Harry Potter and the Isle of Mists
Disclaimer: I can only hope to attain the creative brilliance of J. K Rowling.
AN: Please review. This is my first Harry Potter fanfic, so be kind.
AN2: This story is AU after OOTP.
The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend
"I think I can figure it out for myself, thanks," Ron said a little stiffly, looking like he'd been hit with a bludger. "Were you planning on telling me at all?"
Harry took a deep breath. Ron was actually being fairly normal about this. Maybe it'll be okay, he thought.
Of course it'll be okay. Hermione said, indignantly, throwing him a rather scathing look, as Harry began to speak.
"Ron, we - " Harry began, but soon stopped. Ron was still looking at Hermione, in a rather bewildered fashion, since she had basically glowered at Harry for no reason.
"That's part of what we need to tell you," Harry said, jerking his head in Hermione's direction.
"It's a long story," Hermione interjected. "Let's go to the Room of Requirement."
"Agreed," Harry said, "There's less chance of ferret ears overhearing."
"What on earth does Malfoy have to do with the two of you…snogging?" Ron asked, bewildered. He made a kind of choking noise over the last word.
Hermione and Harry exchanged glances, but remained silent until they reached the corridor with the tapestry. When they were safely in the Room of Requirement (which had thoughtfully furnished them with a sofa, two chairs, roaring fire, and a tea tray), Ron looked at both of them coolly and expectantly, both eyebrows arched.
Harry sensed difficulty. "Ah, c'mon Ron!" he began.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Ron asked. Harry eyed him dubiously for a moment, as if he were unsure whether or not Ron was going to start throwing things…like hexes, for instance.
Honestly Harry! Hermione interposed, what kind of person do you think he is?
The kind of person whose best friends have been lying to him! Harry shot back, and knew an instant of satisfaction when Hermione fell silent.
"You - you remember about Hedwig being attacked - " Harry began hesitantly.
"Harry was coming to find me, hoping that somehow he could get word to someone in the Order," Hermione added.
"While I was on my way there, I started feeling panic, just all of the sudden - "
"And that was when I found the Fantasma, and I … fainted…" Hermione mumbled the last word, self-consciously.
"I heard her scream my name - "
"-in his head! - "
"-and that's when I saw the Dark Mark above her house. When I found her, we started warding the doors, because we didn't know what was going on." Harry took a deep breath. This was the hard part. "She thought something, and I heard it - "
"-he answered me, and I thought - "
"Merlin's Beard, Hermione!" Harry finally said. "Who's telling this story?"
"I was wondering that myself," Ron said, who had been watching the interchange like a tennis match. Harry watched him closely; Ron's expression was too bland, and it made Harry uneasy.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at both of them, but subsided, letting Harry continue the narrative, leaving nothing out.
"So you can talk to each other…in your heads?" Ron ventured, when Harry had concluded. Harry and Hermione both nodded. Ron held up three fingers, positioned where Harry could see them and Hermione could not. "Tell her how many fingers I'm holding up."
"Oh, Ron, for crying out loud -" Harry said, exasperated.
"Just do it," Ron's voice was heated.
Harry made a great show of rolling his eyes, as he said Three without looking at Hermione at all.
"Three," Hermione answered. "There, now are you satisfied?"
Ron chuckled mirthlessly. "Not likely." There was a pause. Hermione and Harry watched Ron expectantly. "When were you going to tell me? Were you ever going to tell me?"
"Of course we were going to tell you," Harry hastened to say.
"We've been trying to get adjusted to it, that's all. It's all rather odd, actually," Hermione added.
"That's why you had nightmares at the same time? That's why you're," he gestured to Hermione, "taking Occlumency too?" Ron asked these questions rapid-fire.
Harry and Hermione both nodded.
"So why did this…thing…happen in the first place?" Ron waved his hand between his two friends.
"Apparently, I've had the ability all along," Harry said, half-shrugging, "or at least since I was one. Tom Riddle was a telepath."
He and Hermione spoke the last sentence in perfect unison. Ron gave them a "you did not just do that" look.
"You've always been able to read minds?" Ron looked a little alarmed.
"No, no…for some reason, it showed up now…. I think because we were both under mental stress at the exact same time."
"'We'?" Ron echoed, delicately. "So your mind just `decided' to … link up with hers?"
"I guess," Harry drew out, looking askance at Ron, who, after a moment of uncomfortable silence, finally asked,
"What is this going to mean for us?"
"Us?" Harry echoed stupidly. "Why would it change anythi-?"
"I'm not talking about the mind-reading stuff, I'm talking about the snogging," Ron interrupted, waving his hands impatiently.
"Ron, it's not going to change anything between us," Hermione answered him, quietly. "Why would it? You and Harry are my best friends, and always will be."
"Yeah, and it didn't change anything when you dated Krum, or Harry dated Cho," Ron observed, sarcastically. "It definitely won't change when you date Harry…when you want to be alone together…or when you break up, and aren't speaking to each other anymore… yeah, that won't wreck the Golden Trio at all!"
Harry and Hermione looked nonplussed at Ron's outpouring.
"Ron, have you been - ?" Harry began.
"Thinking about this?" Ron cut him off. "Yeah…I sort of suspected that something was going on." He said, adding, as an afterthought, "I'm not an idiot, you know."
"Oh, honestly, Ron," Hermione huffed in trademark fashion, "nobody ever said you were. I mean really!"
"Listen, mate," Harry said, leaning forward and speaking earnestly. "I'm still going to need you two." He made a conscious decision to look Ron squarely in the eyes, as he spoke. "Just because I've got this new link with Hermione, it doesn't change why I need you, or mean I'll need you less."
"Or me either," Hermione added emphatically. "There's a reason we're a Trio… we all have something different to offer that benefits the group as a whole. Our strengths complement each other's. We work best as a team."
Harry made a snoring noise in her head. She whirled on him with a venomous look, whacking him in the arm, as his too-innocent expression made her smile in spite of herself.
"Quit being a prat, Harry!" she huffed. Ron had been watching the interplay with a bemused look on his face.
"This is going to take some bloody getting used to," he said, shaking his head, as if trying to clear water from his ears.
Hermione looked at him apologetically. "We'll try not to do that. Sorry."
There was a silence, in which the three best friends looked at one another awkwardly. Ron slapped his hands against his thighs, and stood to his feet.
"Well, thanks for that, then," Ron said heartily, as if he were taking his leave from a dinner party. "I'm just going to go on…" he chucked his thumb at the door.
"Ron, don't leave," Hermione pleaded, standing up and starting towards him. Ron held up one hand, deterring her.
"I've got…I've got to - to think about this. I - you -- " He stammered something unintelligible, and fled from the room.
Hermione watched him go, and turned back to Harry, a worried expression on her face.
"Will he - ?" she asked, turning toward Harry, who had come to stand behind her.
"Eventually," Harry said, looping his arms around her waist. She leaned back against his chest. Her expression remained troubled.
Hey, Harry said gently, why the sudden reversal?
I dunno, Hermione replied, I guess I just expected him to blow up in one of his Ron-rages, and then be over it. Ron being all quiet and thoughtful is a little scary. Hermione heard Harry's chuckle resound through her mind.
I guess you're right. He kissed her softly on the temple, as she stood there, pensive, hoping that this would not change things between the three of them forever.
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Harry trudged drearily up to his dormitory in Gryffindor tower, and stood outside the door, balancing uncertainly on the balls of his feet. The dorm would be empty, except for Ron, and he wasn't sure what kind of reception he was going to receive. After a long moment, he took a deep breath, steeling himself, and entered the room in one fluid motion.
Ron was leaning against a pillow propped on his headboard, reading his dog-eared book about the Chudley Cannons.
Harry paused rather idiotically in the doorway, obviously expecting something else. Ron looked askance at him.
"What?" he asked. The coolness was still in his tone. He was still mad. Harry sighed, and turned to his bed, pulling his pajamas out of his trunk.
"Nothing," Harry responded dully, his face a little sullen.
"Oh, no!" Ron cried out, sitting up straight on his bed. "You do not get to be the injured party, Harry, not this time! You and Hermione were lying to me!"
"We never - " Harry began, but Ron was ready for him.
"What about that day after we played Quidditch, when I caught you in the hallway holding hands? Ha ha ha," Ron let out a falsetto laugh, and spoke in a high-pitched tone, "'Wherever did you get a notion like that, Ronald?'" He was quoting Hermione.
Harry felt his stomach sink toward his shoes. He had forgotten about that.
"We were trying to figure out the best way to tell you," Harry said, and winced at the way his voice sounded, cracking and desperate, the excuse lame to even his own ears.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think that telling me you're not together is the best way to tell me you're together!" Ron paused, looking up at the ceiling briefly, and appeared to be making sure that his statement had come out right.
"You caught us off-guard!" Harry protested, and wished that he could get the defensive, pleading note out of his voice.
"I think I caught you off-guard when you were snogging in the corridor earlier!" Ron retorted, and muttered something untelligible under his breath.
"What was that, Ron?" Harry asked, falsely polite, a dangerous undercurrent threading through his statement.
"I. Said." Ron overenunciated emphatically. "And I thought Krum was bad!"
Harry blinked at him for a moment, stung.
"Who would you rather she date then?"
Ron opened his mouth, as if to make an angry rejoinder, but thought better of it, and snapped his mouth shut.
"I… I dunno….but not you!" He had gone red to the tips of his ears.
"Don't tell me you still fancy her?" Harry asked sarcastically. Ron's face flamed even hotter, if that was possible, and he buried his face in his book, evidently intent on stonily ignoring Harry.
Fine with me, Harry thought angrily. Stupid prat can't even…
Harry, I'm trying to read…Hermione's voice broken into his head, amiably.
Sorry, he answered. Ron's such a-
Why are you two fighting?
Why do you think? he answered wryly. I don't want to talk about him right now.
I was afraid of this, her voice was anxious. I don't want to mess anything up between you two. Maybe…
No no no no no no, Hermione. No maybes. Harry said frantically.
But your friendship…
He'll get over it eventually… I hope.
And if he doesn't? she asked. He could practically see her eyebrows drawing together in concern.
Then he wasn't worth it in the first place, he replied.
You don't mean that.
Harry didn't suppose that he really did, but he was thwarted from a reply by Ron's Chudley Cannons book narrowly missing the side of his head, and hitting the wall behind him with a hard thud. He rounded on Ron.
"What the hell was that for?!"
"Everybody in the bloody school is going to be able to tell you're doing that!" Ron shouted. "Telling her what a prat I was being, were you?"
"If the shoe fits…" Harry said venomously. Ron narrowed his eyes, and stood to his feet. Tension crackled across the silent room.
We didn't tell him about Malfoy's memory, Hermione blurted suddenly. Harry was a little confused by the non sequitur.
"What?" he said, turning his head to one side and looking at nothing.
"Oh, bloody brilliant!" Ron said sarcastically, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation.
"Shut up, Ron!" Harry yelled.
Tell him about Malfoy. Maybe it'll help…we need to stick together. Hermione's voice was pleading, and Harry felt wretchedly guilty for causing her distress.
He turned back to Ron, his posture altered, the fight gone out of him.
"There's something else we want you to know about," he began. Ron watched him guardedly, but slowly sat back down on the edge of his bed.
"I'm listening."
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The next two weeks sped by with relative ease. Ron was still stilted and awkward around them, and Harry really couldn't figure out if Ron had been in love with Hermione, in love with the idea of Hermione, or was just terrified of being left out or behind or something.
Hermione had told Ginny. She had accepted it with much more aplomb than had Ron, perhaps because she didn't have as much emotionally invested. She did stare at Harry and Hermione like they had suddenly turned blue for most of one morning, after which Ron had irritably told her to knock it off. She had blushed crimson, and tried to act more normally thereafter.
Both Weasleys had been sworn to utmost secrecy, and Harry didn't really feel that it would ever be a problem, unless Ron's tendency to jealousy overrode his better judgment.
Harry and Hermione continued to go to Occlumency, and had begun to grow more adept at blocking Snape from their minds. Neither of them was as skilled alone, as they were together, but Hermione still bested Harry regularly. Their mental strength was much higher if they were touching, but they were still able to act collectively, if separated. Snape had even had Harry go down to the kitchens, and try to block Snape from Hermione's mind from there.
It had worked, but had been tedious and exhausting, and they had all agreed that proximity, at least when practicing Occlumency (distance had so far not seemed to affect their ability to speak telepathically), was best.
Malfoy had made himself scarce, evidently deferring to the wishes of his Head of House. There were only 5 students and 3 professors rattling around in the gigantic castle, so avoiding people was not exactly difficult. Their only trouble had come on the Quidditch pitch, where Malfoy often went to practice his flying.
Ron's stride faltered, as he saw the dark shape swooping over the Quidditch green. "Aw, not again!" he moaned.
Harry and Ginny stopped just behind him, brooms in hand. All three Gryffindors were outfitted in Quidditch practice gear.
"I would swear that he does that just to piss us off," Ginny said.
"That, and he wants to keep us from practicing…so we won't have an advantage over the other House teams," Harry added. They stood there for a moment, pondering what to do. Malfoy dove and spun on his broom.
"Bloody Slytherin show off," Ron muttered.
"Let's go ahead," Harry finally said, resuming the walk toward the pitch. "It's not term yet, we don't have to book the pitch. We have as much right to be there as he does," his voice was matter of fact.
"And there are more of us than of him," Ron added, with a conspiratorial smile, and Harry grinned back at him, feeling a surge of warmth in his chest.
"'Lo, Weaselking," Draco said idly, diving just low enough to skim the top of Ron's head with the bottoms of his shoes.
"Sod off, Malfoy," Ron answered back, in a lazy tone.
"That's the only way Ron would ever be beneath someone like you," Ginny observed, mounting her broom and shooting off into the sky, Quaffle tucked under one arm. Ron followed her, getting in position in front of the hoops.
Malfoy looked back at Harry, who had flown a few feet into the air, and was clutching a writhing Snitch in one fist.
"What about it, Potter? Race you to the Snitch," Draco raised one eyebrow, and looked at Harry inquiringly.
"I thought the idea of practice was to challenge yourself, Malfoy," Harry replied. "I can't see that you'd be much of one." Harry grinned to himself, when Malfoy's face hardened Slowly, he raised his hand over his head, and opened his fist. The Golden Snitch lay on his palm, glinting in the sun, for only an instant, and with a whir of lacy wings, it was gone.
The two Seekers soared up into the air, and began slow circles of the Quidditch pitch; Malfoy had muttered something, probably profane, under his breath, and gone deliberately in the other direction.
He had just gotten distracted by a particularly deft save by Ron, and had shouted,
"Well done, Ron!" His fiery-haired friend acknowledged the comment with a wave of one hand, but suddenly shouted,
"Bloody hell, Harry!" Harry swung his broom around to see Malfoy in a full-out dive, and kicked his Firebolt into high gear. Harry flattened himself onto his broom handle, and felt the exhilaration of the wind racing past him.
He was almost even with Malfoy, when the Slytherin suddenly jerked his broom to the right, colliding with Harry at an incredible speed.
"Malfoy, what the hell are you doing?" he shouted, as he tried to compensate. He would not allow himself to shout "Stop!", which is what he felt like doing, but was trying vainly to keep from crashing.
Harry? He heard a quiet voice in his head, tinged with a little panic. Are you all right?
Malfoy's trying to bloody kill me! Harry managed, as the handle of Malfoy's broom caused Harry's own broom to tilt downwards. He felt his grip begin to loosen.
Ask him about his father! Hermione said hurriedly, her words tumbling out over each other.
Harry looked up at Draco's face, which had something like a fiendish expression of satisfaction, and tried to muster up a casual tone.
"Nice having your father back at the manor, Malfoy?" He said, as if mentioning the weather. Malfoy's head jerked up, and the look on his face was unmistakably that of shock. The movement was enough to slow the dive, but both boys still tumbled roughly onto the Quidditch pitch.
Harry had just enough time to smile, and tell Hermione It worked!, as well as to realize that his nose was bleeding…again… when Malfoy was up with one hand clenching Harry's collar, and the other pointing his wand at the Boy Who Lived.
"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Malfoy said, through gritted teeth.
"Easy, ferret!" Harry said, looking nervously toward Ron and Ginny, who, it appeared, had finally noticed something was going on, and were headed in their direction. "You'll confirm too many guesses, if you keep getting your knickers in a twist like that. You're getting too caught up in your petty emotions!"
Draco was still breathing heavily and red in the face, but seemed to be trying to calm himself down. He smoothed his robes with the haughty air that he wore like a garment, and stood up to his feet, replacing his wand.
"I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about, Scarhead," Malfoy said, spearing Harry with a death look, as he picked up his broom.
"Keep telling yourself that, Malfoy!" Harry said, retrieving his own broom, and flying up to join Ron and Ginny, assuring a frantic Ginny that he was fine, and agreeing with a livid Ron that Malfoy was a complete git.
He did not see Malfoy standing at the edge of the Quidditch stands, just in the shadows, watching him thoughtfully.
TBC
Okay, this chapter annoyed me a bit, but here it is. It was getting long, so Diagon Alley will come in the next chapter….and that, my friends, is where the fun begins!!
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