Untouchable

Hermione did not know long she could keep staring at Draco Malfoy, slack-jawed, open-mouthed, and eyes bulging. It was his low-pitched drawl that brought her back to her senses.

"I asked you a question. Granger, what the hell are you doing here?" He pushed off his back foot and wobbled mid-step. Bringing a hand to clutch at his temples, Draco groaned in pain. "Well?" A bottle clinked as he brought his other arm through the entrance.

Hermione took in his shaky, unsteady steps, his glazed red eyes, and the heady smell of liquor on his breath and came to the inevitable conclusion. Draco looked disheveled, like he tried to dress and gave up halfway. He wore his jumper back to front, and the shirt collar flapped haphazardly as though stuffed with a napkin. He wore walking boots; the laces were undone and trailing on the floor after him. Where was Malfoy going at one in the morning? Perhaps she could work this to her advantage and watch on as a silent specter.

He swiped at her. "Tell me what you're doing here."

Reacting swiftly, she sidestepped his flailing arm.

Malfoy staggered towards her; eyebrows furrowed in concentration while trying to calculate the distance between them if she were even real. Her fingers reached into her robes, grappling for her wand between the folds of fabric, trying to maintain a semblance of composure.

"You're real!" He said in a low simmering voice. "I know you are real!" He pointed at her. The bottle slid from his hold onto the ground and smashed.

She stepped back and nearly tripped over her heels. Her mouth was dry. Her fingers closed around her wand, and in one lightning-fast movement, she tugged it loose from her pocket. At that moment, the three girls under the cloak tapped her shoulder. Hermione threw herself onto the floor, scraping her knees as she tucked them into her chest, rolling over her spine and out of harm's way. "Reparo!" She shouted. The glass bottle righted itself in the entranceway just in time to stop the door from closing. A salvo of muffled screams hit Malfoy straight in the chest, and Hermione landed several hexes of her own. Seventy-five kilograms of Draco Malfoy fell slowly onto his back on the stone floor. Malfoy had not a chance to react or resist. A smashed skull would complicate their mission no end. Hermione uttered an incantation that slowed his descent.

Ginny peeped her head around the alcove at Draco's still ghastly form. "Is he dead?" He should have been. He had been pummeled like a punching bag, hanging limp and comatose with the stuffing ripped out. He had not been in great shape, to begin with. Angelina ripped the cloak's hood off her head. She exhaled and gasped for breath; her hand flat on her pounding heart. "Oh, my God! That was so close."

Hermione scrambled over to Malfoy. She squatted down beside him and pinched his cheek hard, and then slapped it again when she did not get a response. "He's out cold."

"Crabbe and Goyle!" Angelina panted. She gestured wildly at the entrance. "They won't be far away. We've got to move him!" They had no time. Angelina started issuing orders, pointing to the alcove. Parvati seized an arm while Katie took hold of the other. All the girls ran to help and lug Malfoy while huffing and grunting with the exertion. With bruising speed, they dragged him like a sack of potatoes across the stone floor. They dumped him in the alcove, folded his legs, and tucked him into the narrow space in the fetal position. Parvati shoved at his curved back to push him out of sight.

Katie wiped the sweat off her brow. "Shall we drape the cloak over him?" It was a sensible idea; the longer Draco went unnoticed, the better.

"No," Angelina interjected. "We need it more than he does. And who's to say he won't come round sooner than we expect?"

"Harry would be furious," Hermione said with her hands on her hips. "Did someone do a memory charm? We don't want him identifying us."

"I did," said Parvati.

Knowing which incantations had struck Draco's person and what had bounced off the walls was hard in the melee of spells. Malfoy had cried out in alarm as he fell. The place would be swarming with Slytherin students in a matter of minutes. Hermione's palms felt clammy. The plan was shot. They would have to act fast or be caught dead in the water. She needed to think on her feet now and quickly. Harry would not be pleased with the commotion. Then again, this was Harry's mess that she had been dragged into. Why should she care over what pleased Harry? Unobserved, Ginny retrieved her fire whisky bottle from Hermione's clutch and pocketed it.

"Get under the cloak now." Ever dependable in a crisis, Angelina barked at Parvati and Katie. Angelina's face was the last to disappear under its folds. Discomfortingly, it hovered in midair, seemingly no limbs or torso attached as she advised. "Hermione and Ginny, find a place to hide and secure it with wards. When the noise dies down, we'll come and find you using Harry's map and then regroup and consider our options."

It was a good plan, clear, short, and concise. In that moment, Hermione could not have conceived any potential flaws and could not have come up with a better idea in the seconds left to spare. She would later be proven wrong. She looked to her left at Ginny’s remote almost vacant expression, the corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk.

Theo sprang up from his mattress, eyes opening too quickly to adjust to the light. He held a hand in front of his face as a shield, equally wary of this late-night visitor. "What do you want?" He croaked, vocal cords rinsed in spit and gravel, and coughed unsuccessfully to clear them. "Blaise, wake up!"

Blaise groaned and turned to his side, snuggling under the duvet.

Pucey stood in the doorway, taut as a wire. Theo glanced furtively in his lap. He spied his wand between the duvet folds and noted its position in arm's reach. He needed to keep up the pretense of needing it, but he could probably stun Pucey cold in the half-light. "Is there something you need?" Theo said, temper flaring.

"Flint sent me to get you." Pucey grated. "You have to come down to the common room. Everyone is waiting for you."

"Whatever for?" Theo reclined on his pillow with a yawn, one arm flexed behind his head. "You better have a good reason for breaking into our room this early."

"The door wasn't locked." Pucey sneered.

An irritated Theo glared at his roommate and back at Adrian. "You need a better reason than that."

"We found Malfoy unconscious outside the dungeons. He has been attacked."

"It's half one. Who cares?" Blaise called out in a dreary voice. "Take him to the hospital wing."

Nott's interest was piqued. "How do you know he's been attacked?"

"He was found inside an alcove outside the common room entrance. Flint wants you to bring him around and see what Malfoy remembers."

“How do you know he’s been attacked?” Theo asked again, irately.

"Someone put the bloody light out!" Blaise murmured into his pillow.

Pucey shrugged nonchalantly. “Come down and see for yourself.”

Theo sighed deeply and swung a leg out of bed. He reached for a crumpled set of robes thrown on the top of his trunk and changed into them efficiently while Pucey faced the door frame. "Accio." A comb flew to Theo's outstretched hand. Theo raked the comb through his hair superficially till his hair fell in place. "Blaise, get up!" He threw his pillow at his friend's cot.

"Hope Flint brought his checkbook," Zabini said derisively. "We don't run his errands."

"I don't know you were a Legilimens, Blaise," said Pucey sarcastically.

"I'm his bloody manager. You can talk to me with some respect." However, respect was not forthcoming for a sleepy teenager who had just put his arms through his trouser legs and searched for the neck opening in its crotch.

"We will be down in five minutes," Nott said to Pucey, who nodded before exiting.

Everyone assembled in the Slytherin common room. They were ready to hold court like the Spanish Inquisition, with their minds already decided on the sentence. Fifth, Sixth- and seventh-year girls and boys gathered in all manner of night clothes and robes in the center of the common room around a sofa. The son of Slytherin lay dying, presumably from indigestion, after his latest binge drinking session. Theo snorted. The sooner this day was over, the better. Several of the girls sat around the sofa, fussing like hens. Crabbe stood a little off the side by the glowing green fireplace, features thrown into shadow, with Goyle resting a hand on his shoulder. Theo came down the stairs with uncharacteristic swiftness, two and three steps at a time, dodging Pansy as she launched herself at him. "What took you so long, Nott?" She screamed. "Have you seen the state of Draco?"

As he descended the steps, the confused chatter fell into a hush. It was Tracey who stood up first from her vigil. Theo's expression closed off instantly. He stopped on the stairs, bringing Blaise, half-carrying Pansy, to a shuddering halt. Their gaze met. Davis angled her chin towards the sofa cum altar and back at Nott, moist eyes baring emotion openly. He knew her better than she knew herself; her delusions needed correcting. Grim satisfaction showed in his eyes briefly as Theo resumed the course towards Malfoy. If he had looked again, he would have seen her hug her arms around herself and remove herself from the crowd. But Theo never looked. Theo pushed through the students, with Blaise taking up the rear. He barreled into Flint. The human gorilla straightened to six foot four, towering two inches over Nott and several hands wider. "Move aside, Flint."

"If anything happens to Malfoy, I'll deck you first." The big man growled.

When Flint was slow to comply, an impatient Theo stepped around him and knelt by the sofa. Students gathered around him for a closer look.

Theo spent several minutes examining Malfoy's unconscious form. He took hold of Draco's hand, rolled up the sleeves, and failed to find bruising or grazing on his knuckles or under his nails. Given a lack of defensive injuries, Theo concluded Malfoy's attackers had surprised him. The heady smell of liquor on his breath made their task comparatively easy. He undid Malfoy's laces, pulled off his shoes, and rolled up his trouser legs. His knees and shins were scraped and purpuric, which meant he was moved after his attack and was presumably dragged across the floor to where he was eventually found. He placed his hands on Malfoy's thigh muscle, over the knee, and the lower leg in turn, quickly moving the muscle group from side to side. He flicked with his fingers at several places and looked for fasciculations (the muscle twitching) under Malfoy's taut skin. Using the hilt of his wand, he swung at Malfoy's patellar tendon and failed to elicit a reflex. Malfoy's lower limbs were flaccid, with poor muscle tone. Someone had used the jelly legs charm.

The lack of bruising on Malfoy's face indicated he had not fallen face first. Theo cupped a hand around the back of Malfoy's head and felt unsuccessfully for a step or deformity, softness, or bleeding. It meant he had yet to fall backward either, which was perplexing. Absent bruising on his hands suggested Malfoy did not break his fall using his upper limbs, which was in keeping with his level of intoxication. His reaction time would have been far too slow in any case. Malfoy cried out loudly near the entrance and was found within a couple of minutes by Crabbe within the vicinity of the cry. At least three spells had been used on Malfoy: several stunning spells, jelly legs, and a memory charm, perhaps simultaneously rather than sequentially. Nott speculated there were at least three attackers, but why attack Malfoy? He briefly described his findings and explained a possible reason for Malfoy's slow recovery, including alcohol intoxication, memory charm, and multiple stunning spells.

"Do you think he would have seen his attackers?" Greengrass asked wide-eyed as she knelt beside him and helped him put Draco's socks back on his feet for modesty's sake.

"Possibly," Nott answered vaguely, dreading what was to be required. He tugged Draco's sleeves down his arm with more force than needed and snapped the buttons closed on his cuffs. Theo had no guarantee his abilities would work in front of an audience of fifty gawping students, hoping his show of a physical examination might throw them off asking. Madame Pomfrey could have told them as much, and they hadn't sought her assistance. Madame Pomfrey's father was not a powerful Legilimens, formerly in the Dark Lord's service, whose abilities were purported to run in the family.

When Daphne's pupils dilated to the size of dinner plates, batting her eyelids and mouthed please, Nott sighed deeply. "I'm not promising anything." He muttered.

She beamed in relief and, to his chagrin, stood up and announced to the common room in her stage voice. "He said he'll do it!" Her announcement was mainly met with cheers, claps, and gruff shouts of approval. Montague smirked at him from twenty paces and slowly clapped. A firm hand clasped his shoulder and squeezed hard enough that Theo winced.

Blaise's hand dropped from Nott's shoulder to his relief, but it was soon replaced by the soft powdered hand of Daphne Greengrass, who gushed in his ear. "I never doubted you, Theo. Your Dad will be so proud." Few dared to touch Theo without his consent. If he wasn't flushed with embarrassment at her over-familiarity, her vocally expressed assumptions about his father tipped him over. He coughed conspicuously at Daphne. "I need some room to breathe, Greengrass."

"Of course. Please, can we make space?" Daphne called out, corralling her gaggle of sixth- and seventh-year girls from the armrest nearest Draco's head. "Theo needs to air to commune with Malfoy's spirit."

Nott studiously ignored Blaise's wolfish grin. He carefully pulled up Draco's upper eyelids and peered in. The pupils were sluggish to light. Theo moved closer, wading through the realms of Draco's subconscious, and a murky grey curtain rose in front of him, blocking his passage. Someone had managed to cast a primitive memory charm. He almost breathed a sigh of relief. Torturing someone to break a memory charm held little appeal, even for the opportunity to make Malfoy suffer. Theo moved closer and tried to pull the curtain to one side. His hand cut through the grey parted and resealed around his fingers like mist. He only hoped that Draco had the opportunity to see the attackers. If he didn't, Theo would have to retrace his steps, look for unusual identifiable scents, or plod through his amygdale and examine for individual emotional responses. At the end of all that, Theo would have to connect the dots and build his profile of the attacker. The grey curtain fell silently into a heap as he reviewed his options. It was, after all, a shoddy construction. Theo stopped and looked ahead. The last person on Earth he would ever assume an attacker knelt before him in freeze-frame. One visible attacker, his theory was blown out of the water.

Buck's teeth and mouse-brown hair stuffed in a lopsided bagel bun with doe-eyes continued staring back at him. An unmistakable bottle of fire whisky swung freely from one hand, and a wand was held firmly in the other, pointed in his direction. The cogs worked furiously in Theo's brain. He could not explain what he had seen. Draco had been drinking heavily. Was Draco even sure of what he thought he saw? His last look at his attacker was piercing in its clarity. For what reason would an inebriated Hermione Granger have for being in the Dungeons in the early hours of the morning? Somewhat predictably, Draco had no answers for him. Judging Granger's mental state, whether alcohol-induced or petty revenge, left her vulnerable. He had to find her and determine what had happened before someone else did. Lungs burning for air, he quickly withdrew from Draco's mind, forgetting to reseal the memory charm that had collapsed on itself.

"Theo?" Blaise asked tentatively when Theo had regained his faculties. "Did you see anything?"

Theo had to lie. At the same time, it had to be believable. "Yes." He said stoically. "It was Potter."

"It was Potter."

The Slytherin common room was silenced, albeit temporarily. The primary emotion on people's faces was shock. Greengrass had a hand clamped over her open mouth, steadying swayed on her feet. Crabbe looked white as a sheet, back to the fireplace and even with shadows thrown over his face. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, and droplets ran down his trembling fingers. In minutes, shock gave way to denial. Uneasy murmurs broke out like concentric ripples of water between eddies. Students who had stood crowding around Malfoy split apart like chunks, angling their bodies for hushed frenzied chatter. Undercurrents of noise and feeling bubbled and frothed with rising conversations and accusations, breaking to the surface as thrashing waves. Theo watched the faces of his housemates, expressions snapping like tree bark, twisting into something ugly and unnatural. Fists were pumping around clenched wands. Half of them had drawn wands. None were sure what the hell for. So much contempt and righteous rage. Yet they had no idea where to channel it. With the slightest provocation, the mob would turn on itself.

Warrington spoke, wand arm flicking in Crabbe's direction. "You were supposed to take Malfoy to his room!"

"And I did!" Crabbe snapped, stepping off his back foot and away from the warm hearth. "Well, I meant to. Flint told us all to leave him alone."

"Don't blame me for your cock-up." Flint said venomously, punctuating his point with a jab of his finger.

Crabbe protested. "We all saw him getting smashed. Stop pointing your finger at me. You were all there!"

Warrington shouted at him. "Well, you could have saved us the trouble, Crabbe, of gathering here like a harem at some godforsaken hour of the morning. The fact is that Malfoy was walking around for the last two hours, getting progressively smashed so that Potter could pin hexes on him like notices."

Crabbe spat. "What was I supposed to do...?"

Several voices rose in protest. "For Merlin's sake, Crabbe!"

"Crabbe, your tosser!"

"Shut up!" Flint shouted, quashing every other objection with an ear-splitting tone. Theo raised a brow in anticipation before gathering that Flint had nothing to say. Theo's nostrils pinched. None of his housemates would lose sleep over him had his and Draco's positions been reversed. He turned his head to garner the attention of everyone on either side of him, interrupting softly. "Potter is likely to be long gone. He has already got his target." he said, gesturing at Malfoy's still form. We may as well return to our dorms and report this in the morning to Snape and let it be taken care of in an official manner." He cleared his throat and adjusted his sleeves. That would leave ample time for Nott to find and deal with Granger without running the risk of interruptions. "Malfoy's injuries do not warrant anything over and above Madame Pomfrey's healing talent. Someone could also owl Lucius Malfoy and inform him of the current situation." Theo nodded sharply at Crabbe. "You can do the honors." Theo had always considered his calm and collected manner a better way of dousing hot running passion than a bucket of ice. Ice could cool a threat, but glass removed a threat with its ready and bloody promise. Malfoy men were like ice in comparison and flimsy as tissue. Ice crushed under Voldemort's heel and bled out water. Glass shards had a way of crippling their wearer and drawing blood.

In the silent moments following his speech, there was a profound change in the common room. Collective passions buckled and ruptured like an aneurysm, seeping away from the twisted near empty vessel and running mindlessly into the furniture. The girls attending Malfoy stood up from a crouched position and took small, dazed steps back away from each other. The seventh year's boys turned and looked at each other in turn. Theo recognized confusion. They did not know what to do now. They were so sure of themselves before. He had just told them in plain terms what needed doing. So, he willed himself to stand firm and steady, to see things through, as he had instructed, to his intended outcome. Blaise nodded his approval. Their silent communication was sometimes more profound than their usual barbed exchanges. Blaise turned smoothly on his heel, aware of Nott mirroring his exact move. "Well, night, night, folks. I'm off to bed." Blaise strode over to the fireplace and clasped Crabbe's shoulder, shaking it. With a wink, he said, "Redeem yourself, old boy, and do us proud!" Blaise edged his way past two female students, and the crowd slowly began to part for him. Nott followed his course toward the staircase to the boy's dorms with a wry smile.

When Theo had reached the foot of the staircase with Blaise on the step above his, Montague spoke in a low tone that carried further than it should have. "Potter's still here."

Theo could see the strands of his plan unraveling faster than Pansy could shed clothes. He took a deep breath in, letting the mask of a veteran actor slide over his features. He turned his head stiffly and regarded the dark-haired Slytherin over one shoulder. "Excuse me?"

Montague stretched his legs out into the front of his plush black recliner and crossed them at the ankles. He said casually, "Malfoy's bottle was propped in the entrance like a doorstopper. Potter wanted access to the dungeons. Malfoy got hexed because he was at the wrong place and time. Too bad."

"Too bad? Too bad, no one can get any sleep around here!" It was far too early in the morning for Blaise to care. "Potter has an invisibility cloak! Why would he attack Malfoy unless Malfoy had seen him? How would Malfoy have seen him if he was wearing the cloak? If Potter wanted access to the dungeons, he could have slipped in quietly! It doesn't make any sense."

At that moment, Theo could have kicked Blaise.

"So, maybe it wasn't Potter." Montague raised an eyebrow in challenge.

Theo's nostrils flared at the insinuation. "Do you doubt me? Would I lie to my housemates?"

The corner of Montague's mouth twitched at Theo's choice of words, housemates. Well, they were certainly not friends. "I'm not calling you a liar, Nott. I'm saying that you have yet to grow to your full potential."

Theo drew his shoulders back and rose to his full height. The banisters of a winding and rising staircase framed his torso like iron-wrought wings on a wraith. The full intensity of that unrelenting stare set on Montague. "So, you are questioning my abilities?"

"You sound displeased." Montague leered. "Are you above question?"

"You misconstrue my meaning."

"Allow me to clarify; I have complete confidence in your skills as a Legilimens when it works." Montague bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile. "But more than half the time it doesn't. I agree with you that Potter didn't travel alone. You said at least three people attacked Malfoy. Maybe he didn't see the others. We can assume Weasel twins, Finnegan and Thomas, to be involved. The Gryffindors probably got drunk at a party and fancied taking some potshots at the losing team. A bold and foolish attack like this – they are here as a group."

Theo's plan to evacuate the students back to the dorms had wholly come undone. If Theo was not competing academically with Granger, he would have to contend with the slick and savvy Montague on the home front. Smarting, Theo maintained a neutral facial expression. He would do it if it killed him while Montague drove his final nail into the coffin.

"Maybe it wasn't planned. Maybe Malfoy got unlucky." He raised his eyebrows at Theo in a challenge. "We won't know unless we catch the Gryffindors, but this cannot go unpunished. Regardless of Malfoy’s inebriation, he’s still our Quidditch captain and an esteemed member of our House."

Flint rolled his sleeves back to reveal hairy muscled forearms. "Malfoy will get his revenge!" He bared his teeth—all of them. "We're going to rip this place apart if we have to. We're going to find Potter!" He counted off his fingers. "You! Bletchley, stay at the portrait entrance. Higgs, get the fifth-year lads up! Pucey, take the girls back to the dorms and make sure they stay there! Warrington and Crabbe, with me!" he leered. "Whoever finds Potter first can have his cloak. I'm going to break both his kneecaps when I see him." There was applause, jeers, and grim approval. Slytherin House was coming for Potter and going for blood.

Montague stood up from his recliner and approached a wary Theo and Blaise. "Don't take it personally, Nott." He gestured up the staircase. "Shall we?”

"Shall we, what?"

Montague smiled almost indulgently. "Hunt, dear fellow."

The dorm room they walked into contained eighteen four-poster beds occupied by sleeping first-year girls. Theo motioned to Blaise to help him check the beds. Montague remained by the door, blocking the exit.

Blaise and Theo each took a side of the room. They made a systematic and thorough examination, swiping under the beds, patting down the mattress and blankets on either side of the sleeping occupants, and checking the curtains around the bed. One of the young ones stirred and looked through heavy lids with annoyance. "What are you doing?" She yawned. Blaise lightly tugged one of her braids, "Go back to sleep, love."

A disapproving Pansy Parkinson waited outside the room with hands on hips. She clucked. "It's not appropriate for you lads to be searching the girls' dormitories! It should be our job."

Montague shifted from one foot to the other conscious of the breadth of the doorway he filled, hairs prickling on his forearms. "Check the windows."

"Are you listening to me!" Pansy screeched in a low whisper. "I wouldn't want any of you reprobates sniffing around my little sister's knicker draw at two in the morning with the pitiful excuse of finding a bloke in an invisibility cloak."

"Pansy, please don't interfere when we are trying to do our job," Montague said in a fruitless attempt to placate her. "If you've got a problem with us being here, take it up with Flint, and I know you don't have a sister."

"Well, I think it's ridiculous!" Pansy sniped. "We were sent to our beds like good little girls with the promise of being defended by delinquents like Crabbe and Goyle. They couldn't fight sleep if it jumped them!"

"You've made your point." Montague exhaled wearily.

"I bet Granger is here. Potter never goes anywhere without her."

Nott blinked several times at her astuteness.

Montague laughed mirthlessly. "We are not chasing girls, Pansy. Go back to bed and let the men work."

"Look around you." She gave him a withering look. "Not chasing girls? You could have fooled me."

Theo moved to check the second last bed on his side while Blaise went to the bay windows. A little girl was buried so deeply in the covers that only tufts of soft brown hair lay visible on her pillow. As Theo readjusted the pillow, his toe nudged against a weak and pliant trunk beneath the bed. He dropped to his knees, bodyweight braced on one palm and looked under. Nothing – as he expected. He swiped his arm under the bed, and something started. He let the side of the bedding drop and checked the curtains' folds. "It's clean."

"We should check the other rooms along the corridor. It's plausible the Gryffindor lads only opened a door and let it slam to make us think they entered that specific room." Blaise added. "We may have to split up next time."

Pansy snapped. "I bet you'd liked to split up while you're searching our dorm rooms, you pervert."

They sighed collectively. Theo said nothing, allowing Montague to exit first, feigning deference. He bumped shoulders with Blaise through the door frame.

Blaise glanced at him in surprise and mouthed. "What was that for?"

"We have to lose Montague," Nott muttered under breath.

"Good luck." Blaise snorted. "Try and lose Parkinson for a start."

Katie opened the slip of parchment that the sullen sixth-year boy left behind, peeling the edges apart like a wax strip. Angelina and Parvati nudged closer to her and looked over her shoulder. It was cramped under a four-poster bed, and the lighting was far worse. "Lumos." They lay on their bellies and flexed elbows, and Katie passed the parchment to Angelina in the middle of the trio. Ange read. "Boys Dormitories, Room 6B, Iona." There was a crude diagram consisting of arrows and double lines for doors starting from the entrance of the dungeons and directing them to the prescribed location. There was more rustling of clothes, and the girls jostled into more comfortable positions. "Do they have separate rooms in their dormitories?"

Parvati explained. "It's just the seventh and sixth Slytherin boys that get their rooms.” Her source was Daphne who complained endlessly that the Slytherin girls dormitories had been moved to the far corner of the dungeons closest to the lake, to allow for the renovation and conversion of their old dorms into rooms for the sixth and seventh year boys. It seemed awfully unfair at the time.

"Who gave you the parchment, Katie?" Angelina asked.

Parvati piped up. "It was Theodore Nott. He's in my year. He's best mates with Blaise Zabini and seems to hate everyone else in his and every other house. I mean, he hates everyone."

"He could have ratted us out to Blaise and Montague," Katie said insistently. "I had a near heart attack when he swiped his arm under the bed. Maybe he helped Fred and George slip the potions out of Snape's office."

"He's still a Slytherin, and he shouldn't be trusted," Ange replied.

Katie said heatedly. "But Angelina, he knew we were here!"

Angelina scoffed openly at Katie's suggestion. "Why would he help us?"

The bed above them creaked. Instinctively, the girls pressed themselves flat to the floor. The light from the end of Pav's wand was extinguished. Elbows, knees, and wrists were scuffed on the descent, and Pav curled her broken nails into her fist, with it her muted screams at the sleeping child above them. Katie paled at the colorful language. When the button-nosed eleven-year-old in the bed frame above them finally got comfortable, the girls decided to wriggle out one by one, wiping the dust off their robes and clambering inside the cloak.

Katie said. "I think we should go to Room 6B. If it's got wards on it, it's likely to be secure. He wants to meet us. He might even be helpful and tell us where we can find Snape's office. I'm tired of running in circles. What do you think, Ange?

"Maybe he wants to take the credit for finding us himself!" said Parvati hotly. "Besides, the boys' dormitories are on the other side of the dungeons. We should stay here. Hermione and Ginny are hiding in the kit cupboard outside the girls' dorms. We can't just up and leave."

Katie retorted. "What will we achieve by staying here? The quicker we find Snape's office, the quicker we can all leave!"

"Shouldn't we tell Hermione and Ginny where we are going?"

Angelina shook her head. Going back to find their friends would risk them all getting caught. There were too many Slytherin boys in this area. It was all though all the boys had volunteered to search the dormitories, and she could understand Pansy's frustrations. The map that would have made their lives easier had gone missing in the fray. A decision needed to be made, though the options were universally unappealing. They couldn't keep hiding under beds and inside wardrobes. Ange growled as though Katie had strong-armed her into agreeing with her. "Let's go and meet Theodore Nott," Angelina said impatiently, with one eye fixed on a girl with curly blonde hair whose chest rose and fell at an unsettlingly jagged rhythm.

Parvati reasoned. "It could be a trap; we must be prepared for that."

Angelina grated on the verge of sneezing from the dust in the folds of material covering her face. "If it's a trap, let's spring it."

Common sense "defined as good sense and sound judgment in practical matters, was not that common. Perhaps if Ginny and she had more of it, they would not have tried to follow a trio of Gryffindor girls under an invisibility cloak through a crisscross of unfamiliar corridors on hostile ground. If the Slytherins had an iota of common sense, they might not have sent half their most spell-proficient year group back to their dorms for being female. If any remaining Slytherin had a shred of common sense, wouldn't they think of checking all the broom cupboards?

On numerous heart-stopping occasions where boys had run past their heavily warded broom closet, she had heard muttered expletives denigrating Harry. Once the corridor outside became silent again, Hermione and Ginny paused to take stock of their surroundings. In the darkness, Hermione hoisted herself to a crouching position, crawling from beneath heavy trunks and duffel bags. Through the material of the bags, she groped the outline of a hard wooden pole. "Brooms!" Ginny snorted, tumbling back onto her backside from her low squat. She smacked her head on the floor, and Hermione paid her no heed. This was where the Slytherin Quidditch team kept their kit. It explained the heavy wards, presumably to keep Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott out. Hermione started hyperventilating when it took her more than five minutes to crack them. How she had found them in the first place was a miracle, well disguised in the oak-paneled walls. They had sought shelter here while the girls under the cloak had fled up the corridor in a panic. Slytherin House ordered a mass evacuation of all female members back to their dormitories. Hermione and Ginny had nearly gotten caught in the swarm of ladies grumbling furiously at their dismissal. The corridor swelled with girls packed shoulder to shoulder, and Hermione suspected that Angelina, Katie, and Parvati had been swept off the girl's dormitories with Pansy's posse. The seven people (boys) who had access to the kit cupboard had not thought to look there, which worked in Hermione's favor for a change.

It took some time for Hermione and Ginny to mull over their options, but they had no way of contacting the other three. Ginny kept taking furtive sips of fire whisky whenever she thought Hermione was not looking. Sick and tired of babysitting a stroppy fifteen-year-old, Hermione did her best to ignore her barbed comments and side-eye. She just had to sit tight and wait. It was an excruciating exercise for an impatient person who liked to take charge. Speaking of excruciating, Hermione's niggling abdominal pain had intensified. It had developed gradually since the party though she could not pinpoint the cause. Usually the first to volunteer for a foolhardy mission, she stepped back and let the other girls use Harry's invisibility cloak. She was glad they volunteered to help. She wasn't on form tonight and would only slow them down if she had been under the cloak. In hindsight, it was the right decision. It would have been better to tell the group about her symptoms and sit it out. She could not have imagined the pain she was in now; it seemed to worsen. She thought of Lavender suddenly and hoped she was alright. She clutched her abdomen, brought her knees up to her chest, and sat on the ground. Hermione's stomach roiled with a wave of pungent nausea.

Ginny reclined with one leg flexed at the knee and the other stretched in front of her. "We're going to be waiting for a very long time." She yawned.

"They'll come back soon. You'll see."

"I have the map."

"What?" said a flummoxed Hermione. Did she hear her correctly? “Did you just say you have the map?” She refused to believe it until Ginny shoved a hand into her inside robes pocket and withdrew a folded oil-skin parchment. She waved it in the air derisively before stuffing it back into its cozy nook. Hermione was nothing short of flabbergasted. She had half a mind to scold the young witch there and then and list the damning consequences of her actions. Somehow with the greatest of restraint, she managed to curb the impulse: yelling at Ginny would achieve very little and descend possibly into a shouting match. But letting this slide was equally unacceptable. Hermione settled on the middle course of action; her stern voice laced with disappointment. "You were meant to give the map to Katie. How will they find us if we have the map?" Hermione winced as her abdomen contracted with waves of peristalsis.

"Why should they have everything?" Ginny rolled her eyes.

Hermione said through gritted teeth. Why are you even here? "Ginny, we are working together and are all part of the same team. It is easier for them to find us while wearing an invisibility cloak than it is for us to wander around the corridors without a cloak,"

"Then, so why are we here?"

God, give me strength. Hermione felt suffocatingly warm amidst the trunks and musty duffle bags, redolent of dried mud and grass. Hermione snapped in a reminder. "I'm here because Harry asked me to return the Veritaserum. You are here because you volunteered to join."

Ginny lapsed into temporary silence. Hermione did not know whether she should be relieved or whether Ginny would launch a conversational grenade. She did not have to wait long to find out.

"Why did Harry ask you for help?"

Hermione sighed at the leading question, having a despairing notion of its direction. "I am his friend." She stated frankly while fanning herself with her hands.

"You are not his girlfriend."

There it was. Hermione knocked her head back against the shelf and groaned. She wiped a hand off her neck, and her palm gleamed with perspiration. Finally, they addressed the elephant in the broom closet while the walls kept closing in. Hermione reigned in her sense of impending alarm and tried to take slow breaths through her nose and out through her mouth. "I wasn't aware Harry had a girlfriend."

Ignoring the cue, Ginny took a swig of fire whisky and said enthusiastically, as though bursting with hot gossip. "We've been dating for a couple of months now in secret. Harry doesn't want anyone to know."

Educated by the finest and now a seasoned veteran, Hermione Granger responded apathetically to old news. Too encumbered to act surprised, she stated blandly. "I had no idea."

"We made out in the common room during the party this evening."

She gave the younger witch a tight smile to discourage further discussion. She really didn’t need to hear anymore, though the young witch seemed intent on sharing all the gory details.

"It was magical. He makes me feel like a princess."

Hermione felt her gorge rising literally and figuratively.

"Are you jealous?"

"What? No!" Hermione said indignantly, and they lapsed into another awkward brooding silence. She never had a crush on Harry but struggled to define the possessiveness she had towards her friend. She ascribed more meaning to their relationship than he did, clearly. Rattled by the question more than she cared to admit, Hermione asked pointedly, "Why all the secrecy? Is your relationship with Harry something to be ashamed of?" More importantly, why was Ginny telling her now? Hermione glanced sharply at the fire whisky bottle Ginny was latched to and was curious as to whether it contained only alcohol.

Ginny leaned forwards, cupping her mouth, and whispered. "He didn't think you or Ron would understand, and I knew I would get stick from my friends for dating a sixth year."

"I see." Hermione baited. "I thought we were friends."

"No. You are not my friend." Ginny retorted. "You're way older than me." She sat back. "You're my brother's friend."

"Of course. Well, here's the answer to your question as to why Harry asked me and not you. He was protecting your special relationship." Hermione said tactfully, eyeing the bottle with a knowing look. "I am so glad we are having this heart-to-heart. Doesn't it feel good to get things off your chest?" Hermione's chest tightened fractionally, and her breathing hitched. She reached over and took Ginny's hand. "I just want you to know that you can tell me anything. We might not be friends, but you are like my younger sister." She looked at Ginny straight in the eye. "So, Ginny, is there anything you want to tell me?"

She should not have been so fixated on what Ginny was about to say. Indeed, Ginny opened her mouth to an impressive width. Expectations were high. Both were caught unawares when light flooded the broom closet. The sound of a door opening followed a split-second delay. Hermione froze and Ginny swore. Loudly.

"Gotcha!" said the Slytherin seventh-year student, ducking his head through the kit cupboard doorway.