Chapter 19: The Village Warning
Harry's night was restless; after he eventually managed to get to sleep his dreams were bizarre and subversive, even by his standards. He didn't think he'd get to sleep at all, considering that all he could think about was the events of his walk and the promise of more of the same the following night. He kept going through everything in his mind, assuring himself that he would try to think of less inane things tomorrow when, hopefully, Hermione would indulge Harry in his fast developing obsession with her lips.
His dreams on the other hand were a little disturbing. Ron and Luna had decided to play a trick on Harry by letting Ginny ride his Firebolt. Harry was trying to run after her but couldn't get any purchase from his legs. Eventually, she came down before she and Ron starting playing pig-in-the-middle with the Firebolt. Then Voldemort appeared wearing a kilt and a pirate hat and stole his Firebolt, running with it into the Forbidden Forest and burning it.
Harry woke with a start. It was late, all was quiet at the mountain resort and Harry was sure that everyone must be asleep. He strolled to his window, looking out onto the snow kissed ground and watching the night amble along in peace. The snow was undisturbed, at least most of it was. There was a thick impression that slithered through the otherwise flat snow, in between the log path that surrounded the cabins and the trees a few metres away.
Harry found himself transfixed by the perfect, unbroken line that snaked through the crisp snow. Whatever had caused it hadn't left any other marks, there were no footprints and no other signs of disturbance anywhere. It was as if something had glided across on is belly, silently and stealthily. The silence was pierced by something that made Harry's blood turn oddly cold.
'They are here. But I don't know where. I could find them…I could kill them…I am hungry Master…let me kill…'
Harry flew closer to the window, swinging his head up and down to find the source of the voice. It was a low, hissy voice, most unlike a normal person's. The way left and right from Harry's window was empty, but the remnants of the voice were still audible, just too quiet for Harry to hear anymore. He dashed to his wardrobe, threw on a jacket and rushed to the door, grabbing his wand as he did.
He was barely out of his door when he smashed into something. It was hard and hairy, but had quite a nice scent.
'Harry! What are you doing?'
It was Hermione.
'Sorry,' said Harry as he rose gingerly to his feet, 'I heard a noise outside. I was going to see what it was.'
'You heard it too?' Hermione said shakily, 'Like a hissing?'
'No, I heard someone talking in a hissy voice. Didn't you hear it?' Harry asked as a bad possibility formed in his mind.
'I didn't hear anyone talking,' said Hermione.
The possibility became even stronger in his mind; a long, slithery line in the snow, a hissing that Harry thought was a language. It was too much of a coincidence.
'There's a snake out there,' said Harry seriously, 'It might have been sent by Voldemort. I know he has one. I heard it talking. Its wants to kill…us probably now I think of it. I'm going to go and have a look.'
'I'm coming to,' said Hermione quickly.
'No,' stabbed Harry, his voice shaky with nerves, though not for himself, 'you stay here. Its too dangerous. You have to stay here in case it comes-'
'Harry don't even bother! If you're going anywhere that might be dangerous then you'll have to hex me to stop me going too. And we both have had enough of your Defence Against The Dark Arts classes to know that you cant do that!'
'I could if I wanted to,' grinned Harry, though he doubted the sincerity of this claim.
It was obvious that Hermione would brook no opposition so Harry had little choice but to allow her to accompany him to search for the snake, though he didn't want to. Their wands drawn, they edged through the silent corridor and made towards the main doors. The silence droned and Harry was so tuned to hear any little deviation in sound that his head was hurting through the concentration.
They reached the door and stepped quietly through it, Harry looking immediately both ways as if trying to cross a busy road. There was nothing, just the whistle of a light breeze tickling around the resort. Harry followed the slithery line, it led all the way along the side of the cabin complex and down into the trees that ran up to the ski slope. Harry made to follow.
'Harry! What do you think to you're doing?' Hermione squeaked, she sounded very afraid.
'I'm following the trail,' replied Harry casually as if this was the most natural situation in the world.
'No you're not,' said Hermione sharply, 'it leads right into the trees. Who knows what could be in there. Its dark and its late and there is no way I'm letting you go in there. If you try, I will hex you for your own good. Don't push me, Harry.'
Harry could tell she wasn't joking. Her eyes were steely and determined, and at the same time wide and frightened. Harry had such an urge to race into the trees to find whatever was lurking there, but he resisted. He lit his wand tip and aimed the narrow beam into the gloom of dark green and black, hoping to catch sight of something. But all he saw was snow, glinting and falling as the trees ruffled in the breeze.
Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and they began to walk back towards the cabin door. She seemed convinced he was going to sprint away from her and into the wood; she looked fearful that his saving-people-complex was too insatiable to be overcome. Although they'd seen nothing, Harry couldn't shake the sensation of being watched, as though unseen eyes were fixed on him, watching him move away.
Harry and Hermione reached their rooms and prepared to say goodnight. Harry, still buzzing with fear and paranoia, turned to his room and gripped his handle. Hermione gripped his arm.
'Where do you think you're going?' Hermione asked bossily.
'Um…to bed?' Harry answered, though feeling it might not be the right response.
'Oh no you don't,' continued Hermione, 'you don't think I'm going in there on my own do you? Not when something's lurking outside.'
'I thought you said it was nothing?'
'I didn't say that1 Honestly, Harry you don't half make things up! You said it was a voice and I believe you. If it was a snake then I wouldn't have heard it anyway. I don't speak Parseltongue. But anyway, I'm not sleeping on my own. Will you come in with me?'
'What'll your parents say?' Harry asked nervously.
'They wont mind,' said Hermione brightly, 'I'll just tell them to budge up and make room for you!'
Harry gave her a not-amused stare.
'C'mon, Harry. My parents don't come in to check on me. Besides, you're only in here protecting me. You wont hurt me...will you Harry?'
Her voice had taken on the same huskiness it had earlier when she had told him not to speak. Saying it again, now, made Harry's insides make like a washing machine and spin around as if going through all the wash programmes. He felt his throat expand to several times its usual size and he was going spasmodic again. There was one curious question, though: why had he gotten up in the first place?
He couldn't remember but he didn't care as Hermione led him into her cabin and locked the door behind them. She whipped off her dressing gown and slid into bed, Harry tried fruitlessly not to look at her nightdress as she did so. It was white and satiny, Harry though it a little too strappy considering how cold it was. He took off his own nightgown and flung in onto Hermione's, marvelling at how underdressed he felt in his plain blue pyjamas.
'Are you going to stand there all night?' Hermione asked gently. Harry couldn't answer, just walked awkwardly over to the bed and sat down on the edge. Hermione pushed him off and lifted the covers, 'In…now!' she demanded. Harry obliged.
Hermione immediately snuggled up to him, her heartbeat reverberating through Harry's chest and magnifying his own, which he realised was going too fast to be comfortable with. Hermione laid her head onto Harry's chest, her hand next to it on his shoulder. Harry lay flat on his back, as rigid as if someone had put the body bind curse on him. He needed to pee badly, but Harry knew he dared not move; he didn't want to poke Hermione's eye out after all.
Harry awoke the next morning to the sounds of birds twittering outside the window as light poured into the little room. He was trying to remember why he had had trouble sleeping the previous night, then he saw why. He jumped slightly when he realised he had actually slept in the same bed as Hermione and that it wasn't just a dream. He breathed a sigh of relief that the snake hadn't come back and killed them in the night, something he had gone to sleep thinking was a real possibility.
But Harry soon realised he had other problems. He noticed that somehow he and Hermione had fallen into a spooning position. This was fine, apart from the totally numbness of his arm under Hermione's head. He looked at his other arm and when he saw it wrapped around Hermione, and which part of her it had come to rest on, Harry felt those all too familiar stirrings all over again. This wasn't a good thing.
It became worse as Hermione shifted a little and Harry realised just how close she was to him. Her legs were intertwined with his, meaning the rest of her body was pressed right up against him. This was also a bad thing and Harry wished she would stop grinding into him; he wasn't entirely convinced she was doing it accidentally.
'Stay asleep!' Harry begged in his mind, 'Please, stay asleep!'
Hermione, on the other hand, was giving no signs that she was actually asleep. Harry could see a little grin on her face, even though she looked like she was trying to conceal it. He was trying to shift his body away from her, it would be less embarrassing that way, but every time he inched back she moved with him. Not allowing him to escape. After a while, she gave up the ghost.
'Harry,' she said sleepily with a fake yawn, 'you didn't bring your wand to bed did you?'
It was the chance Harry needed.
'Yeah, sorry…bit paranoid…I'll just move it.'
And he did, jumping up and pretending to fiddle around with his wand. He swore Hermione's sleepy expression went slightly disappointed but he made his excuses, to which she didn't argue, and raced across into his room. And just in time to, for no sooner had he opened his door then he heard the one belonging to Hermione's parents creak open.
Harry edged inside his door, closing it as much as he could so that it looked fully shut. He could hear Mr and Mrs Granger talking.
'Shall we check on her, just to be sure?' Mr Granger asked.
'We shouldn't really, invading her privacy. But we cant exactly check on Harry,' answered Mrs Granger.
'Well, Harry's door seems shut. Just poke your head in, to say good morning.'
Harry heard Hermione's door open, followed by two embarrassed squeals.
'Hermione! What are you doing?'
'Mum! Do you mind? Never heard of knocking? I'm trying to change here!'
'Really?' Mrs Granger didn't seem convinced, Harry could only speculate why, but soon the door closed and the Grangers voices died away down the corridor.
Harry left it a little while before going into breakfast, he had to cool off anyway. When he did finally enter the breakfast hall he found Hermione and her mother shooting daggers at each other. Mr Granger, however, seemed quite jovial.
'Morning, Harry,' he beamed, 'Slept well I hope.'
'Yeah, great,' said Harry.
'Looking forward to a few more bruises out on the slopes today?' Mr Granger chuckled.
'Cant wait,' replied Harry with admirable false enthusiasm.
Harry and Hermione didn't ski for very long. Harry told his instructor to bugger off after he tried to give him pointers. The instructor had decided teaching Harry to ski was an impossible job so he began advising him on how to fall over in a way that would minimise the hurt. Harry wanted to curse him but Hermione dragged him away.
Instead, they found a rather secluded spot in the mountains and had a snowball fight, Harry careful not to hit Hermione too hard. The snow had began to fall and Hermione looked positively adorable as the snow settled in her hair as she tried to blow it off her face.
'Hermione,' called Harry, 'come here. I want to tell you something.'
'What?' Hermione asked as she trudged over slowly.
'This,' said Harry as he put his hands around Hermione's head and gave her a little kiss.
'What was that for?' Hermione asked, blushing furiously.
'Just felt like it. You look so lovely. Do you mind?'
'What do you think?' she asked. Harry didn't have much time to respond, though, as Hermione flung herself at him and they spent ages rolling around in the snow.
After dinner, Hermione suggested they make their way down to the local village. She had looked up the place at Hogwarts and found the village had some places of historical magical interest. So, they trooped down the path and into the little hamlet trying to find anything that looked remotely non-Muggle.
It didn't seem good. Mostly, the village was made up of tiny cottages and small shops selling hand-crafted gifts and food. They were about to give up when Harry heard a passing voice comment on a pub bristling with life.
'I've been coming here for a ten years,' said a regal looking gentleman to his companion, 'and I've never once seen that place open.'
'Some say its haunted, sounds come from it at times…'
They disappeared into the misty snow and Harry looked at the pub. A rusty sign creaked in the wind above the doorway. It read 'The Owls Nest'. Harry shrugged at Hermione and opened the door. She followed him inside; several people looked up, most looking shocked that two teenagers had walked in, but most paid no attention. They sidled up to bar and the barman looked suspiciously at them.
'Are you weezirds?' he asked.
'Yes, are we allowed in here?' Harry asked.
'If you are weezirds, zen yes. Zis an a bar for weezirds only.'
'Do you sell Butterbeer?' Harry asked.
'Of course' smiled the barman, 'Two butterbiers. Zat will be-'
Harry hoped this wouldn't happen, not here, in France. But it was about to, he knew it. The wind must have blown his fringe away from his forehead and his scar was visible. The barman was staring at it as thought it were the answer to the riddle of the meaning of life.
'Can yoo be? Are yoo? Is zit possible? 'Arry Pottair?'
The bar went silent. People were shifting everywhere to look at him and Harry felt the colour rise in his cheeks.
'Yes, I'm him. I mean…that's me,' said Harry resignedly.
Soon, it was like the Leaky Cauldron all over again. People were coming up and shaking his hands and then shaking Hermione's too. All offered to buy their drinks, but the barman wouldn't answer them.
'I will not 'ere of it,' he said, 'ze drinks are free to Arry Pottair and 'is girlfriend at any time!'
So Harry and Hermione had a cheap night. They drank flagons of steaming Butterbeer and felt so warm and cosy that Harry didn't want to leave. He liked the Muggle world, but being amongst his own people was the only way to be. Only one person hadn't congratulated Harry on being Harry. This man was sat in a dim corner, a hood drawn across his face but the outline of a silver beard under his cloak. He got up unexpectedly and walked towards Harry, as if this thought about him had triggered a response.
He swept silently to Harry and Hermione's table, sliding in opposite them. He didn't speak for several minutes, instead choosing to slurp away at a tankard of ale in his hand.
'So, you are Harry Potter,' said it the voice. It was hollow and largely lifeless. It didn't endear Harry to its owner.
'Yeah, that's right,' said Harry slipping his hand subtly into his robes and grabbing his wand.
'There is no need to take arms against me, Mr Potter, I mean not to harm you.'
'Then who are you? What do you want?' Hermione said, sounding unnecessarily rude.
'I just mean to say that you are being very foolish,' said the voice, it reminded Harry of someone but he couldn't remember who.
'What's that mean?' Harry asked.
'Just this. In this day and age do you really think it wise to draw attention to yourself? Especially here, so far away from those who protect you. After all, you have a tendency to be overheard in places unfamiliar.'
Then Harry remembered. The voice, he recognised it. Maybe it was the link with being overheard before, Harry couldn't help but think of the supposed-to-be secret meeting to start the DA last year.
'You! I know you!' Harry blurted, 'You run the Hogs Head in Hogsmeade village.'
'I am uncovered I see,' said the voice, in a strange calming tone not so unlike Albus Dumbledore's, but not quite as deep.
'Are you holidaying here too?' Hermione asked.
'Yes, I thought I needed a holiday. I knew this place had a nice quiet pub for magic people. It seemed a perfect choice.'
'Why should we try to be quieter?' Harry said, 'You said people could be listening.'
'And indeed they could,' said the hooded face darkly, 'You never know when Voldemort could be around.'
Harry was shocked when he heard the name. Very few people used the name, and most belonged to the original Order of the Phoenix, most of whom were now dead. The stranger stood up.
'I just felt you had to be warned,' he said, 'not to draw attention to yourself. There are rumours of dangerous things abroad. Be watchful, Harry Potter.'
And he swept away and out of the doors. Harry and Hermione were too spooked to stay much longer, anxiety replacing the happiness Harry had felt most of the evening. They ambled back up the path towards their cabins, Harry convinced they were being followed all the way.
When the reached the cabin they found most people going to bed. He wasn't tired and neither was Hermione so they sat down on the floor in front of the log fire. Harry leant against a chair nearby and was delightedly shocked when Hermione snuggled up to him. They stayed like that for ages, watching the fire crackling merrily in the grate as the embers flew out and drifted around in front of them.
'Hope you've got me something nice for Christmas, Harry,' said Hermione warningly.
'You'll find out in the morning, wont you,' replied Harry evasively, 'I think you'll like it. I hope you do anyway cos the place I got it from doesn't take refunds.'
'I'm really glad you came, Harry,' purred Hermione as she squeezed him around the middle, 'I'd have been so lonely if you hadn't.'
'I'm glad I came too,' said Harry smoothing Hermione's hair.
'Harry…' said Hermione tentatively, 'I just wanna say…dont think I'm weird or anything...I know it's a bit much, but…I think I l-'
'I know,' said Harry quickly, 'me too.'
He could see Hermione's eyes shining brightly in the firelight, the reflection of the flames flickering against her cheeks. They sat only for a short while longer before Hermione declared her intention to go to bed.
'I think we should have separate rooms though, it was too close this morning,' said Harry.
'You heard that!' Hermione said looking mortified, 'Yeah, our own rooms would be best, After all, you want Santa to bring you something nice.'
'He already did,' said Harry, looking defiantly at Hermione as if daring her to blush or look away. She did neither, instead kissing him so hard he was pushed back against the wall.
'Sweet dreams, Harry,' she said going into her room.
Harry didn't want sweet dreams; they couldn't be any better than his reality. He smiled and went to bed, determined for once to sleep well.
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