Not All that Glitters is Gold

Author’s Note:

I have to give my humblest apologies. I’ve been sick for the past month (with what, I don’t know and am pretty sure it wasn’t swine flu.) I am hoping my writing skills haven’t dropped since then, but who knows. It’s a little shorter than I normally write but I kind of like it. Lol.





Pacing. Pacing was definitely not a good sign. Draco sniffed as he sat at the corner end of the elongated table, his hand pressed firmly against his swollen cheek. Who knew Mrs. Weasley was such an effective healer? Almost everything was healed, with the exception of a few bumps and bruises. For once, Draco was a little glad the heifer was still around. Alright, so that wasn’t the nicest of things to say, but he was in a foul mood and no amount of appreciation would bring him out of it.

The Order members either looked tired, angry, frustrated or maybe it was all. He and the Weasel didn’t exactly think things out and while it may have been true form for the red headed wizard it wasn’t for Draco. He always thought things out, but for some reason he didn’t. He was so eager to win back Hermione, prove that he was a hero and not the villain that he hadn’t thought of the consequences. If only Merlin could’ve seen him now. He’d strip Draco of his wand and punt him across a whole Quidditch field with a manky old boot.

Maybe that would have done him some good. Maybe not. But right now was certainly not the time to mentally punish oneself. Draco caught a glimpse of Snape crack his neck and part his lips. Here comes the good, old fashion whip lash that is a lecture from his god father.

“I have received word,” Snape spoke, his voice barely above a whisper but everyone watched and listened as if he were bloody Gilderoy Lockhart dancing the flamenco in nothing but a bright purple tutu. “Miss Granger is to be moved.”

“Moved?” Ginny questioned, nearly spraying Draco with her hot chocolate when she took a sip.

“Moved like cattle,” Lupin surmised, “I hear that’s what they do to the... slaves who either cause too much of a problem for their masters or...”

“Are pregnant,” Snape interrupted, causing a cataclysmic eruption within the group.

“Pregnant!” Molly screeched, clutching the center of her chest as if her heart was about to pop.

Draco wouldn’t want to be anywhere near her when that happened, but as of now he sat in silence... shocking silence. His eyes were wide, mouth dropped and sweat had begun to bead across his forehead. Harry let his head fall into his hands while Ron looked just as dumbfounded as Draco was.

“There’s no way,” Ron whispered harshly, “Hermione wouldn’t...”

“It makes sense,” Draco said quietly, his voice dry, “I mean, I hear it all the time at the meetings. The Dark Lord is keen on the idea of producing more Death Eaters.”

“Hermione is NOT pregnant!” Ron shouted, his ears turning pink.

“Perhaps,” Snape drawled, quieting the entire room with that one word, “Our dear Lucius has other ideas? It isn’t uncommon for him to think outside of the box. Pretend the girl is with child and move her to another, secure location.”

“That’d be a death wish if You-Know-Who ever found out,” Draco replied, pulling a thick purple cloth from his cheek, “My father is a powerful wizard but he is no match for the Dark Lord. Taking Hermione away is the stupidest thing he could do.”

“But, it gives us an advantage,” Lupin chimed in, sitting up from his seat with wide glinting eyes, “If Hermione is away from all the other Death Eaters, then all that really stands between us and her is Lucius.”

Everyone looked to each other for a moment; even Harry rose from his stupor and stared. The werewolf made sense, at least in Draco’s mind. The thing that was keeping everything tied down, preventing him from spewing with his concerns, ideas, and just about everything - talk about verbal diarrhea - was where Lucius would take Hermione.

They had extensive grounds world wide, but as of late they have been occupied by the Dark Lord’s minions. It wasn’t wise for his father to bring her to a place crawling with Death Eaters, especially if he wanted to keep her out of harms way.

Draco’s eyes fluttered close as he thought hard. Places. Places. Place. Where would he take Hermione? Where was the one place no one ever looked, or even cared to look?

He paused.

“Oh gods,” Draco whispered, rising to his feet.

All eyes were on him now, and while he once gloried in the attention - right now he wanted to climb into a hole and never come out. Perhaps die in said hole so no one would drag him out and beat him to a living pulp with their beady little eyes.

“Airth Castle,” he said, looking to Snape, whose eyes had become as wide as saucers.

“Airth Castle?” Molly asked, “The castle in Scotland? I though that was...”

“My father purchased it before he became a Death Eater,” Draco explained, pulling on his boots which had been sitting idly next to his feet. “It was his first ‘me’ present when he turned seventeen. Of course, everything was hush-hush. Not even mum knows about it.”

“Then how do you?” Ginny asked, tapping her fingers on the table.

“My father hides his most precious belongings behind the liquor cabinet in his den,” he shrugged, “It wasn’t hard to find it when I found myself bored during the summer of my 6th year. It’s the perfect place he’d take her. No one would know where she is and the Dark Lord would think he’s just setting up house.”

“Are you sure?” Snape asked, breathlessly for once, “Airth Castle has some of the oldest wards, the worst curses...”

“We have two great Defense Against the Dark Arts professors and the Boy-Who-Wouldn’t-Die in this room,” Draco grinned, almost accomplished.

“Not to mention a former Death Eater with knowledge of the most dangerous curses,” Harry suddenly said from behind Draco, holding out his cloak, “Lucius wouldn’t stand a chance. Not against all of us.”