Cupidity
By FenrisWolf
Part 1
~~~~~
It was decidedly odd. Hermione Granger was in all likelihood the safest, best-protected witch on the face of the earth, and she didn't have a clue. It wasn't because she was the most brilliant witch to graduate from Hogwarts in the last century, though that was a factor. It wasn't that she had a large circle of powerful witches and wizards who called her friend and who would do anything for her, though that was also true. No, her safety resided in the fact that she was the best friend of the Boy Who'd Won.
Harry Potter was now almost universally accepted to be the most powerful wizard of the age. There were a few that felt he was the most powerful wizard of ANY age, but the majority of those who speculated on such matters were of the opinion that insulting Merlin was probably a Bad Idea, especially since those who were in a position to know about such things still weren't sure if the old boy was really dead, or just faking it again.
Even so, that still left him with the currently unchallenged title of Supreme Badass of the Wizarding world, and it was the rare witch or wizard who would risk pissing him off. And since nothing was guaranteed to piss Harry Potter off faster than an attack on the woman he loved in (he thought) secret, the word was out: Touch Hermione Granger and you die.
That, unfortunately, was not, in and of itself, always enough to guarantee her safety. Even with the word out, there were wizards who did not recognize her on sight, and even among those who did, there were those too stupid to heed the well-intentioned warnings. Draco Malfoy, for example.
Malfoy had, by dint of living when both his father and Voldemort were slain, managed to move himself fairly high within the power circles of dark wizards, the ones who'd avoided the inevitable purges following Tom Riddle's destruction. He even had real minions now, competent ones, in place of the pathetic Crabbe and Goyle of his school days. That they regularly proved their competency by ignoring his instructions (and thereby saving his ass) was something he chose to overlook.
Sadly, a knack for surviving when others fell did not automatically confer wisdom, a fact that was brought home sharply every time he decided to try yet another plan to Get Harry Potter by first Getting Hermione Granger. Given the nature of his obsession, it wasn't all that surprising that most of said plans would have horrified a Mau Mau. Needless to say, every attempt by Draco to get approval for one of his plans was overruled, so his nemeses continued to breathe, and he continued to cultivate exotic fungi in his copious spare time. This was just as well, for the last time anyone had attacked Hermione, Harry's reaction had made his attitude abundantly clear to the Dark community: hands off Granger.
It had been a simple mugging, a completely random act of street violence, and the only reason she had been a victim was because she was searching the shops in Knockturn Alley for a certain rare book. The mugger had gotten clean away with a handful of Galleons and a couple of parcels, and aside from a slightly torn robe and a bruised knee, she'd been none the worse for wear. Given how much worse the wear could have been, one might have thought that Harry would've settled for being relieved she was all right, and perhaps given her a stern lecture about travelling alone in dangerous places, both of which did happen. But once a concerned Ron had been summoned to look after his girlfriend, Harry had Apparated to Knockturn Alley.
Supreme Badasses do not hang onto their titles by being subtle. Anyone who's ever sat through a Muggle action flick knows this, and by the time Harry was through in the Alley, they knew it too. There were three taverns in Knockturn that were known to the Ministry as being centers for most of the illegal activities that occurred there, and Harry visited each one in turn. His methods were extremely simple: Apparate into the middle of the main room, beat every single wizard there within an inch of his life, and then find one who was still semi-conscious and deliver the message.
"The Mugger. Hermione Granger. I want him."
Harry was just finishing up with the third tavern when two wizards Apparated into the room, holding a struggling third one between them. Without saying a word they handed him over, along with Hermione's stolen possessions. The two enforcers steadfastly refused to tell anyone what happened next, but the most observant amongst their fellows noted that they would become extremely nervous whenever they saw a cockroach…
At any rate, the Word had been delivered, and was quickly embraced by those in a position to make their wishes known within the Dark community. Though she never knew it, every time she went to Knockturn Alley or anyplace else even remotely shady, Hermione had an escort watching out for her. They were rarely needed, as the rank-and-file Dark wizards were, for the most part, every bit as much into self-preservation as their superiors, but the occasional drunk, moron, or git found themselves being dealt with quietly and efficiently. That included Malfoy, and his own minions soon became adept at stunning hexes and memory charms as they kept him from triggering another visit from the Boy Who Was Pissed.
It is extremely important that you, the reader, comprehend all this, because without that knowledge, you would never understand the events that followed directly on the heels of February 14th, 2005, a day that would, as far as Knockturn Alley was concerned, come to live in infamy…
~~~~~
The Inner Council of the Knockturn Lords of Evil was meeting in closed session to discuss the previous day's disastrous events, and to formulate an appropriate response. Several of the members were being represented by proxies, two were present only be means of magical life support, and one seat remained empty while its potential heirs 'discussed' the succession.
The Big Bad of T.I.C.K.L.E. (formerly know as the High Wizard, he changed the nomenclature after becoming addicted to an American Muggle television series) glared around the chamber as he called the meeting to order. "I take it everyone here suffered similar setbacks to their business affairs yesterday?"
"You take it correctly, B.B.," Rufio, his second-in-command and next younger brother, confirmed. "The reports are still coming in, but so far it looks like, overall, several million Galleons in lost revenue, at least a dozen of our operations raided, subverted, or destroyed, and scores of our best operatives are either awaiting trial or are already in Azkaban-and that's not counting the ones who were stupid enough to resist," he added, his eyes travelling over some of the more obviously injured members of the council.
"I don't understand it," Big Bad's youngest brother and aide-de-camp complained. "How can one man, even Harry Potter, cause so much damage?"
"I can't imagine, Matthias," Rufio replied sarcastically. "Unless it has something to do with the fact that he heads up the Unspeakables, and has the authority to call up all the manpower he needs to stage a dozen raids at once?"
"That can't be all of it, Rufio," Big Bad interjected before his two brothers could really get going. "We expect a certain amount of grief every year around this time, given that Potter is usually as grouchy as a dragon with a sore tooth, but this was extreme, even for him. Do we have any intelligence as to what set him off?"
"Actually, we do," the Supremely Underhanded Collector of Knowledge and Reconnaissance replied. "We have an operative in Potter's outer office, and she overheard a meeting the week before between him and Ron Weasley." The rest of the Council winced; everyone knew that, while Harry Potter really was a good friend with all the Weasleys and Ron in particular, being around the man who got to shag the woman Harry loved invariably put him in an incredibly foul mood, which was why he usually found an excuse to avoid him. Given that this meeting happened less than a week before what was supposed to be the most romantic day of the year, it wasn't surprising that Potter had been desperate for a way to let off steam, hence the raids.
Several of the council members made comments in support of that theory but S.U.C.K.R. just shook his head. "I wish that were all it was, but the truth is actually much worse. The operative in question is relatively new, and didn't understand just how important her information was, but trust me when I say that if I had known, I would have flashed a Code Red to all Council members." He took a deep breath, and then let the other shoe drop. "Trixie overheard Weasley telling Potter that he was planning on proposing to Granger on Valentine's Day."
"Oh, crap."
~~~~~
The meeting rapidly went downhill from there. Even the thickest of the Council members knew that seeing Ron engaged to Hermione would make Harry Potter crazy with jealousy, and unfortunately they knew just how he was likely to go about working out his frustrations. About the most optimistic thing any of them could come up with was that they were in an election year, and the influx of graft, bribes and hush money would help alleviate the dent in their coffers that would be produced by a frustrated and morose Harry Potter.
It turned out to be the lowest ranking member of the Council who offered the first helpful suggestion of the day. "Say, why don't we help Potter out of this mess? That way he'll owe us instead of busting our chops all the time!"
Big Bad thought about it for a moment. "The idea does have merit," he agreed somewhat portentously. "The question is, how would we go about it?"
Another member spoke up. "We could Kill Ron Weasley," he offered, to immediate boos.
"So we're going to get Potter together with his best friend by killing his OTHER best friend?" Rufio sneered. "Oh, that's bloody brilliant!"
"No we can't maim, hurt, kill, injure or kidnap Weasley," Big Bad agreed. "It wouldn't do us much good to get Potter and Granger together, only to have him after us for mussing up their friend-even if they're really happier with him out of the way."
"And we don't want Granger after us, either," another one piped up. "I've seen the books she likes to read. Potter may be powerful, but Granger is scary. Absolutely brilliant, but scary."
One of the heavily bandaged Council members spoke up. "So what do we do? We can't kill Weasley, that's out. We can't kill Granger, that's out. And we sure as hell can't kill Harry-Bloody-Potter! So what do we do?" He pounded the table with his fist and whimpered as the vibrations traveled up his arm. "We're running out of options!"
"Then perhaps it's time to explore other options," a new voice interjected, and the Council's eyes swiveled to come to rest on the lithe, female figure standing hipshot in the doorway.
"Cissy? What are you doing here?" Big Bad asked in surprise.
"I'm here to see your wife, 'Reggie'," the blond replied, her eyes narrowing. "And I've told you before: don't call me 'Cissy'!"
Big Bad flushed at the use of his proper name, and rolled his eyes. "Oh, well, pardon me, Nar-CISS-a," he drawled, "or should I call you Mrs. Malfoy?"
Draco Malfoy's mother narrowed her eyes and glared at her childhood friend's husband. "Don't get into a pissing contest with me, Reginald, you'll lose. If you have to call me anything, call me Ms. Black; Draco can keep the Malfoy name and welcome to it, with Lucius gone it doesn't mean anything to me." She smiled nastily. "Now I believe you were discussing a problem with Potter and his friends?"
"Not that it's any of your concern, but yes, we have a problem." He grudgingly outlined it for her; Big Bad was an arrogant male chauvinist pig, but at least he was an intelligent pig. He knew how much Malfoy had relied on his Ravenclaw wife's native cunning and wit, and the fact that she had advised against allying with Voldemort only increased her stature in the Council's eyes. If she had any ideas as to how to proceed, they would listen.
"So that's the situation in a nutshell," he concluded. "Potter's crankier than a Postal Owl on Circular Day, Weasley's about set to drag Granger down the aisle, and Granger…well no one really knows what she thinks, she's too damned closed-mouthed for that." He watched as Narcissa's expression settled into one of deep concentration.
After a couple of minutes he cleared his throat. "So, do you have any suggestions?" he asked when her eyes focused on his.
Narcissa, meanwhile, was mentally shaking her head. These were the criminal masterminds that ran the Dark side of the Wizarding world? No wonder her son was a complete naïf, if this was all he had for role models! Briefly she regretted choosing Lucius to father her son, since his own proclivities had dictated their social contacts, but one worked with what one was given…
"Yes, I believe I can suggest at least one course of action that offers a reasonably good chance of success," Narcissa drawled, laughing at their expressions. "Honestly, Reginald, you should remember your Elementary Arithmancy. If you can't make the equations add up to the results you need, add another variable." She looked around expectantly, and then sighed at their blank faces. Better to have Potter indebted to her family, whatever Draco might wish, if this was what the opposition had to offer. "Have any of you ever heard of a woman named Luna Lovegood?"
~~~~~
"Bugger."
Ronald Weasley was confused. This was not unusual; in fact, Ron spent a great part of his life confused about one thing or another, but his relationship with his best friends was one area where he'd thought he'd sorted things out well enough not to have that problem. Unfortunately for Ron, Fate, in the form of that redheaded Irish bastard Murphy, had other plans.
He wasn't certain when things had started to go wrong, all he knew was that they were. Take Harry, for instance. If anybody had ever told him his best mate would be avoiding him, he would've told them to check themselves into the Nutter Ward at St. Mungo's. That would've been before the last six months, when Harry started acting so weird. Of course if he were being honest, he'd have to admit that Harry had been acting…off…for a lot longer than that, but it was only in the last six months or so that it became so obvious that even Ron couldn't miss it. He was always in a bad mood, for one thing, and for another, he always seemed to be too busy to get together with Ron and Hermione.
Ron had even been forced to pigeonhole Harry at work in order to tell him about his plans for Valentine's Day. He'd hoped the news would cheer his friend up, but if anything, Harry was even grouchier than before. He'd practically run over that cute little secretary in his outer office (not that Ron noticed things like that) in his hurry to get away from Ron.
Then there was Hermione. She was the love of his life, they were absolutely magic together, and everyone said so. True, he didn't understand what she was talking about half the time, and it was a bit annoying that she was completely indifferent to the single greatest invention in the history of the Wizarding world, but you put up with that sort of thing for your soulmate. However, he'd been a bit puzzled by her reaction to his proposal. She'd accepted, of course, it was the logical thing to do, the next step in their relationship, but he'd expected her to be more excited about the idea. He'd actually had to remind her to tell her parents the news. No, Hermione was definitely adding to his confusion.
And to top it all off, there'd been a number of odd encounters lately, brushes with an element that he normally avoided like the plague. One couldn't play professional Quidditch without at least being aware that certain shady types did their best to influence the outcome of the matches, but Ron was too well known to be one of the 'good guys' for them to ever bother him. They still weren't bothering him, at least not in the sense of, "lose the match by three goals or we'll break your legs" bother, but he was sure they were watching him.
Knowing that the enforcers for the Knockturn Alley 'gaming association' were studying him would be enough to make anyone nervous, and Ron had been tempted to talk to Harry about it, but then Harry had been acting the prat, so that was out. He also thought about talking to Hermione about it, but since her reaction was likely to be "Well, why don't you quit playing a silly game and get a real job?", that was out. That meant it was up to Ron, using his own intellect and keen powers of observation, to figure out why he was suddenly so popular with a group of people who were the type that other people used to define words like 'disreputable', 'untrustworthy', and 'downright scary'.
In other words, he was screwed.
It was while in this decidedly unsettled state of mind that Ron decided to improve his cognitive skills through the liberal application of Ogden's Fire Whiskey, 'The Panacea Of The Ages', a process he undertook with great vigor at the favorite watering hole of the Chudley Cannons team, a Wizarding pub called "The Swozzled Frog". Now the nice thing about drinking at the Frog was that it was owned by an ex-team member, which meant that the players could drown the sorrows of another losing season there without ever having to worry about a story being leaked to the press. The bad thing about drinking at the Frog was that the same owner was likely to be extremely accommodating to anything a current C.C. wanted to do, whether or not it was a good idea at the time.
Which was the only way Ron could explain waking up in bed with a pounding headache, a serious case of cottonmouth, and a naked blonde with pale, slightly protruding blue eyes.
"Good morning, Ronald," she said dreamily as soon as she was sure he was awake.
"Luna? Luna Lovegood?" Ron groaned. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"
"You," she replied matter-of-factly.
"Huh?" he replied, proving once again that if it were up to the male of the species, we never would have evolved speech.
"You asked what I thought I was doing, Ronald. I should think that was obvious. I've been doing you…several times," she clarified. Her hand moved under the covers, and Ron flinched. "Oh good, it's ready again." Her head disappeared beneath the sheets, and Ron's eyes quickly glazed over. His last coherent thought for the next few hours was, "Hermione is going to kill me…."
~~~~~
Big Bad glared at Narcissa's smirking face, and then sighed. "All right, Narcissa, I admit it; you were right about Luna still carrying a torch for Ron Weasley, though why anyone as intelligent as she's purported to be would want a Quaffle Jock is, quite frankly, beyond me."
"That's because you don't understand intelligent women, Reginald," Narcissa explained. She debated for a moment whether or not to enlighten him, and then mentally shrugged; it wouldn't really matter in the long run… "Truly intelligent women look for one of two things in a potential mate. Either they want someone they can manipulate and control to their heart's content, who won't seriously interfere with their pursuits, or they want an equal partner, one who can challenge them and meet them on their own terms."
Big Bad thought Narcissa's words over, and wasn't entirely happy with the conclusions he reached, considering that both he and his brothers were all married to Ravenclaws. However, lacking any firm evidence to the contrary, he decided to believe that his wife, at least, had chosen the second option. "That makes sense of why Luna would choose him," he admitted, "but that doesn't mean he won't just treat as a quick shag and go back to Hermione, which would leave us right back where we started."
Narcissa briefly closed her eyes, thinking not for the first time that the Sisterhood's policy of pulling the strings instead of openly running the show was unnecessarily complicated, but one didn't discard the teachings of Rowena Ravenclaw on a whim. Besides, even if she was smarter than 99.99% of the Ravenclaw Sisterhood, Granger was a Gryffindor, not a Sister, and hence, not deserving of the same loyalty. "Reginald, the point is that, now that Luna has set the hook and knows she has her sisters' support, we can proceed to the next phase of the plan."
"And that would be…?"
~~~~~