A/N: Borrowed a bit from Anne Rice. How can you not mention her characters when talking about New Orleans?
Chapter Three: Break Ups & Bargains
"Hermione! Hermione, would you please stop?" Terry pleaded.
Hermione stopped her brisk pace just outside her cabin door. "I have nothing to say to you," she said. "We are through!"
"Hermione, I'm sorry!"
"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to. You acted like a complete ass! You didn't even ask them what had happened before you jumped to silly conclusions!"
"You know them! You know how they are!" Terry objected. "Pandering to them will not make them respect me. I'm Head Boy!"
"Just listen to yourself!" Hermione threw her hands up in frustration. "Yes, you're Head Boy, I'm Head Girl, but respect doesn't come with the title, Terry. You have to earn it. One of our responsibilities is to be fair and just, of which you were neither today."
"I'll apologize to them, if that's what you want."
"I don't care what you do."
"We're not really through, are we? I mean, we're great together, Hermione," Terry's tone was softer now.
"Terry," Hermione sighed. "You're just not the same anymore. I don't know, maybe I've changed."
"Hermione," Terry said softly.
"I'm sorry," she answered, then walked into her cabin, closing the door behind her.
~*~
Draco Malfoy slowly opened his eyes and saw Ginny Weasley fussing with his blankets.
"What time is it?" he asked, groggily.
"It's about nine in the morning," she answered. "The mediwitch says you can be released today. Your arm good as new." Draco looked down at his arm still wrapped in a sling. "She wants you to still wear it, she doesn't want you using that arm for a couple of days." Ginny said as she sat on the bed.
Draco winced a little as he attempted to sit up. His body felt like it had been trampled over by a herd of hippogriffs. He reached for the glass of water on the table next to him. A small vase of hideous looking flowers was placed there along with some goodies left by Crabbe and Goyle. He could tell because they were half eaten.
"Pansy stopped by earlier. She gave you those flowers," Ginny said. Draco didn't reply. "It was really nice of your girlfriend--."
"Why are you here, Weaselette?" Draco cut her off.
"Harry was released earlier today. A bunch of us came by to see how he was doing. I stayed behind because I wanted to see how you were doing. You were pretty messed up yesterday."
Draco scoffed. "Didn't Potter tell everyone the story of how he saved the day? How he swam out to the breakers just in time to keep me from drowning? He just loves being the hero, doesn't he?" he said bitterly.
"Actually, he didn't say a thing. This is the first I've heard of it. Is it true?" she asked.
Draco clenched his jaw and looked away. News of his rescue by Potter of all people would spread like wildfire.
"I'm not going to say a thing," Ginny said as if reading his thoughts. "If Harry didn't tell anyone about it, he has his reasons."
Draco still didn't say anything. Ginny got up from the bed.
"I'm glad you're okay, Draco" she said sincerely. "Every school needs an asshole." She placed a chocolate frog on his bedside then left the room.
~*~
News of Hermione and Terry's breakup traveled quickly on the ship. Harry met it with indifference. He could see it coming a mile away. He had just finished taking a shower and walked into his room when a knock came at the door.
"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, turning red at the state of Harry's undress; a white towel wrapped around his waist, another resting around his neck. Droplets of water still clung to his body and he smelled of fresh soap.
Harry, very well aware of the effect he was having on her, opened the door a little wider and invited her in.
"No…no thank you," she said, taking a deep breath. "I just came by to see how you were doing. I heard you were released this morning."
"A little stiff but alright," Harry said, subtly dropping the innuendo. Hermione caught it and shifted uncomfortably.
"Alright, then. I'll just…go…and make my rounds," she said, backing away. "Oh, yes, I almost forgot," she said excitedly. "Your land privileges for Jamaica are reinstated."
"Are they?" Harry raised an eyebrow.
"I am Head Girl after all," Hermione said, grinning, dropping her own innuendo. "He had no right to do that without asking what had happened." It was an opening she was hoping Harry would take to explain what did happen on the beach yesterday. Harry knew it but he didn't follow through. "Well, then. That's all," Hermione smiled and turned to walk away.
"Hey Hermione!" Harry called out to her and left his room to trot after her. "I heard about you and Terry."
"Oh…that," Hermione looked down and examined the back of her hands.
"You alright?" he asked.
"I will be," she said.
"Did you want to come in and talk about it?" Harry motioned back to the room.
Hermione paused. "I don't think that would be a good idea, Harry. Not now but thank you, anyway."
She turned and walked back down the hall, looking over her shoulder at him before she climbed up the stairs.
~*~
Red.
He hated that damned color.
Red: a shade of a Gryffindor house color, his most hated house. Red: the color of the Weasley's hair, the people he most despised. Red: the color of Weaselette's damned bikini.
Red.
He hated that damned color.
He tore his eyes from watching the youngest Weasley sunbathe to his approaching girlfriend. She plopped down next to him and began to rummage through her bag. Draco's eyes returned to Ginny, who had the faintest grin on her face as if she knew he was watching her.
"This place is crawling with fucking muggles," Pansy grumbled as she found the cigs she was looking for.
"Hmpf," was Draco's reply. Ginny pulled the bikini away from her skin as if to check her tan line, revealing a bit of her pelvis to Draco. He swallowed audibly.
"Look at those Gryffindor's," Pansy sneered. "Blending in with those damned muggles."
Potter, Ron Weasley, and Longbottom were playing volleyball with some muggles they had befriended on the beach. Ginny and Luna cheered when they had scored a point and Draco rolled his eyes.
"Can't believe they let Potter off," Pansy said as she handed a cig to Draco. "Especially since he broke your arm."
Draco didn't bother to correct her. It ate at him that Potter came to his rescue. It really hurt his pride and ego. His gaze went back to Ginny. She was on her stomach now, handing a bottle of lotion to that whacked out witch Loony Lovegood, who proceeded to massage some onto Ginny's back. Draco took a long drag from his cigarette.
"Here comes Goody-Goody-Granger," Pansy nodded in her direction. "Did you hear that she dumped Terry?"
"Really?" Draco was genuinely surprised at this news. "For Potter?"
"No…I don't think so. I think they still hate each other. See how he ignores her?"
Draco rolled his eyes at his girlfriend's naivety. Potter probably fooled the rest of the student body but he wasn't fooling him. He wasn't ignoring Granger, he was desperately trying not to gawk at her. Draco suddenly sat up a little straighter, an idea popping into his head.
"I heard she was responsible for lifting your punishment," Pansy sighed. "Yours and Potter's. Though for him, who knows why, he was the one who attacked you." She took a drag of her cigarette. "Probably to get back at Terry. Speaking of which, you're not going to let Potter get away with what he did, are you?"
"No…of course not," he said slowly as Granger joined Loony and Weaselette.
"Have you got something in mind then?" Pansy asked, curious.
Draco watched as Potter snuck in a look at Granger. "Yeah," he said softly, "Yeah I think I might."
~*~
Hermione sighed tiredly as she wrapped her bathrobe around her snugly. She didn't have to do rounds tonight and she was looking forward to a hot shower and lying down to read a book. She rinsed away the soap, letting the spray of the shower lightly massage her head. She sighed contentedly and closed her eyes, relaxing.
An image popped into her mind. The image of Harry the other day, opening his door clad only in a towel. She sighed as she imagined her hands running lightly over his chest, coming to rest down at the knot of the towel as she tilted her head up to his lips and…
No!
She opened her eyes. She was not going to go there. She quickly rinsed off then shut off the water. She quickly wrapped her hair in a towel then reached for her bathrobe when her gaze rested on the lone tub in the bathroom.
The tub.
She bit her lower lip. Well, no one is here, she rationalized to herself. She shook her head, shaking the thoughts out of her head. She tied her bathrobe around her and gathered her things. Passing the tub to leave the bathroom she paused again.
"Oh, sod it!" she whispered to herself and dropped her things onto a bench and quickly undid her robe.
Harry knocked on the cabin door and Ginny answered.
"Hey, Harry what's up?" she asked.
"Just came by to drop this off," he said, handing Luna a CD.
"Thanks Harry!" she chirped from her top bunk.
"So, you guys ready for the Big Easy?" Harry asked.
"The city is full of witches and vampires," Luna cooed.
"A few of us are sneaking away after lessons. Luna is determined to find a haunted house or…something," Ginny said.
"It's true! It's in the Garden District or something. First Street, I think," Luna said dreamily. "A family of witches used to live there."
"A little too much fiction if you ask me," Ginny sighed. "So…are you in?"
"Definitely," Harry grinned. "Catch you guys later," he said, taking their leave.
"Night, Harry."
"Bye!"
He closed the door behind him and walked down the corridor. A door opened ahead and Hermione stepped out of the Prefect's Bath.
"Hello, Hermione," he said.
Hermione let out and exclamation of surprise and dropped her bath items.
"Harry!" she was flushed and a bit giggly. "Hi!"
Harry picked up her bath items from the floor and handed them back to her.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Yes! Yes, I'm fine," she smiled sweetly at him, a rosy glow about her.
A wry smile grew on Harry's face as he put two and two together.
"Have a nice bath?" he asked casually.
"Mm-hmm, very nice," Hermione smiled then walked away to her cabin.
~*~
Draco Malfoy knocked softly on Terry's door. Unlike Hermione, Terry opted to have the room to himself. He was Head Boy after all.
"Come in," a voice called out and Draco opened the door.
"Oh, good God," he said aloud.
The room had that stale smell as if he hadn't opened a window in quite some time. You couldn't see the floor because of all the clothes that were piled there. Butterbeer bottles littered the floor as well. The only neat and organized thing in the room was his desk with all the school books and that was only because they hadn't been touched in awhile.
Terry lay face down on his bed, clothes wrinkled, hair that hadn't been combed or washed in days, a shadow on his face from not shaving.
"What the hell happened in here?" Draco asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
"What do you want, Draco?" Terry asked, his voice muffled by the pillows on his bed.
"I take it you're taking the break up a bit badly?" Draco teased.
"Go away," Terry said, not lifting his head.
"For crying out loud it's only Granger, of all people!" Draco cleared off the chair so he could sit down.
"She was the best thing that ever happened to me," Terry said solemnly.
"That truly is the most pathetic thing I've ever heard," Draco said sincerely.
"Why are you here, Draco? Do you truly enjoy kicking people while they're down?"
"Yes, now that you mention it, I truly enjoy doing that. But that's not why I'm here," Draco said dismissively. "I'm here to help you get Granger back."
Terry turned over in his bed to look at him. "You…are going to help me?" Draco nodded. "Why?"
"I have my reasons."
"Why should I trust you?"
"Truly, you shouldn't. But your method so far," Draco gestured around the room, "clearly isn't working."
Terry looked appraisingly at him. "What's in it for you?"
"I'll let you know when I need the favor returned."
Terry turned back to his pillows. "No deal," he said.
"Fine," Draco sighed as he got to his feet. "But when you catch Potter groping your ex all over this ship, don't say I didn't try and help you."
"Wait!" Terry called out as Draco opened the door.
~*~
The first thing the students learned about New Orleans, was just how damn hot and muggy it was. It was the kind of heat where you would take a shower, step outside and feel so hot and sticky that you wondered why you even bothered in the first place.
But the city itself was nothing like they had seen anywhere. Ruelle Rivière, New Orleans' answer to Diagon Alley, had their jaws dropped. And its history was enough to keep Hermione salivating for months. Witches and wizards of all types resided here; Upper class, refined ladies who could pass for muggles dined at a small café, eccentric elderly witches with odd hats and robes bustled about, dark skinned exotic Creoles perused the shop windows. And the stores! Odd little bookstores stood next to quaint cafes, their aromas filling the street with the exotic smells synonymous with Cajun cooking. Poor Ron couldn't decide where to dine first. Voodoo was very prominent here, vendors sold live chickens and roosters, snakes hissed in cages, powders and potions of all colors and creatures that would make Hagrid envious.
Separating themselves from their classmates at the end of the lesson, Harry, Ron, Neville, Hermione and Ginny all followed Luna out onto Canal St.
"Come on, there's the streetcar," Luna pointed out and the group boarded the olive green trolley.
The group oohed and ahhed, pointing in various directions to landmarks and statues. Getting off at their stop, their jaws dropped at the magnificent homes that were trademark of the Garden District.
"Do you know which house it is?" Hermione asked.
"No, let's just walk to First Street then keep on walking until we find it," Luna answered.
"How will we know?" Ginny asked.
"Just look for the ghost," Ron said chidingly.
"Betcha it's broken down and boarded up," Neville said.
"The sound of wailing filling the air," Harry added.
"Don't forget the graveyard," Ron chimed in, "it has to have a graveyard in the front."
Hermione rolled her eyes and tutted impatiently at them. The lively spirit followed the group as they walked. Passing Prytania, Harry suddenly slowed his pace.
"Hey guys…do you smell something?" he asked.
The group paused, sniffing the air.
"This is the `Garden' District," Hermione said. "It's probably some exotic plant or something."
The group continued walking and the smell got distinctly stronger. Muggle tourists passed by not noticing the smell.
"I think I smell it too, Harry," Neville said.
"Me too," Ginny agreed. Nearing Magazine street the group stopped and a hush fell over them.
The house was a beautiful well kept one pale lavender with green shutters. The smell seemed to be coming from the house. The air was quiet and still.
"This is it," Luna whispered reverently.
"Do you guys hear that?" Ginny whispered.
The tinny music from a Victrola could be heard from inside the house.
"Does someone live here?" Harry asked.
"No, nobody lives here," Luna answered. "The family that lived here was supposedly haunted by a ghost. I guess they still own the home but no one lives here."
Just as she said that, the front door opened and the translucent figure of a man stepped out. He was an older gentleman, tanned with white hair and piercing blue eyes. The group heard a giggling sound above them. High in the oak tree a young woman smiled and waved at them. A rocking chair appeared on the front porch with an older woman rocking silently in it, watching them. The sound of shattering glass made them all jump as they heard a scream as someone fell to their death. Another group of muggles passed by, laughing amongst themselves.
"Can they not see this? Or hear it?" Ginny said quietly in a shaking voice.
A shot rang out from somewhere in the house followed by more screams. Hermione jumped back into Harry.
"I want to leave," she whispered, frightened.
"Come on in, Chéries," the man gestured with open arms toward the house. "You may leave your escorts. I have some lemonade in the back."
Harry moved Hermione protectively behind him. Looking up he saw a man in the window looking down at them. He had brown hair, pale skin and dark eyes.
"Come on guys," Harry said to the group. "Let's get going."
The journey back to Ruelle Rivière was a quiet and somber one.
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