"soaring part 10" by gingerbred
Aug. 25th, 2023 02:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
christmasspiritchapter 10, scheming
Characters: Harry Potter / Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini, Minerva McGonagall, Theo Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Harper Hutchinson, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Fay Dunbar, Terry Boot, Luna Lovegood, Ernie Macmillan
15 - 17 September, 1998. Draco, Harry, and Hermione are adopting some unusual techniques to deal with one another. Mostly they just succeed in convincing the others they're odd.
Originally Published: 2023-07-29 on LJ / DW
Words: 6.45 k
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Characters: Draco Malfoy (8S, Prefect, Captain, Seeker), Harry Potter (8G, Captain, Seeker), Hermione Granger (8G, Head Girl), Blaise Zabini (8S, Keeper, voracious), Staff: Minerva McGonagall (Headmistress), Slytherins: Theo Nott (8S, Hestia's), Pansy Parkinson (8S, Prefect), Daphne Greengrass (8S, sparkly), Harper Hutchinson (7S, Prefect, Chaser), Gryffindors: Lavender Brown (8G, Lycanthrope attack survivor), Parvati "'Vati" Patil (8G, Lavender's best friend and roommate), Fay Dunbar (8G, Reserve Chaser), Ravenclaws: Terry Boot (8R, DA), Luna Lovegood (7R), Hufflepuffs: Ernie Macmillan (8H, Head Boy, DA)
Mentioned briefly: Staff: Severus Snape (Deputy Headmaster, Head of Slytherin, Potions Professor), Professor Peek (yet another DADA Professor of questionable worth), Slytherins: Gregory Goyle (8S, Beater, gentle giant), Ella Wilkins (7S, Prefect with an interest in Healing Charms), Hestia Carrow (7S, Chaser, Lycanthrope attack survivor, Theo's somewhat rabid other half), Gryffindors: Ron Weasley (8G, Prefect, Keeper), Georgina Smith (8G, 'Fay's ginger friend'), Ginny Weasley (7G, Chaser), Ravenclaws: Morag MacDougal (8R), Hufflepuffs: Justin Finch-Fletchley (8H, DA), Susan Bones (8H), Hannah Abbott (7H), Other: Elizabeth Wilkins (Member of the Wizengamot, Ella’s mum)
Previously:
The previouslies are very robust. If you've recently read the Christmas Spirit stories, skip them, if not, no worries, I've got you covered. You can find links to the individual stories / chapters in the "christmas spirit index" (LJ / DW / AO3).
02 May, 1998. Greyback attacks Lavender during the Battle of Hogwarts. Canon DH
July 1998. Stan Shunpike is sentenced to Azkaban, and Hermione, unable to accept many of the vagaries of wizarding law, is taking it far too personally. S 01
01 September. Lavender spent the summer struggling to come to terms with what she views as her disfigurement from Greyback's attack. On the first day back to school, she runs into Ron, who is able to reassure her somewhat. That chance meeting changes some things for both of them. L(E)FDoS
12 September, 1998. A group of masked individuals attack Draco and Pansy, the 8th year Slytherin Prefects, as they make their rounds. A Spell of Draco's reveals that eight of the ten assailants are Ravenclaws. S 02
13 September, 1998. Sensing more restrictions likely to come in the wake of the attack on the Slytherins, Hermione convinces the Headmistress that the eighth years, all legally of age, shouldn't be restricted the same way the seventh years are. The issue of safety was an altogether separate matter and should be addressed as such. S 04 After discussing the matter solely with Filius, Sunday morning Minerva expands the eighth years' privileges, eliminating their curfew, amongst other things. Severus is every bit as thrilled as one might expect, and offers to excuse his Prefects from their rounds moving forward. Knowing his students, unfortunately he doesn't expect them to take him up on it. S 06
13 September, 1998. Hermione spends a productive day in the library avoiding Ginny's questions while researching possible avenues to pursue for Stan Shunpike's case. Once she has her notes together, she sends yet another in a long string of owls off to Madam Wilkins of the Wizengamot, who had kindly helped them work to exonerate Malfoy and Professor Snape last summer. S 06 and S 07
14 September, 1998. Concerned that the attack on him and Pansy Saturday night may have been a result of targeting him, whether right or wrong, Draco is determined to avoid being seen socialising with his housemates until he knows for sure he isn't putting them further at risk. S 09
14 September, 1998. Harry decides 'Mione is nurturing at least a nascent crush on Malfoy. Malfoy! As difficult as it is to wrap his head around that - is it ever - part of being a better friend means supporting Hermione's relationship, or would-be-relationship, or whatever, he is sure. S 09
Tuesday, 15 September, 1998
The Gryffindor Eighth Year Boys' DormsBy Tuesday morning, Harry has decided something - something! - must be done, and that he's the only one to do it.
Ron hadn't returned until nearly 4 a.m., and while Harry isn't sure if Hermione is aware of... well, whatever their friend is doing, and no matter how tough she acts - she is - he can't imagine it won't cause some hurt, somewhere down the line. He doesn't want to see anyone hurt, quite naturally his best of friends least of all. So after careful consideration - 'Mione would be so proud - he's resolved to go house elf on the situation and give Malfoy the full Dobby. There's no way, if the Slytherin only comes to really know 'Mione, he wouldn't appreciate her numerous strengths. They're plentiful, aren't they, if only he can be made to see them. Fine, falling for her is obviously another matter, and Harry can only do but so much, but feeling Ron has sort of put him on a clock here, he means to do what he can.
It's all too typical that Harry, however well intentioned, never once pauses to think how unsuccessful Dobby's efforts were second year, nor how little he personally had welcomed them.
Details!
That bodes well.
The Gryffindor Eighth Year Girls' Dorms
Hermione, anything but a fool, is definitely aware something is up with Ron. If she hadn't been, her roommate Fay certainly seems to mean to see to it that she is.
Fay Dunbar is certain, dead certain, that if she never achieves anything in life, it will be down to Hermione bloody Granger. First she'd been Prefect and now Head Girl, and she sucks up all the attention and leaves no positions available for anyone else. The Gryffindor girls as a whole, well, except maybe Georgina, outperform their male counterparts in their year, and yet Ron was able to make Prefect. Ron! In another House, any other House, Fay is dead sure - although not necessarily correct - she could have achieved something with her marks. Instead she just feels her dreams of becoming an Auror vaporising around her. And to top it all off, now everywhere you turn it's 'war heroine' this, 'golden trio' that... It's too much.
So if she has more than a little aggression built up after all this time? It makes perfect sense as far as she's concerned - if she'd stop to consider it, that is.
When Lavender tiptoes back into their room from parts unknown in the wee hours of the morning, Parvati greets her almost immediately, and the girls soon slip into the rhythm of a gossip session that bears at least some resemblance to those from the days before that werewolf had mauled the young blonde. For now, 'Vati is just glad Lav seems to be regaining a bit of spark. Fay imagines her support will last until she grasps Ron must be seeing more than just the one witch, it may even be three by her count, but for the moment there are soft giggles emerging from behind 'Vati's bedcurtains as Fay eavesdrops on their conversation.
It's no coincidence that a freshly showered Hermione is just about to exit the bathroom the next morning when Fay casually asks Lavender, "So how was it last night?"
Lavender hesitates a beat, and shoots a look towards the bathroom to make sure Hermione - probably - can't hear her before she speaks. Without the advantage of Fay's view of the mirror in the room's corner, she can't see her roommate on the bathroom's threshold, but Hermione knows enough to appreciate that pause. Lavender's come a long way since sixth year. She knows - does she ever - what it means to be hurt, and she's not so quick to do things others might find hurtful in turn, not even out of insecurity. That's probably just as well, as she's a good deal less secure now than she ever was. In that sense it's almost a relief when the blonde begins talking about her re-kindling crush on Ron, and how it seems he's reciprocating, and they'd spent much of the night together.
Hermione suspects 'reciprocating' isn't quite the right word for it, but Lav does finally sound a lot more like herself than she has all term. One can only hope when things inevitably crash and burn, it's surely only a question of time, that she recovers from that faster than she is from her wounds now.
Lav, far from healed, doesn't wax poetic as she would have in the years before. There're no dreamy sighs, no rhapsodising, and before Hermione has to even contemplate making some kind of noises to alert them to her presence, the blonde's recounting of her, uh, date with Ron the night before comes to a close, and no amount of prodding from Fay seems likely to tickle more out of her. In the end 'Vati feels she needs to tell her to back off and leave Lav be, and Hermione, outwardly as unperturbed as ever, is able to continue getting ready for her day without any risk of being late to breakfast.
Fay is such a shit-stirring witch.
Great Hall - breakfast
Sunday and Monday Potter had been content to annoy Draco only during the evening meal. This morning it seems he's to have no similar luck. For unknown reasons Potter's expanded his campaign of terror - Malfoy! We've shiny new privileges! Come flying with me tonight... - repeating himself tiresomely, with even more enthusiasm and frequency than before, to include at least the morning meal. Lovely. All Draco knows is that this is far too early for so much silliness.
Making matters better yet, because it's turning out to be that sort of year, Granger seems frightfully intent on speaking with him. Whatever for?? But at a guess it's her way of attempting to... compensate for her friend's exceedingly embarrassing display. Splendid. It appears her luck, at least in this regard, is no better than Draco's, and her desperate attempts at conversation are very nearly as embarrassing as anything Potter has on offer, cheers. The Slytherin especially enjoys the way she harps on endlessly about the school under Death Eater control, when the Muggle-born such as herself hadn't been able to attend, assuming they'd have even been able to avoid the camps, that is, and merely being Head Boy had nearly been sufficient to send him to Azkaban. Good times.
Presently Draco's trying hard to recall what he's done to anger the gods and deserve this sort of treatment...
And then a whole bunch of things occur to him, the sort of things the Prophet had reported on in ever so gory detail over the summer and then some - some true, most not - and now he's sulking in his seat, resolutely ignoring the two Moggies as best he can.
As they're exceptionally intrusive, that's not going well.
Unfortunately it's also just the beginning of their stereo onslaught this week, superfluously accompanying every meal, and the whole thing is only made that much worse by the fact he's doing his level best to pay his friends no heed in public so as not to risk endangering them needlessly. Much like Potter, he imagines Granger has little to fear from his attackers last Saturday, so no worries on that count. Plus she's a competent enough witch, battle proven, with the added benefit of a wand absent of a Trace, and of course the quintessential 'get out of Azkaban free' card of being one of the golden trio should she inadvertently apply an Unforgiveable to someone or something.
And isn't it just his luck that these two lackwits are now the only people speaking to him?
By Thursday he's casting about for someone, anyone, to please, please Avada him now.
His rotten luck holds and he comes up empty - although it might have helped had he actually asked someone - but how good of the bloody Prophet to have made it so amply clear why he deserves this fresh hell. Too kind, really.
For the life of her, Hermione can't figure out what's gotten into Harry this week, but he's clearly beginning to annoy Malfoy with all his... Whatever that is. It's too much. She tries to distract the blond from Harry's... Well, Harry, as if anything she could do would make up for this. Worse yet, she has a sneaking suspicion she might only be bothering the Slytherin further. Perfect. She tries to ignore that thought, with middling success, but the doubts aren't enough to keep her from her awkward attempts to draw attention away from her friend's teasing.
Surely that's what it is?
She hasn't any better explanation for it.
Now that Harry's drawn her attention to the Slytherin, it's impossible to miss how Malfoy seems to be retreating back into his shell. Curling up self-defensively like a little Knarl, and very nearly as prickly. He's not speaking to his friends, neither at the meals nor in classes. She wonders if this is some sort of post-traumatic episode brought on by Saturday's attack, either in and of itself, or as an echo of the things he'd endured the past few years. And then to add Harry's ribbing on top? Really! How could he?
Either way, she can't just sit back and watch Malfoy withdrawing, not after all the time and effort she'd invested in the boy over the summer. In a strange way, there's a sort of ownership here, a sense of needing to keep protecting him after all of that. So for every time Harry needles the Slytherin to 'come flying', she tries at least twice as hard, and with roughly equal success, to get him to talk about their classes. Has he done the assignment, did he find it difficult, is the course much the same as last year... The latter is actually particularly of interest in Potions, of course, as those who'd attended Hogwarts last year had had Professor Slughorn instead, unlike in the other courses where the instructors remained unchanged. Well, there and in Dark Arts and Muggle Studies, obviously, but then neither of them were taking the latter, and Peek's Dark Arts class was shaping up as another non-starter, plus she has no real desire to call either of the Carrows to mind at any rate. So the Potions line of questioning, at least, is not entirely insincere...
But the looks Malfoy gives her.
Resolutely, she doesn't allow it to put her off, not the slightest bit. In fact she only interrupts her rather meek attempt at scholastic interrogation - very briefly - when an owl arrives for her Thursday morning.
Madam Wilkins has sent a reply to Hermione's owl from Sunday about Stan Shunpike's case. The envelope is terribly thin, which isn't all that promising, and the response clearly is nowhere near as timely as it used to be. Hermione gets the sense she may be wearing out her welcome here, but she resolves to keep at it. It's that or leave Stan to rot in Azkaban. She certainly can't justify that just to avoid some potentially strained correspondence.
The next concerning aspect to capture her attention is that the letter has been opened. Again. The wax seal very obviously disturbed. This seems to be becoming something of a thing with her post. Harry's, Malfoy's, Ginny's and Luna's, too, near as she can tell, which accounts for the two seats to either side of her. The others sit further away and Hermione's less sure if it applies to them as well. Is all mail being monitored, or just those who'd fought in the war, and considering Malfoy's inclusion in her list, the sides apparently immaterial?
Upon removing the letter from its envelope - at least she's the intended recipient - she's next struck by the... brevity of the reply.
And unsurprisingly, the contents are near equally disappointing.
Holy cricket.
Curt, but to the point, Madam Wilkins makes it abundantly clear that none of her ideas had held merit, not a one, not a bit.
Well.
It looks like it's back to the drawing board. Hopefully this isn't indicative of how the rest of her studies will go...
If Harry had been certain he needed to act Tuesday morning, by dinner Wednesday that's doubly true. With growing mortification he's observed how regularly, how unsubtly, Hermione tries to draw Malfoy into conversation. She's really not good at this. That in itself would warrant an intervention. He can't just sit there and watch her throw herself at the Snake like that, and publicly, too; it's too embarrassing. And if he factors in the number of times in the last two weeks - this week, oddly, not so much - she's tried to get him to ask Malfoy to go flying with him if Ron weren't willing... Well he feels his suspicions as to her interest in the Slytherin are all but confirmed here, and his plans to address that, morally anyway, are situationally quasi-approved.
The fact that of the members of the golden trio, he's the worst tactician, shouldn't impact his stratagem negatively at all...
With the passing days and heightened scrutiny, Malfoy's strange behaviour also stands out more markedly. Hopefully that's not because he's uncomfortable with 'Mione's overtures, because then Harry's out of ideas... Whatever the root cause for his regression, after all the work they went through to save his sorry arse last summer, whatever is going on with Malfoy is difficult to watch. With those two vectors as motivation - 'Mione's happiness and, to a far lesser extent, naturally, the blond's well-being, or something like it, particularly as they may be interlinked - Harry's attempts to encourage the Snakes' Seeker to join him on the pitch cease being just a source of amusement for Ginny, at least from Harry's perspective, and gain in sincerity with each passing meal.
Draco's joy knows no bounds.
It's roughly even odds, the Slytherin figures, if Potter is trying to annoy him or impress someone else, most likely the Weaselette, although why they've seated Granger between them puzzles him. Fine, that most likely would have been the Headmistress' doing, and how very like the golden trio, well, this two thirds of the golden trio, to suck up to power and follow her orders, he thinks, sulkily, in ample demonstration that he hasn't paid much attention to those two and the ramifications of what they've been up to the past several years. Sure, they were cozy with the powers that be, but they were far from the suck ups he currently feels inclined to paint them as. That's probably due to his non-trivial annoyance that they're basically the only ones speaking to him anymore. He has noticed, however, that Potter only asks him to go flying with him at meals, and doesn't persist during class when the Weasel is around... Hmm.
His annoyance is only exacerbated by the steadily increasing stream of people stopping by - both at meals and in their classes - to thank Granger for their expanded privileges. It seems word has gotten out she'd had a hand in it. That's all the more infuriating as that was off the back of his assault Saturday; somehow she'd managed to capitalise on it, which... What can he say? Granger is Granger, and McGonagall was obviously a Moggie through and through; she'd no more care for their safety or well-being than Dumbledore had had.
Bastards.
And of course the fawning solicitation towards Granger is all the more irksome, as Draco knows - knows! - she was mixed up in the whole dreadful new table scheme everyone loathes. He may not be sure to what extent, but she'd known of it before school started and, viewed dispassionately, it had her smudgy little Muggle-born fingermarks all over it. Tradition be damned and all that rot. If people only knew... Not that he'd bother mentioning it, because who would believe him? That and in light of her assistance last summer, it would be terribly small-minded, he supposes. Or at least seen that way. Reason enough to keep shtum.
But in light of Granger's involvement, given where she now sits between Potter and the Weaselette, he now also has to wonder if maybe she'd wanted... something from Potter after all.
Interesting.
Thursday, 17 September, 1998
Professor Peek's DADA Class, the Slytherin Eighth Year Boys' DormsDraco's patience further frays and finally snaps during Thursday's DADA class. He'd gotten used to not speaking to anyone over the summer, hadn't he? And that had been fine, for the most part, or survivable at least, but this is different, so different. The first two weeks of school had let him hope, and hope was lethal, and it's proving so much more difficult to be so isolated when his friends are right there, all around him, but he needs to ignore them to keep them safe. It's the loneliness, the corroding isolation in the face of constant temptation... It's eating him alive.
It's driving him spare.
Peek is disappointing as ever, or would be if anyone still held expectations, and with no coursework to demand their attention, a few more eighth years take advantage of what is effectively a free hour to express their gratitude for the eighth years' new privileges towards Granger. Draco just keeps hearing how little his and Pansy's safety matters every time they speak. It's unfair, obviously, as next to no one knows about the attack, but it doesn't change how he feels at the moment. It's just too much. He shares every class save Astronomy with Granger, and between her unrelenting, thoroughly unwanted attentions and this farce, this parade of servile grovelling with its perceived disregard for his security...
And of course there was the Prefects' duty tonight to worry about as well, which he's steadfastly refusing to acknowledge, despite the way it gnaws at his stomach and nerves. The Hufflepuffs had had to do the Slytherins' rounds yesterday as part of the swap for the Snakes doing the late Friday and Saturday rounds last week - yes, those rounds - but today he and his friends were on their own again. This is their first night back.
He'd be lying if he said it left him unperturbed.
And for all his proactive, self-imposed isolation the last several days, he also understands that the potential risk isn't just limited to him and Pansy. His withdrawal could have been too little, too late, or possibly gone unnoticed by the people behind the assault. Or worse yet, they could all be at risk.
Severus' offer hangs there over his head like some foul temptation, but the Slytherin Prefects were agreed, they couldn't afford to chance taking him up on it. They needed any advantages the prefect positions provided, and didn't trust McGonagall not to punish them if they refused to expose themselves to further risk.
The last person to come over and thank Granger during class, a particularly insipid 'Puff, is so ridiculously over the top and nearly tangibly effusive with their praise for the Moggie, that Draco's left sitting there grinding his teeth. Towards the end of the... 'lesson', at the end of his tether, he puts up the House Privacy Charm and turns and asks Blaise if he's... available afterwards. Gregory is tutoring the Firsties, Theo should be spending the time with his girlfriend Hestia, and Draco expects they'd have their room to themselves.
Blaise, champ that he is, comprehends immediately, and - ever that champ - he readily agrees, he has... time.
All it takes is an appraising glance for him to size up Draco.
Sex.
He wants sex, and Blaise's smirk says he can expect to have it, and just as he wants it, whatever form that takes today.
Draco could do with a spot of comfort, and there's literally no one better suited than Blaise. As suitable arrangements go, if there were any risk attached to an involvement with Draco, Blaise is certainly far better able to manage the threat than Pansy is. And he was incredibly discrete, certainly more so than Pansy, so that was two arguments in his favour. It's familiar. It's comfortable.
And right now, it's badly needed.
Blaise had been his first bloke. Long enough there'd been one degree of separation between them. Once they'd shared enough witches, although not at the same time - that came later - Draco grew tired of lying to himself and had eventually gone straight to the source. Blaise being Blaise, he never disappoints. He hadn't then, he doesn't now.
That was an interesting quirk of his personality. It wasn't that he couldn't be an absolute bastard, he definitely could. Often. A glorious bastard, at the least provocation - and frequently without it - but Blaise was simultaneously the most sex-positive individual in their House. He could be insulting and sarcastic and an absolute arse as a wizard, but to the best of Draco's knowledge, the moment things turned remotely sexual, he'd never left anyone feeling the worse for encountering him. Simply put, there was never shame attached. Blaise, amusingly enough, considered it his contribution to a healthier society. Draco can't help feeling that's a philosophy he'd developed in response to the swathe his mother had cut through wizarding society. Madam Zabini was... something else.
But the facts remained, if propositioned, if Blaise chose to let one down - rare, but it had happened - he always, without fail, did so in the gentlest possible fashion. No one had ever walked away feeling less than or unwanted, nor had he ever permitted anyone else to suggest that was the case. If anything, Blaise's rejection must be purely a question of unfortunate timing or something similar that had nothing whatsoever to do with the individual propositioning him. Under other circumstances... That reassurance had been a help when Draco had first scraped up the courage to turn to him, and it was a massive help again now.
So when they get to their room, an impatient Draco simply spells his clothes off, and Blaise immediately follows suit. With no further preamble, they collapse onto Draco's bed in a tangle of limbs and they fuck.
Twice, and with no little urgency.
It's hot and heavy and anything but intimate. Not that they aren't on occasion, but this wasn't that. In fact it was almost a little brutal in nature as that's just how Draco feels right now... Somehow Blaise always seems to know what Draco wants even before he does. It's not protracted, but as luck would have it, it lasts long enough that Theo enters the room roughly midway through, becoming an inadvertent ear-witness to the hookup, backing out again, deciding his textbooks can wait until later, much later, or he can simply make use of Hestia's.
Or stop reading altogether.
Merlin.
The boys lie there afterwards on Draco's duvet, they hadn't even bothered to draw back the covers, basking briefly in the moment and each other's proximity, and as always it was exactly what Draco had wanted... Except now as he lies there, he's slowly realizing that he doesn't want what he thought he wanted. He's still feeling just as empty, just as anxious as he had before, and now he's run out of ideas how to address it.
Blaise, very atypically unsure, actually asks him if that was what he'd been after, and damn if he doesn't have a better understanding of Draco's desires than he does. Somehow he's failed to recognise that what he really needed was someone to talk to and not a fuck, however good, and as he's still failing to realise it, it's increasingly unlikely to take place.
Almost apologetically, Draco gives his friend's cheek a kiss, which he wouldn't normally after a straightforward tumble like that. It was sweet that he cared, but the blond's evidently too restless to find solace here. Without further explanation - but then that was always the nice thing with Blaise, none was required - Draco Summons his clothes, performs a Cleansing Charm, dresses and leaves to find Harper. They'll need to coordinate how they mean to approach rounds this evening. For obvious reasons, it will be best to do so without Pansy nearby.
Great Hall
Minerva has so absolutely had it with the Ravenclaws and their attempts to subvert her seating order that she doesn't even need to apply a Sonorous to make herself heard as she demands that they report to her after supper. All it takes is the mention, however, for Pansy to tense, associating delinquent Ravenclaws with the attack Saturday as she does. The reality won't make her any happier for different reasons, as having them punished for anything else proves thoroughly unsatisfying at this juncture.
She'll get used to it, it just grates for now.
Hermione, aware as she is of recent events, notices the witch's reaction, and thinking it might be a help, asks Terry Boot what the Headmistress is on about. As he's seated about a third of the way around the table from her, she has to raise her voice, which means Parkinson can listen in to her heart's content. Maybe it will do some good.
"It's about their seating swaps," Terry explains, unfussed as whatever the Headmistress has planned won't affect him. He's been smart enough to stay put, hasn't he, just like Morag and Luna, the other two Ravenclaws at their table. They have nothing to fear from McGonagall. "You can do one or two swaps," he nods at Hutchinson and Susan Bones, who hadn't originally been planned for their table, "especially at the outset of the term, when we couldn't be expected to know what she'd planned, but those tosspots put a bunch of our Firsties at a table of eighth years last week. She gave them a right bollocking, and still they keep right on going, so I imagine they'll get more than an earful now."
"You didn't want to swap?" Luna asks softly in that leading way of hers, almost as if she senses there is more information to be had somewhere, and is teasing out titbits. Hermione has wondered on more than one occasion if that's something the Ravenclaw has inherited from her father, a trait that would serve any reporter well, assuming they valued the truth anyway.
Terry laughs and shakes his head. "I don't need the trouble. Especially not after she just gave us more privileges. Thanks, Hermione, by the way. But where's the sense in pushing that? We'd only risk losing them."
Lovegood looks thoughtful, but doesn't reply, until finally Harper feels he'll have to point out the obvious. The issue is likely that most people at their table are eighth years, and it just hasn't occurred to them. He's not sure if admin is treating Abbott as a seventh or eighth year, the Weaselette has more than likely missed the readily apparent as usual, Moggies, and Lovegood tends to vacillate between flighty and reserved, neither one of which really lends itself to explanations, and the longer Lovegood lets the silence drag on, the more he feels the need to chime in. If it's going to be said, it's evidently down to him.
"Except that the rest of us don't have those privileges to lose and never will have, no matter how well we're behaved. There won't be a class of eighth years next year, this is it. It's not incentive to keep us in line, and say what you like about McGonagall, nor would I wager it was ever intended to be. It's to motivate you to do so."
Terry looks taken aback by the thought - 'Auror state!' and all that - blinking a bit dumbly as he considers it, apparently for the very first time. Head Boy Ernie Macmillan, obviously far more comfortable with policing, nevertheless immediately starts to object, feeling pressed to defend the Headmistress, or something, except he can't seem to find a valid argument, or even an accusation made against her for that matter. He finally closes his mouth when Hannah whispers he's beginning to look too much like a fish.
Harper laughs at their reactions. "The ones still swapping seats? Now? After the weekend? It's mostly seventh years leading the charge, isn't it?" Which is funny, as he shouldn't really have nearly as good a way of knowing who it was, as it was primarily the Ravenclaws behind the effort. One would think they might have noticed first.
As that idea begins to sink in with the rest, Luna helps them along, assuring Terry and Ernie, "He's right. I don't think any of them are from your year." There's a tendency to lump the seventh and eighth years together now as they're all in the same classes, but the matter of the privileges alone shows that it's more than just the different dorm rooms that separate the years.
A bit of discussion follows as to what that might mean for people like Terry, Morag, and Justin who aren't prefects and yet might now find themselves in unaccustomed enforcement roles.
"Harry, that includes you, too," Justin points out, attempting to draw him into the conversation.
Harper isn't feeling much better about the Slytherin Prefects' rounds tonight than Draco is, and in addition to that apprehension, there's something dismissive in the way that the others never once stop to include Daphne - or Theo - in their lists of eighth year non-prefects, or how they now act like they'd realised this all along, and simply ignore Harper himself... And perhaps a little meanly, but it does seem deserved, he leans forward and turns to Granger and loudly enough to be heard over the others asks, "Have you heard anything more about Shunpike's case?"
He's cast the House Privacy Charm before she can begin to answer, Theo, as though reading his thoughts, follows suit with his Notice-Me-Nott just a moment after, the group effectively disappearing and leaving the rest of the table to listen to the inevitable rant about the 'injustice of it all!', and Draco has his first good laugh in days. Probably longer.
"Nature or nurture, Harper. Were you born evil, did you come by this sort of thing naturally or is this learned behaviour?" Maybe the shag with Blaise has done him some good after all.
Even Daphne recognises just what a milestone it is when Draco can joke about things like that, or the trust it demonstrates to provide others with such an easy opening, and saves her defence of her friend for another day. Harper watches her eyes flash as she restrains herself, appreciating both the unspoken support and the recognition of the results he was able to achieve. He's done well here. Pansy for her part simply sits there smiling at Harper, quietly admiring his bloody brilliance. This is the most relaxed they've seen Draco in longer than she can remember.
Harper shrugs and laughs. "We had a touch of luck. Theo guessed exactly what I was after."
Theo smirks, "Well I couldn't imagine you wanted to listen to that."
"As I said then," Draco nods amiably, "'evil'."
"Shall we cast a Tempus and see how long she keeps going?" Pansy suggests, eager to keep up the mood, but it's nice to see her smile again. There's been a tightness to her eyes for days now.
"Granger? On Shunpike's case? I don't think she's likely to stop any time soon," Theo assesses the situation with his usual accuracy.
"Cast the Tempus, Pansy," Draco instructs her. "Do you know what? Harper, I've a Galleon for you for every minute she continues."
And that's probably the happiest Harper has looked all term. He's envisioning being able to ask Daphne to Madam Puddifoot's on the next Hogsmeade Day, if only Granger can keep going long enough...
"She's going to drive herself mad," Daphne shakes her head sympathetically.
"There's nothing anyone can do about the situation. Where's the point in agonising over it?" Pansy objects. "She needs to be sensible."
"Well maybe don't add oil to that particular fire," Daph tells Harper in a softly chiding tone that's all but guaranteed to ensure he won't do it again, Draco's Galleons or no. Of course, now that he's set the example, there are at least two other Snakes at the table who will make use of the tactic, and when a third mentions it to his girlfriend later that evening, she'll be more than eager to use it herself in the days to come.
They take advantage of the privacy the Spell provides to enjoy some time to themselves, teasing and joking and making the best use of the lightened mood. Ironically it's only when Granger finally winds down that the tenor turns more serious, and hesitantly Theo asks, "Hey, Panse... I was wondering, would you like me to go on your rounds instead?"
Unlike the other Houses where the seventh and eighth years each did the last rounds of their assigned nights, the Slytherins had duty Wednesday, inopportunely coinciding with the seventh year N.E.W.T. Astronomy class, and as the seventh and eighth years were in the same course... It meant Harper and Ella Wilkins had the first shift tonight, and nominally Draco and Pansy would have the second. They'd agreed to double up, each pair not officially on duty would Disillusion themselves and follow the others on their rounds. Ella had been adamant, she'd do hers. As of yet, she didn't think she was under threat, and the potential impact of not performing her prefect duties on her desired apprenticeship as a Healer... She hadn't been willing to chance it. Pansy, by contrast, had demonstratively been at risk... None of them feel that should be overlooked or taken lightly.
They're all quiet as Pansy considers the offer; Theo is too sweet really, as are Harper and Ella. It means extra work for all of them, and yet they hadn't hesitated to offer or step up. Pansy's trying not to be moved to tears.
The others know her well enough that even when the refusal is a little more gruff than she'd intended, no one seems to mind.
She can do this. She's up to it.
But she has to try, hard, not to think about how this is only the third week of term.
As it transpires, they aren't the only ones making plans for later.
Written with oodles of love for lostangelsoul3 and
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erexen.
(no subject)
Date: 2023-08-25 08:51 pm (UTC)Hubby took day off, so I read it while he napped. Now we are leaving for while. Will write more when I return. Great chapter, just wish there was a smoother way for Draco to see Harry has good intentions... and that Harry would notice that Hermione is Not into Draco. Sigh, young love and the mistakes often made. Will there be and SSHG?
(hoping, hoping, hoping...)
I'm glad Draco for some time to ease some tension, also glad re realizes that it wasn't as fulfilling as he'd hoped. Need to get Draco out with Harry, so they can begin seeing each other through new lenses... Not as Snake & Moggie, not as quidditch & house rivals, and I'm happy that Harry helped clear Draco.