"What are you doing here?!" Ginny hollered at Luna, who was standing outside Madame Puddifoot's, peering into the frosted window. She was wearing a wool cap that looked much like an yellow upside-down Muggle ice cream cone, with a fuzzy red ball on the tip.
Luna half turned, her butterbeer-cap earrings swinging, and gave Ginny a quick glance before going back to the window. "Oh, hello, Ginevra. I was wondering when you'd find me."
The casualness in Luna's voice nearly drove Ginny over the edge. "I've looked everywhere for you, only to find you here? Do you realize you nearly got us into trouble? Dumbledore was expecting us today--or did you forget?" Her tone was accusing.
The oddly-dressed blonde girl was intently peering into the glass. "Actually, I had forgotten, but that's neither here nor there."
Ginny blinked, surprised. "Neither here nor-- Are you out of your mind?" Trying to keep from throttling Luna was going to be very difficult indeed.
Luna finally turned away from the window to face Ginny. "Some would say that," she sighed. "But you're here now, so the Headmaster can't be too angry."
"He said he's going to have a talk with you," Ginny smirked, crossing her arms.
Luna's blonde brow arched quizzically. "Is that all? I'm not worried; why are you?"
Ginny gave Luna a look of disbelief. "Let me think," she replied sarcastically, "I suppose it could be because of what we have to do in front of the entire school on Monday morning!" Ginny panted heavily, fear evident on her face.
A fourth-year couple exited Madame Puddifoot's, giving Ginny and Luna curious glances. When Ginny told them to "Shove off," they scurried away quickly.
Luna smiled, her eyes twinkling in the midday sun. "Oh, that. It's a magic beyond all we do at Hogwarts, you know; it'll be good for the soul."
"Whose soul?" Ginny questioned, her voice loaded with suspicion. "Mine? Are you saying that I need help?"
"We all do in one way or another," Luna answered airily.
Ginny swore softly and kicked at a pebble on the ground. She wanted to clobber Luna! "Are you related to Dumbledore or something? I swear sometimes you two are like the same person." It wouldn't surprise Ginny in the least if Luna had suddenly admitted she was!
Luna trilled, "Don't be silly, Ginny. I'm a girl!"
Trying to control her anger, Ginny turned to Madame Puddifoot's shop window. She squinted and tilted her head, but saw nothing except frosty glass. She frowned and asked, "What are you looking at anyway?
"Neville Longbottom."
Not the answer she was expecting, Ginny gasped, and shot a look of disbelief at Luna. "Neville?! Inside Madame Puddifoot's? Are you sure?"
Luna nodded solemnly, her earrings clanking together against her shoulders. "I'm quite certain. Would you care to go in there with me to find out?"
"NO!" Ginny shouted the word, extracting looks from a small group of Hogwarts students entering the establishment the two girls stood in front of.
Luna's eyebrow shot up a good inch. "Why ever not?" She sounded slightly amused.
"For two reasons," Ginny spat, holding up her fingers as she began pacing. "One: I refuse to spy on any more friends, and two: I certainly don't want anyone getting any crazy ideas about the two of us." Thinking about the odd looks from the couple that had previously vacated the tea shop made Ginny feel strange; what had they thought was going on between she and Luna? Ginny had an idea, but was afraid to actually acknowledge it...
Luna sighed deeply, the fuzzy red ball on her cap bobbing comically. "All right. We'll just wait out here and see whom he comes out with. I have a suspicion, but I want to be sure."
"Who?"
"Anya Borgin."
"That skinny little redhead who wants to join S.P.E.W.?" Ginny barked. "Sure, Luna."
The Ravenclaw girl focused intently on Ginny now. "She does? How very interesting."
This confused the redhead. "What do you mean?"
Again, Luna sighed. "Must I explain everything? Do you know who Anya's great uncle is?"
Ginny tried to recall the conversation that took place earlier in the Gryffindor Common Room. "Mr. Borgin of 'Borgin and Burkes'. So?"
"Anya's great-uncle deals with dark magic items--dark magic items that Death Eaters covet," Luna breathed. "Death Eaters like a certain Slytherin's father."
Ginny nodded; this was common knowledge to her, especially since her own father had had Malfoy's father arrested a few weeks ago. "You mean Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father. And?"
"...And Draco Malfoy is magically bound to a person who just so happens to be the founder of S.P.E.W.," Luna supplied. "And she happens to be a witch with Muggle parents. Do you know whom I'm speaking of?"
Ginny rolled her eyes; did Luna think she was a prat? "Don't be ridiculous; you're talking about Hermione. Are you going somewhere with all of this?"
Luna nodded. "Who hates all people that aren't Purebloods?"
That was too easy. "Lord Vol--" Ginny halted in mid-sentence, understanding washing over her. "Oh."
Luna smiled broadly. "There's a story here, Ginevra; I can tell."
Ginny felt a little foolish for not figuring it out sooner, but said, "Perhaps we should talk to Neville first; I'd hate to jump to conclusions without knowing all the facts."
Luna fell into peals of laughter. "Oh, the irony of your words!"
"Shove off, Luna; that was un-called for!" Ginny snapped, feeling rather grumpy, but knowing Luna was correct; if she hadn't jumped to conclusions, she and Luna would never had had to serve detention with Dumbledore.
"Look, you stay here;" Ginny ordered. "I'll go inside."
Luna suddenly perked up, looking beyond Ginny. "There's no need; here's Neville!"
Ginny spun around, her face going red. "Neville! Hello."
Neville looked at the girls, his expression somber. "Ginny. Luna."
"Why, Neville, one would think you weren't so happy to see me," Luna laughed.
Frowning, Neville replied, "Considering you've been spying on me for the last hour, I'd say you were correct."
Luna looked up at the sun. "It's only been fifty-six minutes, but I'll give you that one."
Neville's eyes rounded and he jabbed a finger in Luna's direction. "Aha! I was right! Why are you spying on me?"
Luna bit her lip. "I'm not spying on you, Neville, just your, ah, friend."
"If you mean Anya Borgin, why don't you just say her name?" the Gryffindor boy asked, his face red.
Ginny decided to jump in at this point; Neville looked very upset! "Neville, what's going on between you and Anya?" she asked gently, touching the boys elbow. "Are you...seeing one another?"
"You mean dating? Yes; yes, I am." Neville's shoulders seemed to straighten a bit as he said this. He then sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Luna, I came out here to ask for a favor--as a friend."
"You may state your request, my friend," she replied in a deep voice. At this, she then fell into another fit of giggles. Neville and Ginny exchanged exasperated glances.
Almost immediately, Luna became straight-faced once again, looking at Neville expectantly. He cleared his throat and said, "Don't tell anyone about Anya and I. Please."
Luna was silent for a long moment, which worried Neville. Finally she said, "Why are you asking this of me?"
Neville looked a his feet and mumbled, "Anya's parents won't like knowing about us."
"Why?" Ginny sputtered, outraged. "You're a Pureblood!"
It was true; Neville Longbottom came from a proud lineage of Pureblood wizards, though others saw his family as Muggle-lovers or Mudblood-sympathizers. Just because Neville associated with non-Purebloods, Ginny saw no other reason why Anya's family should dislike him! Neville was honest, loyal, and at times he was very brave.
Neville shrugged, going red. "That's not the reason--and I'd rather not explain right now." He turned to Luna. "Please don't make me beg. Will you do this for me?" His voice had taken on a note of wheedling, despite his words.
Luna nodded graciously. "I can and I will, Neville; though I must say, you didn't have to make a big production out of it."
*~*~*~*~*
Lucius Malfoy stepped back as an Auror magically transferred a tray of food through the bars of his cell in Azkaban Prison.
"Here you are, Mr. Malfoy; porridge and water--as usual."
"Of course," Lucius sneered, looking down at the tray that appeared on the floor. He had no intention of eating the slop, as it was quite disgusting and usually served cold. "Don't you ever tire of serving the same meal over and over again?" he asked in a haughty tone.
The Auror laughed. "Of course not; this isn't some namby-pamby Muggle resort, you know. Besides," he added in a low tone, "it's actually funny to see someone like yourself get the treatment he so richly deserves! How does it feel to rot in Azkaban, Mr. Death Eater?"
Lucius gave the man a hateful stare, then turned away to look at the wall; the Auror's chuckles burning his ears.
"I'll show them that they can't poke fun at a Malfoy," Lucius growled, going over to the stone shelf that jutted out of the wall of his tiny cell. He'd hated having to be confined like an animal--and for the second time in less than a year to boot!
But Lucius did what he'd thought was necessary--if only to prove his loyalty to the Dark Lord. He'd made a few enemies and displeased his Master the first time he'd been placed in Azkaban, for Lucius had stupidly spouted off names of fellow Death Eaters--in the hopes of being released immediately. This time, however, he'd been a bit wiser; even when he'd been threatened with Veritaserum, he did not given up any more information.
Which was the reason for his callous treatment. Since the departure of the Dementors from Azkaban, the way the prisoners were handled became quite different. The Dementors treated all prisoners equally--causing depression, hopelessness, and fear.
The Aurors, however, clearly had favorites, and those were given items to make their cells more comfortable; items such as feather pillows and woven blankets. Warm meals seemed to be the norm for them too, for Lucius noticed steaming bowls on a cart pass by his cell at least once a day.
Lucius felt he deserved better too; after all, being a Malfoy was supposed to mean wealth and privilege, not filth and squalor. He looked down at his tattered, smelly prison uniform, disgust etched into his noble features. If he remained here much longer, he'd become someone like Arthur Weasley...
A shiver scurried up Lucius' spine. I'd rather die first.
And, oddly enough, he wouldn't have to. After many weeks of being in prison, he'd finally gotten word--through his own son, ironically--that something special would be happening at Azkaban tomorrow.
In the near darkness, Lucius smiled. How fortuitous for him that the Dementors were gone! Those Aurors may be skilled in most areas concerning magic, he thought snidely, but they are still human, and tomorrow those idiot Aurors won't know what hit them...
*~*~*~*~*
Draco was bored; he'd gone up and down High Street twice, looking for something to do that didn't involve tormenting younger Hogwarts students, though the first few times he and his gang did that, it did evoke some chuckles from him.
Draco couldn't quite place his finger on it, but he was pretty certain he was missing Hermione Granger. The notion was utterly absurd, but what other explanation was there?
Not moments after he walked away from Hermione, Pansy had latched onto his arm and held on for dear life, talking incessantly and laughing at whatever Draco uttered. With Hermione, Draco reflected, at least he was kept on his toes; their conversations--if one could call the heated exchanges that--were intelligent and thought-provoking.
Upon reflection, Draco knew what had caused the spell to break; it was he who broke the spell! He felt bad for lying to Hermione about it, though he was certain she had known the truth--and kept it to herself.
But why? he wondered. Why did she not say anything?
Draco allowed himself to be dragged into Honeydukes; the sounds of happy chatter and the sweet smells that enveloped him seemed to fade away as Draco leaned against one of the counters and allowed himself to become lost in thought.
He'd decided to win Hermione over just enough for her to tell him tidbits about herself and her two best friends. However, all thoughts of such deviousness had flown out the window when Draco had looked upon Hermione's glowing face--gazing at the Honeydukes Sweetshop window.
She had looked so happy, so full of pure wonder, that for a moment, Draco was entranced.
Then came the assault of other emotions he'd not been prepared for: he felt sickened by his ulterior motives--and then was horribly shamed, for his father would definitely not appreciate his Pureblood son falling for a Mudblood, especially not Hermione Granger, friend of The Dark Lord's most hated enemy.
When Draco was confronted by his so-called friends, he was so embarrassed--though he tried to play it cool. Draco thought to cleverly conceal his abashment, but the words that had tumbled out of his mouth seemed to come from some other place in his brain. And how ironic it was that those words--that simple string of phrases--were what was needed to break the spell.
Had Hermione accepted the fact that they were almost--if not already were--one entity? Had she simply given over to the fact that they really did need to work together and had not let Draco’s bad-attitude get in the way?
It took me a while to realize it, Draco thought stupidly. Hermione really believed it--and I didn’t. If I had, we could have been apart the moment she told me about it.
Draco watched, uninterestedly, as Pansy made her way to the end of the long line of Hogwarts students waiting to purchase their candy selections. Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle shoved several students aside, garnering concerned glances from the shopkeepers, but no one said much of anything. Crabbe and Goyle, though thick when it came to most matters, were geniuses at scare-tactics.
But if we had broken the spell earlier, would I have ever noticed how ...interesting... Hermione could really be? Draco asked himself. Would I have even cared?
Draco glanced up to see a smiling Pansy sashaying toward him--her friends in tow--clutching a bag of sweets. The Slytherin girl batted her lashes and snatched up his arm once more, leading him out into the crisp September air.
What a bind I’ve gotten myself into, Draco thought dully as he spied Hermione, Ron, and Harry walking past, laughing about something.
He scowled, remembering when he'd been close enough to Hermione to see her smile and hear her laugh.
How ironic; days ago I was hating her, and now... I actually miss her.
Without thinking, Draco turned on his heel--breaking contact with Pansy--and followed Hermione and her two friends into Honeydukes.
His fellow Slytherins stared after him in openmouthed confusion, each wondering: Had Draco Malfoy suddenly gone mad?