Draco looked up to see the entire Great Hall before him, busy with students of all years eating their meals and talking amongst themselves. He was seated at the main table, in Dumbledore’s chair. The headmaster was nowhere to be seen. Draco smiled to himself in his seat of authority and reached forward to pick up his chalice. Suddenly, Hermione reached her hand over and placed it gently on top of his. In his dream, Draco looked up and smiled at her, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. She was wearing a long, lilac gown and her hair was done up. She gave him that trademark crooked smile.
“Are you sure you’re thirsty?” she asked with a laugh. Her hand was still holding his, inches away from his goblet.
Draco hesitated. His stomach felt like it was on fire, and it licked his insides all the way up into his rib cage. His heart was pounding.
“I’m sure.”
Draco took the chalice in his hand and drank from it. When he lowered it again, he saw that it was filled with dark water. The torches of the great hall reflected in it like sparkles, or moonlight. Hermione smiled with relief and leaned toward him. Draco put his hand under her chin and pulled her forward, licking his lips. But all of a sudden…
“Draco, get up!” Blaise shouted. Draco could hear from behind the canopy of his bed that Blaise was stomping around. Draco sat up immediately, running his hands through his wild blonde hair. That’s when he noticed that the dream he’d just experienced had made him somewhat… aroused. Draco grabbed his pillow and put it in his lap.
“You’d better have a Hell of a good reason for waking me up, Zabini,” Draco growled. He was overcome with the desire to lie back down and continue dreaming.
Blaise tore back the canopy surrounding Draco’s bed, causing him to grip the pillow tighter.
“I can’t find my wand,” Blaise said irritably.
“Did you check your robes?”
“Of course.”
“Your book-bag?”
“Yes!”
“Under your bed?”
Blaise smacked his forehead before ducking down to look under his bed. Sure enough, his wand had rolled underneath it into the shadows. He stood back up, pocketing his wand with sigh of relief.
“Mind your wand,” Draco snapped.
“And you, yours,” Blaise replied with a chuckle.
As Blaise left down the staircase to the common-room, Draco threw one arm over his pillow and used the other to yank the canopy back around his bed. He let himself fall back into bed with a thud.
It’s still early yet. I can make it to the owlery before breakfast.
Hermione and Ginny looked at each other in shocked silence, deaf to the bustling conversation-filled breakfast going on around them. In Hermione’s hand was yet another tiny note from their mysterious voyeur.
Give me one reason why I shouldn’t tell the entire school what I saw.
Hermione whimpered, looking over at Ginny with raised brows. She tilted the note toward her, causing Ginny to go wide-eyed as well. Harry and Ron cleared their throats loudly.
“Is something wrong?” Harry asked, adjusting his glasses. He and Ron had been quite confused by their behaviour the past few days. Ginny and Hermione both looked up instantly, fumbling for an explanation.
“This, um, girl we know,” Hermione stammered, “She’s got boy troubles.”
“Terrible boy troubles,” Ginny interjected.
“She needs our counsel; she’s very distraught!”
“Terribly distraught!”
Hermione and Ginny fumbled with their book bags, snatching everything up at once.
“We have to go right away,” Hermione said as calmly as possible. “Er.. Mary Sue needs us.”
Ginny grabbed a biscuit from her plate and the two hurried from the Great Hall, leaving their breakfasts almost untouched. Ron shrugged and leaned over, taking a strip of bacon from Hermione’s plate. Harry, however, was deep in thought.
•
"We’ve been here for hours!” Ginny groaned, pacing back and forth. “This isn’t how I’d like to spend my Saturday.” As soon as the two had left the Great Hall, Hermione had dragged her outside to the sun-filled grounds until they once again stood by the lake. The sunshine glittered on the water’s surface, almost too bright to stand.
“I wish you still had your time turner,” Ginny murmured after a long silence. “Then we could go back and sneak up on the creep while he was watching us.”
Hermione wrung her hands as she leaned heavily against a tree. It was the very same tree their mysterious voyeur had been hiding behind when they were seen that moonlit night.
“We have to wait here just a little longer,” Hermione begged. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s using threats to get something out of us. The only way we can respond is to meet him, and this is the only place we have in common.” Another tear rolled down her cheek, which she wiped away quickly, willing her lip not to tremble.
Ginny growled to herself, putting her hands over her lightly freckled face. “We don’t need to do anything! I’m so sick of this; I’d rather just walk the halls in my underwear than have some jerk threaten to describe it to people! Wouldn’t you?” She balled her hands into fists. “Why should he get to pull our strings?”
Hermione turned her face upward to the canopy of leaves. The thin rays of sunlight dotted across her face.
“You’re right.”
Ginny looked at Hermione, then up to the sky with wonder. A dusty, brown barn owl was flying through the air, getting nearer and nearer. Before Hermione could speak, Ginny held her arm out and waited. The owl swooped down gracefully, dropping the parcel it had been holding, and perched atop Ginny’s forearm.
“It’s here!” Hermione gasped, snatching up the parcel. As Ginny petted the owl appreciatively, Hermione sat down in the grass, eager to open their surprise. She carefully tore away the paper packaging to find a small, red bottle with a note attached.
Dear Ginny:
We’re thrilled you’ve taken interest in our innovative new product. Please accept this bottle of Red Handed free of charge, as a thank you for being an unwilling test-subject this summer! Now we’re even. Please do write back with the results, and all the painful, gut-wrenching details! And do say hello to Hermione!
From the sincere hearts of your dearest brothers,
Fred and George
Ginny lifted her arm and the owl took off immediately, swooping back and forth into the afternoon sun. She sat down in the grass next to Hermione, and the two girls examined the bottle breathlessly. It had a round shape, and the potion glimmered like liquid ruby. This bottle of Red Handed would reveal the identity of Hermione’s torturer. All they had to do was wait for another note from him, douse a reply with the stuff, and send the owl he used back to him. Ginny hurriedly tucked the bottle into her pocket and grabbed Hermione by the elbow.
“The ball is in our court, now,” Ginny said with a wicked grin. “This won’t go on much longer, Hermione. I promise. We’ll soon know who the midnight voyeur is!”
“Chin up, then!” Hermione said with relief as she pulled Ginny towards the castle. They’d been out in the grounds so long that it was almost time for lunch.
•
Draco found himself quite restless as everyone else enjoyed the mid-day meal around him. He kept glancing up towards the entrance to the Great Hall, and scanning the Gryffindor table with his eyes. He didn’t want to admit it to himself at first, but he was searching the room for Granger. He simply couldn’t wait to see her face. Suddenly, he shut his eyes tight. As he retreated into his mind for a moment, he made a point to remind himself that he was looking for her solely in the sense that he was a hunter seeking his prey. His enemy. His victim. When he opened his eyes again, the petite brunette was standing near the entrance, wearing a dark blue T-shirt and jeans. Her wavy hair was pinned up, and she had a hand on her hip. Draco’s eyes followed those hips down toward long, graceful legs. He’d seen that lean, feminine figure before. He was looking at Granger.
She and the Weasley girl were talking animatedly. Hermione kept one hand on her hip, which was cocked to one side. The other hand was waving about in the air like a bird. It dawned on him that she must already have received his note, yet she was shockingly unfazed. Draco stared at her with utter confusion. She was chatting away as though nothing was wrong. Anger boiled up in his stomach. He’d been looking forward to seeing her face all day. What’s the point of torturing someone if they don’t care?
Suddenly, Draco felt eyes burning into him. He turned to see Pansy staring at him incredulously from behind her blunt, dark bangs.
“Draco, where’s your head at? You’ve been sitting there with your fork in the air for a full minute!” Draco looked around to see that several of his housemates had noticed as well.
“The food is dreadful this evening,” he lied, trying not to watch Hermione walking toward her table. “Bloody, worthless house elves. I’d rather starve.”
Draco dropped his fork and stood up, leaving his housemates speechless. He gave his friends a curt nod, turned on his heel and left. As he walked out of the Great Hall, he had to fight the urge to look back with all of his will. Clearly, Granger had underestimated him.
•
Draco sat alone in his dorm, cracking his knuckles. He ran a hand through his platinum blonde hair, trying to keep it out of his eyes. Once again he found himself poised to write. With a low growl, he leaned back in his chair, allowing his mind to wander.
In his thoughts, Hermione was twirling in front of him, her wavy hair, loose and wind-blown. She sauntered toward him with her Mona Lisa smile, the bright brown eyes, those light freckles across her nose… she reached out her hand. She wanted him to go swimming with her. Suddenly, they were at the lake again. Just the two of them. Draco felt himself smile as he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Just as he reached out to put his arms around her, he felt himself tipping backward.
Clunk.
Draco rubbed the back of his head with his hands. As he looked around, he realized he was lying on the floor.
I must’ve fallen asleep in the chair and fell backward. Thank Merlin no one was around to see that.
He climbed to his feet, pulled the chair back up, and sat down in it again. No more afternoon naps. His eyes glimmered with an unspoken inner torture. He picked up his quill again and pressed it against the parchment.
I’m still watching you.
He looked over the note for a moment, a little surprised at himself. Before he could hesitate, he folded up the paper and shoved it in his pocket. He ran all the way to the Owlery.