He Walks in Dreams

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! HBP compatable.

Chapter 5- Hogsmeade

Hermione awoke on Saturday morning to find the sky full of roiling black clouds and the winds whipping sharply at the trees, the smaller branches being torn from the larger and cast into the torrent. The storm clouds threatened to open up at any moment and drench any unfortunate travelers with fat raindrops and free them of any devices designed to keep them dry, such as hats or umbrellas. Hermione sighed as she beheld the grim scene from her warm dry room in Gryffindor Tower; she held hope against the faint unease that this trip would be a complete disaster, as if the weather itself was an ill omen.

She chided herself for being so superstitious it was not at all in her nature to let so little a factor as the weather interferer with her plans. Still she could not help but wish that the rain would at least slacken-off by the time that she and her classmates were ready to enter the village. That is the few students who were not scared witless at the prospect of having to leave the relative safety of the Castle and grounds. She shook her head in an attempt to rid her mind of the remnants of the childish idea that bad weather could somehow negatively impact her magical abilities and she dressed in several light layers for warmth before heading to break her fast.

She met Ginny just outside the Great Hall; she’d been waiting for Hermione for some minutes, but did not say a word about having been kept waiting. The two entered the Great Hall and took seats across from each other at the far end from the high table where the teachers sat. They said little during the meal; in fact the hall was unusually quiet for a Hogsmeade weekend, not even inclement weather was likely to ruin the much-sought-after freedom that a trip into the town could provide.

Hermione glanced up from her plate to get a better look at the swirling clouds reflected in the enchanted ceiling of the hall, half expecting to find that the foreboding sky had broken through the ceiling and that droplets of icy water would splash on her cheek at and moment, but they dissipated mere inches from her upturned face. She began to eat in earnest when she saw that the vast majority of her classmates were already finished their meals and were beginning to mill around the hall restlessly. After hastily finishing off her plate she looked up to see that Ginny was staring into nothing and that she’d not actually eaten anything, instead she’d shoved the food on her plate around distractedly.

The intensity of Hermione’s stare was enough to pull Ginny from her trance. The redhead blinked slowly as she came back to herself; the look in Hermione’s eyes said, “Where were you?” as clearly as if she’d spoken it aloud and with a sigh Ginny confided to her friend that she felt that there was something amiss. The whole thing was more troubling to Ginny because it was so nebulous; there was nothing that she could pinpoint as being the focus of her feelings of unease.

Hermione did her best not to laugh at Ginny’s superstitious insistence that the day held peril for one or both of them, in spite of the fact that she too was battling with similar suppositions. She opened her mouth to reassure her friend, but at that very moment Filch announced in a booming voice that those who were planning to visit the village should begin queuing. Hermione and Ginny were separated by the crowd of excited students that were not forming the ordered line that the surly caretaker had in mind, a nod passed between the two of them, which served to acknowledge that they’d meet up in the village.

The crowd was growing more and more unruly with each passing moment, so Hermione decided to step in and lend her authority to the severely aggravated caretaker. With one loud whistle and a few choice words spoken at a conversational volume the students snapped into place. Rather than making the older man happy, her assistance as it were, infuriated him. How dare that little snipe insinuate that he was incapable of doing his job? He loathed her more than he loathed most of the students in the school; as a matter of fact the only students who’d earned an equal level of ire from Filch were the Weasley twins. At least they didn’t try to disguise their contempt for him with the guise of helping him, they’d never dream of it.

Hermione was in no mood to be pestered by the caretaker and she followed him out the front doors of the castle to collect the permission forms of the third year students and check that the older students were also granted permission to enter the village. Filch gave her the considerably easier and quicker job of collection the permission slips, this was made even easier by the fact that the third year students were the most eager to go to the village and were primarily concentrated at the head of the queue. When the last of the third-years had passed through the permission gauntlet Hermione handed the permission slips over to the surly caretaker and waited for Ginny to emerge from the doors.

It seemed to take hours before the redheaded witch to emerge from the doors and by the time she did the clouds made good on their threat to open up and a steady rain was falling. Hermione’s hair began to frizz even more than usual and she began to curse the shortsightedness that had left her out in the rain without a slicker or umbrella. Not that the latter would be of much use once one was out of the wind-block created by the bulk of the castle.

Hermione was pleased to see that Ginny had not suffered from the same lack of thought regarding the weather that she had. As a matter of fact Ginny was more than merely prepared, she’d brought an extra cloak along for her friend. “Here put this on,” said Ginny with a smile. “I’d have been out sooner, but when I saw that it was raining I decided that I’d better put a waterproofing spell on these.”

“Thanks. I don’t know where my mind is these days…I…I just…” she stammered finally letting her thought trail away, knowing that her friend would understand why words had failed her. Ginny patted her on the shoulder as the two of them led the procession down into the village of Hogsmeade. Just before they reached the village Hermione turned to them and told them what they should do in case of emergencies before turning them loose in the streets.

She and Ginny had previously decided that it would be prudent to attend to their needs for the potion first, as the primary purpose of most students’ visit to the village was for more leisurely pursuits, such as visiting Honeydukes sweetshop. The more academic reasons for the trip would not be attended to until later in the day, so it was not likely that they’d cause suspicion among the student populace. Her reputation with the shopkeepers in town was that she was efficient and so there would be no rumors traded over why she’d arrived so early to purchase her supplies.

Within the hour she and Ginny had managed to procure all of the necessary supplies for brewing the potion; they then attempted to lift the veil of uncertainty and fear that hung around them since Mrs. Weasley’s letter had arrived some weeks earlier. ‘A quick trip to The Three Broomsticks ought to do the job nicely,’ thought Hermione. She smiled at Ginny and nodded in the direction of the pub. Ginny nodded her head vigorously, both to indicate her agreement and to warm herself; the icy rain had turned to sleet sometime during their hunt for the necessary supplies. The wind had intensified as well and it alternatively threatened to tear the parcels from their arms and wrap the cloaks around their legs to trip them up.

Hermione’s slight form was nearly shoved through the door of the pub by the sheer force of the wind and it took the combined physical strength of both Ginny and herself to close the door. With one almighty shove that they put their shoulders into the two witches pressed on the thick darkly stained oak door until suddenly the resistance stopped as the latch slipped into place, the telltale click drown out by the raging storm outside.

Hermione pushed back the cowl of her cloak as she approached the bar where Madam Rosmerta was standing ready to take her order, with a smile and her cheeks rosy. As Hermione reached for the frog that held the cape on her shoulders and Ginny gathered it in her hands, with her own, and moved to a table near the fireplace. Hermione nodded her thanks as her friend moved away and stepped closer to the bar so that she might order more easily. The pub, though not yet crowded at this relatively early hour, was quite loud, owing mostly to the fact that a particularly boisterous group of fifth-year boys had decided to hold an exploding snap tournament in the far corner of the room. Rosmerta did not seem to mind in the slightest that her establishment was being used for such an event; as a matter of point she was rather pleased to see that the cloud of sorrow that had formed because of Dumbledore’s death was beginning to thin, and spawn joy in its wake. She herself was still recovering from her ordeal of being spelled by Draco Malfoy for the majority of last year and her progress was heartening.

Hermione ordered two butterbeers and carried them deftly in her free hand to the table that Ginny had selected next to the orange glow and warmth of the fire. She set the tankards down on the table before stowing her parcels neatly on the empty seat next to hers. The heat from the fire brought into sharp relief just how cold she was, goose bumps sprung up all over her skin. She stamped her feet in an effort to improve her circulation before she sat down. With the first sip she of butterbeer she felt the warmth spread from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

For a fairly long time neither she nor Ginny said anything and both were content to nurse their drinks rather than bring up the unpleasant topic that each knew was in the forefront of the other’s silent musings. When Hermione looked down and found that her tankard was empty she glanced across the table at Ginny who smiled half-heartedly and made her way to the bar to buy the next round of drinks. This round of drinks was consumed with more fervor than the last. It was difficult to remain long-faced in the bustling and friendly atmosphere that The Three Broomsticks afforded when it was crowded and soon the smiles on Ginny and Hermione’s faces were genuine.

The rest of the day in the village passed uneventfully, save for a small disturbance involving a pair of third years who had inadvertently managed to turn one of their wands into a parrot.

As the end of the day and supper drew near Hermione, aided by Ginny, began to round up the remaining students and direct them back up the road toward the castle. As protocol demanded she was the last to leave the village and she had just enough time to stow her purchases before sliding into her seat at the Gryffindor table as it filled with all manner of delicious fare.

The veil of twilight was beginning to fall when the young blond Death Eater Apperated into the alley behind The Three Broomsticks, this was the first time that he’d been so close to Hogwarts since he’d tried and failed to kill Dumbledore some months ago. The Dark Lord was, to put it mildly, displeased with Draco for his failure and thus he had become the one selected to undertake the most dangerous missions, meaning those missions that would have an incredibly low probability of success. The first such mission had been the bold daylight prison break that had freed his father and several of Voldemort’s other minions.

Once again Severus had been the one to pull him from the jaws of death; Draco could not conceive of why his former teacher had been so consistently concerned for his well being, to be honest it unnerved him to think of why the older wizard would bother to assist him at all. What Severus could possibly be gaining by assisting him? The young blonde wizard shook his head to clear it of all thoughts, this was not a time that he could afford to be distracted by anything he had to find Percy Weasley and dispatch him with haste and be away before the authorities could be notified. He crept about in the gathering gloom with the hood of his cloak pulled so that it obscured his pale face. Just as he reached the end of the alleyway he heard a familiar voice, which he’d describe as shrill and the tone of voice was bossy. “Granger,” he growled quietly. How perfect he could get rid of her as well as Percy, who he’d always thought of as being a slightly older male version of the rule-loving kiss-ass that was Hermione Granger.

She walked alone in the dark, empty street. He could not have asked for a better scenario had he scripted it personally and as he raised his wand with a triumphant smirk that made his gray eyes flash with fury a strange sensation overcame him; suddenly he felt that his limbs were heavy as sandbags and that his eyes simply would not remain open, than darkness closed his vision to a tunnel with a slivery light at the end.

‘Stupid child,’ Severus thought as he raised his wand and pointed it at the unsuspecting young wizard in front of him. “She is not for you, at least not now,” he told the unconscious boy that was now flung over his shoulder as he walked to an area that he deemed safe enough to leave the senseless figure until he returned.

Severus stalked off into the night to do the job that was given to Draco. He was not at all happy that anyone had been ordered to kill such a brilliant wizard as Percy Weasley, particularly when there appeared to be no strategic reason for doing so. Nonetheless he prowled the empty streets headed for the Hog’s Head and what would become the final resting place for one of the most brilliant young minds he’d ever known.