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, and mine! And are subject to copyright by ME!

Chapter 22-Creatures of Opportunity


Pansy sighed as she opened the door of Hermione’s room. She was relieved that Draco hadn’t caught her in the act. She was actually going to get away with her little mission of reconnaissance. Inspired by her successful evasion of Draco, she crossed the common room and pushed open the door to his room. After taking, but a few steps into the room her forward progress was halted by an almighty sneeze, “CACHOO-CACHOO!”


The entirety of Draco’s belongings were coated in a thin layer of dust; the depth of which seemed to suggest that none of these items had been disturbed for several days. In fact the only notable difference, other than the accumulation of the aforementioned dust, was that his personal effects had been placed improperly.


In spite of her reservations about disturbing his belongings, she had to set them in the proper order once more. If she did not and Lucius came calling to visit his son the punishment that he’d dispense would be disproportionate to his son’s transgression. Though she feared Draco she would not allow him to suffer needlessly at the hands of his father. After all, she wanted him for her own at the end of all this…unpleasantness.


Her organization of his personal items left conspicuous trails in the dust that lined his bureau. This being the case her only recourse was to thoroughly dust the room, a job for which she was rather ill suited. It took her much longer than she would have liked to finish the task. And by the time she’d completed it she was wheezing and coughing, dust was one of the substances that gave Pansy a most severe allergic reaction. As a matter of point, the only thing that rivaled the fits brought about by dust was cat dander.


It was not at all the lucky day she’d had the arrogance to think it was only moments earlier. She exited Draco’s room with extreme haste in order to be free of the dusty air therein, to come face to face with what she could only assume was a small tiger. Crookshanks stood purring loudly; quite content with the rat he’d caught when he sprung his trap. The cat seemed to have increased in size, in order to terrify the assailant even further, he let out a low growl that shook the floor and made her arm hairs stand on end.


Pansy felt a chill run up her spine as the gigantic cat fixed her with a penetrating stare from his disturbingly intelligent yellow eyes. She sneezed again and grabbed for something to blot the tears that were streaming from her eyes, not to mention stifle her constant sneezes. She lunged for a paper napkin, which lay on the table nearest her. Putting it to her mouth she decided to make a run for the door.


Once again she was foolish enough to think that something might go her way today, she had to pause for an instant to push the heavy portrait open, this would be her undoing. Crookshanks took this opportunity to strike at her with all of the fury she’d seen in his eyes not two seconds previously.


It happened in a flash of orange light; teeth and claws tore into Pansy’s comparatively soft flesh and left searing gashes and punctures. The wounds stung like only cat scratches could, only more so. Crookshanks was no ordinary cat.


Pansy grappled with the furry defender of Hermione’s property and honor as she staggered into the corridor still clutching the paper napkin in her bloody hand. Somehow, the enormous ginger cat managed to cling to the would be usurper of his Mistress’ position while laying on her a storm of furious swats of his paws and bone deep bites that sent spurts of blood in all directions. She finally freed herself from the angry miniature tiger and backed slowly from him, hoping not to further provoke the beast.


Once again, luck was not at all on the side of the young Slytherin witch. He set himself back onto his haunches and prepared to pounce at her once more. “Rooooooooo!” he cried as he sprung. She tried in desperation to smack the creature away from her with an upward swat of her own and miscalculated, hitting him in the hindquarters.


His aim was true and as his rear end rose in response to the connection of her flailing arm his claws raked her face down the sides of her cheeks. His teeth pierced her upper lip and her left nostril. After a few seconds he disengaged himself from her ruined face and stared up at her as if daring her to try to harm his Hermione again. She turned tail and ran from the “killer housecat” at top speed. He contentedly slinked off into the depths of the castle to earn his new nickname by hunting for more innocuous prey, to get her taste out of his mouth if nothing else.


Pansy set out for the Hospital Wing at a dead run, Madam Pomfrey was the only person at Hogwarts who was both capable and willing to heal the notoriously malign Slytherin. She burst through the double doors sobbing with her face in her hands that were in no better shape from the attack. Madam Pomfrey sat her down on a cot, there was a much more serious injury that require her immediate attention. Pansy continued to sob as she waited for the ministrations of the nurse.


Draco returned to the Transfiguration classroom taking the little book from his pouch and looking down at it in his hands. This was the first time in eons that he was having trouble fighting against his breeding, as it were. His instincts said that he should open it, that it couldn’t really hurt to take a tiny peek. His conscience said that her private thoughts were just that, private and that he had no right to pry. If she wanted him to know, she’d tell him. It wasn’t as though the two of them kept secrets from one another.


Well, it wasn’t like she’d ever keep a secret from him. He on the other hand was keeping a secret from her, a big secret. His father would come to visit him one day, a day that would come too soon for Draco’s comfort, and begin the preparations for Draco’s investiture into the ranks of the Death Eaters. He’d not been able to tell her about this horrible ceremony that would seal his fate and could possibly be the cause of his downfall. He wanted desperately to avoid the look of pain that he was sure he’d find in her eyes at this shocking news.


Draco struggled with this hideous round of circular reasoning until he finally reached the door that lead to the Astronomy Tower. Still running his fingers over the soft cover of the journal he pushed the door open and was greeted with a smile from Hermione and a characteristic look of slight disapproval from Professor McGonagall. He sat down next to the young witch with a soft thump and set the book on his desk with a look that clearly said, “I’ll tell you later.” She nodded and the two of them set to putting a dent in the heavy workload provided by the Transfiguration teacher.


When at long last McGonagall released the two of them for lunch Draco dawdled long enough to write Hermione a note explaining why he’d brought her journal back with him from the common room. He placed the note into the journal and slipped it into her bag then met her eyes.


She watched Draco carefully slip a tiny piece of paper into the tiny book in his hands and then place it in her bag with a puzzled expression on her face. When he met her eyes there was no expression on his face that she could read. Once she was in the relative anonymity of the corridor she picked the note from the book and read:


I didn’t mean to take it, but it just didn’t feel like the kind of thing you would leave laying out. I know I’d want you to grab mine if it was just sitting there where anyone could have read it.
~D~


This note hadn’t helped her confusion at all. He had to be mistaken: this wasn’t her book, but it did look strangely familiar to her. She’d not left anything out of place this morning when she left for breakfast; she’d never be careless enough to leave a book to its harm. Something just didn’t seem to tally with reality for a moment and it sent a chill up her spine and goose bumps down her arms.


A tall lanky figure smirked from under the cowl of an invisibility cloak as Pansy pushed her way from the portrait hole of the Head boy and girl’s suite and struggled into the corridor with a face full of orange fur and unadulterated feline fury. It was all that he could do not to laugh aloud at the painful punishment being dispensed to the odious child who stood flailing before him. Seeing his opportunity and not being one to let such an opportunity pass him by the figure slipped into the common room unnoticed, as was his goal.


He took in the furnishings with yet another sneer of disgust, how would one be expected to function in such a Spartan environment? The ancient table stood by the fireplace just as it had in his day, and the same couch and chairs, which bore a faintly musty smell, sat in the selfsame positions. This would not do. He lowered the cowl of the cloak and produced his wand; a moment later the accommodations were lush and new. “Much better,” said he as he surveyed his handiwork.


He wouldn’t allow himself to get too comfortable, there was still much to do before the return of the Head boy and girl. The mere thought that she not met with an unfortunate end by now was beyond him; perhaps he’d have to take steps to ensure her downfall. He took another look around the room and smiled, this was much more apropos of a wizard of high standing.


‘Now, on to business,’ he thought as he crossed to the door, which led to Draco’s room. He opened it silently and slipped inside. His surprise at the condition of Draco’s room would have been evident had anyone else been in the room to see it. It was rare that Draco kept his room in such immaculate condition, he sat back to contemplate the possible reasons for this sudden lack of rebellion. Could it be possible that that silly streak of conscience and independent thought had finally run its course? He could only hope, it would make his next task that much easier. It was almost impossible to convert the unwilling to the service of the Dark Lord, almost.


He resolved to give Draco a bit more time to see just how far this trend of obsequious behavior would go, and possibly to discover the reasons behind it. He left the room pleased, but still nonplussed by what he’d found. He crossed the common room to the door of her bedchamber; this was another chance that simply couldn’t be passed up. He paused a moment before he pushed the door open, he now had the perfect opportunity to sabotage the mudblood bitch. He wrung his hands and laughed coldly, that beast Pansy had unwittingly taken care of the only real obstacle keeping him from the mudblood’s room. Now that the infernal fleabag was gone he could have free reign within her room.


Hermione took the book to the only place where she could safely examine it in privacy and eat lunch at the same time, the Room of Requirement. She set off holding the book tightly, but warily barely seeing anyone or anything she passed by. This included Draco. She pushed passed him with a look of focused intent on her face, her lips pursed and her eyes flat.


This raised his hackles, so he followed her at a distance determined to find out what could unsettle the ever coolheaded Hermione. Once he’d passed through the crowds seeking lunch in the Great Hall he ran to catch up to her.


Draco came panting up to her elbow and he looked confusedly at her. She kept walking, spurred on by an urgent calling she couldn’t explain. The blond wizard stepped into her path, as it was the only way to break into her trance. When she came back to herself she stared at him dumbly for a moment before shaking off the strange feeling. “This is probably not good,” she said dropping her glance to the small book in her left hand. She took another cursory glance around to reassure herself of their privacy before continuing to voice her suspicions and reservations concerning the origin of the book.


“We need a more private place to eat and discuss this matter.” She winked at Draco, who only then realized that she’d led him to the corridor that contained the kitchen and the Room of Requirement. He nodded and the two of them began to pace back and forth in front of the entrance of the Room of Requirement, each concentrating on the goal.


Moments later the door opened and the two of them walked into a room that boasted a sumptuous lunch and sufficient table room for the two of them not to ruin the book in the process of their meal. They sat and at Hermione’s insistence they ate hastily before they began to discus the problem at hand.


“This isn’t mine,” she said pulling the book from her lap and placing it on the table between them. He looked at her strangely and a growing sense of dread turned his stomach.