Adamo Fidelitas

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and characters are property of JK Rowling, Scholastic Books, and Warner Bros. This is a work of fanfiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this.

Adamo Fidelitas 13
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Draco paused, leaving the long streamer of silver tinsel he was levitating hanging in mid-air, as he considered how much mistletoe to stuff into his ears to block the din of off key carolling around him. As Weasley stumbled into the tinsel with a stack of ornament boxes, Draco considered telling Dumbledore to get stuffed and taking the Hogwarts Express home at the start of holiday.

Realistically, he knew that Hogwarts was the safest place for him at the moment. He’d whipped up a new batch of painkiller, but it was starting to lose effect as the potion gained momentum. He now had all the regular sexual urges and responses of a wizard his age, and he knew that soon those needs would spiral past his control entirely. When the painkiller failed completely, the last place he needed to be was under the watchful eye of his father or the Dark Lord while trying to learn a complicated bit of dark magic. Draco’s sense of self-preservation was generally his strongest attribute, and he followed it with all the precision of one of Snape’s lesson plans.

Watching Weasel curse as ornaments scattered and shattered at the wizard’s oversized feet, Draco had to admit that the season had its benefits--even if it meant extra work. Draco snickered as Peeves arrived on the scene, pelting the fuming redhead with colourful orbs of blown glass.

“What are you laughing at, you obnoxious git!” Ron demanded, and Draco’s sneer vanished as Peeves noticed him and lobbed an ornament at the distracted, blonde Slytherin.

“If you don’t behave, Peeves, we’ll call the Bloody Baron,” Hermione interrupted in an exasperated tone. She shook a holly bough at the moody poltergeist. “He’ll be frightfully angry if he has to come in here to sort you out,” she stressed, and the little man backed away in a huff.

Even without threat of the Bloody Baron, Draco was quite sure that the sight of Granger right now must be enough to intimidate even Peeves. It wasn’t just the bloodshot eyes, dark circles, and wild hair; it was the thin air of control surroundher,her, the sense that she could snap at any moment. He wondered whom she would snap at first--him or the Weasel.

“I can’t believe we have to redo all of the decorations to match the new colour scheme for the ball,” Hermione complained, as she mended the broken Christmas balls with her wand. “And unless you want to be here all day, I expect the both of you to behave better than Peeves,” she added, her eyes flashing ominously. “I mean aren’t you both a little old for such pettiness?” she demanded in a superior tone.

Draco and Ron could see that she was working up to yelling at them about something bigger given half the chance, and they began to brace themselves for it. The attack never came though, as a loud sound made Hermione jump and completely lose track of her budding anger.

She whirled around at the sound of one of the Christmas trees crashing to the floor as a clumsy fifth year tried to straighten the topper. Hermione’s shrill screams at the shaking Hufflepuff echoed off the walls of the great room and left half the prefects cowering.

“Temper of an angel, that one,” Ron muttered. He gathered his ornaments up in haste to get away from Draco, and Draco used the opportunity to sneak a glance at Granger, as she chastised the prefects working on the next tree.

It had been just over two weeks since they had indulged the potion; and Draco fully remembered the misery of the first two weeks under the Adamo Fidelitas, when he and Granger had initially fought its effects. Even then, they had secreted caresses and toyed around the edges of relieving the irresistible tension between them to take the bite out of the potion’s effects. This time Granger had been entirely alone in her struggle, as he hid his personal solution from her.

Watching the potion eating away at Granger had steadily moved him from anger to pity to concern. He was also pretty sure that he was feeling guilt for the second time in his life. The first time had been in third year, when Granger had told him off and slapped him for his vendetta against Hagrid and his hippogriff. That put Hermione Granger at the core of both instances, and it added greatly to the fear and confusion already filling him.

As Ron huffed off, Draco saw Hermione turn too quickly in an attempt to lecture him about the example he was setting as a prefect. Hermione swayed unsteadily; and in the next instant, Draco rushed forward as Hermione collapsed mid-movement. He barely had time to catch her around the waist as her legs buckled and her unconscious form slumped over his locked arms.

“Hermione!” Ron screamed as he ran to her side. He slid to a stop on his knees and began first patting her on the cheek then nervously calling her name, as Draco hefted her into a better position for him. Draco finally got her into a manageable position, propped against his chest like a sleeping child.

Hermione gradually stirred, and Draco could feel her preparing to snuggle into him in her unconscious state. As a circle of her concerned friends crowded in around them, Draco took his own steps to rouse her quickly from her faint. “My God, Granger!” he drawled loudly, “How many mince pies have you been tucking away?” The implication was patently untrue, as she felt--if anything--disturbingly light in his arms; but the statement had the desired effect.

In her drowsy haze, Hermione had felt content for the first time in weeks. She had no idea of her surroundings or what she had been doing. She was only aware of familiar warm arms wrapped tightly around her and the strong heartbeat pounding against her back. It was warm and safe. It was sheltering and welcoming. It was pleasant and secure… until Malfoy rudely opened his big, fat mouth.

Hermione opened her eyes ready to tell him exactly where he could tuck a few mince pies; but she stopped at the sight of Ron, Ginny, Luna, Hannah Abbott, Ernie Macmillan, and a surprisingly large knot of other prefects staring worriedly at her.

“Hermione, are you okay?” Ron gasped. “What happened?” he asked, pushing a mad lock of her hair out of her face.

Hermione foundered in embarrassment. “I’ve been staying up nights t-to take pre-tests for NEWTs, and t-the lack of sleep must’ve caught up with me just now. I-I mean… well, they are very important for determining our f-future careers after Hogwarts, aren’t they?” she replied quietly, unable to look Ron in the eye, as she lied to him for what seemed the millionth time.

“Have you gone completely daft?” Ron raged, staring reproachfully at her. “You scared us all to bits!” he yelled, and Hermione stiffened and raised her chin at the thought that he was treating her like a child.

Everyone present readied themselves for another customary round of fighting between the two Gryffindors, and Draco decided that this might be a prudent time to intervene before his arms either gave out or the length of time she’d spent in his arms became too suspicious.

“As entertaining as it is to watch you two verbally eviscerate each other,” Draco sighed with exaggerated weariness, “I was wondering if we might see if Granger could stand on her own sometime this year. After all, my arm has never quite been the same since that foul beast of Hagrid’s attacked me in third year, and it’s only adding to the pain of having to keep her mince-filled bum up off the floor.” He flushed with pleasure, as Hermione’s attention refocused onto him, instead of the insufferable Weasley.

“Supercilious toerag,” Hermione muttered, lurching to her feet with all the grace of the Weasleys’ ancient owl, Errol. She stumbled slightly, and four pairs of hands were immediately at her elbows.

“Hermione, I know how important you consider NEWTs, but I think you should really go see Madam Pomfrey and then get some rest,” Ron said softly knitting his brows in worry at the sight of her. He’d been suggesting things like this when she least expected it for days in the attempt to break her down. Neither course of action would be of any help, but she knew how worried her friends were becoming every time she looked into his tense eyes.

“I think a walk around for a little fresh air might be all I need to clear my head for the moment,” Hermione replied forcing a grin upon her drawn features and hoping she looked convincing. “I’ll skip the tests tonight, okay?”

“Maybe I should go with you,” Ron said, a pensive expression crossing his features, as though he imagined her passing out in some deserted corridor or falling off one of the changing staircases. The last thing Hermione wanted at this moment was Ron babysitting her, no matter how good his intentions. What she did want was a chance to talk to Malfoy, who after two weeks showed no major symptoms of the potion.

“No, Ron,” Hermione said in a low and urgent tone. “I need you here to make sure that the Slytherins don’t do anything to mess up the decorations for the ball,” she added letting an edge of hysteria enter her voice. She lowered her head and tried to catch Draco’s eye with a furtive glance. He was watching the exchange with great interest, and she had a feeling he’d been waiting for an excuse for them to speak privately as well.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” Malfoy grumbled staring back at her coolly with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ll walk the Head Girl around the entrance hall. Pansy, make sure that the Gryffindors don’t do anything to mess up our decorations for the ball,” he ordered, with a malicious grin lifting the corner of his mouth. “Apparently, you and Weasel are in charge.”

He grabbed the back of Hermione’s collar and with a deep sigh and a roll of his eyes began to lead her impatiently out of the Great Hall. She was stumbling to keep up, so he switched his grip to her arm anxious to get away from the prying eyes that he could feel boring into his back as he walked in unnecessarily long strides.

“Don’t you dare do anything nasty to her, Malfoy!” Ron called after him.

“Weasel, I have no intention of giving up Head Boy for the fleeting pleasure of dropping her off the Astronomy Tower,” Draco drawled back at him, as he opened the door and led her out of the busy room; and Hermione considered telling him off for putting such worrying images in Ron’s head when her friends were already so overwrought.

As the double doors closed behind them, Hermione fixed him with a look in the cool deserted corridor and opened her mouth to speak. “Not yet,” Draco hissed, glancing back at the door as though expectant that half the prefects had their ears pressed up against the wood to eavesdrop.

The outside corridor was quiet, as most students were already in their house common rooms for the night at this late hour. He led her directly to the trophy room, and Hermione wondered if this location now served as neutral territory in his mind. “First of all, Malfoy, Ron is already worried enough without you giving him more ideas. He’s still suspicious that you did something to hurt me during that explosive fit of temper you had in front of him,” she warned him.

Malfoy smiled in obvious pleasureGoodGood. Now if only I had upset Potter my day would be perfect. Maybe I could still make a Hufflepuff cry to make up for it… oh but I think you already beat me to that,” he drawled back.

“Secondly, I want to talk to you about the potion,” Hermione continued, ignoring his remark entirely. “I want to know if you’re planning on letting me go completely insane, or if you are going to share whatever secret you’ve discovered with me.” She was shaking with a wave of sudden fury, as she spoke. “I’m not pestering you, or hanging off you, or asking you to do anything distasteful. I feel like I’m losing my mind all the time, and you prance around without the slightest effect… I know you don’t trust me anymore, but sitting around and enjoying my suffering is just cruel,” she accused, angrily, and Malfoy flinched at her words.

She dug the edges of her nails into the heel of her hand, hoping the discomfort would help her get her head back under control. Lately, she felt as emotionally out of control as Harry had been in their fifth year, and she was afraid where the pendulum of her emotions was about to swing next. It could be a crying jag, or more fits of temper, or something like the hysterical bout of giggles that had seized her last night in the dormitory. Looking at Malfoy from beneath her lowered lids, Hermione knew she had to look away quickly before the potion made her do something incredibly stupid.

She closed her eyes and pressed her back against the cooling stone of the castle wall. It was becoming very difficult to focus again, and she decided that it might be best to slide down into a sitting position.

“I have considered the issue, Granger, and it’s not pretty. I can only slow the potion effects down… not stop them. If I let you go barking, I’ll eventually have to break into the booby hatch to have a go at you or go insane myself,” Malfoy replied candidly. “The secret I’ve found is the painkiller that Professor Snape gave me. Apparently, Numbing Draught has a little side effect that under other circumstances would make any wizard rather upset. I don’t know how it affects females,” he explained. He closed the distance between them and caught her by the shoulder before she could slip to the floor.

Hermione let out an involuntary sigh and started to relax against him. Malfoy pushed her back against the wall firmly but not roughly. “Open your eyes, Granger,” he commanded, and Hermione could have sworn he sounded worried under the gruffness of the order. Of course he must. Once she went insane, he was bound to follow as he’d just said. Maybe he’d finally calmed down enough that the thought mattered to him again.

Hermione opened her eyes and looked up at him sadly. “It doesn’t reverse them either, does it?” she asked seriously, looking to him for confirmation that she was shortly to end her promising academic career in some lonely ward of St. Mungo’s until the day that Malfoy joined her and his incensed father sent them both potted clippings of Devil’s Snare.

“When was the last time you ate or slept?” Malfoy asked instead in a forceful tone to get her attention, and Hermione could feel his fingers squeezing her hip as he pushed her legs slightly apart with his knee. She completely lost track of any answer she might have given him, as her brain tried to wrap itself around his actions. She could hear a girl’s voice giggling, and she was suddenly afraid that they’d been discovered until she realized that the giggling was coming from her.

Draco felt churning hot guilt bubbling up further inside him. He feared Granger’s ability to hurt him more than he could explain, but watching her suffering while he shut her out was hurting and scaring him just as badly right this moment. She was laughing and crying at the same time now, as Draco shushed her urgently. “Try to keep it down,” he whispered, as he slipped his hand beneath her robes and skirt and worked his fingers beneath the waistband of her soft knickers. The memory of what it meant to be sexually ready for days on end came unbidden to his mind as he touched her slick folds.

Hermione ran her fingers over his chest, and tried to bite back a whimper as his fingers pressed into her wet flesh and began to work on her insistently. “Inside,” she begged quietly, as she looked into his eyes. At the moment neither had raised their defences and Hermione’s raw need caused something possessive to snap in Draco the same way it had the very first time they’d been together. He wanted to run as fast and far as he ever had in his life, but for some reason his feet weren’t moving.

He pulled back her pants so that he could work two fingers into her comfortably. Hermione’s face tightened, and he raptly watched the play of intense expressions crossing her face as his fingers plunged into her and his thumb flickered over her sensitive body. He always thought she was most beautiful in those unguarded moments, and he found himself longing to draw this out so that he could watch her.

He knew that she was too far-gone for a lengthy teasing though, and he forced himself to look away while he worked her at an increasing pace. His other hand slipped from her shoulder and crept beneath her jumper to fondle her breasts, while Draco began to press his body instinctively against her. He sought out her ear with his lips, nipping and licking her skin so that he could hide his face in the bushy cloud of her hair. He knew that he was getting too involved in what he was doing to her, but it didn’t make it any easier to stop. She was almost there; and he was riding a tide of desire, high on her responses. He pulled back in time to see Hermione come--riding a storm of force and fury, which arrived with his touch; and he buried his own involuntary cry by planting his lips against her exposed throat.

He eased off his touch, letting her bucking hips calm. Soft whimpers escaped his throat echoing Hermione’s own pleasured cries, as he planted desperate kisses over her taut neck. Without having had an orgasm himself, Draco had gotten off intensely on the experience and would have liked on some level nothing better than to drag Hermione off somewhere private to continue. Draco felt a fresh swoop of terror as he realized how far he’d allowed himself to be carried away in just a few minutes, and he pushed away from her so quickly that she nearly fell again.

Hermione opened her eyes in surprise, as she felt Malfoy pulling away as though burned. He wore the startled expression of someone who had just been mortally wounded and was having difficulty comprehending it.

“Malf--“

“I’ll have Weasel’s sister lead you back to your room,” Draco cut her off, avoiding her gaze and dashing from the room.

Hermione listened to his footsteps as he made his way back to the Great Hall, and she tried yet again to figure Draco Malfoy out. Well, he apparently had a greater emotional range than a teaspoon, but it was cold comfort as Hermione struggled to figure out the erratic Slytherin.

She hadn’t the foggiest notion of where things stood between them. Were they back to being allies after a fashion? Was this a temporary truce? Did he intend to just flirt with letting her go insane again before the next time he stepped in? He’d seemed almost back to the way things had been before… well something was off about it, but she couldn’t make out exactly what. She wondered if touching her was that distasteful to him now; yet he’d certainly seemed excited at the time. Of course, if it was merely potion induced excitement… Hermione gave up trying to sort Malfoy out until she’d had a decent amount of sleep again, and slid down the wall to wait for Ginny.

Draco bustled back into the Great Hall to be met by the turning of many heads, and they didn’t seem pleased at him returning alone. He curled his lip at them, and most of the prefects looked away hurriedly. “You, Ginger Weasel,” Draco called loudly. “Take the Head Girl to her dormitory. She’s in the Trophy Room, waiting for you. I’m not wasting any more of my time on some useless endeavour just because she’s too stubborn to listen to that idiot savant that you call a brother,” Draco told her imperiously.

“My name is Ginny,” the slender redhead reminded him between gritted teeth, “and it’s Weasley not Weasel.” She set the tank of live fairies that she’d been holding down on the floor and stalked past him.

“You seriously think it matters?” Draco asked incredulously, as he took over for her placing live fairies in the Christmas tree. This left him working alongside Ron and Luna Lovegood, who were too preoccupied with a bunch of mistletoe to pay him much mind.

“Just remember to wash your hands after touching that, Ronald,” Luna was warning Ron in her dreamy voice. “I’m sure it’s quite infested with Nargles; they are really hard to get rid of once you get infected by them.”

Ron spared her a confused and disbelieving glance. “Infested with what? I’ve never even heard of a Nargle. So what’s the big deal about being infected by one?”

“Well, of course, the Ministry tries to keep them very hush-hush, but it’s all part of their wizard breeding program. They place Nargles in innocent bunches of mistletoe, so they can control whom wizards date and marry,” Luna told him absently. “If you kiss someone under a bunch that’s infested with Nargles, they’ll destroy your relationship with that person. If they really get on you though, there is the chance that they’ll destroy every relationship you try to have with anybody.”

Ron dropped the mistletoe and jumped away from it, wiping his hands on his robes as though it were covered in filth. “Yuck!” he spat, before realize the ludicrousness of his response. He wondered suddenly when he’d started to take Loony Luna Lovegood’s ravings seriously.

He did have to admit that she was rather funny in a good way too though. With Hermione unavailable Ron needed a date for the ball still, and he could think of worse options really. For example, Eloise Midgen’s acne still hadn’t cleared up, whereas Luna could look almost normal if she abstained from large animated hats and eclectic jewellery. And truthfully Luna would probably be more fun than someone like Padma Patil, who would demand that he dance every dance with her to make up for the debacle during their fourth year.

“Um, Luna?” Ron asked nervously. “If you don’t already have a… well, I mean… would you like to go to the ball with me?”

Luna eyed him sceptically. “Well,” she said cautiously, “so long as you wash you hands carefully after handling all this mistletoe, I suppose it’d be all right.” She smiled warmly at him, and Ron wondered with a sinking feeling if he’d just made a tremendous mistake.

“You know, I’d bet that Ginny and Hermione would have fun getting ready with you. It could be like a girl party or something before the ball, with all that hair and makeup stuff that you lot like to do,” Ron suggested, praying that she would agree to it and the others could help her.

“Oh yes,” Luna exclaimed in a wistful singsong. “I’ve learned the most wonderful spell for singing angel hats that’s just delightful! I bet it’d look adorable on Ginny,” Luna told him, and Ron pressed his lips tightly together to suppress his laughter while he nodded helplessly. He was definitely in for it.

Draco spared them a disdainful glance before returning to stuffing fairies into the trees. Distracted by his worries over his reaction to Granger, he squeezed one of the creatures too tightly and received a very painful bite from it. He tossed the creature into the nest of branches and scowled to himself. He continued to be in a very bad mood throughout the rest of the evening, although everyone present seemed to concede it as normal behaviour.

He waited until he was securely hidden in his room before trying again to sort out all the complications ruining his life at the moment. He tossed his robes over the back of the chair that was sticking out from his study desk before sinking onto the conforming comfort of the mattress and propping his forehead against his open palms.

When he finally moved, the edge of a piece of parchment on the nightstand caught his eye. He had read his father’s latest correspondence three times, and Draco had already owled a carefully composed response. Still, he hadn’t settled how he felt about either letter. He reached out quickly, grasped the parchment, and reread the letter again.

Draco,

I have very exciting news for you. After years of living abroad an old friend of the family is planning to be in town during the holidays, and I will finally have a chance to introduce you in person. I have high hopes that this meeting will cement an important future career for you, as we discussed during my last visit to Hogsmeade. We also hope to introduce our future daughter-in-law, and I am writing to Mr. Parkinson next to secure arrangements.

Father

Draco stared at the paper in his fingers blankly. He’d already sent apologies and explained about the last minute plans for a ball at the school. Non-attendance had not been an option when the headmaster had given them their instructions, a fact that he had immediately relayed in his apology. He had omitted other details that would have been more disturbing to his father on top of the disappointment that Lucius was surely experiencing already. He’d particularly omitted details like the fact that Draco was expected to attend the ball with Granger, the Muggle-born that Lucius Malfoy abhorred most.

Draco crumpled the letter one-handed and tossed it across the room towards his desk. He was thinking of the dagger still hidden at the bottom of his trunk, and an icy feeling flooded him as he thought about what it meant for his future. His place had already been reserved for him, and his father was doing all that was necessary to settle him into it by the time he graduated. The potion would be reversed by then, and he would be free from any obligation to protect Granger for his own benefit. There was no insurmountable obstacle set before him. He’d always wanted to make his father proud, so why was he starting to have doubts?

Did he doubt that the Dark Lord’s would be the winning side? Maybe. Did he want to disappoint his father? Certainly not. Didn’t he want the ideals of a Wizarding World free from the taint of Muggles and Muggle-lovers? The image of Granger lost in abandon before him rose again juxtaposed against the image of her at the end of a Killing Curse. Draco felt suddenly sick, and he clutched his stomach as he rolled onto his side with his knees drawn towards his chest.

Anger filled him at his own weakness. “Damn Granger for this!” he thought, as he wished he could simply kill her to make all the doubts and confusion go away. The few hours of sleep that he finally managed were troubled and filled with dark questions that he couldn’t answer.

Classes seemed more difficult than usual after his uneasy night, and it took him several minutes to realize that Professor Sprout was calling his name as he crossed the lawn on the way to Care of Magical Creatures. “Excuse me, Professor,” he replied, as he hurried towards the squat witch standing beside one of the greenhouses and waving her arms at him.

“Finally, Mr. Malfoy,” Professor Sprout greeted him curtly, and Draco wondered if he had confused his schedule for the day or something. “I need to set up a few measures to protect greenhouse five before the upcoming ball, and I was hoping either the Head Boy or Girl might be able to lend assistance on the matter,” Professor Sprout explained, as she straightened her frumpy, dirty robes and led him around to the greenhouse in question. “Do you mind being a little late to your next class?”

Draco shook his head. Not only was Care of Magical Creatures his least favourite class for the fifth year running, but he was also in no hurry to see Granger in person again at the moment. “I’d be happy to help, Professor,” Draco told her brightly, feeling as though he’d just been granted clemency from a truly horrible sentence. No, Draco bore no love for Hagrid’s classes, and he wanted no more introspection at the moment either.

“Good, good,” Professor Sprout muttered to herself, sounding pleased. “I have a selection of very rare trees set to bloom the week of the solstice, and I could used the extra help moving them to the most ideal spot inside the greenhouse. Then you can help me set up a few jinxes and locks, because I don’t want any careless young students blundering in and exposing them to a killing frost,” the little witch blustered as she pushed back her bushy hair and pressed onwards.

Draco’s heart soared and skipped several beats, as he realized what plants she must be talking about. “Spectacular sight, and since they bloom at night, we don’t want them drawing any undue attention that might put them in danger when young couples are wandering around from the dance,” she puffed as they arrived at the greenhouse in question.

Professor Sprout fixed him with a pleased grin, as Draco goggled at the conservatory lost to his own thoughts. Professor Sprout cleared her throat loudly; and Draco fixed his attention upon her, carefully memorizing the spells that would allow him to safely enter the greenhouse whenever he wanted. He was still drinking in every detail, as he got his first sight of the gracefully arching trees with their great pendulous purple buds and green and copper leaves.

“Hey, Granger!” a familiar drawl cut across the crowd as Hermione prepared to enter the Great Hall with Ron, Harry, and Ginny that night for dinner. She whirled to see Malfoy just behind the edge of the crowd waving to her. “Professor Sprout has some special instructions for us,” Draco continued, and looking back at Ron and the others Hermione excused herself for a few moments.

“Is that why you were skiving off Care of Magical Creatures?” she was about to ask, when Malfoy cut her off in an excited whisper.

“I know where they are!” he hissed, as he leaned in and looked both ways to be sure no one was listening too closely to them. His pale face was flushed, and his eyes were glittering brightly. “Sprout had me helping her move them around and setting up spells to protect them. They’re set to bloom the week of the ball, and we’re going to be leaving early to go see them,” he added with a quick raise of his eyebrows. Before his words had even sunk in, he was walking off, leaving Hermione standing by the doors with a puzzled expression knotting her features.

She clapped her hands over her mouth as the words finally hit home, and Hermione felt a surge of happiness that made her want to do a little dance in the hallway. It was the first definitive good news that she’d heard from him since the fight. And we’re going to be leaving early to go see them. He’d said ‘we’re’. Apparently, their truce was back on after all.

Hermione entered the Great Hall feeling lighter than if she’d been stung by a hundred billywigs. She wondered if this meant that Malfoy was going to stop acting so bizarrely around her too. Unable to pin down his exact emotions lately, she’d finally decided to attribute his behaviour the other night to a combination of defensiveness and embarrassment at having gone back on his vow. Personally, she thought it only showed common sense to abandon some impractical promise made in the heat of anger, although as she caught sight of Malfoy covertly hitting Ernie Macmillan with a Trip Jinx while hidden behind the bulk of Goyle, she had to admit it might not be best to credit him with too much maturity.

“Oh good,” Ron said as she took the empty seat across from him. “Hermione, I need to ask you and Ginny for a little favour. I need a little help with my date for the Friendship Ball,” Ron told them in a hushed tone, as he stared at the door as though making sure the coast was clear.

“You aren’t leaving it until the last minute again, I hope,” Hermione told him reprovingly.

“Of course not!” Ron snapped back testily. “I asked her last night. That’s not the part I need help with.”

“Well, who is it? And why should you need our help for anything if she’s already agreed?” Hermione asked disbelievingly, as she filled her plate with a bit of sausage and mash.

“It’s Luna Lovegood,” Ginny said looking more relaxed than she had in weeks, now that the topic of school gossip had drifted away from lingering reminders of her traumatic first year and settled upon the upcoming ball. Ron stared at her in wide-eyed shock, as he tried to figure out how she knew that he’d asked Luna. “She told me during Charms today,” Ginny explained, noticing Ron’s confusion. “She’s really excited about it too, and then she said something that I didn’t understand about singing angel hats,” Ginny added, and Ron’s ears turned pink.

“Yes, that’s what I wanted to talk to you both about,” Ron admitted. “I suggested the other night that maybe she could get ready for the ball with you two like some girl party thing,” Ron explained. “I was hoping that… well that maybe you could… sort of… keep her away from the animated hats and butterbeer necklaces for an evening for me,” Ron finished, squirming in embarrassment.

Hermione snorted. “Well, if the way she is embarrasses you so much why did you ask her?” Hermione asked pointedly.

“I don’t think anyone who’s stuck going with Malfoy should criticize someone’s date,” Ron replied with a loud snort. “It’s not like I don’t get on with Loony,” he added thoughtfully. “I’m sure we’ll get on better than Padma Patil and I did. I just would really like it if you could help convince her to tone it down a bit for the evening. I’m not saying that she can’t be a little unusual, or anything like that. I’d just like her to not go quite so over the top,” Ron said with a sigh, as Luna waved at him enthusiastically from the door, her wand tucked behind her ear and her new baby mandrake earrings causing those around her to either cover their ears with a shriek or pass out.

“How does she wear those?” Ron marvelled in awe and revulsion, as he gave a much smaller wave back.

“She said she’d like to make some thestral ones too,” Ginny interjected calmly between forkfuls of mashed potato, “but then only people who could see thestrals would know that she was wearing earrings. You have to admit she is quite good to be able to make all these things at least.”

Ron goggled at her, and Hermione and Harry tried not to choke on their dinner as they laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Ron,” Ginny assured him.

“I’m sure that Ginny and Hermione will do their best,” Harry promised, and the girls nodded vigorously, as Ron gave a pained and worried look. The upcoming ball was going to be nothing if not interesting.

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Author’s Notes: Sorry, about the long time between updates. I’m already hard at work on chapter 14, since the lead-ins for the ball really took the whole chapter here despite my original plans to have it all in one chapter. It all ties in and means more story to enjoy in the long run, though. For those going through smut withdrawal, there’s the nice snippet here and the promise of more to come.

So for those who’ve forgotten in the interim, Dumbledore did say in the previous chapter that it was time for them to learn the contents of greenhouse five. Feels rather nice that after months of Dumbledore not being able to do anything, he’s finally gotten to help them towards the antidote through Professor Sprout--not to mention helping them to get past the fight a bit more by giving them a bit of shared purpose again. Next, he just has to try unifying the rest of the school, so we’ll just wish him luck.

After all the angst of previous chapters and Draco’s continuing introspection, it felt good to be able to lighten things up with a little Luna kookiness here. So with the Friendship Ball still to come, I’m going to cut these notes short and get back to writing.