Unofficial Portkey Archive

Authour's Notes: I know that some of you are still going 'ew' or 'oh' or 'erm, okay' about Hairy!Draco. Believe it or not, it is part of a major plot point, so stick with me there. You'll all learn more about it later.

And Ron gets even more character development in this story. This is one of my favourite chapters so far. I'm anxiously waiting until I can post chapter 27 and everything that happens after that. I've been *slowly* working on chapter 30, but it's coming along. By the time it's all ready to post, my writer's cramp will be gone and I'll have written the last chapters.

Now to personally answer some reviews because it's fun and you all deserve it. Plus I haven't actually done it in yonks.

Jennifer: Right on the nose. Draco got scared off by the evil L word. Kudos to you and everyone else who picked up on that. I tried to make it obvious, but I suppose that it took some thought because I just sprung it out and everyone was like: what the hell? And yes, I love Hermione. Hell, I am Hermione *bushy auburn/brown hair, swotty know-it-all, etc.* I am also Ginny, too *the girl shares my birthday, makes it easier to write her because she does things I have/would done/do* Are you asking because I haven't given her a 'voice' yet? Meaning, she has not had one, single POV in the entire story? Has anyone noticed that? Hmmn. I'm saving Hermione for last. And What Would Happen by Meredith Brooks is one of my favourite songs, too. I think it's better for Hermione's POV at the Burrow when she and Harry kiss for the first time, though. I don't know. Let me listen to it again. *scampers off to listen to music for a while, gets lost, wanders aimlessly, then comes back* Yes, bananas are quite good with peanut butter. Oh what were you saying?

HermionehasHarry: If you want to read my other stories, they should all be up in the files section at my yahoo group (for ff.net readers, the url is g r o u p s . y a h o o . c o m / g r o u p / s t a f i c without the spaces, of course) I don't think any of them contain the pairings here, though. One pre-slash story and a whole lot of het smutlets. *evil grin* If I could think of a way to do it without fucking everyone off, I'd sneak some Ron/Draco into AIDE, but I won't pull a Cassandra Claire. Honest engine.

Anise: Thank you for your reviews. I'm sorry it took me so long to get to reviewing the last two chapters of JotH. I have no excuses. But the reviews are there! Finally. Yes, I fancy Slutty!Hogwarts. Everyone is screwing someone or something. I like to write smut, but I don't like plotless stuff so . . . have to make it character driven, you know. And yes, we say that in Florida.

To be completely honest, I don't morally judge my characters or their actions. Each one is like a living entity. In RL, I'm also fairly non-judgemental. Someone likes to have their bottom caned and their skin flayed with a dull spatula, more power to them. Just, erm, don't ring me for a date, all right? :D I knew reading that enormous book of Grimm would rub off somehow. It was my favourite as a child and still to this day, I read it.

Poor darling Cathy. You need a break from filming. *pets head* They had better let you chill out for a while before you make a real hack-and-slash film.

Asia: Yes, I wrote for Btvs. And yes, I was/am a Buffy/Spike shipper. I will, however, never claim those works as my own. Hmmn. Perhaps the Wesley/Faith vignettes, but that's about all. The rest are positively horrid. Ptooey.

Stephanie: 'And now I have a question. When people enter D/G territory, and go "what should I read?", people mention Serpent's Bride, and that stuff by MochaButterly; if you're lucky they mention fearthainn and maybe Anise, but why don't they mention 'An Ideal Deatheater'? As I said to

you, the world may never know. Does anyone else know?

On with the arsing fic now! No more talking. Pipe down over there, you. I'm trying to send subliminal messages to people so they'll send me cigarettes and marmalade in the post. Shh.

He caught me in his silken net,

And shut me in his golden cage.

He loves to sit and hear me sing,

Then, laughing, sports and plays with me;

Then stretches out my golden wing,

And mocks my loss of liberty.

~ Song - William Blake

Harry helped Hermione through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room. He hadn't bothered to shower after the 'game' and he was still sweaty and dirty when they sat on one of the sofas in front of the hearth.

It was such a bloody farce! There was no game left to be played after Ron ran off to save Pansy Parkinson and Ginny started to lag behind Seamus.

Harry shook his head and sighed, laying his cheek on Hermione's shoulder. He thought about the newest troll attack and what it could mean. Shouldn't Dumbledore have done something about the trolls by now?

"I'm so tired of all this, Hermione. When does it end? When can we leave and start our lives somewhere else? I used to think of Hogwarts as a haven, but it's different now. It doesn't feel safe or comfortable anymore."

Hermione patted his hand and gave it a squeeze. "It isn't much easier out there, Harry. The real world, both Muggle and wizard, is just as scary."

He closed his eyes against the heat of the fire. "There are other things, too, you know. I think that Ron took our leaving last week the wrong way and now we have to apologise to him and explain ourselves."

"We were going to apologise anyway, Harry. Well, at least I was. You were right; I was far too harsh on him. But I was upset and I've been working so hard lately-" Hermione broke off and pressed a fluttering hand to her eyes. "I think that I need a break from all of this. I've pushed and pushed for the past seven years and it's starting to get to me. And when I try to be devil-may-care, it never seems right to me."

Harry squeezed her hand and kissed it absently. "You'll pull through. We only have a little longer until this will all be behind us. One last adventure."

Hermione laughed. "Life is an adventure, Harry, and we're only just starting to live it. We're young and there are a billion and one things that lay between here and whatever comes after." Hermione drooped. "I'll never get a break."

Harry smiled and sat up a little, pulling her in for a kiss. "If you want a break . . ." He tapered off and waggled his eyebrows at her.

Hermione smirked and batted him playfully. "Not now, we still have business to take care of, if you're up for it."

"Right," he sighed, letting his arm slide down to her waist. "Well, what did you find?"

She glanced around the common room, and, satisfied that it was deserted, took out her wand and muttered a charm. Harry felt the air around them crackle with energy for a moment, as if someone had just turned on a television.

"What's that?"

Hermione raised her head and smiled at him proudly. "That is a Silence Sphere. No one can hear a sound we make within a ten foot radius, even using magical listening devices."

Harry laughed and cupped her cheek to kiss her quickly on the mouth. "Excellent! So are we going down there tonight, then?"

She nodded. "It would be better if we didn't waste anymore time than necessary. We need to get inside, find out what's in the box, and get back out before Snape or Filch comes in and finds us."

Harry looked across the room and he could see Crookshanks meowing at them, but he couldn't hear the sound. "Erm, we can't hear anything outside of the Sphere either, can we?"

"No. That's the downside, so that means we need to be extra careful tonight. We need the map, your cloak, and this spell. The other twist is that I have to disperse the Sphere in order to cast any spells on that box."

"Why don't we just transfigure something to look like the box and take the box?" Harry asked.

She shook her head. "Snape may have placed a charm on it so it can't leave the confines of his office. Besides, glamour transfigurations fade over time and he would be less likely to notice if we simply transfigured what is inside the box and 'borrowed' it for a while before putting it back after we've studied it."

"So what do you think 'it' is, anyway? I mean, it must be something really bad to have Hagrid as scared as he was."

"I don't know. It could be anything, really. For all we know, it could be nothing and we've done all of this for no reason. Maybe Hagrid was just paranoid."

Harry narrowed his eyes in thought and shook his head. "No, I've had a bad feeling since I went to see him after Christmas. Whatever it was, it definitely was something."

Hermione scoffed. "You and your weird feelings. You've been around Trelawney too much, Harry. You're starting to sound like her."

He frowned but said nothing about it further. Hermione never was very good at understanding the less tangible parts of life. Everything was logic. Harry wished that he was able to be more logical, but now that he finally was able to trust his feelings and instincts without fear of Voldemort's mind games, he was loathe to give them up.

"Why don't we go down to the Hall, get a nibble, and then come back here to wait? We can't go down there now, and Snape will probably be prowling his office until after midnight."

Hermione stretched her fingers out in front of her and nodded. "Sounds wonderful, I'm starved."

Harry smiled and pointed his wand at the invisible bubble around them. "Finite Incantum."

He saw Hermione grinning at him and tilting her head so that her eyes glinted in the firelight wickedly. "Perhaps after we eat, we can come back upstairs and, um, prepare some more for our N.E.W.T's."

Harry kissed the tip of her nose; his body unwinding instantly at the knowledge that Hermione wasn't going to be all books tonight, despite her promise to prepare.

"Your wish is my command," he said, mock solemn, before kissing her mouth hungrily. Who needed food, anyway?

*~*~*~*~*~*

Ron was numb when he stumbled into the Gryffindor locker room about an hour after the game. He had taken a walk after their loss, and most of the team had cleared out by the time he came back. The entire time he'd been walking, Pansy's voice echoed in his head, calling him a whore. The word repeated endlessly.

Mumbling to himself, Ron stripped off his dirty corduroys and thick, cable-knit jumper. He grabbed a towel and wobbled into the shower room, shivering when the steam hit his frozen body. The water that came from the tap was warm, though, and he quickly positioned himself under it, soaping up and watching as the mud sluiced off his body and down the drain.

They'd lost the bloody House Cup. And it was all thanks to his stupid save-the-damsel-in-distress response to Pansy's attack. He hadn't even known it was her from the air; he'd just seen someone about to be buggered to bits by a troll and flew to the rescue. Stupid morals. Maybe he was taking this hero thing too far.

Ron blamed that on Harry.

Pansy was right when she'd said that he was no hero. He was forever destined to be Ronald Weasley, professional sidekick to the stars. Now he wasn't even that anymore.

He was still so bloody angry with them! But he needed them in a way he felt that they never needed him. They made him whole and complete when now he was alone and fragmented. Something made him snap at Harry, something inside of Ron made him turn his former friend away. Perhaps it was the anger he still felt because they had left him alone after Hagrid's funeral, after he had poured his broken heart out to them. Or perhaps it was some twisted need to torture himself.

It would take a miracle for Harry and Hermione to forgive him now. Especially Hermione as she was the armour under Harry's robes: no one sees it, but that doesn't mean it isn't there. Without her, he could have had a chance to be friends with Harry again - maybe. Who needed women complicating things, anyway?

Ron had everything solid and real, now that he'd defeated Voldemort and become the champion of wizards everywhere. Galleons rained down on him from a seemingly endless source; the newest model brooms were his for the asking; his father had a cosy office in the same corridor as the Minister for Magic himself. But Ron had little of the more incorporeal things. He'd traded away friendship, and honour, and love.

Love.

That's all he wanted, really: to love someone who loved him back. Was it such a difficult thing to find? He'd looked for it under the skirt of every female that had accosted him in the past couple of months without realising it. He hadn't known, until today, when Pansy called him on it, that what he really wanted was for some lovely, spirited girl to hold him in her arms and make everything go away, someone that he didn't have to play hero for just so she would notice him.

He wanted to be lost and found all in the same breath. Did that make him a whore?

Ron soaped up his body, trying to wash away the shame that he felt clinging to his skin. Perhaps if he scrubbed hard enough- But the water wouldn't make it go away; he'd have to learn to live with it.

Over the sound of the shower, he heard a familiar clacking and groaned. She'd found him again. "Parkinson, I'm trying to wash up," he called over his shoulder. "You can at least wait until I'm dressed to start your threats."

Silence first, then the lopsided clickity-clack of her broken heels against the tiled floor again. Brave girl, Ron thought, maybe he should give her a shock. Smirking, he turned around to face her, not bothering to cover himself. But the smile crumbled when he saw her face.

Through the dirt, tears had obviously fallen, leaving muddied make-up tracks over her cheeks. Pansy's eyes burned into his and she lifted the knife in her white-knuckled hand a little higher, preparing to strike.

"At that again, are you? Well, go ahead and give it a go so I can finish my shower," Ron mumbled in a tone that belied the lightness of his words.

Pansy's hand started to shake as she stepped closer, and mist from the showerhead clung to her hair like dew. She stood there, not moving for a moment before she dropped the knife with a clatter. Pansy stared up at him, fresh tears spilling from her eyes and rolling down her cheeks, washing away the last traces of her paint charms. Her mouth was slightly open, as if she were dumb with fear or some nameless emotion. Only wisps of her expensive violet perfume lingered in the steam, rising to his nostrils with the strong smell of earth and grass.

"Are you frightened of me, Weasley?" she asked hoarsely and without rancour. She sounded more like a child who desperately needed a guarantee than a hardened Slytherin.

Ron gazed into her eyes and ignored the tears. He concentrated on her, for really the first time, and swallowed nervously. Pansy would always be in his life now. Her debt to him was a bond stronger than anything else he knew; ancient magic. But he didn't want her indebted to him. He wanted her free.

"Bloody terrified," Ron assured, his tone gentle.

Pansy lifted her hand and splayed it on his chest. Ron noticed that it was the same hand she'd held the knife with. Her once perfectly manicured nails were ragged and broken, the cold fingers trembling over his heart.

"I hate you," she rasped. "Do you understand that?" Pansy's mouth twisted in an ugly line. "I - hate - you."

Ron sighed and kept his eyes locked with hers. Then slowly, as if her touch was poison, he reached up to cover her hand with his own, pulling her body close with his free arm.

He inclined his head down to whisper in her ear. "I hate you, too."

Pansy's body shuddered against his and Ron rocked her back and forth, having had much practice at this with his sister when they were young. He noticed that her blonde hair was dull and greyed with dirt and clumps of wet snow, so he grabbed the shampoo and poured some on her head. As he worked it up into a pearly lather, she gripped him tightly. Ron pushed her head back to soap up her face, paying special attention to her stubby nose and the mud splattered on her plump cheeks, carefully gliding his foam-covered thumb over a bruise on her forehead. She kept her eyes closed and leaned into his palm while he continued to clear the mud away.

"I hate you," she mumbled again, water dripping into her mouth and making her white teeth glisten. "I hate everything about you."

Ron nodded and pulled her under the water with him to wash the soap off. "I hate the way your heels sound on the floor."

Pansy opened her eyes and looked up at him through the water streaming down her face, her gaze guileless and subdued. "I hate your freckles."

He fumbled with the frog and toggle on her robes and gently pushed it off of her shoulders. "I hate your nose."

She didn't pull her eyes away, even when he started plucking at her green and silver school tie. Pansy lifted her hand and ran it through his hair, studying the strands intently and rubbing them with her thumb. "I hate your hair."

Ron finished unknotting the tie and threw it on the ground with a small, triumphant grin. "I hate your hair, too."

Pansy dropped her hand and allowed him to pull off her muddy school jumper and blouse, her eyes downcast. "I hate Gryffindor."

Ron's fingers caught in the solid gold pendant between her breasts, making her breath hitch. His hands looked so . . . normal on her body. They weren't freakishly huge, but just right as they slid down her stomach, his freckles the only contrast between them. He released the clasp on her skirt and shoved it over her hips, kicking it away with his toe. "I hate Slytherin."

Pansy stood there in her bra, knickers, and heels while he grabbed a bar of soap and rubbed it over her exposed skin, dipping it into the indention of her belly and up over her bruised ribs. Her eyes were level with his chin and he wished that she were just a little taller so he didn't have to look down at her.

"I hate the fact that you saved me today," Pansy whispered.

Ron stopped bathing her and blinked. He could see the tightening of her cool blue eyes as she admitted this to him. Did she really regret not being squeezed to death by the troll? No, that wasn't it. She hated that it was he who saved her and not someone else, that her pride was taken by his actions. How could he hate her so much and still want to keep her safe?

How could he hate her, yet still feel guilty for taking the only thing that was purely hers?

It seemed that they should probably have a long talk sometime soon. Ron gazed into her eyes, and he knew that she would one day show him much more than what he saw on the surface. It was instinctive as breathing, this revelation. Ron knew that she was as frightened as he was of the energy between them. It was explosive and new, but then, it had always been there; running hot steam under the surface. He merely hadn't noticed until now just what it meant, what it could mean.

They both clung to other people, the same people who overshadowed them. Ron walked a thin line between love and pride with his sister. Perhaps the difference between love and hate was just as blurry.

"I hate that you saved me, too."

Ron lowered his head and kissed Pansy then, pulling her to him with both arms. She reached up to entwine hers around his neck as the water fell on them from above. Pansy responded to him with a deep hunger, her mouth working furiously against his, a sob vibrating her throat. Ron pulled away and admonished her with soft, breathless words before kissing her again.

"Gently, Pansy," he mumbled over her lips. "Gently."

*~*~*~*~*

Ginny pushed open the entrance to Hogwarts and stepped inside. It was completely dark outside now and she only wanted to make it up to her dormitory and rest. Her body was weary and ached all over. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept properly and Ginny found it difficult to even place one foot in front of the other.

She saw Draco coming up from the dungeons, walking toward the Great Hall for supper, no doubt. Ginny stopped and leaned up against the wall, breathing shallowly as she attempted to hold out just a bit longer. He had to pass by her, though, and she prayed that he would keep going and not notice her. Or at least pretend that he didn't.

Draco was always good at pretending.

The lighting in the corridor was dim and she could hear the steady clip of his perfectly polished shoes against the stone. Ginny noticed that he had grown thinner. His cheekbones were sharper, more prominent, and there were deep hollows under his eyes. But Draco's robes and trousers were pressed and neat as always, and his hair was carefully styled into place. No matter how he felt inside, Draco would always make the effort to appear indifferent, flawless, and Draco Malfoy.

He noticed her.

Ginny sucked in a breath and pushed away from the wall. She wobbled as her weight settled on her legs more fully, but she drew her head up and looked him square in the eye. Ginny had her pride, too, after all.

"Hello," he said, blankly, as if she were a stranger.

"Hello," she returned, just as empty. Ginny could play this game if she had to, but she didn't want to do. She wanted him to hold her and soothe her and tell her that everything was sunny and bright. But that wasn't Draco Malfoy.

He started walking again, but stopped to peer at her over his shoulder. "You should go to the Infirmary, Weasley. You don't look well."

Concern from him? It didn't seem possible. "I don't think Madame Pomfrey has a cure for my malady."

Draco turned then and took a few steps toward her. "And what malady would that be, Weasley? A broken heart?" he mocked in a falsetto tone. Draco shook his head and smirked, his voice returning to its usual rich and seductive depth. "You're so pathetic. You got what you wanted and I got what I wanted, at least until I didn't want it anymore. You can't blame me if you became attached."

Ginny swallowed back the lump in her throat. "How can you be so cold, Draco? How can you pretend that I mean nothing to you?"

His eyes narrowed and he stepped closer. "Don't call me that, you've no right to it."

She laughed briefly. It was bloody amusing, and her vision was dimming so that she could barely see his face. Ginny's nose was close to Draco's chest. His familiar, earthy musk carried on his body heat and rose in waves to meet her. Draco was wearing that sandalwood and amber cologne again and it was making her light-headed.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Malfoy. I forgot that Draco and Malfoy are two different people. Draco may be a snide, sarcastic arse, but Malfoy is just an utter bastard." Ginny twisted her lips briefly. She could be brutal, too. After all, she'd had two masters to teach her the delicate art of cruelty. "Like father, like son, I suppose."

Draco pushed her back into the wall and pinned her against it with his hips, placing an arm on either side of her head. "Don't start with me tonight. I'm in no mood for your games."

She gazed up at him and attempted to hold his eyes steadily, but the sudden movement made her head swim. Ginny's eyelids shuttered and her mouth was suddenly dry.

"Draco, please let me go, I don't-" She swallowed and closed her eyes. The room was spinning all around her and Ginny couldn't find a focal point when she opened her eyes again. "I don't feel well."

She could feel his sneer and his hot breath against her ear. "More games, Weasley? I'm not amused."

"No. No games. I just-" Ginny looked into his face and saw a flicker of anxiety in his eyes before he shut down again. She tried to push him away, but her arms were weak and fluttered uselessly between them. "Please let me go."

His eyes searched her face for a moment more, looking for guile or trickery, but he seemed satisfied and released his hold. Ginny stumbled for a moment and slid down the wall to land on her bottom.

All she could see were his shoes and trouser-clad lower legs. Ginny felt his fingers brush the top of her head briefly before he stepped back.

"I'm tired, Draco," Ginny whispered. She raised her head to see his face, but it was in full shadow and she could only make out the glacial glittering of his eyes.

Ginny wished that he would swoop her up and tuck her into a warm bed. He'd curl up behind her and allow her to absorb some of his heat. She was so cold all of a sudden.

Draco bent down and curved his fingers around her upper arms, lifting her into a standing position she could barely hold.

"Ginny!" he barked, shaking her a little. "Stand up! I won't carry you."

Her head lolled and she could barely make sense of what he was saying, much less comply. "Draco, please-" Ginny licked her lips and gazed at him from under heavy eyelids. "Help me get to my common room. Please, Draco."

She could see him debate the issue, but it didn't register in her mind. Draco carefully slipped her down onto the stones and walked toward the Great Hall. He didn't turn back to look at her when he opened the doors and strode inside, his cloak swishing gracefully behind him.

Ginny pressed her cheek against the cool, rough stone floor and a tear leaked from her eye. She tried to fight it, but she was too tired and she didn't care anymore just who saw her.

After a long moment, she felt a warm hand slip behind her knees and another under her back. The person lifted her up and held her close to their chest. Ginny opened her eyes and was about to thank him for coming back, but stopped when she saw Colin looking down at her expectantly.

"Malfoy said that you needed some help," he whispered, brushing aside a few hairs that clung to her clammy face. "I'm taking you to see Madame Pomfrey."

Ginny shook her head weakly and closed her eyes. "No, just take me to my room please. I don't need to go to the Infirmary." She knew that Colin was frowning at her, but she didn't care.

"Are you sure, Gin? You look crap, no offence."

Colin's voice rumbled in his chest and it soothed her a bit. She managed a smile. "You're the second person to tell me that today. I'll drink some Pepper-Up in the morning and I'll be fine. I promise."

Ginny bit back a howl. Draco had left her here. He couldn't even help her to Gryffindor Tower. He didn't want her, and he didn't care. Ginny buried her face in Colin's robes and allowed herself to cry.

"I'm just so tired, Colin," she sobbed. Ginny's shoulders trembled and Colin murmured sympathies to her, rocking her in his arms.

"Shh. It's all right, Gin-girl, I have you. You'll be fine. You don't need him."

Ginny shook her head and breathed deeply of Colin's smell. It was clean: sunshine, new spring grass, and just the slightest acrid taint of photo processing potions.

"But he needs me, Colin. Don't you see?" Ginny asked him earnestly, studying the boyish innocence of his face, and how the flesh was rounded around the jaw and over his eyes. Would he understand when she didn't understand it herself?

"Draco needs me."

Reviews are our friends. Let me know what you think about Ron and Pansy. I quite fancy the pairing, myself. Has all the delicious possibilities of D/G, but with more chances for actual emotions and romance. Likely, the only romance you'll get from AIDE, I have the feeling. But perhaps not. I've yet to decide. I don't think I write romance well. It always comes off stiff and fake.

I feel a trifle guilty and pathetic for begging so much for reviews in the last chapter. I was having a very bad day and felt unappreciated. But by no means does that mean you shouldn't continue! Goodness. Reviews are good. I don't expect every chapter or anything, but if you read a chapter you really liked, do let me know. Big thanks from the bottom of my heart to those reviewers who practically write me a novel. I love it when people pick this apart and analyse the details. Truly, it makes my millennium.

Cheers,

Sing *crawls back in her hole*