thumped him, hard, on the back three times more. "That's wonderful. You see, I've made it my personal chore to see how you will be doing every single day, for every single hour of the day. That way, I won't be finding anything amiss in your life." He grinned, and it was glorifying to see the other boy turn puce. "Smile, laddie! It's not like I'm going to recommend to Dumbledore that you be expelled. Granger might, but I won't, not unless you provoke me again!" Draco gave a hearty chuckle, thumped Joey's fat back four more times for good effect, and then departed.

Already the day was looking grander than how it started. Thinking of ways to make Joey wish he'd never been born a wizard... it was making his insides tingle.

He looked around for Granger, just to gloat, and when he saw her the smile on his face vanished so quickly it was like it was never there in the first place.

Potter was dragging her off to the stairs.

Potter was dragging her off to the rooms!

Damn that boy, he didn't have to take what Draco said seriously, about him not having hobbies except--

He found the thoughts too revolting to put into words. Without further ado he strode after them, but of course he was stopped time and again by having to push the students out of his way. It took him a good ten minutes just to get out of the pigs' sty that the living room had become.

Draco did not stop until he had found the room they were, hopefully, not locked in. Of course, being the polite, well-bred man that he was he didn't dare barge in, as he'd like to do. Of course not, he had manners! Therefore he contented himself with... eavesdropping.

"As I've already told you a thousand times," Granger was saying in a perfectly normal tone, not that of one doing something, "he saved me from Pansy."

Good, Draco thought, listening further. They're only talking. That's good.

"He... he dragged me to a window and then jumped out. I thought... I thought we were going to die! But before we fell to our deaths he managed to hold on to this branch, and that saved us both. When we were on the ground we ran to the forest, and there he gave me his wand, and said that it was going to lead me to safety."

"Why?" Potter asked. "Why did he give you his wand?"

"Goyle came along," she answered truthfully. "And when they were gone, I kept on running. But then I thought that I had nowhere to go, so I used his wand. And... and remember how we arrived here, Harry? That was how I arrived at his house."

"So you're saying... you're saying that you were staying in his house all the time you were gone?"

Silence. Then, "Yes. Yes I was. But only because I had nowhere else to go, and I was defenseless, as I had no wand. But then Pansy's mother showed up, and she proved that it was Malfoy who killed her daughter... and the next thing I know, we're here. End of story. Can we go now?"

"Not quite, Hermione," Potter said. "I still have some questions."

Draco rolled his eyes. Of course the bastard wasn't quite finished yet!

"Like what?"

"Like why on earth you and Malfoy are friends."

Draco stilled. Friends? Him and Granger? A Malfoy and a Mudblood?

Huh?

"Do you really think we're friends?"

"Oh, do I?" Potter scoffed. "I see you when you're with him, you know. He... he... he seem to entertain you."

Entertain? What was he, a toy? Some thing to be used for amusement?

"Well, he does," Granger answered.

Draco had to remember that she needed to pay for that comment.

"He does?" Potter asked, his voice going up a notch or two.

"Yes. I mean, underneath all the sarcasm and the callousness Malfoy's an intelligent person. He has logic, which is something hard to come by these days. What he says makes sense, Harry."

Draco grinned, and thought that she'd be forgiven of her sins. Eat your heart out, Potter...

"And what? I don't make sense?"

Hermione sighed. "What is it with you? Why does it always have to be a competition between you two? If I say good things about him you take it as an insult to you. Can't you just think for an instant that the world doesn't revolve around you? God!"

And just as she opened the door Draco was already standing a meter away from it, assuming the look of surprise at her appearance. "What are you doing there?" she asked, suspicion clearly evident on her face.

"I was just... looking for you."

"Why?"

"Because the students are done with their meal, and are asking for you and Harry."

As if summoned, Potter appeared at her side. "Hermione, look, I'm sor--"

"Forget it. We'll talk later." And with that, she stalked off.

Draco looked at Potter. "Trouble in paradise, Harry?" he asked, all innocent and unknowing.

"Yes," he hissed. "And all because of you."