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Yuletide Blessing in Disguise	By : Gandalfs-Beard Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 123887 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related properties--all rights belong to Rowling. Nor do I make any money from the production of this work.

Chapter List
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Bandaged

Draco Malfoy seethed with rage! He was a Pureblood! A Noble! How come he didn’t have a Harem? Draco couldn’t even get a date to the Yule Ball! But Potter had girls hanging all over him! It wasn’t fair!
“Bloody fuck!” he yelled at nothing, savagely kicking out at a tree stump near the boat-house.
“GAAAAAH! Aaaaargh!”
Draco hopped on one foot before plonking himself down on his backside amidst the long grasses and weeds. He tugged off the shoe from his other foot and began massaging his toes, wincing.
“I thought I heard screaming,” a sly voice chuckled. Draco looked up, recognising the voice.
“Piss off, Zabini! ... I’m not in the bloody mood!” Draco snarled.
Zabini shook his head and chuckled some more. “I can see that! Need a hand with that foot?”
Draco rolled his eyes at Zabini’s little joke.
“I’ll be fine!” he snapped. “Anyway, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you in class?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Zabini retorted. “But don’t tell me the answer - let me guess. You’re not in the mood?”
“Oh, ha, ha, ha! Really funny Zabini!”
“Are you really that arsed by Potter’s little harem then?” Zabini sighed and shook his head, looking almost (but not quite) sympathetic.
“So what if I am?” Draco whined. “I’m rich! I’m a Pureblood! Where’s my bloody harem?”
Zabini snorted mirthfully. “I suppose you could always ask your father to hire you a harem.”
“It’s not the bloody same! Everyone wants to be in Potter’s harem - even Pansy apparently!” Draco narrowed his eyes at Zabini. “And you’ll want to keep an eye on Greengrass. She looked like she was enjoying the show yesterday too.”
“I was there, remember? And yeah, she was.” Zabini grinned. “She got so hot and bothered watching Patil and Granger snogging that we spent the rest of the afternoon shagging...”
“NOT helping, Zabini!”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, Draco, not everyone thinks it’s as brilliant as you and loads of girls seem to. After you stormed out of breakfast, Potter had to go to the hospital wing with boils all over his hands. Someone sent him an envelope full of Bubotubor pus.”
“Huh! That’s something I suppose!” said Draco begrudgingly, scowling.
“Anyway - how’s your foot doing? Need some help getting to the hospital wing?” Zabini almost looked like he was smirking.
“I can get there myself!” Draco grumbled.
“Suit yourself! ... See you round!” Zabini shrugged then sauntered off.
Draco watched Zabini until he passed out of view beyond the rise, still feeling puzzled; Zabini never had mentioned why he was out of class. If Draco didn’t know any better, it almost seemed like Zabini had just wanted to needle him and rub Potter’s harem in his face.
Draco staggered to his feet with a groan, wincing.
“Gaah!” he grunted as he began to hobble back towards the castle.

~o0o~
Students were already gathering near the woods by Hagrid’s hut for Care of Magical Creatures when Hermione arrived with a very grumpy looking Harry with bandaged hands. Amusement softened Harry’s irritable features when he spied Ron and Neville and he couldn’t help chuckling; the pair were still gawking at the photographs and showing them to Dean and Seamus while they were all waiting for Hagrid.
“Blimey!” Dean whistled as he took a good long look at one of the photos in particular. “She’s a real looker, that one is!”
Ron and Neville, both with slightly vacant grins, nodded in unison.
Hermione rolled her eyes, but her little smirk suggested that she still found it all more amusing than anything. Seamus, who wasn’t nearly as interested in the photos, having a personal stash of Naughty Witches magazines hidden under his mattress, nudged Dean when he spotted Hagrid approaching.
“Watch it mate,” muttered Seamus.
Dean quickly thrust the photo back at Ron who hurriedly but carefully returned the photo to its envelope and handed it to Neville who hastily put it and the other envelopes in his book bag as Hagrid lumbered towards them.
“What yeh got there, lads?” asked Hagrid, looking very curious.
“Er...” said Ron, his ears turning pink.
“Nothing,” Neville mumbled, his cheeks turning scarlet.
“It’s just a few silly pictures which came in the post this morning,” Hermione chimed in quickly to save Ron and Neville from trouble.
Hagrid nodded, quickly losing interest when he spied Harry’s bandaged hands.
“Blimey Harry! Wha’ happened ter yeh, then?”
Harry opened his mouth to reply but again Hermione was first in, this time her nostrils flaring with emotion as she spoke.
“That was from a horrible letter that Harry got this morning after that stupid article Rita Skeeter wrote about our supposed ‘harem’ forWitch Weekly,” she hissed angrily. “The envelope contained undiluted bubotubor pus and it got all over Harry’s hands.”
“Aaah! Righ’...” said Hagrid sympathetically, “got some of ‘em letters meself after she wrote tha’ one abou’ me an’ Lupin. Someone even sen’ me a parcel full o’ dragon dung - good fertiliser fer the pumpkins though. ... Load a ruddy nutters! Yeh oughter just chuck the lot in the fire Harry...”
“Actually, me and Neville are checking all of Harry’s mail first now,” said Ron magnanimously.
“Er... we are?”
“Yeah - for Harry’s safety,” Ron raised his eyebrows at Neville.
“Oh - right! ... Harry’s safety!” Neville quickly agreed.
Hermione snorted mirthfully and Lavender and Parvati giggled. This time it was Harry who was rolling his eyes and smirking, but he reckoned if Ron and Neville were willing to risk bubotubor pus for a few pictures of naked girls that was up to them.
“Well, good on yeh, lads!” Hagrid beamed. “Lookin’ out fer yer friend like tha’ ... Yeh couldn’ ask fer better, Harry!”
“Yeah, they’re alright!” Harry chortled, all grumpiness gone completely now.
“Thanks loads, guys,” he added with a grin and a wink at Ron and Neville.
“Anyway,” said Hagrid, “bes’ be gettin’ class started. Huh... looks like there’s less Slyth’rins today... less’n usual anyway now tha’ Malfoy an’ ‘is pair o’ knuckleheads is gone...”
“Blaise wasn’t feeling well,” piped up Daphne Greengrass; for some reason Pansy was giggling.
““Righ’ then,” said Hagrid, nodding as he began the lesson. “These’re Nifflers - clever little creatures and jolly useful little treasure detectors they are. Yeh find ‘em down mines mostly. An’ watch out for yer valuables - they like sparkly stuff...”
Sure enough, Pansy gave a little shriek as one leapt and tried to gnaw her bracelet off her wrist. But she calmed down when she realised that it was more cuddly than dangerous. Ron’s interest was piqued when Hagrid went on.
“Anyway, I’ve buried a load o’ Leprechaun Gold,” said Hagrid cheerily, “an’ there’s a prize for the one whose Niffler digs up the most coins. Don’ bother keepin’ the gold though, it’ll disappear after a bit...”
Ron ended up with an enormous bar of chocolate when his Niffler dug up the most gold coins. He was a bit disappointed that it was only Leprechaun Gold, but he was still feeling pretty chuffed about all of the photos that he and Neville were sharing between them and the prospect of more to follow...

~o0o~
The Goblin with a slender black moustache and crisply parted slick, black hair peered shrewdly over steepled, spindly fingers at the tall Auror sitting before his desk.
“I can assure you, Auror Shacklebolt, all of our operations at Gribble and Spugnut Betting Services are quite legal and aboveboard. All of our transactions are conducted through Account Manager Ragnok’s office at Gringotts in accordance with both Ministry regulations and National statutes.”
“Oh, of course, Mr. Gribble,” said Shacklebolt politely. “My apologies if I wasn’t clear. It was Account Manager Ragnok who informed me that your firm was the most recent to handle Ludo Bagman’s legitimate affairs.”
“Ah, Bagman!” Mr. Gribble scowled as he nudged a slightly askew ballpoint pen back into alignment with the others on his otherwise perfectly organised mahogany desk. “Yes! We last handled Bagman’s bets during the Quidditch World Cup, and he ended up owing the firm a substantial amount of gold.
“He had been in arrears nearly four months before we finally received full payment and at that point this firm severed ties with him.”
“Did Bagman inform you how he had managed to scrape together the necessary funds for repayment.”
“Alas, no! Indeed, that was one of the reasons we refused to conduct any more business with Bagman. We suspected that he may have also been financing side-bets through illegitimate bookmaking operators to cover bets beyond the limits of our financial terms with him.”
“I see!” Shacklebolt nodded, frowning pensively. “So the bookmakers he was seen with in Hogsmeade in January...”
“Were not associated with Gribble and Spugnut in any way, and we do not believe they were associated with Kilgore and Sons or Biljbreth Incorporated. ... It is possible I suppose, but highly unlikely that Bagman ran the bets which exceeded the amounts our firm was willing to cover through a smaller firm.”
Mr. Gribble picked up the ballpoint pen which he had so carefully lined up with the others and scribbled a few names on a notepad; then he tore off the top slip of the pad and handed it to Shacklebolt.
“I suggest you try your luck in those establishments.”
“Bullwhip and Cleaver, and Red-Handed-Fist...?” Shacklebolt tugged his lower lip between forefinger and thumb as he peered questioningly at the names.
“Goblin pubs which cater to more.... unsavoury elements of the Goblin Nation,” said Mr. Gribble. “And The Silver Sword is a more high-end nightclub catering to more distinguished Goblin clientele - but the National Inquiry Unit has for quite some time believed that The Silver Sword launders money for one of the larger Goblin criminal syndicates.”
“They have yet to catch them at it,” Mr. Gribble shrugged, “but a raid once uncovered a fencing and drugs operation conducting business in the establishment during open hours. Of course the owners of the nightclub claimed no knowledge of the criminal activities, and no connection could be proven...”
“...But one is very likely,” said Shacklebolt, nodding again. He rose to his feet and shook the bookmaker’s hand.
“Thank you, Mr. Gribble. You have been very helpful.”
“It was my pleasure, Auror Shacklebolt. ... Your courtesy is greatly appreciated.”
Shacklebolt smiled wryly. “Not all wizards are inclined to hold on to old enmities and prejudices, Mr. Gribble...”

~o0o~
Despite having done very well forgetting about Snape being a (most likely ex-) Death Eater since all that snogging with Hermione yesterday afternoon and evening, it began weighing heavily on Harry’s mind again when he spotted Snape glowering at him from the staff-table at lunch.
He began wondering if he should ask Dumbledore, but wasn’t sure how one went about something like that without sounding all accusatory. Harry felt like it would be a bit presumptuous to simply walk up to Dumbledore and say, “Excuse me professor, but did you know that you have a Death Eater on the staff?”
But the more he thought about it, the more Harry felt like he had to tell someone. What if Dumbledore was unaware? He would surely want to know. And if Snape really was an ex-Death Eater working for Dumbledore now, Harry really wanted to know the truth, rather than just guessing.
Between that and his bandaged hands, Harry was all worked up again by the end of classes, and Hermione wasn’t the only one who could tell, Ron and Neville seemed to have noticed too.
“You alright, Harry?” asked Ron, looking very concerned.
“Are your hands still hurting?” asked Neville.
Parvati, who was hanging out too as Lavender was off somewhere with Viktor, peered at Harry’s bandages as if hoping to see through them with x-ray vision. Harry sighed, rubbing absentmindedly at his itching scar with the tips of his fingers.
“Nah,” he said, glancing at Hermione, “It’s something else...”
Ten minutes later, Harry was sitting by the edge of the lake with Hermione, Parvati, and Neville and Ron. The surface of the lake was rippling in the bitter wind which was blowing away the grey skies of February as March approached (and with it, Ron’s birthday Harry reminded himself), and a few ducks were waddling along the pebbly shore nearby.
Taking a deep breath, Harry began to tell them everything he had found out and had discussed with Hermione.
“...and that’s what’s annoying me right now,” Harry concluded. “I’m not sure how to talk to Dumbledore about it.”
Parvati and Neville were both shocked into silence.
“Snape’s a Death Eater? ... He’s really a Death Eater then?” Ron was still too stunned by the revelation to offer any meaningful advice.
“Yes!” said Hermione impatiently, rolling her eyes. “You’re the last person I thought would be surprised by this, Ron.”
“Well, yeah, I knew Snape was evil, but after it turned out to be Quirrell all along in first year I never reckoned Snape was that evil!” said Ron defensively.
“Well, what do you guys think?” asked Harry. “Should I just stroll up to Dumbledore and drop this on him or what?”
“I don’t know about that,” said Neville, looking anxious. “What if he gets angry with you for making accusations?”
“Yeah,” Ron agreed, nodding, “I could see that going over like a lead balloon. If he does already know about Snape, Dumbledore might get cross with you for exposing a secret, or he might think that you’re just trying to make trouble for Snape.”
“Well, I think that Harry should say something,” said Parvati firmly.
“I agree completely,” said Hermione. “It’s the only way to really settle things...”
“Or I could run it by Moody, see what ‘e knows about it...” said another voice.
Everyone turned to see Dora peeking around the bush behind them. Harry kicked himself mentally. Dora - of course; he should have asked her what she thought about all of this.
“Sorry, Harry! I couldn’t help overhearing - I always give you and Hermione a bit more space if it’s just you two, but I figured I could stick a bit closer seein’ as you’re with everyone else.”
“No - it’s okay, really,” said Harry, shaking his head. “I’m just feeling a bit stupid for not thinking of talking to you.”
“Me too,” Hermione admitted, flushing with embarrassment.
“No worries, you two.” Dora grinned. “You’ve got enough on your plates dealin’ with everything else. But this is more or less my job - looking out for any potential threats. And to be perfectly honest, I always thought Snape was mean enough t’be a Death Eater too. ... He wasn’t any nicer to Hufflepuffs than ‘e was to Gryffindors back when I had ‘im for Potions.”

~o0o~
Lucius Malfoy strode through the Atrium of the Ministry as if he owned the place, the crowds parting around him. He glared at several Ministry workers who attempted to enter the lift with him and they fell back, knowing better than to mess with the angry platinum haired Warlock. He scratched at his left forearm absentmindedly as the lift hurtled on its way.
Finally he reached the Administration level and stalked along the purple-carpeted corridor until he came to the Senior Undersecretary’s office.
“Oh, Warlock Malfoy,” said the secretary in the office lobby, looking up when the door opened, “The Senior Undersecretary is expecting...”
“Of course she is,” snapped Malfoy, pushing open the door of the Senior Undersecretary’s sanctum. The first thing to strike Malfoy’s eye as always was the flowery pink wallpaper.
“Lucius, come in, come in,” Umbridge beckoned, gesturing at the overstuffed hot-pink armchair. “Do take a seat.”
Malfoy ignored the mewling kittens gamboling across the plates on the wall and his feet sank into pearl-pink shag carpet as he made his way to the armchair. He cut an odd-figure, dressed all in black seated in the garishly pink office, but he was used to it. Malfoy caught Umbridge glancing at his left forearm as she passed him a cup of tea.
“Any changes I should be aware of, Lucius?” she asked, her voice as sweetened as the tea he was sipping.
“Just some itching and reddening, which is highly suggestive, I admit,” he responded. “If Crouch Junior’s Veritaserum confession is indeed true and not just the mad ravings of an escaped convict, all I can be certain of is that the Dark Lord has not reconstituted himself yet.”
“And if he does...?”
“You will be the first to know, Dolores, I can assure you.”
“Good, because indeed, Ludo’s assessment of our problems were, if anything, an understatement, and we have enough on our plate as it is. ... Cornelius brought Dumbledore’s ‘concerns’ regarding the Second Task to me personally yesterday, and judging by his demeanor I suspect that Amelia’s investigation of Bagman’s possible ties to illicit Goblin bookmakers’ may not be the extent of it.”
“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” Lucius raised an eyebrow as he took another sip of tea and wondered if he needed a splash of brandy added.
“Yes,” Dolores nodded. “We shall have to tread very carefully as we move forward. I had to reassure Cornelius that my office would recuse itself from any further involvement in the Triwizard Tournament, so...”
The Senior Undersecretary raised her own eyebrows, leaving the “so” unsaid.
“I see,” Lucius drawled, eyeing the brandy bottle through the glass of the mahogany cabinet behind Umbridge, “perhaps then, if things were to go... awry with the Third Task, Ludo and his, ah... friends might be the ones to bear the responsibility...”
“My thoughts precisely,” Dolores beamed. “And if You-Know-Who should make his presence known to you before then...”
“Well,” said Lucius slowly, still calculating his options, still not entirely certain as to what he would do if the Dark Lord called for him, “at the very least, no doubt the responsibility for any mishap which befalls... certain participants during the Third Task would fall upon the Dark Lord himself, if he were to be exposed publicly.
“Perhaps, if Rita Skeeter were to be the recipient of a Ministry leak regarding Crouch Junior, that would be enough to solve all of our little problems. ... If the Dark Lord has indeed returned, he will wish to keep his presence in Britain hidden from the public as long as possible until he has built up a large enough base of support to move openly. A Ministry leak would certainly dash those plans...”
“Quite so,” Dolores agreed. “Though a leak may not even be necessary. If the Ministry obtains enough evidence to confirm Crouch Junior’s story, Cornelius plans to release the information to the public himself.”
Lucius Malfoy’s surly mood began to lift at that thought, and his features brightened considerably. If the Dark Lord was forced into open warfare too soon, he would be vulnerable, especially if Lucius were able to convince enough others not to rejoin the Dark Lord should he send out the call.
Things were coming along quite handsomely at the moment, despite the setback of Fudge moving back into Dumbledore’s corner, and the last thing Lucius or Dolores wanted was a war to spoil it all.
Dolores gave him a canny look and smile. “Well, then, now that’s settled, perhaps a brandy Lucius? I must say you looked rather irritable when you arrived. Problems at home?”
“Nothing a ‘harem’ wouldn’t solve,” Lucius retorted dryly. “I received a Floo message from Draco last night...”

~o0o~
Harry wasn’t really sure he wanted to eat in the Great Hall that evening and was considering asking Dobby to bring him and Hermione some dinner in his quarters. He had managed to get by at lunch by eating a few sandwiches, which didn't require the use of utensils.
Harry didn’t doubt that while his hands were still bandaged some of the girls might be tempted to feed him. The others may be perfectly happy pretending to be his and Hermione’s “harem,” but the idea of being fed from their hands like some sort of Roman Emperor seemed a bit too over-the-top and embarrassing.
On the other hand, it would really annoy Draco Malfoy.
In the end, Hermione managed to convince Harry to eat with everyone else, and Harry was glad that she had when he saw Malfoy scowling and limping into the Hall with a bandaged foot.
“Blimey! What happened to him?”
“While you were hanging out with Neville and Ron, Pansy told me that Blaise had a little chat with Malfoy this morning,” said Hermione, smirking. “Apparently Malfoy was taking out his frustrations on inanimate objects and ended up breaking a few toes.”
Hermione sliced a little piece of the roast beef on Harry’s plate and forked it for him.
“Aren’t you happy now that I got you to come and eat with all of us?” she asked as the fork approached his mouth.
Harry flushed hotly as he pulled the piece of roast beef from the fork with his teeth, still not entirely certain. But as he was chewing, Parvati reached for a silver bowl sitting on the table and lifted out a bunch of purple grapes.
“Open up, Harry,” she said with a giggle.
Harry let Parvati pop a grape into his mouth and caught Malfoy’s eye. He nearly spat out the grape in a snort of laughter; the look on Malfoy’s face was priceless.
“Yeah,” said Harry after swallowing the grape, grinning madly, “This is brilliant! It was almost worth getting bubotubored and bandaged just for this...”
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Yuletide Blessing in Disguise