Touching the Untouchable

Author’s note: I’m rather proud of the beginning of this chapter—the dialogue between Draco and Snape. It made me realize that life is all about how we react to each other, and how this could have gone a million different ways at just the slightest change. And it was rather difficult to write Draco’s “stupid” moment, but after all, he and Harry are STILL teenage boys. And while they might LOOK perfect together (or be perfect for each other), I have to remind myself that they do have to make mistakes…it’s just so damn hard to write!

It saddens me to warn you (although I’m sure you’ve guessed this by now) that the next chapter will not be up for a few days. It takes me a while to write them, and I’ve decided that I shouldn’t post the next one until after Night the Storyteller has reviewed the previous one to remind me of the loose ends. haha I do my best to remember everything, but Night always seems to grasp the ONE thing I forget, so thank you very much!

I don’t think this chapter ends with a “cliff-hanger” per se, but perhaps with a sense of “foreboding”…you’ve been warned.


Touching the Untouchable by Graballz Chapter 11 Inner Strength


“Mr. Malfoy, please stay after class,” Snape barked, dismissing the rest of his last Potions class on Friday afternoon. Everyone glanced at each other in surprise. If Snape made a student stay after class, it was generally because he or she was in trouble; Malfoy was the “Golden Boy” of Potions, and everyone knew he was Snape’s star pupil. “Get going, the rest of you. Class is over; now get out.”

“Ooooh, Malfoy, you’re in trooooooooouuuuuuuuuuble!” A few students had looked at Harry furtively, as if they expected him to have something to say about Malfoy staying after. So Harry obliged with a drawn-out comment, trying not to break into a huge grin, as he gathered the rest of his books together.

“Shove off, Potter,” Draco sneered back, glaring at his secret boyfriend. He was feeling apprehensive and surprised at Snape, and he did NOT need that shit from Harry, no matter what they had agreed to do in public. Harry had gotten a lot better at not taking Draco’s insults personally anymore, but did he have to comment on every little thing? At least he understood that Draco couldn’t exactly wink or send him any other signal that he didn’t mean it while the others were around. So Draco felt reasonably comfortable pouring the frustration he was feeling into his glare at Potter, knowing he could chalk it up to his ‘Slytherin Prince’ routine. Crabbe and Goyle made a move towards the dark-haired boy like they were going to defend their friend, but Draco shook his head firmly.

“Potter! When I said ‘get out’, that means you as well!” Snape growled, looking angry and ill all at the same time. Harry held Draco’s gaze for a split second longer, and then turned and walked out of the room. Draco collected his belongings and sat back down at his desk with a sigh.

“Draco,” Snape approached him, placing his hands on the desk and leaning close to the blonde. “My sources have informed me that you are planning to return to Malfoy Manor for the weekend.” Draco’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t told a soul about his letter, except Harry, but Harry and Snape weren’t exactly the ‘sharing secrets’ type.

“What is it to you if I am or not?” He lifted his chin arrogantly.

“Knock off the attitude with me, boy— ”

“Excuse me, but if you haven’t noticed, I AM the Lord Malfoy now. I think I’m entitled to be called something more than ‘boy’,” Draco’s anger flared. Snape was a worthy sparring opponent, and Draco knew he would be forgiven for any mean thing that was said. Snape’s eyes narrowed to slits, even narrower than Draco’s.

“You think? Ha! THAT is the understatement of the year, BOY!” Snape emphasized the nickname again. “That will be the day. If you were thinking, you would know better than to A. get involved with Potter, and B. go back to that insane mother of yours.” Draco sprang to his feet, his face inches away from Snape’s.

“Don’t you insult my mother! She is the only family I have left!”

“Draco, I’m warning you; you don’t know the first thing about what she has been through.”

“What? I can’t believe I’m hearing this! Why, Severus? What has my mother ever done to you?” Draco’s anger tempered, wondering why Snape was suddenly turning against his family.

“It’s not what she has done to me; I’m trying to protect you,” Snape turned away from Draco, not able to look at his godson when he admitted his true intentions.

Draco pondered that for a moment. Everyone was trying to protect him. That was a great irony, considering that while Voldemort was still alive, neither Dumbledore nor Harry, and not even Snape, went out of their way to offer advice or protection. With Harry, now, it was different, but even Harry’s protective streak grated on Draco’s nerves at times. Yes, the advice from the Headmaster had proved reliable thus far, but Draco was a headstrong teenager with the burden of a seasoned adult.

“Well, thank you very much,” he snipped sarcastically. “As much as I appreciate being treated like I am eleven again, knock it off! I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself!”

“Oh, like you ‘took care’ of everything with Potter, huh?” Snape responded to Draco’s sarcasm with a matching comment before he could even think about what he was saying.

“Fuck you, Severus. I thought I could trust you, but apparently not.”

“Stop. This is getting us nowhere,” Snape got a hold of himself. “Draco, I am telling you that you shouldn’t go. Not now. Wait until the holidays, at least. One more month is not going to make that much of a difference.” He tried to appeal to Draco’s logic and reasoning, but the seventh-year was too far lost in anger to hear it.

“I am seventeen years old, and according to the wizarding world, I don’t need anyone telling me what to do! I can make my own decisions, and I’ve done enough running, don’t you think? You were right when you said I was a coward, but I am not anymore. I am going to live my life the way I want to, and I’m not going to change because you don’t like my decisions! So what if you don’t want me to go and see my closest living relative! So what if you don’t think Harry and I should be together! If anything, you should be glad that I’m ready to shoulder my destiny! Ever since I was born, I have known that I would one day become the Lord Malfoy, and so maybe it came a few years earlier than expected, but why can’t you support me? Why is every decision I make wrong, according to you?” Draco was practically yelling at his godfather, red-faced and hands clenched at his sides.

Snape closed his eyes, willing himself not to reach out and shake his stubborn, pigheaded godson. Slytherins were supposed to be cunning and see beyond what was there; Draco was supposed to KNOW that his mother would be up to no good. As far as Severus Snape was concerned, these emotional outbursts and sudden misplaced loyalties were all of Harry ‘the Chosen One’ Potter’s Gryffindor influence.

“Draco, listen to me and listen well. I have known your mother and father for a long time now. I knew them before you did. So please listen to me when I say that you should stay away from her. She might not have taken the Mark, Draco, but she is no less dangerous than anyone else with it,” Snape’s voice was low and deadly, almost pleading, but with a hint of barb to it. Of course, though, now would be the time that Draco decides to ‘think for himself’. If Draco had been calmer, Snape probably could have gotten through to him, but all of Snape’s carefully shielded sentences just served to infuriate Draco more.

“Oh, I see. You took the Mark, but I should trust YOU! Why? Because you ‘didn’t mean it’?” Draco mocked. He had years of experience getting under Snape’s skin. “But SHE didn’t! She was the one person in my family who didn’t take that damn thing! My father had it! I was supposed to follow in his footsteps! But her? NO! Even when my father turned into a complete asshole, she always tried to make things right between us! She tried to do right by me!”

“She was a spoiled brat who knew exactly how to use her beauty to get what she wanted! The only reason, the only reason she didn’t take the Mark when Lucius did was because Voldemort didn’t want women among his Death Eaters! Your aunt changed that, though, but she was pregnant with YOU and against all odds, HE didn’t want to Mark a pregnant woman!” Severus’ temper was getting the better of him as Draco pushed his buttons.

“NO! You’re lying!” The accusation enraged Snape further; he had had enough of those coming from Death Eaters like Lucius and Bellatrix when he was forced to live the double life of a spy. Hearing it from the child he was trying to protect was too much.

“She came to me after Voldemort gave you the order. She asked me to do it for you if you failed. I took an Unbreakable Vow for you! Your aunt doubted that I was a loyal follower, and your mother made me swear to do it if you couldn’t! Draco, if she was any kind of mother, she would have taken you, started running, and never looked back, but she encouraged you! She was disgusted when you didn’t! That’s why Albus and I didn’t want you to go back before school!” Snape was practically roaring.

“Shut up! You’re lying! She’s my mother! She wouldn’t do that!” Angry tears were running down Draco’s cheeks at this point.

“You are better off without her!”

Snape’s eyes widened, and for the first time in Draco’s memory, Severus Snape clapped his hand over his mouth. He had just inadvertently revealed how he really felt about Narcissa. The ugly, awful truth hung in the air between them. Draco’s own mouth dropped open, and he stood in shock at what his godfather just said. Before Draco could respond, Snape turned on his heel and left the classroom, robes snapping.

* * * * * *

Draco was breathing hard as he watched his godfather storm off. His mind reeled under the information, the accusations, and the nasty remarks Snape had made about his mother. It would have hurt less if Snape had slapped him across the face. Draco subconsciously put a hand to his chest and realized it was damp. One palm on his cheek confirmed that he had lost his composure, and Draco closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down. Snape’s words stung, and Draco didn’t want to believe what he said about his mother. Snape wasn’t always right, and being treated as if he couldn’t make his own decisions made Draco bristle. He quickly wiped his face, grabbed his bag, and stomped back to Slytherin.

He knew as soon as he opened the door to his bedroom that dropping his books off was a mistake. Harry was sitting on the bed, waiting for him, with a terribly Gryffindorish worried expression. He sprang up as soon as Draco entered the room, arms outstretched, and was stopped cold by Draco’s raised palm. The blonde couldn’t even look his boyfriend in the eye, and he knew that Harry would be hurt, but Draco had other things to attend to at the moment. His heart screamed at him for putting anything before the feelings of his love, but Draco shut down his emotions once again.

“Don’t say anything; don’t do anything. Don’t touch me; don’t even look at me,” Draco ordered quietly, his voice colder than Harry had ever heard. He removed his school robes to reveal a pressed white dress shirt and green tie. He silently hung up his robe and traded it for the matching black suit jacket. He would only be gone for two days, so he didn’t bother to pack anything; he still had a closet full of clothes in his bedroom at Malfoy Manor. Even though Voldemort was dead, Dumbledore still had Anti-Disapparition Jinxes all over Hogwarts. Draco had his Apparator’s License, but he would have to walk to the gates of the school before he could travel home.

He paused at the door, remembering the last time he had been standing here, looking over his shoulder at Harry, and he heard his own playful words.

Harry gave him a light and playful smack on the backside as he walked towards the door.

“You, mister, are going to be in big trouble later for that. Bloody Gryffindor,”

Draco heaved a sigh, shaking his head. It was hard to believe that had been just one week ago; well, six days ago, really. He risked a glance at Harry. The black-haired boy had done just what Draco asked. He hadn’t moved from when he tried to give Draco a hug, except to put his arms at his sides. He was frowning, but the corners of his mouth twitched every once in a while as he tried to keep from crying or talking. He was staring off to the side, but when he felt Draco’s cold gaze, Harry raised his eyes to meet it. Draco’s heart broke when he saw the hurt and confusion reflected in Harry’s enormous green eyes, and he put a hand on the doorframe to steady himself. He flicked his eyes downward, setting his jaw, and looked up one last time as he prepared to walk out the door.

“I’m sorry,” he said tightly. “I can’t deal with this right now. I have to go.” As he spoke, two tears slipped down Harry’s cheeks, and Draco’s lip turned up into his normal sneer to keep from breaking down himself. He took one long stride over to Harry and pressed their lips together harshly. As he stepped back, he whispered a ragged “I love you” and left the room without looking back.

* * * * * *

Harry stood in shock and watched Draco leave. He stopped fighting the tears, and they coursed down his cheeks, wetting his school robes. He could still feel the ghost of Draco’s lips upon his own, different than normal, cold and unemotional. Walking to the bed, Harry laid down miserably, curled himself around Draco’s pillow, and inhaling the familiar scent of exotic fruits, proceeded to sob himself raw.

“I love you too,” he cried out brokenly, but the recipient of those words was already long gone and too far away to hear.

Once Harry ran out of tears, he stared sightlessly, feeling as though his entire body was made of lead. He couldn’t help the empty, gnawing sensation in his gut. Harry was emotionally exhausted, and he didn’t have the wherewithal to make sense of what caused Draco’s behavior at this point in time. He really needed a hug from Draco, but that couldn’t happen; the next best thing would be to hang out with his best friends and just forget for a while…but wait, couldn’t do that either because they both hated him. Harry’s mood turned black for an instant as he slipped into his familiar self-hatred. Draco’s voice in his mind broke through the storm clouds, battling Harry’s negative thoughts.

We all make mistakes… None of us deserve to be forgiven for them, but we forgive each other just the same. It’s not going to happen overnight, but as time goes on, it’ll get easier… But in order for them to have the ability to forgive you, you have to forgive yourself… If you were such a horrible person, how could you reach into my soul and make me fall in love with you, even when you hated me? You reached down inside me and touched the untouchable…

Draco had been the first person in Harry’s life to say things like that, the things Harry needed to hear in order to win the fight with himself and his negative self-image. Draco showed that he believed in Harry, even when Harry didn’t believe in himself, and Harry realized that he needed to break out of his destructive ‘negative-thinking’ pattern, as Remus called it. He had talked about it a little with the werewolf, not about his attempted suicide but just the negative feelings—and Remus had reaffirmed what Draco said—and Harry ‘knew’ he needed to change…but it wasn’t until he was alone, drowning in self-loathing, that he KNEW he would have to change because he was sick of feeling like that. He realized that he was the only one who could make that change; Draco and Remus could support him all they wanted, but ultimately, it was up to Harry to remember the positive affirmations in the face of his negativity, and right there in Draco’s bedroom, Harry made the choice to focus on his lover’s words rather than wallow in self-destruction.

How could you reach into my soul and make me fall in love with you, even when you hated me? You reached down inside me and touched the untouchable…

Harry smiled, sniffling and wiping away his tears. He, Harry Potter, had affected another person on a deeper level than he thought possible. Draco had ‘touched the untouchable’ in Harry as well; he had smashed the negative self-image Harry had been harboring for his entire life, fueled by the cruel words and actions of the Dursleys, Snape, Voldemort, and even Draco’s own poisonous insults of the past. He walked over to Draco’s closet and pulled out Draco’s most recently worn school robe, the one he had hung up before leaving for Malfoy Manor. Harry hugged the garment to his chest, inhaling Draco’s scent, and planted a kiss on the fabric before hanging it back up, feeling slightly dumb.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said aloud, even though Draco couldn’t hear him. “You saved me from myself.” He grabbed his things, throwing his Invisibility Cloak around his shoulders. Since Draco would be gone all weekend, Harry decided he should go and sleep in his own bed, as haunting as that might be. He could handle it, though; he had an inner strength, and that strength’s name was Draco Malfoy.

He cast a Locking Charm on Draco’s bedroom, not sure if the other Slytherins could be trusted but deciding not to take any chances. He slipped out easily enough, casting the Cloak aside when he made it back to his room in Gryffindor. He looked around, not having really been in his own bedroom since the night he attacked Hermione. He would not feel completely comfortable in here until ‘Mione and Ron forgave him, if that would ever come, and even then, Harry knew he would always remember, at least a little bit. Suddenly restless as he was almost overcome with overwhelming thoughts, Harry walked to his own closet and spied his Firebolt leaning against the back wall. A wide grin nearly split his handsome face in two. He would go flying! It would be the perfect distraction, and he could really use the practice since he hadn’t been in the mood to fly or play Quidditch this past week.

* * * * * *

Hermione, as always, showed up at the Hospital Wing on Friday afternoon with her stack of papers to grade and her red pen. Ron had promised to come by later. She waved at Madam Pomfrey and went into Professor McGonagall’s room like usual. Teaching brought out Hermione’s inner glow and gave her strength during this difficult time. Of course, she had been nervous, but Dumbledore guided her through the first day, and Hermione prided herself on mastering the task quickly. The first-, second-, and third-years were very uncertain at first, but Hermione’s way of teaching quickly brought out their opinions, and (the sign of a really good professor) the interest in Beginning Transfigurations soared among the younger students. They chatted and debated amongst each other happily, sometimes even stopping Hermione in the halls between classes to ask poignant questions or to obtain a resolution to an argument. The only time she had stopped smiling this week was during her therapy sessions, when she quickly fell back into being a seventh-year Gryffindor who was dealing with a traumatic event and the isolated incident of seeing Harry on Thursday. She settled into her normal chair and began relating her teaching day to her unconscious Transfigurations professor; when she had caught Minerva up on the lesson plan and current debates, she turned to her stack of papers, every so often murmuring a comment with her forehead scrunched in thought.

Ron showed up when she was about halfway finished, and he chuckled, kissing her wrinkled forehead. She flashed him a distracted smile, and he knew better than to interrupt her. Ron said a quiet salutation to Minerva, taking her hand. His sharp eyes took in her condition today; she seemed better. Her skin wasn’t pale anymore; in fact, it seemed to be back to its normal coloring, and she appeared to be in a deep sleep, instead of on the brink of death like she had been. He smiled at the improvement, squeezing her hand a little, and nearly went into shock when he felt the most infinitesimal of squeezes back! Ron’s face lost all color, and his mouth dropped open in shock.

“P-Professor?” he half-whispered. Hermione’s head rose up, and she was by his side in an instant. She clutched his arm, digging her fingernails in as Minerva McGonagall slowly opened her eyes, too disoriented to do anything but blink sleepily. Hermione shot out the door to get Poppy. The school nurse bustled in and assessed the situation. Ron moved out of the way, pulling Hermione into a happy hug. Poppy gave Minerva a sip of water, admonishing her to just rest until she was feeling ready to communicate. Minerva nodded, closing her eyes again to sleep. Hermione and Ron quickly gathered up Hermione’s papers, and the three of them left the room quietly. There was another round of hugging in Poppy’s office as they celebrated Professor McGonagall’s awakening. Ron volunteered to get Dumbledore, and there was yet another round of Hufflepuff-worthy hugs between the three Gryffindors and the suspected Ravenclaw. Dumbledore, true to fashion, passed out lemon drops, placing several on Poppy’s desk to give to Minerva when she woke next. He requested that the couple accompany him back to his office.

* * * * * *

Albus was very relieved that Minerva would be as good as new with time. He had already decided that Hermione should continue teaching Beginning Transfigurations, and whenever Minerva would be ready to return to class, she could supervise. He realized it was time to deal with the question of punishments for the incidents last week; what happened couldn’t just be forgotten or swept under the rug, even if there was considerable progress. He had a quick meeting with Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks after their Friday sessions with the three; the two counselors were quite pleased with the progress each was making, even though they all had their drawbacks that would take some more time to heal. However, they had made enough progress that Albus felt it was appropriate to discuss the official consequences, and it wouldn’t damage their psyches.

Remus reported that Harry was having the slightest difficulty accepting that he wasn’t a bad person but cited that, in his opinion, that would gradually change, and Harry would begin to see himself as Remus, Tonks, and Albus did: the Gryffindor hero that he was. Tonks felt that Hermione’s teaching was a splendid and creative way of helping her cope, but Tonks also made sure that the girl didn’t run away from her feelings. They had had several cathartic sessions, and Tonks was reasonably sure that Hermione would be able to forgive Harry soon. When Albus inquired about Ron, however, both counselors shook their heads, looking sad. They had both tried to get through to him, but he wasn’t having any of it. Remus suggested that Albus contact Ron’s parents; they might be able to recommend someone who knew Ron a little better and would know how to get him to listen and with whom Ron would feel comfortable talking.

The Headmaster paused, closing the door to his office behind Hermione and Ron. He waved his hand, and two conjured chairs sprang up. The couple sat, joined at the hand. Albus removed his half-moon spectacles and rubbed a hand over his face tiredly, not looking forward to the conversation he was about to have. He took his seat, noting the worried expressions that replaced the elation.

“Ms. Granger, first, let me congratulate you on the progress you’ve made with Nymphadora. And I want to assure you that even though Professor McGonagall is awake, you will continue to teach the Beginning Transfigurations class until she is fully recovered. But we will cross that bridge when we come to it. Mr. Weasley, both Nymphadora and Remus reported to me that you are rather reluctant to avail of their expertise. Can you explain this to me, please?” Albus folded his hands, meeting Ron’s slightly angry gaze steadily. Hermione looked at her red-headed boyfriend in surprise; Ron had always said that he was doing ‘fine’ after his therapy sessions, so hearing that he was being uncooperative was unsettling for her. She bit her lip as he let go of her hand, balling one into a fist and covering it with the other on his lap. Ron kept glowering at Dumbledore, and Hermione realized that Ron was harboring deeper feelings than he let on.

“Potter crossed a line he never should have even drawn. ‘Mione means more to me than anything in this world, and he hurt her. I might have screwed up in the past, but I protect who is mine.” There was bitterness in Ron’s voice as he continued. “He has gotten away with everything his entire life…” Hermione gasped, not sure she was hearing what was coming out of Ron’s mouth. “But he’s not going to get away with this. He crossed a line, and if he thinks I’m going to look the other way, he’s wrong. I’m through catering to him. End of story. Lupin is too blinded by Potter’s fame, and even Tonks suggested that I should ‘give him the benefit of the doubt.’ You all can make excuses for him, but he is no friend of mine. Harry Potter is dead to me.” Ron gripped his knees until his knuckles turned white. Albus blinked, taken aback by the venom in Ron’s voice and the finality of his last sentence. Hermione’s mouth dropped open, and she was speechless.

“Ronald, you have no idea how accurate your final statement almost was,” Albus said quietly. Ron’s brow furrowed; he expected Potter’s mentor to be upset with him for not catering to his precious Golden Boy. There was no trace of anger on the Headmaster’s face; his normally twinkly eyes appeared sad. “Harry tried to take his own life last Saturday, after your exchange in the Great Hall.”

Hermione’s eyes opened wide, and she nearly fell off her chair. Ron might have been able to hide behind his anger, but he was still a pure Gryffindor. His eyebrows raised to his hairline to hear that the Boy Who Lived, ironically, almost died by his own hand. He put a hand out to steady Hermione, who clutched Ron’s hand like a lifeline.

“He-he what?” she managed breathlessly.

“He was terribly upset over what happened, and he tried to commit suicide. Luckily, he was found very quickly, and it was reversed.”

“Good. It’s about time he paid for his mistakes.”

“RONALD! You can’t be serious!” Hermione was staring at her boyfriend like he had grown a second head. “You-you sound like a Slytherin! You sound like Malfoy!”

“Hermione, I am doing this for you. He killed You-Know-Who; he can take care of himself, but damn it, I am going to protect you! He hasn’t even apologized!”

“Okay, okay! Let’s settle, everyone. Here, have a lemon drop. Hermione, Harry is alive-”

“Yes, he did. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you would…I don’t know…hunt him down or something, for talking to me. He was coming out of the Hospital Wing yesterday as I was taking my papers in to Professor McGonagall’s room. He apologized…to both of us,” Hermione admitted softly, rubbing Ron’s hand in a calming gesture. Albus held his breath, waiting for Ron’s reaction. Ron looked as if he had accidentally swallowed a bad batch of Hate Potion, a mixture of confusion, rage, and sympathy playing over his freckled face.

“Is this what you called us in here to talk about, Professor?” Ron grunted, changing the subject. Albus looked slightly disappointed, but he leaned forward matter-of-factly.

“Actually, no, Mr. Weasley. Thank you for reminding me. I actually wanted to discuss with you the official, academic consequences of last weekend. I have spoken with Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, as well as the portraits of previous Headmasters. The school rule demands a very specific punishment, and while there is much controversy about going against the rules, I have come to a decision. Mr. Weasley, according to the Hogwarts Code of Academic Conduct for Students, the consequence for threatening another student with Unforgivable Curses and incapacitating a professor and your Head of House is that you are hereby expelled from this school-”

“NO!” Hermione jumped up in protest, but Albus held up his hand to stop her.

“However, as Headmaster, I am suspending that sentence because of who YOU are. Your family has attended Hogwarts longer than even I can remember, and you, of any Weasley, have been through more obstacles because of when you attended here and who you attended with. All three of you were forced to grow up before you were ready, and while the rules don’t take Voldemort into account, I do. I am making an exception for you personally, and not because of whom you have associated with, and I hope that significance is not lost on you.” Ron shook his head, stunned. “You will not be allowed to attend future field trips or days out, however. Obviously, you will still return home for the holidays, but I am revoking your seventh-year outing privileges. Additionally, there will not be a specific number of points taken from Gryffindor at this time, but it suffices to say that Gryffindor will not be awarded the House Cup this year. That is what I wished to speak with you about. You may go, if you wish, but please, Ron, talk to Remus or Nymphadora?”

Hermione looked less stricken than when Albus announced Ron’s expulsion. It was disappointing to know that they wouldn’t win the House Cup their last year at Hogwarts, but obviously, it could have been a lot worse. She was also disconcerted over Ron’s response to Harry; they would talk about it later and hopefully reach an understanding.

“Thank you, Professor. Yes, he WILL cooperate with Remus and Tonks when we see them again on Monday; I promise you that,” a bit of the old bossy Hermione was back as she got to her feet with Ron and dragged him out of the office.

Albus rested his elbows on the desk and covered his face with his hands, lost in thought for a few minutes. He could wait until the weekend was over to inform Harry of the punishment for Gryffindor.

* * * * * *

As they walked back to Gryffindor, Hermione fumed silently beside Ron, but the red-head barely noticed because he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts. He believed Dumbledore when he said that Harry—no, Potter had tried to take his own life, but the image wouldn’t quite come. He always seemed so strong and unbreakable…Ron groaned aloud. He was trying desperately to hang on to his hate and anger, but the compassionate Gryffindor in him was whispering that he should forgive, that Harry hadn’t been let off easy this time, and that their friendship could still survive. He put a hand to his temple, trying to stave off a headache.

Ron knew his girlfriend was about to launch into a tirade. On one hand, he was glad to see that she seemed back to her normal (if sometimes slightly bossy) self, which meant that she wasn’t acting traumatized anymore, but on the other hand, he really wasn’t in the mood to be the recipient of what could turn into an all-night discussion. They reached their bedroom, but before Hermione could say anything, Ron turned to her, framing her face with his palms.

“‘Mione, love, please, can we talk about this in a little bit? I just need to think for a while. Would it be okay…I mean, will you be alright if I go flying? I just need to clear my head, and as soon as I get back, we can talk about whatever you want. Is that okay, love?” Ron pleaded with her. Her face softened immediately, and she smiled, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend.

“Yes, Ron, I’ll be okay here. I love you, baby, and I just want you to be okay, too. Go flying. Take as long as you need. I’ll be here when you get back.” She gave him a soft, understanding kiss. He grinned back at her, grabbed his Cleansweep 11 broom from the closet, and left. Hermione looked around the room. She had a few free hours, and nothing made Hermione Granger feel better than curling up with a good book. She kicked her shoes off and picked up Hogwarts: A History.
**********


Author’s note: FINALLY! This seems like a good place to leave off, for now…(cue suspenseful organ music.) Don’t shoot me…that was the only actual title of a book that I knew Hermione had read. If anyone has any suggestions for a different (more enjoyable?) book, I’m all ears, but I find it amusing that she enjoys reading that particular book…in my mind, anyway.

Alright, I know that Ron probably seemed really dark and almost out of character for him, but my thoughts are that he just loves Hermione so damn much, and he has such a protective streak in him for her (kind of like Harry and Draco have for each other) that it was more or less like "tunnel vision" for him, and he forgot to look at things from Harry's point of view or take into consideration how Harry feels. BUT hopefully with recent revelations, he'll be more inclined to forgive him and take him back as a friend...eventually.

If Ron seems too out of character, though, to where it's not believable, PLEASE tell me!


thrnbrooke—More, as promised, but sorry, you’re going to have to be worried (about Draco) a little longer. I’m worried and scared for him, too, if that helps.


Danine—Like I said at the beginning (and in response to Yami’s review of Chapter 10) here is Draco’s “stupid” moment. And as far as what’s going to happen…my response to that is probably the most infuriating phrase of all time (even more maddening than “I told you so”, in my opinion)…Read And Find Out. (haha I know, I need to write it before you can RAFO; working on it, but I’m scared for Draco too!)


hismama21—Yay, I’m glad you’re back! Believe me, I’m hurrying as fast as my damn busy life allows. And right now, I’d really like to cut back on all of my obligations so that I can devote more time to this story, but…*sigh* I hope this long chapter makes up for the delays, though!


Night—As I said before, WOW, thank you! Harry going with Draco…not the first weekend; the first weekend, it’s just going to be Draco and Narcissa (not that that should make you feel any better). I think this chapter answers your second question; at this point in time, Dumbledore does not know about Draco’s intentions to return home and Snape hasn’t told him yet. Draco, however, is pretty much sick of authority, plus he is a seventh-year, so he’s not going to listen even if they tried to talk him out of it. Whether they will go after him…I don’t know yet. We’ll see. And the last answer—according to this chapter, no, not yet. But as you read, Ron and Hermione just found out, so I suspect that they’ll know next week. Can’t have EVERYTHING happen in the first week, right?