A/N: Sorry so short. This is a transition chapter. I had fun putting in Mara Jade, in honor of my Star Wars obsession. I needed a character, just sort of stuck her name on it. In her honor, I put in a ton of veiled and not-so-veiled Starw Wars quotes and references. See if you can name them all.
Chapter Fourteen-- Bloody Hell ( Malfoy plots, Harry gets a lesson, and Hermione doodles)
The emergency meeting turned out to be a little less 'meeting' and a little more 'emergency'.
Draco was the last one to arrive, and as he pulled off his tunic, he immediately registered the chaos coming from the living room.
As he entered, Malfoy found Ginny and Ron screaming at each other, while Luna was looking unusually alert and Neville was banging a cup against the coffee table, trying to calm the Weasleys down.
"What in the name of the Good Ship Lollipop is going on around here?" demanded Draco, immediately taking control of the situation.
Everyone abruptly stopped what they were doing and faced him. Nobody spoke.
Draco raised an aristocratic eyebrow and lowered his voice to a deadly whisper. "Perhaps," he said quietly, "You did not hear me. I want to know what in the name of Yoda is happening."
"We're frustrated about Harry and Hermione, and we're taking it out on each other," explained Luna.
The Slytherin stared at her with new eyes. "What an articulate response," he nodded thoughtfully. "That sounds quite accurate. Now do you guys want to waste time, or do you want to help our friends?"
"We want to help," the four others chorused.
"Good.Let's get down to business. Don't just sit there. We have to do something!"
"What?" cried Neville desperately.
"Anything!" ordered Malfoy.
"Um, Malfoy?" spoke up Ron tentatively. Malfoy may have been on their side for a long time now, but sometimes, he showed just how formidable he truly was. Ron didn't want to risk setting him off.
"Dragonbreath?"
Ron gave an unconscious sigh of relief. Malfoy obviously was back to his usual sarcastic self.
"Please tell me you have a plan."
"Bloody hell, must I do everything? What if I just showed up and said I expected you to have a plan? What would you say?"
"I would say we're doomed," spoke up Luna cheerfully and Ron glared at her as Ginny giggled.
Draco gave a theatrical sigh. "Lucky for you, I always come prepared. Especially when I realize that I'll be working with daft gits."
"Hey, I prefer dumb prat," replied Neville indignantly. Everyone laughed.
"I'll just grab some drinks," offered Luna hospitably.
"Good, we're going to need caffeine, especially if I'm supposed to get Weasley's brain stimulated out of its permanent coma-like state," drawled Draco.
"Hey!" protested Ron and Ginny at the same time.
"I wasn't talking about you, Weaselette," smiled the wizard. "Actually, you're rather bright, occasionally. When you aren't acting like a ditz."
Ginny blushed in spite of herself. "Yeah well, you're alright, occasionally. When you aren't acting like a scoundrel."
"Oh, scoundrel," echoed Draco delightedly. "I like the sound of that."
Luna returned from the kitchen with a tray, tripped over Ron's giant feet, fell into Ginny's lap, and spilled coffee all over Draco.
"Well," said Malfoy smoothly,wiping coffee from his brow, "If this week's installment of Laurel and Hardy is over, I suggest we get this little plot off the ground."
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Hermione sat crouched over her desk, doodling idly on a spare piece of parchment. It was late, much later than usual, but she just didn't want to face her empty apartment. She didn't feel like doing any work, though. So she just continued her scratchings.
To her right was a stack of owls that needed to be sent. Beautiful white scrolls tied with deep green ribbons.
Specifically, wedding invitations.
More specifically, Harry's wedding invitations.
Even more specifically, Harry and Hannah's wedding invitations.
She should have sent them weeks ago, she knew. But something always stopped her.
Hermione peered down at the name she had begun unconsciously writing.
Harry. Yep, there was the reason right there.
There was a light knock on the door, and Hermione glanced up to see a woman with pretty red-gold hair staring in the frame.
"Still here, Granger?"
"I'm swamped with the Potter wedding."
The redhead frowned. "You know, it's funny..."she trailed off, looking hesitant.
"What is?"
The tall woman straightened and stared her in the eye. "I always thought the two of you would end up together. He's obviously nuts about you." She shrugged. "Good-night, Granger."
"Good-night, Mara," replied Hermione absently.
He's obviously nuts about you...
Could it be?
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Harry paced around his office. She was two floors above him, he knew.
He knew because he'd walked past there a dozen times, and always saw a light on.
He wanted to go see her. He needed to see her.He needed to know what was wrong with her.
Hell, he needed to know what was wrong with himself.
Harry paused, running a typically frustrated hand through his hair.
Someone knocked on his door and opened it slightly, peeking a red head inside.
"Hey, Potter," she said companionably. "You going home yet?"
"I'm...I'm..." Harry fumbled for words.
"You're getting married, I hear,"cut in Mara.
"I am, " Harry affirmed.
"Maybe that's why you're pacing around in here," suggested Mara bluntly.
"How did you know that?" Harry asked amazedly.
The woman pointed to the tracks he had worn into the carpet.
Harry appeared sheepish. "Oh."
"You know, Potter, "continued Mara conversationally, "I often wonder how intelligent men can be so oblivious. You don't have a clue, do you?"
"Huh?"
"Smooth, Potter, smooth. Do a quick mind exercise with me, will you? Close your eyes."
Harry hesitated.
"C'mon, Potter, it's not as though I'm going to hex you when you're eyes are closed. Though I'd like to. Now close them," Mara urged him impatiently.
He obeyed.
"Now, picture the face of someone you're always happy to hear from. Don't tell me, just picture them. Picture a person that makes you smile most. Picture the one who is always there for you. Picture a person that you would sacrifice your life for. Picture a person that cares more about your well-being than their own. Picture someone who stands up for you no matter what. Are you picturing all these people?"
Harry nodded. It was easy. They were all the same. Somehow he sensed Mara knew this.
"Good. Now, keep picturing those people, and we're going to play a quick word game. I say a word, and you reply with whatever pops in your head. Are you ready?"
"Yes."
"Broom."
"Quidditch."
"Hogwarts."
"Home."
"Wizard."
"Dumbledore."
"Millennium."
"Falcon."
"Happiness."
"Hermione."
"Tenderness."
"Hermione."
"Love."
"Hermione."
"Brown."
"Hermione"
"Home."
"Hermione."
"Marriage."
"Hermione."
Mara stopped her rapid-fire words and allowed Harry a moment to absorb what he had just said. He opened his eyes and stared at her bewilderedly. He was in big trouble.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," he muttered.
"That's funny, Potter," grinned Mara, "I've got a good feeling about this. Talk to Hermione. Good-night, Potter."
Harry stood stupidly in the middle of his office. An acquaintance, a mere acquaintance, had made him take a close look at his own heart.
And he was still looking.
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"How in the name of Skywalker are we going to do this?" moaned Ron. "Harry is never going to believe that Hermione is marrying you, Malfoy, you dunderhead."
"This ain't like dusting crops, Weaselbee. I've given this a lot of precise calculation. Don't you remember his reaction at the karaoke bar? He'll buy it."
"Even Harry's not that daft," insisted Ron.
Draco opened his mouth to protest, but Ginny jumped in. "Ron, listen to what you're saying. Harry was daft enough to think he'd fallen in love with someone he just met. He was daft enough to get engaged and ask Hermione to plan the wedding. He was daft enough not to believe Hermione loved him. He was daft enough to forgive Hannah and agree to marry her despite the obvious fact that she's a trampy little gold-digger. And he was daft enough to call an angry woman a daft cow repeatedly, even if it was only in email."
"That's all true, " nodded Luna.
"At this point, it seems like a miracle that Harry's not daft enough just to throw himself under the Knight Bus. So if your best argument against this plan is 'Harry's not that daft', you'd better come up with something else."
"Oh, bloody hell," conceded Ron. "I'm in."
"Okay, so let's review. Ron, you are going to call Harry RIGHT NOW and have him meet us at the karaoke bar, while Ginny calls Hermione. Check?"
"Check," said Ginny and Ron.
"Neville, when they get there, you are going to distract Harry while I pull Hermione aside and give her the ring and tell her my fake little story. Check?"
"Check?"
"Was that a question?"
"Oh, no," Neville shook his head. "I meant check."
Draco glared at him but continued on to Luna.
"And Luna, you are going to get Hermione to sing that song while Ron tells Harry that it's her last message to him, right? I mean, Check?"
"Check," Luna responded dreamily, "But I still maintain that it would be more effective to lock them both in a room with a Saber-Toothed Mucus Love Plant."
Draco did his best to hide his revulsion. "That sounds disgusting and painful, Luna," he said.
"You think that Harry will just flip out when he thinks that Hermione has agreed to marry you and stop being friends with him?" asked Ginny worriedly.
"Once she sings that song and he realizes that she has only agreed to marry me because she thinks he doesn't love her--" Malfoy broke off. "He'll buy it," he said firmly.
"This is risky," Ginny met his gaze evenly. "Very risky."
The Slytherin prince raised another eyebrow. "You got a better idea? Let's hear it, Your Highness."
"No...no, this is our quickest, best bet. You better make Harry really believe that you don't want him around Hermione anymore."
"Shouldn't be a problem," Malfoy grinned evilly.
"I'd watch it, Ferretface," frowned Ginny. "Don't push him too hard, or you'll end up with a broken jaw."
"Hey," scoffed Draco, "It's me."
"Oh, Merlin help us all," moaned Neville.
"That should be our battle cry," laughed Ginny.
"Cool, can we make T-shirts?" asked Ron.
Everyone threw pillows at him.
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Ten minutes later, Hermione's phone rang.
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Two floors below her, Harry's phone rang.
And so it began.
Author's Note: I think I'm a little in love with Malfoy. Dunno where he came from, but what a hottie.