Hermione and Ginny walked slowly down the winding country lane, each girl occupied with her own thoughts. Hermione’s head was spinning. Harry’s outburst had taken her aback at first, but the more she thought about it the more she realised the truth in his words. Every time they put forward a time for departure, an Order member would come up with some reason to delay it.
A bird sang, shattering the silence. Hermione took a deep breath, trying to calm her crowded mind. She told herself to think positively. Here she was, at the Burrow, her friends around her. She should be happy! Even as she tried to convince herself of this, she felt an uncomfortable thought niggling at her consciousness. Malfoy. She felt a sudden tide of resentment against him. If it wasn’t for him, Harry wouldn’t be so tense, the atmosphere in the house would be better, she could have a good time. Yes, Malfoy was the cause of all the problems surrounding her. Nothing else. Just him.
“Why didn’t you and Ron get together?” Ginny said suddenly. Hermione turned to her in surprise.
“How did you know-?”
“Oh, come on, it was painfully obvious that you two liked each other as more than friends,” Ginny interrupted, rolling her eyes. Hermione sighed resignedly.
“He asked but I said no,” she said quietly. Ginny glanced at her with an unreadable expression on her face.
“But why? You told me that you really like him.”
“I do!” Hermione said quickly. “I really do. It’s just … not convenient right now, while we’re going with Harry. We need to be focused. But I really like him. Really, I do.”
“It’s not me you need to convince, Hermione,” said Ginny quietly. Hermione stopped dead.
“What are you getting at?” she demanded angrily. Ginny turned to her.
“I think you’re fooling yourself! Last year, you couldn’t shut up about him, it was Ron this, Ron that. Now, you’re even avoiding him. Maybe you did like him,” she said, softening her tone a little, “but not any more. You might want to like him, but that’s not enough. You need to accept that you’ve moved on. Otherwise, you’ll both get hurt.”
Hermione felt tears welling up in her eyes. “No, it’s not true. I do like him. I’ve liked him for years.”
“Hermione, people change. Ron’s changed, you’ve changed. You might not want to, but you can’t stop it.”
“I told him I really liked him. I said I’d go out with him after everything was over,” whispered Hermione, looking at the ground.
“That’s what I mean! You say ‘really liked’ not ‘loved’. You’re just putting off telling him how you really feel.”
Sudden anger flashed through Hermione. “You’re the one who told me last year to go for it. And I think teenagers wildly declaring their love is ridiculous! I’m seventeen! How can I know what love is?”
Ginny looked at her sadly. “Hermione, that is the clearest proof possible that you have no interest in Ron in that way. Look, you can feel love at any age! I love Harry! What about Victor Krum? He was your first boyfriend, didn’t you feel anything for him?”
“I only had a crush on him, that wasn’t anything serious,” Hermione said dismissively. “And- wait, did you just say you loved Harry?” Amazement flooded her mind, followed by a wave of pity. Poor Ginny. She was so passionate about everything, and threw herself into things without stopping to think of the consequences. She took things so seriously… Harry probably wasn’t anywhere as near as committed as she was.
“Yes, I did!” said Ginny defensively. “And don’t look at me like that! He feels the same way!”
“Ginny,” Hermione said tentatively, “I know Harry likes you a lot, but-” She was interrupted as Ginny flared up again.
“But nothing! He loves me, I know he does.” All of this was said with the utmost conviction. Hermione’s heart went out to her. Ginny fell in love so easily, all that could come was heartbreak.
“But Ginny,” Hermione said, hating herself for it, “Ginny, why did Harry break up with you?” Ginny stiffened suddenly.
“That’s none of your business,” she replied coldly. She spun around and strode back to The Burrow.
“Ginny, wait!” Hermione called after her, running to catch up. “Ginny, I’m sorry-” Ginny halted abruptly.
“Look Hermione, I don’t want to talk about this with you any more. You know nothing about love. Nothing! So don’t lecture me on throwing my heart away. At least I have a heart to throw!” She cut off suddenly as she saw the hurt in Hermione’s eyes. She opened and closed her mouth a few times as if searching for something to say, before shrugging angrily and striding back into the house.
Hermione stayed behind, desperately fighting back tears. She threw her head back and gulped a breath of fresh air. The sky was a brilliant blue, with only wisps of cloud drifting slowly past. Everywhere, colours were brighter and smells were sharper. It truly was a lovely day. The beauty seemed to mock Hermione, as she struggled to surmount a looming cliff of misery. She eventually regained her self control and followed Ginny inside.
Hermione, immersed in her own thoughts, almost crashed into Ginny in the doorway. Ginny was standing stock still, with an expression of amused surprise on her face. Hermione peered over her shoulder to see what was happening. Her mouth dropped open in sheer amazement at the scene that met her eyes.
________________________________________________________________________
Loud voices drifted up from downstairs, waking Draco from his first proper, and thankfully dream-free, sleep in days. He hauled himself out of the bed reluctantly. Stretching, he irritably swept his straggly blonde hair from his face. Really, it was way too long. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking to let it grow that much. Of course, he didn’t know much about what he’d been thinking about at all…
He shook his head, trying to rid it of those unwelcome thoughts. He’d find out who he was soon enough. Hermione would tell him when the time was right.
Why do you put so much trust in one girl a sneering voice whispered from the back of his head. You have no idea who she is. And after all, she IS a Mudblood.
“A what?” Draco mumbled aloud. He suddenly felt very confused, and his head hurt. It was as if there was someone else sharing his mind. That would certainly explain all these things he kept half remembering. He firmly squashed that idea. He had enough things to be worrying about without disembodied voices in his head.
He rolled the sleeping bag into a ball and stuffed it under the camping bed Harry was sleeping on. He edged his way out of the room carefully, trying not to step on any of the junk littering the floor. The room was much too small to hold three teenage boys, especially one as messy as Ron. Clothes, quills, books; everything was scattered all over the place. Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste as he stepped over a pair of socks which by the smell of them had been there a very long time.
He walked down the stairs and into the noisy kitchen. He suppressed a groan as he saw Fred and George talking animatedly with Harry and Ron.
“So when are you going back to the shop?” Harry was saying. Draco glanced around the kitchen. There was no-one there who would come to his defence. Undecided, he hovered out of sight.
“In a week or two. We’ve someone watching the shop for us until then,” Fred replied. “We were going to leave a bit sooner, but we feel you need some moral support”-Harry snorted- “while that little git is here.” Draco clenched his fists furiously. How dare they talk about like that! They didn’t even know him!
“Has he really lost his memory? Or is he just putting it on?” George asked curiously. Draco was outraged. Why the hell would he pretend to have lost his memory if he hadn’t? Why would they think of him as a liar? He finally decided he’d had enough. Gritting his teeth, he walked into the room. All conversation immediately ceased.
“’Morning Malfoy,” George said quickly, a fake smile plastered across his face. Draco threw him a filthy look.
“I know you were talking about me,” Draco snapped, flinging himself into a chair. The others exchanged looks. “What’s that smell?”
“My meringues!” Fred exclaimed. He ran over to the oven and pulled open the door. He leapt back as steam gushed out. Eventually he managed to take out the tray of meringues. They glistened appetizingly in the midday light. Draco felt his stomach rumble appreciatively at the sight. He realised it was almost lunch time.
Sucking several burnt fingers, Fred proffered the tray to Draco. Draco eyed him suspiciously, but he was very hungry. Against all common sense, he took a meringue and bit into it.
Suddenly the world began spinning. Colours whirled, shapes morphed. Draco fell out of his chair. He crouched on the floor, willing it all to stop. It did, abruptly. He looked up. Everything seemed much taller and bigger than usual. He went to pull himself back onto his chair. He stopped in horror. Instead of his own pale hand, a small, stubby one had appeared, with black leathery skin. Appalled, he looked at the rest of his body. He was covered in fine blonde hair- or fur- all over. Horrified, he turned to the other boys.
Fred, George and Ron were speechless with laughter. Even Harry looked amused...
“What did you do, put something in the meringue?” he grinned.
“Yep. Monkey Meringues!” Fred declared, recovering a little. Malfoy was speechless with anger- well, if he could talk, he would have been speechless. They thought this was funny? Wait- they had caused this?!
All the fury and frustration he had been carrying around since he had lost his memory welled up in him. With a shriek of rage, he flung himself at Fred, who yelled and fell off his chair. Draco, lost in a raging inferno of fury, snatched and scratched and tore at Fred’s face. Fred tried to fend him off, but was no match for the maddened monkey.
“DO SOMETHING- aaghh!” Fred bellowed as Draco tore tufts of his ginger hair out. Harry and Ron were laughing helplessly. George dithered beside Fred.
“The charm should have worn off by now!” he cried.
“PULL “ HIM - OFF “ ME!” Fred roared. George eyed Draco, who was now trying to poke Fred’s eyes out.
“I’m not touching it. You’re on your own,” he announced, stepping back.
“What is going on?” The boys turned. Hermione and Ginny were standing goggle eyed in the doorway.
“Where did the monkey come- is that MALFOY?!” shrieked Hermione realisation dawned. George nodded.
“The charm isn’t wearing off, he should have turned back by now!”
Suddenly there was a loud bang. Draco re-appeared, sitting on Fred’s chest. He looked dazed and disorientated. He looked down and saw Fred’s face, covered in scratches. His expression hardened and he raised his fist. Harry tackled him, sending them both flying.
Draco struggled to extricate himself, but Harry kept a firm grip.
“Let me GO!” screamed Draco, struggling furiously.
“Malfoy, you need to calm down-” Hermione began.
“NO! He turned me into a monkey! What the hell is wrong with everyone here? I haven’t done anything to you! I don’t even know you! And yet you all treat me as if I’ve done my best to make your lives miserable since I met you!”
“Yeah, well, you have,” snarled Fred, heaving himself off the floor. Draco cut off mid-rant and stared at him.
“What do you mean? I only met you yesterday!”
“We’ve known you for about six years now Malfoy. You take every opportunity to insult our family, you curse Harry and Hermione every chance you get, you-”
“Fred, stop!” Hermione shrieked. “He’s not supposed to know yet!”
“I what?” Draco whispered. He stopped struggling, and Harry released him. He didn’t get up. He felt like his world had suddenly done a handstand. The trouble with handstands is you fall over. He was Hermione’s enemy? No, that couldn’t be right. He glanced up at her expectantly, waiting for her to tell him it was all a lie. His hopes were cruelly dashed as he looked into her eyes and saw the truth. Dislike, even hatred, was mirrored in her large brown eyes he had come to trust, in the few days he had known her. He felt as if the floor had disappeared from under him and he was falling into a yawning abyss of solitude and loneliness. He was on his own. He had no friends, only enemies.I told you so the voice gloated.
“I have to get out of here,” he muttered. He didn’t know where he could go, but anywhere was better than here. He got up, brushed past Hermione, and headed for the door.
“Malfoy, wait! Malfoy! Draco!” Hermione called after him. He stopped as he heard his first name.
“You don’t have to pretend to like me any more, you know,” he told her bitterly. “Why didn’t you tell me in the first place? Hermione, I thought you liked me. I thought we were friends.” He hated the plaintive childish note than came into his voice as he said this.
She looked at him helplessly. “It’s not that I don’t like you, it’s just that… look, I didn’t get on with you very well before, and it’s difficult to look at you and not see what you used to be like.”
Draco shook his head. “I can’t stay here. I’m leaving.”
“But you don’t know anyone! Where will you go?”
“I don’t know. But anywhere will be better than here. I’d prefer to stay somewhere where people don’t hate me before I step in the door.”
“But-”
He ignored her and opened the door. He was so caught up that he didn’t look where he was going, and crashed into someone standing just outside. He apologized and went to hurry on. A hand caught a grip of steel on his arm.
“Where are you off to, boy?” a hoarse voice growled. Draco looked around and saw a man so scarred, he looked as if he’d been cut into pieces and then put back together rather untidily. He had one vividly blue eye which was now fixed on the petrified Draco. Draco’s mind was racing. How could he get away from this creepy old man? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry come out of the house. Relief leapt inside him. Maybe Harry could get rid of the madman. He was dismayed as he saw Harry’s face break into a genuine smile.
“Moody!”