Year Seven:Blindsided

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the other original characters and or places in the Potterverse, which was created by the wonderful JK Rowling. I believe that they are owned by Warner Brothers. However, the plot, new characters and or places are mine, mine, mine! And are subject to copyright by ME!

Chapter 20-Subterfuge


Hermione woke early the following morning with no trace of the fever that had ravaged her body only a few scant hours before. She was happy to see that Draco was not at all put-off by her temporary illness. Quite the opposite in fact; at the first sign of her stirring he pushed himself up onto his left elbow and let a concerned gaze wash over her. She was delighted by this sign of deep affection, not every girl was fortunate enough to have her own personal Dragon for a bodyguard.


Draco extended his strong right arm and placed a graceful hand upon the silken skin of his beloved Hermione’s forehead. His relief was evident, his beautiful face split into a breathtaking smile as his light touch revealed no trace of fever. This happiness was, however, destined to be short-lived. The couple had some matters of grave import to discuss.


Hermione sighed internally, she knew that the return of the majority of the student body signaled a need for increased care in her interactions with her Dragon. This might be the last morning that she’d be able to enjoy the company of her lover without fearing for his safety, or hers for that matter. She knew that she must take a more aggressive approach to training him in preparation for the inevitable day when he’d tell his father that he’d elected to follow his heart rather than his blood. It was an awesome task; she could not allow herself to be distracted for any reason. She would not gamble with the life of her beloved.


As if of a single mind, Draco and Hermione sat up and dressed, a strange tense silence filled the bedchamber. It would later feel to Draco as the calm before a storm, a storm of devastating power that destroyed all in its path and left no one unchanged. Upon Hermione’s refection it would feel as though it was the beginning of the end, the long walk to the gallows of the condemned man. Each shivered at the feeling in the air that had nothing to do with the temperature.


The couple entered the common room and the cloud of ill-bidding followed like some kind of demented pet dog. Draco went to the fireplace and within an amazingly short amount of time he had stoked the banked coals into a roaring fire, which leapt and crackled cheerfully. The fire at least seemed impervious to the dark mood that hung over the Head-boy and girl.


In the minute amount of time that it had taken Draco to rebuild the fire Hermione had constructed a nest for the two of them out of blankets and pillows. She was already as comfortable as her nerves would allow her to be when he joined her.


Draco took a deep breath that was audible from where Hermione sat. She knew that this was not a good sign, that the situation was somehow worse than she’d initially thought. Hermione resisted the urge to sigh in response; instead she opted to let him break the silence.


“Hermione,” he said, the severity of his tone was not meant to shock her, but to inform her of the gravity of the situation in which they’d found themselves (or more accurately had placed themselves), “I don’t know how much you’ve managed to see in the past few days. I’m not criticizing you; those visions cannot be making your life any easier. There are some strange goings-on, and I intend to get to the root of them by any means necessary.”


Hermione did not like the manic gleam that shown in Draco’s eyes when he spoke in that way, it sent a chill up her spine. She’d have to choose her words carefully if she were to convince Draco to exercise some small amount of caution on these escapades. “I’d like to know what it is that you suspect, I have some suspicions of my own.”


He raised an eyebrow and explained the curious circumstances surrounding Pansy’s behavior at supper the night before. He’d been so concerned with her health that all other things seemed to pale in importance until she was well once again.


“I am not sure how much of the uh…discussion that I had with Pansy last night, so I’ll fill you in. I went into my room after I left the feast last night and I found it a shambles. I know that the last time you and I spent a night there that it was cleaned. You may wish to know what prompted me to go to my room, am I correct?”


She nodded with a grim look in her eyes.


“Pansy said something about being in my room on Christmas Eve, she seemed to be implying that I was with her. Of course I wasn’t, I was with you...”


“In my room.” Hermione nodded again.


“Yeah, I mean I thought that it was strange when you came up to me in the library and asked where I wanted to meet you that night. Because I thought that we’d already decided to meet in your room.”


“Draco,” Hermione’s voice was deathly serious, “I didn’t go into the library at all on Christmas Eve. That was our deal, no contact until after the feast. So I guess that ‘I’ slipped you a note that asked where you wanted to meet that night, am I correct?”


He nodded his head, unwilling to see what part of him knew was troubling Hermione so much.


“Would it also be correct to assume that you didn’t enter the Great Hall until the supper that evening?” At his second nod she continued, “Well, someone who looked a great deal like you dropped a similar note into my lap, if you wanted to know how I knew what it said.”


The only possible meaning of what Hermione was implying was too horrible to think of, “But how could Pansy have made herself look like you?”


“That is the easy part, Dragon. There is a potion that will temporarily transform the drinker into the physical form of another. It is called Polyjuice Potion. The problem is that it is very advanced and complicated to brew properly, far too complicated for the likes of Pansy. The real problem now is discovering who her accomplice is and putting a stop to this mess as soon as possible.”


Draco’s head spun as he tried to think of a likely suspect. Who else had been showing an unnatural interest in Hermione these last months? No one, save for Pansy’s little sister, Poinsettia. Settia was even more of a dim bulb than her sister.


“But,” said Hermione interrupting his thoughts, “we now have a distinct advantage over Pansy and her friend: We know what their little game is. Even better than that, they don’t know that we know. Do you follow me darling?”


“I believe that I do.” Draco smiled wickedly. Hermione was glad that she was no longer on the receiving end of that malicious visage.


“There is a severe limitation to the effectiveness of Polyjuice Potion. The drinker must ingest it every hour, or the effect will wear off. We must devise a way to prevent them from being able to get the better of us without tipping our hand to them, so to speak. Before we do anything else we must agree to some rules we must follow when interacting outside of this room.”


“We mustn’t assume that the person in the corridor behind us is who he or she appears to be. In other words, we must each enter the portrait hole separately-to insure that it is only the true Hermione or Draco who has gained entrance to the suite. I think we should change the password when we leave today, agreed?”


“That is a brilliant idea Draco. I think, for more reasons than this, that we should avoid each other’s company whenever possible. When it cannot be avoided we should have both a verbal and written code to confirm ourselves. Oh, and we should try to avoid eating and drinking between meals, that will make it easier to spot an imposter.”


“We should also keep a close watch on Snape’s potions ingredients, that would be the only place where someone would find the necessary things to complete such a difficult potion.” As these words left Draco’s mouth he had a horrible thought, ‘What if it is Snape? What if he wants to take Hermione from me? He is the perfect candidate for this whole thing. No one is better at making potions than Snape.’ He decided to look a bit further into this suspicion before he shared it with Hermione. He hoped she’d not seen the goose bumps that formed on his arms at this notion, as they would be a-dead-give-away that he was hiding something.


Both Hermione and Draco were startled by the loud chiming of the aged grandfather clock as it struck the hour. The deep resonating ‘gong’ shook the floor of the common room seven times in succession, signaling to the lovers that they must begin their academic schedule for the day.


It was a bit early for breakfast, but it was not unusual for Hermione to take an early meal every now and then. So she stood, stretching some of the tension brought on by the serious nature of the conversation she’d just been a party to, and bent to kiss Draco softly on the lips. As she straightened and turned to exit the room, Draco stopped her. He grabbed her hand and gave her a proper kiss good-bye.


Minutes had passed before he deemed it acceptable to break the embrace. When lips parted it was with a resignation to practicality that barely defeated the powerful lust in which the pair found themselves awash. It would not do well to call up the very urges that the two of them were trying so desperately to deny that they had for each other. Hermione wiped the silly grin off of her face before exiting the common room and heading to break her fast.


Draco wanted to give Hermione a wide berth, so he decided to take a closer look at his bedchamber, ‘the scene of the crime’, as he now thought of it. Upon entering the room nothing seemed to be awry. At first it appeared that all of his belongings were in the proper places, a closer inspection of his personal effects sent a chill up Draco’s spine and raised his proverbial hackles.


His belongings, down to the last quill were not in the order he kept them while he was at school. The chill was the result of the fact that this was the way his father made him keep his room while he was at “home”. Was it possible that the Pansy’s accomplice wasn’t Snape at all? Could it be Lucius? Draco was almost sick at these thoughts. He needed to take a moment to calm down, if he were to appear to be at all rattled it would certainly be reported to Lucius via the spies that Draco is certain that he’d had placed at Hogwarts since the beginning of the school year.


After a couple of minutes of outlandish scenarios racing through his head at the speed of light, he took a deep breath to calm himself. His father wanted him to become flustered and make an egregious error that would put him off balance just long enough to show his hand. Draco was fortunate that he’d had enough experience with the dealings of Lucius to spoil his plot before it came to fruition. He would be as he’d been instructed to be at all times, calm, cold and impassive in the face of even the most wild of accusations. That would teach that bastard; Draco knew that Lucius was not accustomed to having the tables turned on him. But this was, in fact, exactly what Draco was planning.


Hermione’s walk to the Great Hall was uneventful, as was most of the meal. She was making a conscious attempt to reconnect with her friends. Hermione had always been the type of person to browbeat herself when she felt that she’d disappointed a friend, so disappointing several was extremely hard on her.


She was relieved to find that no one seemed at all annoyed or disappointed in her behavior as of late; she was accepted into the lively conversation so seamlessly that it felt as though she never left. As much as she loved Draco, he was no replacement for her friends. She suddenly felt a terrible pang of guilt. Draco didn’t really have any friends, save for her. ‘It must be awful to be so lonely. My poor Dragon, having to pretend to enjoy the company of insufferable persons such as Pansy,’ thought Hermione.


The pain in Hermione’s eyes was plain enough for Ginny to interject with a concerned word or to of her own. “Hermione? Are you feeling alright?”


“Yeah, I just have a headache. I’ve had it for days and I just can’t seem to get it to go away. Maybe I’ll go see Madam Pomfrey later on.”


Ginny eyed her suspiciously; she knew that there was much more to the origin of this “headache”, but she also knew that this was hardly the time to press the issue. She resolved to find a little time in which she and Hermione could catch up in private. There was much to be said…