Unofficial Portkey Archive

DISCLAIMER: As always, I sadly reiterate that I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters and settings you recognize from Rowling's books.

A/N: Oh, and many many many thanks to AetherMaiden and Liz, whose reviews convinced me to update.

(On a completely irrelevant note… Neville's parents are named Alice and Frank. If you watch the television series Friends, Phoebe's brother is named Frank, and his wife, the older woman, is named Alice. Just sharing.)

"The closer I'm bound in love to you
the closer I am to free..."
- "Power of Two," Indigo Girls

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
(happy is not exactly the word)

Hermione wanted to be his partner. That was the only answer.

Millicent Bullstrode and Pansy Parkinson paired up, as did Ron and Seamus. Parvati was about to pair up with Lavender, and Harry was about to pair up with Hermione, and Zabini was already standing next to him, Draco. But Hermione practically elbowed Parvati towards Harry, telling them cheerfully to try pairing up for once.

"Um," Parvati began, but Hermione had already turned to Lavender.

"Pair up with Zabini," she urged her. Draco glanced at Zabini. For once, the good-looking Slytherin looked confused.

"Well, I was actually-" Lavender began.

"Great!" Hermione's smile was sweetly determined. She all but shoved Lavender towards Zabini, who caught her when she stumbled at Hermione's push. Lavender blushed, clutching at Zabini. He grinned at her. She blushed harder.

Draco snorted to himself.

"Hermione-" said Harry.

"If you and Parvati are pairing up, I guess that leaves me and Malfoy," she said loudly, already positioning herself next to Draco, who stared at her.

In truth, everyone was staring at Hermione, wondering at her not-so-subtle maneuvering.

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "It looks like Miss Granger has managed to pair everyone up," she said wryly, waving her wand. Flowers appeared on every table. "So let's get started. Change the flower to a bird. Refer to the spell in the textbook. It's similar to the vine-into-snake spell that we mastered last meeting."

Muttering among themselves, everyone began opening textbooks.

"So why do you want to be my partner, Granger?" Draco asked, trying to conceal his curiosity, flipping idly through the textbook. "Besides my charm, that is."

"Your great good looks, of course," she retorted with heavy sarcasm, and lowered her voice. "Cut the crap, Malfoy. I want to talk to you about Ginny."

Draco froze. Last meeting all she'd known was that he was after a Gryffindor! How the hell had she narrowed it down to Ginny? "What about me and Weasley?" he managed to ask.

"Where to start? With the fact that you like her or the fact that you've snogged her?"

Draco, incredulous at the directness of her attack, decided to reciprocate. "Did Ginny tell you all this?"

"You should be asking me if I've told anyone else," said Hermione, smoothly ducking the question. "You know Harry and her brother can convince her to forget about you."

Draco flushed with anger. "Fine. I'll play your game. Did you tell Potter and Weasley?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about anyone else just yet," Hermione snapped, not seeming to realize that she had just contradicted her earlier statement that he should ask her if she had told someone else. She glared at him. "You have to deal with me first."

"Who do you think you are, her mother?" In his exasperation, his voice rose, and the other students glanced at them.

Hermione took a deep breath and looked down at her book for such a long moment that Draco suspected she was trying to calm down. Then she picked up the wand and attempted the spell by herself. The flower sprouted another stem and flapped its petals feebly, like wings, then collapsed on its side.

"Brilliant," said Draco derisively.

Hermione looked straight at him. "I'm Ginny's friend," she said quietly, "And I don't want to see her get hurt. Just tell me - is this a bet or something?"

To Draco' consternation, she was completely serious. Did all Gryffindors view him as Evil Incarnate, then? Irritated, he said, "Do you think Ginny's so unattractive that no one could possibly be interested in her without an ulterior motive?" he asked, deliberately provoking her.

Instead of rising to the bait, Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, I do not think any such thing, Malfoy. Kindly answer the question."

"I hope you know you sound like a bloody professor."

"I hope you realize how transparent your evasions are."

In spite of himself, Draco grinned. "You're really something, Granger."

"Right back at you," said Hermione dryly. "Now stop trying to sidetrack me, please. I've told Ginny I'm not going to tell Harry and her brother, but I will if you don't convince me that she's not just - just - a case of butterbeer to you. Or whatever Slytherins stake on bets."

"A case of butterbeer? I hate to break it to you, but butterbeer is for Gryffindors. We Slytherins like our drinks stronger."

"Malfoy…"

At the warning note in her tone, Draco gave in at last. "Very well. Weasley is not a bet. I have no ulterior motives in her case. In fact, the wretched truth is that I've tried to talk myself out of pursuing her a number of times, but I can't seem to do it. Are you happy now?"

For the first time, Hermione smiled. She seemed to be enjoying his disgruntlement. "Happy is not exactly the word I would use. Let's just say I'm going to keep myself from telling Harry and Ginny's brother for a while longer."

"Don't do me any favors," Draco muttered.

"I wouldn't dream of it," was Hermione's equable reply.

Draco glared at her. "You've taken the liberty of discussing my private life quite thoroughly, so we might as well chat about yours as well. What's going on with you and Weasley, anyway?"

He was delighted to see a scowl form on Hermione's calm features. "Nothing," she said crisply.

"You've always referred to him as `Ginny's brother,' then?"

"Drop it, Malfoy."

"Or else what?" he couldn't resist asking.

"Or else I am going to hex you."

She looked so forbidding, her blue eyes narrowed, daring him to say another word, that he had to fight back a smile. Was he actually beginning to enjoy the company of Gryffindors? Merlin forbid.

He started to say something, just to see if she would actually hex him, when Professor McGonagall's voice broke in.

"Granger! Malfoy! Is this a bird to you?" She advanced on them, her nostrils flaring, and snatched up the pathetic flower, whose only resemblance to a bird was the fact that it now had two stems instead of one. Draco started to point out that the stems did look an awful lot like bird legs, if you overlooked the little leaves sprouting out of them, but kept silent at the wrathful look on Professor McGonagall's face. "Cease your prattle and get to work!"

Hermione looked stricken at being reprimanded, and instantly picked up her wand. Draco looked around. Their classmates were watching them with fascination, notably Harry and Ron. Ron just looked resentfully at Hermione, but the expression on Harry's face was harder to read.

"And the rest of you! Stop ogling the spectacle and return to your own work," Professor McGonagall ordered, and everyone quickly turned back to their own tables.

Draco and Hermione didn't speak again, except of the spell they had been tasked to do. Needless to say, by the end of the class - largely due to Hermione - they had gotten the spell right. The flower was gone, and in its place a small, docile bird with colorful wings chirped prettily. No one else in the class had managed to transfigure their flower so completely into a bird, except for Blaise Zabini and Lavender Brown, but their bird was lamentably limp and dead-looking. Professor McGonagall forgot her annoyance with Draco and Hermione and awarded ten points each to Gryffindor and Slytherin.

"My great good looks save the day again," Draco said, straight-faced.

A strangled sound escaped Hermione, and he suspected she was trying not to laugh.

"Say hi to Weasley for me," he said, picking up their cheerful bird. Professor McGonagall had told them to put it in the cage on her desk, as inspiration for her next seventh-year Transfiguration class with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

Hermione got in one last good jab, however. "Sure," she said calmly, picking up her bag. "I'm sure Ron will appreciate it that you're thinking of him."

And with that -- her nose wrinkling at the mention of Ron's name, as though she had smelled something unpleasant -- Hermione rushed off. Leaving Draco at their table, the twittering bird in his hand, unable to suppress a grin.

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"Neville, I would like you to meet Demetria Laguna," said Lupin courteously. "Demetria, this is Neville Longbottom. He's Alice and Frank's son."

Demetria said nothing for a moment, scrutinizing Neville. He tried not to quail under the intensity of her gaze. She was very petite, only up to Lupin's chin in height, but she held herself well. Her eyes were easily her best feature. They were wide, deep-set, a pale blue in color, and dominated the rest of her face.

"I would like to thank you," she said at last. "For testifying on my late husband's behalf."

Neville couldn't think of anything to say, so he just nodded.

The three of them were in the corridor outside Tonks' room in St. Mungo's. Neville had arrived ready to spill out his guts to Lupin about how useless and awful his testimony was, but when he arrived Lupin was deep in conversation with some woman. Who turned out to be Demetria Laguna.

"The trial is next week," she said. "I understand Professor McGonagall has already excused you from classes on the day of your testimony."

Neville nodded.

"In fact, you have classes today, don't you?" she asked. "Professor McGonagall excused you so you could speak to Lupin about this case."

Again, Neville nodded.

She smiled. "Talkative, aren't you?"

Neville flushed. Lupin said quickly, "He's quite shy, but I assure you, he'll do his best on the stand."

"May we hear it?" Demetria trained those blue eyes at him.

Neville hesitated, then shook his head miserably. "The truth is… I was going to tell you… that is-" He coughed. "I can't testify. I sound like a witness for the Ministry."

Lupin gazed at him thoughtfully. "Hermione wrote me about this, but she didn't say it was that bad…"

"May we hear it?" Demetria asked again, gently. The three of them were seated side by side, but she stood up, pulling Lupin with her. They stood in front of Neville. "Pretend we're the Wizengamot, and give us your testimony."

Neville swallowed hard, but did as she asked. His voice choked with emotion, as it always did, when he spoke of his parents and the unspeakable suffering they had gone through.

But he knew even before he was done that he had bungled it. Lupin and Demetria wore identical frowns, and once Demetria leaned towards Lupin to whisper something in his ear. He nodded, looking unhappy.

Finally, Neville stopped talking. He stood. "Maybe you can still find someone else," he ventured cautiously.

"We don't need anyone else." This came from Demetria Laguna, whose expression was as implacable as her voice had been.

Neville's brows drew together. "But-"

"Could you come with me for a minute?" she asked. "I wish to show you something. Remus has already agreed."

He could hardly refuse her this after he had already failed her as a witness, Neville thought, so he went with her. Lupin stayed behind, with Tonks.

They went up a floor, and down a corridor. A very familiar corridor. Dread coiled inside Neville. They were in the ward of the insane. His parents were somewhere here. He had planned to visit them before returning to Hogwarts, but not with Demetria Laguna…

She led him past his parents' room and into a door further down the hall. Blindly, Neville followed.

He didn't notice that she had stopped, and bumped into her. "Sorry," he muttered.

But she wasn't paying any attention to him. Instead, she went towards a figure asleep in the bed, her pale eyes glittering with unshed tears.

"This is my husband," she said softly. "Virreor Laguna."

Neville felt a jolt of shock, laced with a tremor of unease. She was holding her husband's hand, pressing a kiss to it, and the intimacy of the gesture made Neville feel like an unwanted voyeur.

He turned away, tears coming to his own eyes, and dimly perceived the magnitude of her pain - that it was their side who had done this to her husband. At least Neville could hate the Death Eaters, at least Neville's parents hadn't died in vain, but for Virreor Laguna, whom he imagined begging the Aurors to believe that he was innocent, torturing him for secrets he had no knowledge of - there was only regret, and bitterness, and anger -

"Please testify," said Demetria.

"I can't. My testimony's awful," he mumbled, hastily swiping at his eyes.

"It won't be."

"How can you be so sure?" he asked.

"Because I`ve been watching you," she said. "You understand at last, the depth of my feelings. I can see that you're a sensitive young man. No one else can truly comprehend why I'm doing this…"

Neville was about to protest, but he stopped when he realized, to his own surprise, that she was right. Hadn't he felt her pain just now, empathized with it so deeply that it might have been his father lying there in that bed? He gazed at Virreor, sleeping soundly, and knew that when he awoke he would be just like Frank and Alice Longbottom: listless, blank, their minds long divorced from their bodies.

"Before you decide," said Demetria, "I want to make sure you know what you are getting into. At least half of the wizarding community will think ill of you for testifying on my side, especially the most vocal of Scrimgeour's supporters. They will do everything they can to see you fail. If your testimony is good, then you will anger them. And because most of the Aurors do not understand our side, and see this as an attack against their methods, then most of them will be angry at you too."

Tentatively, Neville asked, "Do you know the names of the Aurors who tortured your husband?"

Demetria shook her head. "No. And I don't want to." But there was a wealth of bitterness in her tone as she added, "I found my husband in Azkaban, sharing a cell with a conductor named Stan Shunpike. The Aurors put him there after he went insane, unable to answer their accusations."

Neville was silent.

"But my argument is not with the Aurors," Demetria went on. "They were only doing what the Ministry told them to do. I do not need for them to be punished. That won't change the fact that my husband is insane. But I can prevent the same thing from happening to others. And that is what I will do." She sighed. "And as for the money… I'm not some greedy widow. I only asked for what I need to keep Virreor in comfort here in St. Mungo's for as long as he lives. I can't give him proper care at home, since I still have to work, so he must stay here, where I know he is cared for…"

"I'll do it," said Neville simply.

The gratitude that shone in Demetria's pale blue eyes made him uncomfortable. She looked like she was going to cry. But her voice was steady as she said, "Then I shall tell Remus to expect you at the trial next week. And as for you…" A single tear dripped down her cheek. "Visit your parents before you return to Hogwarts. I'm certain some part of them will recognize that you are there, and be happy."

"The same goes for your husband, then," said Neville.

"I like to hope so."

Neville lingered for one more moment, the beat of a heart, before leaving.

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Draco gave the box to Zabini, to add to the confusion, and Zabini thought the plan Draco had just outlined -- all to keep people from guessing that the box was from him! -- was so amusing that he went along with it.

He walked down the hallway, away from Draco, then leaned casually against the wall and handed the box to the first girl who passed by.

"Why don't you hand it to that girl over there for me, and then come back and tell me about yourself?" Zabini suggested.

Draco looked with pity at the girl, who looked completely starstruck at the sudden attention the gorgeous Slytherin was giving her. He thought he remembered seeing her seated at the Hufflepuff table. She hastened to hand over the box to the girl Zabini had pointed out, whom he had already ascertained to be a Gryffindor, and returned to chat again with Zabini.

Meanwhile, the Gryffindor looked down at the box with a bewildered expression on her face, and opened the card stuck on the top.

Draco, who was stood with Crabbe and Goyle down the corridor from Zabini, knew exactly what it said. For Ginny.

The Gryffindor looked nonplussed, but she shrugged and handed it over to the girl next to her. "Isn't Ginny the one Harry used to go out with?" Draco scowled. The second girl nodded. "Yeah."

A Gryffindor boy joined them, and the second girl gave him the box. "Give this to your brother, will you? He's in Ginny Weasley's year, right?"

"Sure," said Dennis Creevey. He caught up with his brother at dinnertime and handed him the box.

That evening, in the common room, Colin saw Ginny sitting with Ron and Harry. Incidentally, they were telling her about Hermione's weird behavior. Hermione had gone to the library with Neville immediately after he returned from St. Mungo's.

Colin handed Ginny the box.

She was startled. "Thanks, Colin… but what for?"

"Oh, it's not from me. I got it from Dennis, who got it from some girl in his year, who got it from…" Colin trailed off, lost in the maze of people. Harry and Ron grinned at each other.

"Sounds like you've got a secret admirer," sniggered Ron. "Some lower year Gryffindor, no doubt."

Ginny shrugged. "Thanks anyway," she told Colin as he left. She placed it on her lap. "So you have absolutely no idea what Malfoy and Hermione were talking about?" she asked.

"That's the tenth time you've asked, and aren't you going to open that?" Ron asked, looking at the box.

"In front of you? No way," said Ginny. "I'll open this in private, thank you very much."

"Just don't come to me asking for advice on how to fend off some weenie of a first year," Ron grumbled.

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"Was all that really necessary?" Zabini inquired.

"Of course. Granger convinced me that if Weasley and Potter find out that I'm even thinking about Ginny, they'll prevent her from going out with me." He had ended up telling Zabini what Hermione's crazy stint in Transfiguration had been all about.

"I think that if Weasley wants something, her brother and Potter are not going to stop her from getting it. Or trying to, anyway," Zabini qualified.

"Still…" Draco toyed with his wand. "Better all around if as few people as possible know that I'm interested in a Gryffindor." He made the word `Gryffindor' sound like an epithet. "Granger's not going to tell, and neither are you, right?" His question was a warning.

Zabini smirked. "Don't worry about me."

Draco got up. "Well, I'm going to go to bed now."

"Or going to prepare for a rendezvous?" Zabini suggested mildly. "I'm sure there was a note in that box telling Weasley to meet you somewhere tonight."

Draco stopped and turned to him. How had he guessed? For that matter, how had Hermione guessed that the Gryffindor he was interested in was Ginny? Were they masters of deduction, or was he just incapable of concealing things?

Irritably he snapped, "All right, we have now established that you and Granger are bloody clever, so just back off, will you?" He strode away, the fierce expression on his face daring anyone to get in his way.

Behind him, Zabini's shoulders shook with laughter.

A/N: Finally… I updated… and this is a bit longer than usual, too. Hehehehe. Please review!

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