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A/N: Ahem. I start out with - maybe - a two-shot story, and now, look what we have! A full-length novel! *rolls eyes* Aw, it's fine. You guys are just too convincing! LOL. I don't know how many more chapters there will be, but if I keep getting all of these ideas… well…
Okey-dokie. I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed, because it really helps me shape my stories (somewhat) into something better. And if you like my stories, I'm getting a little self-esteem boost, and you are enjoying yourselves. I think that works out well, don't you think? ^_^
Have fun, ya'll!
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Harry ran out of the opened portrait hole and followed the sounds of Hermione's angry footsteps down the corridor.
Harry caught up with Hermione, being much faster, and stopped, short of breath, in front of her. "Hermione," he panted, "What are you doing?"
Her face was grimaced in latent anger. "Malfoy needs to keep his overly large ego out of everyone's personal business! I have enough on my plate already!" And with a menacing noise that sounded more like a growl than anything, she whipped past him and stormed down the corridor.
"And don't you come after me, Harry!" she yelled back at him, "It's always you and him, you and him. Well, I need to stop him myself!"
From past experiences, and the steely glint in her eye, Harry knew that Hermione, the cleverest witch in their year, wasn't to be underestimated.
But even her threats were not enough to restrain his urge to follow her, and with his mind made up, he sprinted back through the opened portrait hole.
He was quite unaware of the Fat Lady's smirk, or the merry wink she gave him as he swept passed.
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"Oh, so you're back now?"
Ron's comment was highly annoying (which of course was the intention), and quite unnecessary, and its irking cheeriness nearly sent Harry over the edge.
"Ron, shut up for a second, will you?" Harry hissed, grabbing his haphazardly packed suitcase and shuffling through it desperately. His pounding heart fell to his feet. It wasn't there…
Harry plopped onto his stomach and crawled under the bed, groping wildly for his Invisibility Cloak. But he couldn't feel anything, save a squashy something, which felt remarkably like one of Hermione's knitted hats. Ron squatted beside him.
"What're you doing?"
"Nothing," Harry said through gritted teeth, coming out from under the bed. "I just thought I lost something…"
Ron looked at him in slight amusement. "You mean you know you lost something. What is it?"
"Invisibility Cloak," Harry muttered.
"Going to spy a little on Herm -,"
"Oh, sod off!" Harry shouted irritably, "I don't know where it is! Where is it?"
Blind panic coursed through him. Hermione… his father's cloak…
He turned to Ron with the slight air of hysteria. "You don't know where it is, do you?"
Ron backed away, holding up his hands defensively. "I don't know a thing about it, mate. Maybe you just misplaced it."
"Well, of course I misplaced it!" Harry grumbled furiously, "It's not here, is it?"
Ron started, a little hotly, "Hey, I was just trying to help -,"
"Some help you are! Go and find the thing if you're so worried!" Harry shot back, fists clenched.
Ron flushed crimson, which quickly changed into a deep red-purple tint, and stared determinedly at Harry. Though his voice trembled, and his hands shook, Ron held his head high, refusing to let Harry rattle him.
"If I wanted to be snubbed," Ron started in a suppressed voice, "I could run into Malfoy. I don't need to be harassed by you."
Harry was hardly paying his friend any heed. His eyes were darting to each corner of the room, urgently trying to search out the cloak. It seemed, however, that the Invisibility Cloak, which had cloaked him so many times, had indeed vanished itself.
Meanwhile, Ron watched Harry, looking rather offended.
"Why is this so important anyway?" he asked, disgruntled, "Malfoy was just making some stupid remark. And it's not true, anyway, so why should you care?" He stared fixedly at Harry. "You're starting to act like Hermione more and more every day, and the thought drives me bloody insane…"
Harry shut his eyes, but through the sliver of light beneath his lids, he saw Ron turn his head quickly, as through stung.
"Where is she, anyway?" he asked briskly. His accusatory eyes fixed on Harry and he said in what he must have thought was an offhand voice, "I thought you went with her."
"She went to the library," Harry said evasively. He was well aware that his heart was beating loudly - he wondered briefly if Ron could hear its rapid pounding echoing off the walls of their dormitory…
But he didn't wait long to see. Harry had had enough.
"I have to go," he said, turning around, and walking down the staircase to the common room. Ron, much to his annoyance, followed in his footsteps.
Though, he didn't know why suddenly Ron's help, as good intentioned as it was, became so irritating. All he knew was that this was something between him and Hermione, and he didn't want Ron a part of it. Ron, however, didn't seem perturbed in the slightest by Harry's hostile manner. He walked alongside him resolutely, clutching the front of his robes in a determined sort of way.
Harry pushed open the portrait and climbed through the hole.
"Well, well, well," came the drawling, bored voice of Draco Malfoy, "If it isn't Potty and the Weasel come to join our party. Lord knows we need some excitement."
Harry slammed the portrait back into place. The Fat Lady gave a muffled shriek and reprimanded, "You know, I do shut on my own! After all I'm doing for you, too! Honestly!" Harry ignored her, however; he was glaring at Malfoy, who was smirking, his lips curled up into an unpleasant sneer.
"Malfoy," Harry acknowledged bitterly. He looked around the corridor, but Hermione was nowhere in sight, and neither were the dim-witted Crabbe and Goyle.
Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "Looking for your Mudblood girlfriend, Potter? I daresay she needs restraint."
Ron lunged, but at that very moment, footsteps echoed throughout the corridor, and Hermione and Ginny appeared from behind Harry, looking both red-faced and breathless. Hermione was clutching a stitch in her side, looking rather frightening; her eyes wielded a strange glow, and her hand was clenched over the wand that was protruding out of her pocket. Ginny's eyes were blazing red the color of her hair.
"Hermione…" Ron started, but she pushed him back.
"Malfoy," she hissed in a deadly whisper, stepping in front of Harry, "Give me that cloak."
Harry's eyes darted to the folded material tucked under Malfoy's arm. He felt a burst of renewed anger and hate… pure, unadulterated rage that coursed wildly through his veins…
"I'm sorry Granger," Malfoy said contemptuously, "but I already touched this. It would be such a shame to see it fouled…"
"You filthy git!" Ginny yelled angrily, "Give Hermione the cloak!"
"No," Malfoy said quietly, so that it was almost a hiss, "I don't think I will." He fingered the cloak, running his hand slowly and deliberately across the silken surface. The very sight made Harry's blood boil; he could hear his heart pounding in his ears… all logic was gone, thrown to the wind…
"You see," Malfoy said softly, in a devious voice not unlike Snape's, "I've come too far..."
This comment hit home. Ginny stopped yelling, and Hermione's outstretched wand slowly lowered.
"What?" Ron demanded harshly.
"It's complicated, Weasel," Malfoy said disdainfully, turning to face Ron, "but I can make it nice and simple for you. Inter-house rivalry."
"You stole my cloak!" Harry shouted, startling even himself, "You lousy bast -,"
Malfoy cut him off, "Temper, temper, Potter. Who ever said rivalry between houses was fair, fit to match Oh-So Grand Gryffindor's morals?"
"You could do with a bit of chivalry," Hermione spat.
"I am the one holding the cloak, Granger," Malfoy said coolly. "So as for now, you are listening to me. And Potter, I would advise you hold your tongue - that is, if you want to see precious Daddy's cloak again."
Harry felt Hermione tense from beside him, and he felt a kind of fierce joy, knowing that she was standing there beside him, sharing his anger and animosity.
Ginny said quietly, "I can't believe you are doing this, Malfoy."
Ron muttered, "I can."
He met her gaze evenly, completely ignoring Ron. "Business is business, Weasley. And my business is important."
He faced the others with contempt. "I don't want to be spending my precious time with you any more than you want to with me, so listen up. Though unwonted as it seems, I'm going to give you a bit of advice." His cold gray eyes narrowed at Harry. "Hurry up."
"Hurry up?" Ron repeated, flabbergasted, "What kind of bloody -,"
"Shh!" Ginny hushed him.
"The house difference is no longer an issue," Malfoy said, partly to himself, "Either way, it sickens me, and only one way will I get money for my work… for it seems that the first option is no longer available… Professor Snape will be livid when he finds out…"
Malfoy looked scornfully at the lot of them. "I cannot believe I am doing Gryffindor a favor." He took a step towards Harry and shoved the cloak into his arms.
"Here, Potter, take your cloak. And next time try not to leave it lying around."
He smirked at their dumbfounded faces, turned in the other direction, and walked away.
After Malfoy was out of earshot, Harry said blankly, "Lying around?"
"Just forget about it, Harry," Hermione said consolingly, "Malfoy snags any opportunity he can to get under your skin."
"But how did he get it?" Unanswered questions bombarded his mind. How could Malfoy have gotten his cloak when he remembered vividly placing it safely inside his suitcase? It was preposterous, impossible… And what did he mean by "doing Gryffindor a favor"? He wasn't doing anyone a favor by scurrying around stealing valuables from people.
"He's a git," offered Ginny simply, "He found a way to break and enter."
Hermione gave Ginny a half-exasperated look, then said, "We'll see Professor McGonagall tomorrow about this… she'll do something. Stealing is vandalism - Malfoy could be expelled for that."
The horrors, the memory of the conversation with their professor flooded back to him.
"No!" Harry said harshly. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny stared at him. He hissed, "Hermione… we can't go to McGonagall…"
Her cheeks flushed. "Oh!"
"Remember?" he pressed urgently, "We have to…"
"Go to Hogsmeade!" Hermione finished quickly, smiling brightly. "We scheduled it months ago!" she added; Ron's face was an odd reddish color.
"Hogsmeade?" asked Ginny pointedly, and Harry realized that obviously she, as well as Ron, did not know of their current predicament. "Students can't go to Hogsmeade tomorrow…"
"See, that's the funny part!" said Hermione swiftly, with a tiny little chuckle to match, "We have pass from Professor McGonagall saying we could go - for extra work and such."
It sounded farfetched to Harry's knowing ears, but Hermione was a better liar than he had imagined. Ron and Ginny apparently accepted the idea of their two-person outing quite quickly, and Ginny even offered to come and help ("There's nothing to do anyway, on a Saturday."). Hermione smiled and thanked her, but firmly refused her offer.
Ginny shrugged and yawned loudly, climbing through the portrait hole. "Well, okay. Goodnight, then."
When Ginny was out of earshot, Ron rounded on them.
"Hogsmeade?" he shot dubiously.
"You are too much, Ron," said Hermione uninterestedly, wiping some dust from her robes. "Honestly, it's getting old."
A red flush crept into his face. He mouthed wordlessly.
Apparently, Hermione was still offended by his comments earlier that day.
"We wanted to get some work done," she explained simply, "That's all."
"But…" he sputtered, "In Hogsmeade?"
"Clearly you don't appreciate real work, Ron," Hermione snapped, "Real, precise work requires time and effort."
She stormed away in a huff.
Ron stared, literally struck dumb, at Hermione's retreating back.
"What was that?" he asked Harry, utterly bewildered.
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A/N: Weird chapter, I know. I'm still trying to work out this whole plot… lol…
Lately, I haven't been writing as much, and so I need to get back into practice, so excuse this if it's really bad… *looks ashamed* … It's way easier writing and shaping a full-blown romance story, as opposed to this (which is, I guess, a mystery?). Just my two cents.
Thanks for reading!
-Lauren
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