Chapter Three: Present Prank (Part 1)
It was dark and still at this early hour. The curtains were still pulled across the windows, the lights were still unlit, the bathroom was still empty and devoid of the sound of screaming girls and running water, and all the bed hangings were still pulled closed around all the beds in the room. All but one.
It was quiet.
Someone planned to change all that…
A dark figure dressed in dark clothes crept silently across the dark room to the dark hangings of a dark bed. Bright blue numerals floating deep within the swirling gray mists of a time telling device (Morna Marlowe’s Magnificent Mean Solar Time Teller) sitting on a nightstand disappeared and reappeared one by one, 5-:-2-7, as the figure passed. Bed hangings were gathered in a tight fist and slowly pulled open to reveal a sleeping female figure. Soft brown hair fell gently in curls and waves about the girl’s face and across her pillow. One slim hand was tucked sweetly under her fair cheek, the other rested lightly on the edge of her blankets, and a smile graced her delicate features. She looked like a beautiful princess, all warm and cozy in her big soft bed; it was absolutely heart-warming.
The figure’s heart remained un-warmed.
The figure had a mission.
The figure would not fail.
The figure was ruthless, merciless, pitiless!
“Bwahahaha!”
The sleeping girl awoke with a loud scream as an evil, cackling maniac dressed in black and wearing a ski mask leapt on to her bed and attacked her in the middle of her peaceful dreams.
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In the boys’ dorm across the way, one raven-haired hero heard screaming in his sleep.
He snorted and rolled over, blissfully undisturbed.
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Hermione, now sitting up in bed, stared at her laughing attacker in shock.
“Ginny! What in the name of all that’s good do you think you’re doing?!” The other girl, still laughing hysterically, merely keeled over and rolled off the bed, clutching her stomach with both hands as she curled up in a ball on the floor.
“Are you possessed?!”
More laughing. Harder laughing.
“Why are you wearing a ski mask?”
The laughing stopped.
Warm brown eyes blinked twice through wide slits cut in knitted black fabric.
“I have an extra…Wanna try it on?”
“…All right.”
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How does she do it? How? Ron and Harry could never get me into this thing. Heh, I’d probably excommunicate them both just for suggesting I wear it. I, Hermione Granger, prefect, straight “A” student and candidate for the next Head Girl position, do not run around wearing ski masks…or black espionage outfits. She paused as her feet brought her to a stairway. Yet all Ginny does is ask… I think she’s a bad influence on me. She glanced to the left, around a corner, then to the right, and followed Ginny quickly up the stairs and past the first year dormitories where several students were still asleep. She grimaced beneath her mask as she thought of what, exactly, they were doing, then pushed the nagging doubts out of her mind. She had to be the voice of reason when she was with Harry and Ron. Someone had to keep them from getting themselves killed every year. But she wasn’t with Harry and Ron at the moment, she reasoned, so why couldn’t she have a little fun?
Most definitely a bad influence…
Besides, she thought to herself as the two girls continued cautiously up the stairs, she was awake now (no thanks to Ginny), and wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep at all, considering what day it was. Not only that, but she hadn’t any new books to read. She’d read all the ones she had at least four times, and Madam Pince was off on holiday this season (since when did Madam Pince take holidays?), so she couldn’t even get one from the library. Clearly reading wasn’t going to keep her entertained this morning. And neither would homework, as she’d finished all her holiday assignments four days ago, had even completed everything that had been pre-assigned for after the holidays, so she couldn’t even work on that. She’d been so bored lately that she was going insane. Really, what else was she supposed to do with her time, if not give in to Ginny’s evil plots? If she was driven to such drastic measures as this, the teachers could blame no one but themselves for not assigning more work, as was good and proper, so that she wouldn’t have to find obscure and unorthodox ways of entertaining herself at five in the morning.
Yes, that was a good excuse.
But it didn’t really explain why she’d embellished the plot at all.
She shifted the weight of the bag in her hand and thought about the conversation she’d had ten minutes earlier, in the kitchen.
“Hello, Dobby”
“Good day, Miss! Dobby is happy to see you, he is! Dobby is always glad to see friends of Harry Potter!”
“Thank you, Dobby. Here, I brought you something for Christmas.”
“Socks? You is getting Dobby socks, Miss? Socks are Dobby’s favorite clothes, Miss! You is very kind!”
“Well, you’re welcome Dobby. Listen, could you get something for me? Two somethings, actually.”
“Oh of course, Miss, of course. Dobby is getting you anything you is wanting.”
“And these…things…that I need, could they be wrapped? Like a Christmas present?”
“Yes! Dobby can do that for you, Miss! What is it Miss is wanting Dobby to get?”
She told him.
His eyes got wide.
“What is you needing that for?”
“Well, it’s something of a joke you see.”
“A joke? Harry Potter and his friends is playing a joke?”
“Well, no. Harry doesn’t really know about it, you see.”
“Miss is doing something without Harry Potter and his Wheezy? But Miss never does something without Harry Potter and his Wheezy! They is her best friends!” She laughed.
“Don’t worry, Dobby. I’m not exactly doing this without involving Harry and Ron. They just don’t know about it yet.”
“Oh. Then if Miss will wait right here, Dobby will go and get what she is requiring.”
“Thank you, Dobby.”
Yes, definitely a bad influence.
Hermione came to the sudden realization that her feet had stopped moving. Curious as to why, she glanced at her surroundings and found that she and her companion were standing outside a thick wooden door. She caught Ginny’s eye as the other girl put one hand on the heavy barrier, and knew by the glint of humor she found there that her friend was grinning. Somehow, despite herself and the nagging guilt she felt, she found her mouth quirking up in response.
After all, this super-secret-agent stuff was fun.
Especially when your mind provided you with your very own theme song.
“You take Ron, I’ll handle Harry.”
The theme song came to a grinding halt.
“What!” she hissed, but Ginny pushed the door open and crept inside before Hermione could say any more. Hermione heaved a heavy sigh and crept in after the smaller girl, who was glancing around the room in a curious manner. Hermione reached into the bag she carried and handed part of the contents to Ginny, then silently pointed to one of the beds, which she knew from her second and third years was Harry’s. Ginny nodded her understanding and moved in that direction, leaving Hermione to stare at the closed hangings pulled around Ron’s bed. Quietly, she tiptoed toward it and cautiously parted the curtains. Once ascertaining that he was indeed fully clothed in, at least, a thin long-sleeved shirt, with the covers pulled up to his waist, she parted the curtains the rest of the way and reached for the presents already resting at the foot of the bed. Scooping them all into her bag, she set a small, neatly wrapped package in their place (she’d had to wrap it herself after all; apparently wrapping Christmas presents wasn’t a house elf’s greatest strength) and stepped back. She looked down at the sleeping boy before her, his hair all tousled and his limbs thrown recklessly across the bed, and smiled.
“Happy Christmas, Ron,” she snickered softly, feeling suddenly mischievous with the knowledge that she, Hermione Granger, was actually playing a prank on her two best friends. They would be proud of her. When they got over being angry.
She pulled the hangings shut again and tiptoed silently out of the room; grinning all the way.
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Hermione settled down in a chair by the brightly lit fireplace, content to be out of all that black clothing and back into her normal jeans and customary Weasley sweater (a dark gray this year, which she was surprised to find made her feel somehow warm and cozy; odd how a color could do something like that), with her new presents spread all over the table in front of her. She smiled brightly as she examined them all, her finger trailing over each one as she decided which she would make use of first. Finally, she just closed her eyes and picked one up. So, Ron’s first then. It was thick, and rectangular, and rather heavy. But then, they were nearly all like that to some extent.
Ah books. How she had missed them.
She leaned back in her chair and began to read.
Ten pages and two pieces of Mrs. Weasley’s homemade fudge later, she heard a noise upstairs that sounded an awful lot like hyper sixteen-year-old boys waking up at six-thirty on Christmas morning, followed, oddly enough, by a long empty silence.
Her smile turned smug and she went back to reading.
Ginny, sitting on a nearby couch, snickered quietly and continued messing with the life-like models of Ginny’s favorite Quidditch team, Puddlemere United (“each team comes with its own to scale Quidditch pitch! Practice and play against your friends! Available at a Quality Quidditch Supplies near you!”), which Hermione and Harry had bought her for Christmas (they’d bought a matching set of the Chudley Cannons for Ron); even as Hermione watched out of the corner of her eye, she prodded one of the Chasers just a little too hard with her wand and he over shot his goal, much to the mixed anger and amusement of his teammates. Ginny pouted. Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. Ginny stuck out her tongue. Hermione rolled her eyes. Ginny-
Was interrupted by the sound of four heavy feet pounding their way to the common room in the boys’ stairwell. Ginny and Hermione hid matching grins and went back to their individual pastimes.
“Ginny!” Ron’s accusatory bellow rang loudly in the relative quiet of the common room. Ginny looked up, a well-feigned look of joy and excitement covering the amusement on her face.
“Happy Christmas, Harry! Happy Christmas, Ron!” she exclaimed, jumping up first to greet Harry, and then to give Ron her customary hug and a sisterly kiss on the cheek. He seemed flustered for a moment as he returned her affection in kind, swallowing his small sister in his long arms and warm smile.
“How was your morning?” she asked sweetly as she pulled away, bright, wide eyes looking back and forth between them. “Get anything good?” Hermione sighed. That was the wrong thing to say if she wanted to throw the boys off their trail. She turned her eyes from Ginny to Harry, and then to Ron, whom she had been avoiding looking at, for the obvious reason that she could never seem to stop once she had begun. Sure enough, both boys had narrowed their eyes at her in uneasy suspicion, and Ron was frowning down at Ginny in outright anger.
He knows her, she thought, entirely too well for our own good. And she, she continued, her own eyes narrowing at the youngest Weasley, should not be so ready to be caught. She shook her head. And she’s supposed to be so good at this sort of thing. The innocent act never works! Not that Hermione had ever tried it, mind, but she’d seen others try, and fail, once too often. Innocence only made victims, er… people, more suspicious.
“This was all your idea, wasn’t it?” Ron asked her, holding up the package Hermione had left on his bed earlier that morning. Ginny looked up at the half-opened package of coal hanging from her brother’s fist and cocked her head. Hermione sighed and fought the urge to shake her head in disappointment. Gin was going to up and confess already…
“Actually, I only suggested we steal your presents. Giving you coal in their place was all Hermione.” Hermione sighed mentally. Well there it was. At least their reaction was rather amusing. Two pairs of eyes, one deep blue, the other startling green, swung around to look at Hermione sitting oh-so-calmly in her chair by the fire; two expressions portrayed shock and dismay mixed with disbelief as aforementioned eyes widened considerably on her figure. Hermione kept her expression carefully, almost believably, blank as she marked her page with a ribbon and placed her book in her lap.
“You, Hermione?” Ron’s voice was soft and wounded, as if he’d suffered a mortal blow, but still tinged with strong disbelief. She looked up at him, with his flannel pajama pants and thick sweatshirt, his wildly uncombed hair and his injured expression, and she laughed softly. Harry narrowed his eyes at her.
“Why would you steal our presents, Hermione?” he asked softly, sounding a bit hurt himself.
“Technically I didn’t, Harry.”
“You didn’t?” Now he sounded relieved. She shook her head.
“No. Technically, I only stole Ron’s presents. Ginny stole yours.” Harry looked aggrieved and she smiled sweetly up at him. Ron just shook his head.
“It can’t have been her, Harry. This is Hermione we’re talking about. She doesn’t pull pranks; she studies!”
Hermione stared at him.
“Ron, I finished all my schoolwork last week. I’ve studied everything we’re supposed to learn this term twice already. And I’m not exactly slow, you know; just how much studying do you think I need? Speaking of, have you begun yet? You really should you know, that section entitled From Footstool to Fetch in our Transfiguration text was exceptional. Turning footstools into fox terriers, absolutely brilliant, really.”
“Hermione, you must be joking.”
“What?”
“It’s Christmas.”
“So? Christmas doesn’t keep homework from being due at the end of the holidays, after all, and I very much doubt that the two of you have finished.” She paused and glanced back and forth between them anxiously. “You have at least begun haven’t you? … Haven’t you?” The two exchanged slightly guilty, but mostly disbelieving, looks.
Of course not. She found herself sinking back into her chair in defeat.
“All right, fine. Just don’t expect to copy my answers at the last minute.”
“All right, we’ll copy Dean’s.”
“Harry!”
“What if Dean is planning to copy yours?” asked Ginny curiously. “That would put a nasty dent in your plans.”
“Nah,” said Ron, “The three of us will just copy Seamus’s.” Hermione stared wide-eyed at her best friends.
“At this rate, the two of you won’t know a thing by the time you graduate,” she sniffed.
“That may be true,” muttered Ron, “but we’ll have loads of fun between now and then.”
“I know how to have fun every once in a while,” Hermione replied softly, shooting Ginny a sly glance and a secretive grin. She snickered in response and Harry narrowed his eyes at her.
“Presents,” he demanded. “Now.”
“Awfully demanding, isn’t he?” Ginny asked, referring to Harry but looking at Hermione and cocking her head inquisitively.
“He usually is. No patience, that one. As bad as Ron, really.”
“And just what is that supposed to mean?” growled Ron, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Yeah, just what is that supposed to mean?” echoed Harry, copying his friend’s stance. They were pouting and bore a remarkable resemblance to a pair of two year olds. Ginny and Hermione looked at each other and burst into uncontrollable laughter.
Ron blinked. “I don’t get it.”
“Me neither,” Harry agreed.
“Where do you reckon she’s put our presents?”
“Who, Ginny? Dunno. Maybe we should look around a little, see if we can’t find them.”
Ron nodded his consent and began checking under the Christmas tree and all the tables in the room, while Harry started tossing all the cushions off the couches and onto the floor. By this time, the two girls had calmed down a little and, wiping tears from her eyes, Ginny asked:
“Harry, darling, what are you doing?” He froze, one cushion held high over his head, both hands occupied in the process of throwing it over his shoulder, and wide green eyes focused on his girlfriend.
“Looking for our presents?”
Hermione stared at him. “Under the couch cushions?” she cried, and the two girls started up again.
“Well where else are we supposed to look?” asked Harry, scowling. “It’s not like there’s a whole lot of places you could have hidden them in here.”
“But under the couch cushions?” Hermione laughed, and Ginny laughed harder, bending over and clutching her stomach in an effort to ease her poor abused abdominal muscles. Of course, the look on her face, and the fact that she was about to fall over, only made Hermione laugh harder, so then Ginny really did fall, and Hermione had to bury her face in her knees to keep from rolling out of her chair.
“Okay, that’s ENOUGH!” shouted Ron, and all laughter came to an abrupt stop. Both girls blinked at him with wide, half-frightened, half-amused eyes. Ron really was kind of scary when he got angry like this. Ever since he’d had that last growth spurt and started towering over everyone like he did…
Ron took a deep breath.
“Now. Ginny. It’s Christmas. Where are my presents?”
“Really, Ron, Hermione-”
“Stop blaming her for this, Ginny. I’ve known you all your life; I know your work when I see it.”
“Oh, Ron,” Hermione said softly, with a little smile. “You really are thick sometimes.”
Ron frowned at her. “What?”
“You open Christmas presents from me every year, and birthday presents too; you’d think you’d be able to tell just by looking whether or not I’ve wrapped a gift.”
Ron looked a little confused, but Harry lifted his lump of coal and examined the undamaged portion of wrapping paper surrounding the bottom half. “It does look an awful lot like her work, Ron. If I had to guess, I’d say she was guilty.”
“But Hermione? This is so unlike her,” Ron protested.
Hermione pretended they weren’t talking about her as if she weren’t there, and watched Ron gently prod the remaining paper on his own coal. He sighed.
“Still, it does look like Hermione’s wrapping, doesn’t it?” He turned accusatory blue eyes to her. “Well? What have you got to say for yourself?” Hermione smiled serenely up at him.
“Happy Christmas, Ron, Harry,” and she went back to reading her book. There was silence for about five seconds, and then Ron came storming over to her. He snatched the book right out of her hands and knelt down to look her straight in the eye.
“You will not read the book I got you for Christmas while holding my presents hostage and pretending that you’re not. I want my presents. It’s Christmas!” She looked at him, this adorable, whiny little boy disguised as a young man and felt her heart melt down to her toes. She sighed.
Darn those big blue eyes.
“Gin,” she called over her shoulder, “give the boy what he wants.”
“Yes,” agreed Harry, “before we start to cry.”
“Oh-ho,” laughed Ginny, running a pacifying hand through Harry’s wild hair and pulling a mockingly tragic face, “so sad!” She grinned up at him. “Come little boys, let’s go get your presents now!” Hermione grabbed Ron’s sleeve before he could get too far.
“Ron, my book, if you please.”
“No, Hermione, I do not please. You have several others on the table there; you can read one of those for now. You won’t miss this one if I keep it as collateral until my own gifts are returned.”
Hermione smiled up at him winningly. “Take one of the others as collateral. I’ve already started reading this one, and I’d like to finish it, if you don’t mind.” He looked at her for a long moment, then sighed in frustration and handed her book back, exchanging it for one on the table. Shaking his head, he stalked after Ginny and Harry, and Hermione grinned. All in all, she was fairly happy with herself. She snickered quietly and started counting.
5…
4…
3…
2…
1…
“We have to what?!” Ginny and Hermione both laughed, and Hermione set her book down on her chair as she got up, hiding it under her blanket so that Ron couldn’t steal it again.
“It’s not so bad,” she heard Ginny say as she crossed the room to where the three of them stood. “I promise it’ll be worth your while.”
“I don’t care if it’s worth my while, Ginny,” Ron told her angrily, “I just want to open my presents.” Hermione, forgetting just how much physical contact with him affected her, put a restraining hand on his arm. He turned to look down at her and she quickly realized her mistake. Standing this way put her waaaaaay too close to him. Way too close. She was suddenly aware of the heat she felt emanating from his body, the distinct rustling sound of his clothes as he shifted, even the flecks of sky blue amongst the sapphire in his eyes, which were suddenly very apparent to her, and her breath caught as she wondered why she’d never noticed them there before. She felt the tension in the muscles under her hand suddenly increase, and noticed the slight frown on his face when those wonderful eyes glared down at her. Softly, she reached up with her free hand and ran her thumb over the space between his eyebrows.
“Don’t frown,” she murmured, “it’ll give you wrinkles.” He made a strangled sound deep in his throat, and his eyes widened considerably. Suddenly a thick white card was thrust between them.
“Here’s yours, Ron!” Ginny chirped happily. “Now remember you two, all you have to do is follow those instructions and you’ll find your presents just fine. Bye!” And she dragged Hermione out the door by her wrist.
Ron shook himself and looked down at the two lines written on his card.
Small as a chocolate frog, tall as a tree; Look where you’ll see a star, there you’ll find me.
He groaned.
“Ginny…”
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