Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Songs of Regret	By : RavieSnake Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 76454 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 17
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters from it. I also hold no rights to any of the songs mentioned. I make no money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 40
- 41
- 42
“Just give it a go.”
Draco sat in the chair and stared skeptically at the Healer. “How is this going to help anything?”
Clave Abbott folded his arms. “The main issue with your neuropathy is not the loss of feeling but the weakness,” he explained. “If we can strengthen the muscles that are still receiving proper signals we can improve your gait.”
“And tapping my toes will strengthen them?” Draco asked, his voice still laced with doubt.
“It’s a start,” the man answered with a motion to Draco’s leg. “And it’s an easy enough exercise you’ll be able to do it during classes. The more often you do it, the sooner you’ll see improvement. ”
Draco regarded him another moment and then, with a deep breath, looked down at the left foot he had flat on the floor. His face scrunched up in concentration with the effort it took to lift his toes just once.
“Keep going,” Clave said.
“It’s too hard,” Draco shook his head. The Healer shrugged.
“Then don’t do it,” he said casually, “it’s your walking ability, not mine.”
Draco frowned at him, but then refocused his attention to his foot and managed another small lift of his toes.
“There you go,” Clave said encouragingly, “it’s all about your own determination and effort. Keep up with the tapping and when that gets to be a bit easier begin alternating between lifting your toes and your heel. Once you’re able to tap at a steady rhythm, we can explore some more extensive therapy options.”
“Do you think I could be walking normally by Christmas?” Draco asked through clenched teeth as he continued with his foot.
Clave’s mouth twisted in thought. “Define normally,” he said.
Draco looked back up at him. “Like I used to walk before the accident,” he answered. Clave sighed and shook his head slightly.
“You’ll always have a limp,” he said conclusively, “and extended periods of exertion will take a toll on your stamina and balance but, with vigorous therapy, I think that by the end of December you could be walking without a support device at least.”
Draco made a determined face at that and gripped his hands to the side of the chair and looked back down again. Clave watched him work at the toe movements for a few minutes and then cleared his throat.
“It, uh… it will help to have your mate around when you do this. Easier, I mean…with her energy to assist in balancing your equilibrium,” he said quietly. Draco stiffened in the chair and stopped trying to move his foot. He slowly raised his face up to the man again.
“What?” he asked, his voice deceptively neutral.
Clave returned an understanding, yet serious expression to him. “You don’t have to bother pretending with me,” he said, “or Maureen. We knew the two of you were fated the moment we saw her help you up from the floor.”
Draco blinked at him. “How?”
“When you’ve been fated for as long as we have, you know the signs,” Clave replied with a sad look in the direction of the kitchen where Mrs. Abbott was speaking in hushed tones with Hermione while sorting potion bottles on the table. Draco felt something lurch in his stomach.
“You…you’re fated?” he asked in disbelief.
Clave nodded. “We’re few and far between, aren’t we? I confess I never thought we’d meet another pair.”
Draco didn’t say anything and simply stared at the man as he uncrossed his arms and watched the women.
“I hated her at first,” Clave said quietly with a nostalgic smile at his wife, “I thought she was annoying.” He glanced back at Draco. “She was simply everything I wasn’t.”
“Opposite,” Draco agreed as he turned to watch Hermione pick up a bottle and read what Maureen was pointing out to her.
“You’re ahead of the game,” Clave said with an impressed nod, “to have accepted her this young. I don’t think I said anything kind to Maureen until we were nineteen or twenty.”
Draco furrowed his brow sadly as he looked into the kitchen. He was hardly ahead of the game. It had taken him until he was thirty-seven to discover Hermione was his mate. And even that had been an accident. His stomach panged again and he turned back to Clave.
“The legends,” he asked somewhat anxiously, “are… I mean… will things always be trying to…”
Mr. Abbott watched Hermione and Maureen leave his line of vision as they walked further into the kitchen. “To kill you?” he responded evenly, facing Draco again. At Draco’s nod he went on. “We’re still alive after twenty years,” he shrugged. “Accidents happen to everyone. It just feels more intense when things happen to people like us because the consequences are greater. There are always two lives at risk instead of one.”
Draco thought about that for a moment. “What else can you tell us?”
Clave shrugged again. “There’s not much else to tell that you probably don’t already know, really. I’ve heard that some believe fated souls have a greater likelihood of discovering dormant magical powers or aptitudes after they’re bonded. Something about the way the cores unlock when completed. But Maureen and I never noticed any change in our abilities.”
Draco forced a disappointed hum as he quickly lowered his eyes back to his foot. “No change with us either,” he lied with something of a pout.
“Well, you’re still quite young,” Clave laughed, “perhaps you and Hermione will still find new magical abilities in each other.”
“Maybe,” Draco said, steadfastly staring at his stubbornly still toes. They were both quiet for a time until Draco quietly asked, “What about the pain and anxiety?”
“The pain?” Clave asked, raising a brow.
“When we’re apart,” he answered, looking unsure of himself, “Hermione and I, I mean. Will that pain and worry become easier to handle?”
Clave gave him a troubled look. “You are already experiencing separation issues?”
Draco nodded slowly. “Should…should we not be?” he asked nervously.
Clave considered Draco for a long moment and then said, “I suppose each couple must be different in that regard. We were bonded for nearly two years before our separation pains became too great to ignore. I don’t mean to frighten you, but he pain will only increase. At least it did for us. There’s a reason Maureen and I are both Healers. We must work the same shifts in the same department as even a few hours apart renders us virtually incapacitated. If you’re already beginning to feel it…” He shook his head sympathetically.
Draco gulped. “We felt it after about a week.”
“Merlin,” Clave breathed out. “Please tell me Professor Dumbledore’s made special arrangements for the two of you to stay in the same dorm.”
Draco shook his head. “No,” he said, frowning, “Hermione and I…we don’t want everyone to know. But we manage.”
Clave looked appalled but before he could respond, Hermione and Maureen came into the room.
“How’s Potter?” Draco asked at once, somewhat grateful for the chance to avoid discussing his and Hermione’s connection any further.
“He’s still stable,” Maureen answered. “We got him settled into the bed they brought down to the kitchen without any issues. And we just put him into a dreamless sleep. We’ll keep him that way for the next twenty-four hours to spare him the bulk of the pain.”
“Ron and Ginny are with him now,” Hermione added.
“Have they decided which one of them it’ll be?” Draco inquired, wincing slightly as he resumed his toe tapping.
“I’d prefer it if Ronald stayed behind,” Clave opined. “Natural Healer that one. I’ve never met someone so young act so professionally or pick-up the techniques so quickly. Especially considering it’s his best mate he was working on.”
“He worked like a man twenty years his senior,” Maureen agreed with an impressed nod. Hermione and Draco exchanged a knowing glance before looking back at the Abbotts.
“Harry might find more comfort in Ginny, though,” Hermione said quietly. “It’ll be hard on both of them to be apart if she’s the chosen one.”
“Nice wording,” Draco smirked. “The Chosen One.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No, but she would be,” Draco said, “at least for the week.”
“I still can’t believe Dumbledore’s using his students in this way,” Maureen said with a disapproving shake of her head. She gave her husband a stern look. “We really must see about transferring Hannah to Beauxbatons next year.”
“Oh, please don’t,” Hermione blurted out before she could stop herself, “she and Neville would be heart-broken.”
“Neville?” Maureen asked, her brow furrowing. “Neville Longbottom?”
“Why would that be?” Clave asked, stepping to his wife’s side.
Draco and Hermione looked back and forth at them, unsure of what to say.
“Han…Hannah’s not written you?” Hermione asked gently. Both Abbotts suddenly looked pained.
“We’re not allowed mail,” Maureen answered lamentably. “The Order’s forbidden any communication outside of Patronuses to mitigate the risk of exposing those of us in hiding.”
“We haven’t heard anything about our daughter since we were transferred,” Clave confirmed.
“Please tell us,” Maureen said, a suddenly desperate look in her eye, “tell us about our Hannah. Is she happy? Is she doing well? What’s happening?”
Hermione and Draco glanced briefly at each other again. “Well…” Hermione started, turning her face up to the woman, “she’s…okay. She and Neville have been a couple since the beginning of term.”
“How close are they?” Clave asked with an uneasy look to Draco. “They’re not…?”
Draco shook his head. “I don’t think they’re like us. I did catch them snogging in an alcove though, so they’re at least that close,” he added with a chuckle that he quickly tried to hide with a forced cough.
Maureen visibly relaxed, but then looked worried again. “You hesitated before saying she was okay,” she said to Hermione.
Hermione pursed her lips a little. “She’s just really worried about you,” she answered honestly, “sometimes it really gets to her.”
Maureen and Clave clasped hands and exchanged sorrowful looks.
“But she’s better with Neville,” Hermione added. “They’re really committed to one another.”
The Abbott’s continued to stare at each other as if silently communicating and then looked to Hermione and Draco.
“Do…would you perhaps be willing to bring her a letter from us?” Maureen asked pleadingly.
“So she knows we’re alright?” Clave added.
Hermione nodded. “We’d be happy to.”
Maureen returned a watery smile before embracing her husband. “Our little Hannah,” she mumbled into Clave’s chest, “I miss her so much.”
Draco looked away from them as his own heart began to tighten at the thought of Scorpius. He looked over at Hermione to see her staring at the Abbotts, a hand clutched to her chest and bottom lip trembling. His insides burned.
“Excuse us,” Clave said to them, shifting his arm up around Maureen’s shoulder to guide her toward the door, “but I believe we’ll be off to rest for a bit.” The two didn’t wait for a response as they left.
Draco watched them go and then stood up from his chair. With one careful, determined step he went to his soulmate and pulled her against him.
Hermione immediately broke down in his arms. She buried her face in Draco’s chest as she sobbed.
“I want my babies back,” she choked, gripping at him. Draco nodded into her hair as he held her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Do you really believe this to be wise, Albus?”
Dumbledore rubbed tiredly at his forehead. “I don’t have any idea what is wise any longer,” he said without looking up to Snape who was carefully pouring the goopy contents of Moody’s jug into a dozen equal-sized bottles at a low table in the great room of Grimmauld Place.
Snape glanced up at Moody who was sitting rather ungraciously upon a nearby stool. The two exchanged dark looks before both looking back at Dumbledore.
“I should have had you here with the sword,” the old man said quietly, head still down. “I knew better…knew to expect the worst. How foolish I was…”
The other two again glanced uneasily at each other but said nothing as Snape set aside the jug and funnel he’d been using.
“No one is faulting you,” Snape said, lifting two bottles to eye that they were evenly filled. Dumbledore audibly sighed and shook his head.
“It matters little who is or is not faulting my imprudence,” he said, leaning back to look up at them, “it doesn’t change the fact that our greatest advantage was just lost at my hand.”
“We’re hardly without recourse,” Snape said, grabbing two more bottles.
“Certainly not,” Moody agreed, leaning forward and bracing a hand to his knee. “Two Elementals on our side… that Dark bastard won’t know what hit him until he’s staring’ down the end of Potter’s wand.”
Dumbledore regarded the grizzled Auror for a moment. “It won’t need to be Potter’s wand any longer.”
Snape nearly dropped the bottles he was inspecting. Moody and Dumbledore both snapped their gazes in his direction at the clinking sound of the fumbled glass to see him looking back with wild eyes. “What are you saying, Albus?” he asked breathily.
Dumbledore quirked a silver brow at him. “Once the remaining Horcruxes are destroyed, anyone will be able to kill Voldemort. With the removal of Voldemort’s soul from Harry, the prophecy is invalidated.”
Snape stared back at him. “Anyone?”
“I believe so, yes,” the elder man confirmed. A flash of excitement crossed over Snape’s face before he schooled his features back into his usual serious mien and refocused his attention on the potion bottles. It was Dumbledore and Moody’s turn to exchange a look.
“But, I’m afraid we’re still two substantial obstacles away from that,” Dumbledore reminded rather dismally. “And we’ll have to adjust the plans to account for Harry’s change.”
Moody made a grunty humming sound. “You put too much faith into that prophecy anyway,” he said disapprovingly. “Never trusted divination myself. You want to know what I believe in…?”
Dumbledore and Snape both raised their eyebrows as Moody leaned forward further and tapped a finger to his temple.
“Common sense,” he said succinctly. He sat back again and crossed his arms over his chest. “What makes more sense,” he went on, “shovin’ Potter out in front of the bloody Dark Lord hoping that a prophecy was correct? Or-”
Before he could finish his thought a body appeared in the doorway. They looked up to see a sullen Draco standing there.
“Draco,” Dumbledore said kindly in acknowledgement, “What can we do for you?”
Draco cleared his throat and looked to Snape.
“Um…Se…Professor Snape, sir?” he said quietly.
Snape set down the set of bottles and looked over his shoulder at him. “What is it?”
Draco cast an uncomfortable glance at Moody and then cleared his throat once more when he addressed Snape again. “Might, I...uh…might we have a word, sir? Privately?”
Snape nodded once. “One moment,” he replied. Draco nodded lightly and retreated from the doorway on his crutch.
“Old Lucius know what he is?” Moody asked in as much of a whisper as his gruff voice would allow when Snape turned back to face him.
“No,” he answered surely.
“We are the only ones privy to what Draco and Hermione truly are capable of,” Dumbledore added. “And I can assure you that presently they are unequivocally on the side of the Order.”
“So then we won’t need to kill them,” Moody said matter-of-factly. “That’s good.”
“Kill them?” Snape asked, his black eyes widening slightly in alarm.
Dumbledore sighed heavily. “They are dangerous, Severus,” he said seriously. “If there were even the slightest inclination that they might turn against us-”
“You cannot be suggesting what I believe you are?” Snape said.
“You willin’ to wrangle ‘em if they turn Dark?” Moody challenged. “When the one could force you to walk into the flames of the other?”
Snape glared at him. “Draco would never-”
“He has already,” Dumbledore interrupted. “He spent the better portion of a night controlling Cormac McLaggen solely through the manipulation of the water within his body. And we already know that he’s capable of killing, especially if it concerns Hermione’s welfare.”
Snape stared back at him and then shook his head. “They would NEVER join forces with the Dark Lord.”
“That’s not what we’re afraid of,” Dumbledore said solemnly. “If Voldemort knew what they are, he’d have killed Draco already. He’d not take the risk of allowing two people as powerful as himself to exist. What we need to ensure is that they remain on our side and not their own.”
“One Dark wizard is enough,” Moody agreed.
“Then why encourage them in the first place?” Snape demanded to know, facing Dumbledore. “You are the one that enlightened them to their powers. You insisted they practice them, perfect them.”
Dumbledore tilted his head apologetically. “They would have discovered them eventually. It was better…it was in our best interest to shape the way they use their abilities from the start. It allowed us to learn their limits and potential…and allowed us to shape their loyalty.”
“All of the progress we’ve made we’ve made because of what they’ve given us,” Snape said, his voice carefully guarded. “They came to us in trust.”
“And we’re appreciative,” Dumbledore nodded, “but we mustn’t forget what they are…and what they can do.”
“Constant vigilance,” Moody chimed in. “I’ve seen better eggs turn bad.”
Snape cast a troubled look at the bottles before him and then stood. “It’ll be in everyone’s best interest to end this war as soon as possible then,” he said. He looked at Moody. “Perhaps you could add Potter’s hair to these so we can get on with things.”
With that he swept out of the room without waiting for a response. He made it not three steps out the door when he found himself face to face with a visibly livid Draco. Snape blinked at him.
“Draco…?” he started cautiously. Draco’s breath was coming out of his mouth in small pants of chilled mist as if he were outside during a frost. The whites of his eyes were an icy blue.
“Sev,” he replied very calmly. He blinked slowly, causing his eyes to return to normal, and then took a deep breath. “Sev…Hermione’s not feeling well. I’d like to make sure we’re able to room together tonight…and every night.”
Snape raised an eyebrow as he forced himself to interact as normal as possible. “Do you not already sneak out to be together most nights?”
“The Vanishing cabinet excuse won’t work any longer,” Draco replied, his anger appearing to ebb, “Crabbe knows it’s no longer a priority and so slinking off at night to work on it will appear suspicious. Being out this late tonight will be suspicious enough. You need to figure out a way for us to be together.”
“I’ll see what the headmaster can arrange,” he replied. Draco’s eyes went icy again in a blink at the word ‘headmaster’.
“Yes,” he said in a near hiss, “be sure that you do.”
Snape’s brow rose higher at the suddenly threatening tone of Draco’s voice as the blond turned his eerie stare to the door behind him and glared. He adjusted his crutch under his arm then turned and hobbled away down the hall without another word.
Snape watched him go and then looked over his shoulder when he heard the soft steps of someone coming up beside him.
“What did he want?” Dumbledore asked as he too watched Draco stop outside a door where he was met by Hermione.
“He wants to make sure the two of them can spend their nights together without arousing suspicion.”
The older man hummed. “That’s easy enough to arrange. Was there anything else?”
Snape shook his head as his eyes tracked Draco and Hermione making their way into the kitchen. “No.”
Dumbledore looked sideways at him. “I hope you didn’t misunderstand me just a moment ago, Severus,” he said gently as he turned a smile back in Draco and Hermione’s direction, “I have no desire nor intention to harm them...or you.”
“But…?” Snape said tersely. Dumbledore exhaled heavily.
“Let us hope there is never a reason for a ‘but’,” he said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ginny’s thumb rubbed absentmindedly over the lens of the glasses folded in her hands as her eyes roamed over Harry’s fully bandaged face.
“Will it hurt?” she asked.
Ron looked up from his own watch over his friend. “What?”
“The transformation,” Ginny replied quietly, “I know you’ve done it before.”
Ron considered his sister for a long moment and then said, “A little. It sort of feels like something’s trying to escape through your skin and then it burns. But it’s done before you can really react.”
Ginny pursed her lips at the information as she continued to stare at the peacefully sleeping Harry.
“You’re going to do it then?” Ron asked. She nodded.
“It makes the most sense,” she said. “You’ll be more help to him here with the Abbotts than I would be. And I know everything about him. Know how he walks, what he eats, how he chews, how he smiles…”
She covered her mouth with her hand and blinked back tears. One escaped down her cheek and she hastily swiped at it. “Besides,” she rushed on with a determined sniff, “I’ve always wanted to know what it’d be like to be a boy.”
Ron laughed.
“Plus I’m a better Seeker than you,” she added stopping her brother’s laughter in his throat. He gave her a teasing glare across the bed and she smiled before both of their expressions sobered again. Ron watched his sister turn her gaze back to Harry and tighten her grip on his glasses.
“He’ll be alright,” he said quietly. Ginny flicked a glance at him.
“I know he will.”
Ron gave her a brief but encouraging smile before returning his gaze to Harry. They both stood in silence for a time, the only sounds between them being Harry’s slow and steady breathing, until a quiet voice broke it.
“May we join you?” Hermione nearly whispered from where she stood beside Draco in the kitchen doorway.
“Of course,” Ginny said, waving at them to come in. “He’s sleeping right now, bu -- Hermione are you alright?” The youngest Weasley scowled in concern at the sight of Hermione’s red-rimmed eyes and splotchy cheeks.
Hermione swiped a hand over her left cheek and forced a smile as she and Draco stepped up to the foot of Harry’s bed in the kitchen-turned-hospital room. “I’m fine, Gin. Just a bit shaken still.”
“I’m sure you can agree it’s been a rough night,” Draco added, his troubled eyes staring unfocused at one of the charred walls.
“And it’s not over,” Ginny sighed, her hands still fidgeting with Harry’s glasses. “I still can’t believe this is happening.”
Hermione sighed as well as she went to the right side of the bed to stand beside Ron. “You did a good job,” she said to him softly in attempt to lighten the mood, gently placing a hand to Harry’s wrapped arm.
“Yeah, I guess,” Ron mumbled. “The Abbotts and Madam Pomfrey did most of the work.”
“Still…” she said, her still raw eyes roaming sadly over her bandaged friend. “First you helped Draco, now Harry…You’d make a good Healer.”
Ron gave a small modest chuckle. “Maybe,” he said. “I, uh…I did have a conference with Professor McGonnagall about changing my career options actually.”
Hermione, Ginny, and Draco all looked at him with varying looks of surprise.
“You did?” Hermione asked, her mouth pulling into a smile for the first time in hours. Ron nodded.
“She said if I can keep managing the marks I’ve been getting…well…” he shrugged.
“I thought you wanted to be an Auror?” Ginny asked with a thoughtful smile of her own.
Ron looked back at Harry. “I did. But… I dunno. I like Healing. Being an Auror didn’t really suit me, did it?”
Hermione’s breath caught in her throat and she shot a look to Draco who was eyeing Ron attentively. Ginny merely looked confused.
“Anyway,” Ron went on, oblivious to their reactions, “I’m glad the Abbotts have been so accommodating. I’ve already learned loads.”
“Uh…where are the Abbotts, anyway?” Ginny asked, looking at Draco. “Weren’t they just with you?”
“They went to go rest for a bit,” Draco answered quietly.
“I’m sure they’re exhausted,” Ron sighed. “Madam Pomfrey didn’t make it five minutes after we were done,” he added, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of one of the kitchen’s corners where the elder mediwitch was indeed sleeping in a slightly huddled position.
Hermione hummed at the peculiar sight.
“Rough night for everyone,” she whispered.
Ron nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered back as he casually slipped his arm around Hermione’s waist, clearly an unconscious action born of years of habitual closeness, and gripped his hand to her hip as he stood beside her. Hermione immediately tensed and shot Draco a worried look.
“Don’t overreact,” she mentally cautioned him when their eyes met. But Draco broke their connection to glare at the freckled hand resting on his soulmate.
“Weasley!” he said loudly, drawing Ron’s attention.
“What?” he asked.
Draco cocked a brow. “Would you like to learn how to Heal having a crutch shoved up your arse?”
Ron hesitated when the blond’s expression turned murderous. “Uhh…not particularly.”
“Then I suggest you move that hand…NOW,” he warned with a nod to the hand he had on Hermione’s waist. Ron’s face went white as he looked down to see his arm around her. He hastily pulled it away as if he’d been burned.
“Sorry,” he offered immediately, moving an obvious step away from Hermione, “I didn’t even realize I did it.” He looked sheepishly at Hermione. “Sorry, Mione. I suppose after twenty years I’m just used to it.”
Hermione stiffened again and looked first at Ginny who had fortunately returned her attention to Harry and then shot Draco another apprehensive glance before forcing a small smile at Ron. “It’s fine, Ron.”
Ron chanced a look back over at Draco and then cleared his throat uncomfortably when he found him still glaring.
“What’s taking them so long?” Ron asked, averting his eyes from Draco’s silent fury to stare at the kitchen doorway.
“They’re plotting,” Draco muttered moodily, shifting his gaze to the door as well.
Hermione frowned at him. “What do you mean?”
He shook his head and looked back at Harry. “Nothing.”
Hermione, Ginny, and Ron all exchanged glances.
“So, which one of you is going to drink Essence of Potter?” Draco asked loudly, trying to mask his sour mood as he leaned casually on his crutch.
“I am,” Ginny answered with an anxious grimace.
“Are…are you really okay with this?” Hermione asked her delicately. “I’m sure if you’re really that uncomfortable, Dumbledore could find someone else.”
Ginny shook her head. “No, I don’t want anyone else to do it. To be honest the idea is a bit exciting…I mean...I’m not happy about it or anything, but the chance to know him even better, to understand what he has to go through…how he feels. He’s endured so much.”
“But…?” Hermione coaxed when Ginny still appeared apprehensive. The redhead twisted her features in thought.
“It’s…it’s just, what if it doesn’t work right?” she asked. “What if I take the Polyjuice and I have a bad reaction or I get stuck looking like him forever? What if it simply changes me to look all…all burned like he is now. Polyjuice transfers scars and the like, doesn’t it?”
“You don’t need to be worried about any of that. It should be fine,” Hermione said seriously, “The Abbotts managed to collect a bit of hair that survived the fire from his lower legs. The potion will reflect his unharmed state since that’s how we was when the hair grew. Scars and the like aren’t carried over in the transformation unless they were present before the hair or skin used began to grow.”
Ginny looked slightly more relaxed and Hermione went on. “And you won’t get stuck,” she assured. “Professor Snape made sure it’s of good quality and there’s no question about the type of hair being used. So it’s not like you’ll turn into, say a cat…or something.”
Ron chortled at that and then stopped abruptly when there was movement from behind Draco.
“Pardon our intrusion,” Dumbledore said as he came into the room followed by Snape and Moody.
Draco looked over his shoulder at them and then quickly turned back to face Ron and Hermione. Hermione noted his sudden angry expression and stepped over to him as the others came closer.
“How is he?” Dumbledore asked with a concerned look at Harry’s still form.
“He’s doing well,” Ron answered. “I’m keeping watch until the Abbotts come back.”
Dumbledore smiled but said nothing more as Snape strode silently to Draco and Hermione’s side and Moody tromped over to the kitchen table and sat himself down in a chair. He set down a linen bag that tinkled with the sound of a multitude of small glass bottles clinking together with the movement.
“We ready, then?” Moody asked, his magical eye swiveling lazily about as he looked questioningly at Dumbledore. The elder wizard shook his head.
“We’ll wait until they arrive,” he replied with a nod to the kitchen fireplace, “I expect they ought to arrive momentarily.”
“Who?” Draco demanded. Dumbledore smiled at him before looking back at Ron and then Ginny.
“Molly and Arthur, of course,” he answered.
“Mum and Dad are coming?” Ginny asked, shooting a look of alarm at Ron. He gulped.
“Naturally,” Dumbledore replied pleasantly. A strange, tense silence settled over the room for a second until Snape cleared his throat.
“Well, then…Come, Draco,” he said authoritatively, “there’s no further need for us to remain here tonight.”
Draco gave a slight nod and reached for Hermione’s hand.
“I’ll be bringing Hermione back with Ginevra, Madam Pomfrey and myself,” Dumbledore spoke-up when he did so. Draco snapped his eyes to Snape.
“No fucking way,” he thought savagely. “She doesn’t leave my sight with him.”
“He won’t harm her,” Snape thought back in a surprisingly patient tone.
Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Not what I heard.”
Snape internally sighed. “I made an unbreakable vow to protect you, Draco. I do intend to keep honoring it.”
The whole mental exchange lasted only a second, but Draco looked away from Snape to see the others staring at him expectantly. He took a deep breath and then squeezed his fingers around Hermione’s hand that was still clasped in his and turned to her.
“I’ll see you soon,” he whispered to her before giving her a peck on the cheek.
“We need to talk,” he thought to her rapidly when their eyes met. Her brow came together in question but he released her hand and stepped back with his crutch. ‘Be safe’ he signaled just as Dumbledore spoke again.
“We’ll be coming along just as soon as the transformation is complete,” he assured. Draco shot him a glare that he quickly blinked away and then tugged on his ear before turning about on his crutch without a word to follow after Snape who’d already started down the front hall.
Hermione stared after him, her mouth flattening to a concerned line.
“What’s with him?” Ginny whispered in her ear after stepping nearer to her. Hermione shook her head.
“I don’t know,” she whispered back worriedly as Draco and Snape swirled from sight down the hall, the manky football Portkey clutched between them. No sooner had they left then a loud whoosh erupted from the kitchen Floo to reveal a frantic, disheveled Molly Weasley and a pale, concerned Arthur Weasley.
Molly cried out in relief as she spotted her two youngest children and hurried over to them.
“Ginny,” she said, pulling her and Hermione both into a hug, and looking worriedly over at Ron, “Ron, oh, and Hermione, dear. Oh, we were so worried. We got word and came straight away. Are you alright? Are you all okay?”
“As well as can be expected,” Hermione answered glumly for them all as Molly released them from her arms. The Weasley matriarch nodded solemnly and then finally noticed Harry’s presence.
“Oh…oh, dear Merlin almighty,” she exclaimed sorrowfully with a hand to her chest. She swiftly stepped to the bedside and bent carefully over to place a gentle, motherly kiss to Harry’s bandaged forehead.
“Molly,” Dumbledore’s voice suddenly filled the room, acknowledging the Weasleys’ entrance, “Arthur.”
“Evening, Albus,” Arthur greeted tiredly. Molly, on the other hand, whirled about to stare the elderly wizard down.
“How dare you?” she scolded, hands on her hips. “Albus Dumbledore Order of Merlin, how dare you bring these children into this!?”
Dumbledore looked back at her very calmly and folded his hands before himself. “I’m afraid it was necessary-” he started, but Molly’s scowl deepened with her outrage.
“NECESSARY!?” she nearly screeched. She pointed harshly at Harry. “Necessary to nearly kill HARRY - POTTER? To bring MY children here to cover up your UNACCEPTABLE, UNBELIEVABLE behavior!?”
Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak but was cut short again.
“FIENDFYRE!?” Molly raged. “AROUND CHILDREN!? POLYJUICE!?”
“Molly,” Arthur said reproachfully. She shot him a glare that might’ve withered Voldemort and then rounded on Dumbledore again.
“You had better start explaining why I shouldn’t hex you to Hades and back!”
Dumbledore shook his head serenely. “I do not deny that my actions were foolish in the extreme, Molly,” he answered evenly, “however, what is done is done and we must now focus on what is best for the Order.”
“Best for the Order!?” Molly demanded. “They are CHILDREN.”
“Hermione is of age,” he replied, “Ronald is nearly-”
Molly’s glare turned lethal. “Don’t you dare speak to me about my own son being nearly of age,” she spat. “As it stands he is not yet and nor is Harry and certainly not Ginny! I am disgusted.”
“What would you have me do?” Dumbledore challenged her, never losing his placid composure. “If you have an alternate proposal I am open to it.”
Molly continued to glare at him, her chest heaving and her hand protectively rested on Harry’s bandaged arm, but she said nothing.
“What exactly is your plan?” Arthur spoke up when his wife remained silent after her tirade. “Minerva’s Patronus didn’t elaborate.”
Dumbledore inhaled deeply before he answered him. “Harry is to remain here at Grimmauld Place to convalesce. Ronald will remain as well to assist the Abbotts in his healing needs as well as provide companionship. Ginevra will ingest Polyjuice to take on Harry’s likeness and will return to Hogwarts in his place so that his vulnerable state will not be revealed.”
“Absolutely not,” Molly snapped, grabbing her hand to Ginny’s shoulder possessively. “I’ll not have her drinking a putrid potion every hour.”
“My stuff lasts twelve hours,” Moody informed from where he sat at the kitchen table. “She’d need only to take it morning and night.”
Molly wasn’t pacified. “Need I remind you all of the differences in…anatomy. This is wholly inappropriate. I’ll not have my fifteen-year-old daughter so intimate with the body of a teenage boy.”
“Too late,” Ron muttered. Hermione and Ginny both shot him scathing glares as Molly tightened her grip on Ginny’s shoulder and turned a furious look to her.
“Care to explain that statement, young lady?” Molly asked her severely. Ginny’s cheeks blazed crimson as she continued to glare at her brother but was saved from answering when Arthur spoke up.
“That is another discussion we’ll need to have at another time,” he said, his voice tight with awkwardness. “Right now we need to focus on the proposed plan.”
Dumbledore nodded in agreement. “I have no doubt that Ginevra will behave maturely with the utmost respect and decency for Harry’s body.”
Ginny nodded vehemently with his assertion but Molly scowled harder. “No,” she said.
“I can do it, mum,” Ginny said rather firmly, shrugging off her mother’s hand from her shoulder.
“You most certainly canno-“
“I do know him best,” Ginny interrupted her, her tone defiant. “It makes the most sense for me to do it. I want to do it.”
“It makes the most sense to have adults handle dangerous situations,” Molly said, eyeing Dumbledore again, but Ginny only shook her head.
“I’m going to do this, mum. No matter what you say. No matter how much potion I have to drink. I am going to protect him.”
Molly stared at her looking torn. She glanced to her husband. “Arthur…say something,” she implored.
Arthur Weasley exhaled a troubled breath and looked to Dumbledore again. “She doesn’t leave the castle,” he said. It wasn’t a request, but Dumbledore nodded.
“You will send us daily updates of her activities, and if she decides at any time she no longer wishes to take the potion, or we feel it is becoming too risky, you will relieve her from this immediately,” Arthur said firmly and Dumbledore nodded again.
“Of course.”
“Arthur!” Molly frowned. “You cannot agree that she-”
“The war is coming, my dearest,” he said grudgingly, but certainly, “all of us are going to be affected…the children included. If Dumbledore believes this will maintain the Order’s advantage over the Death Eaters…then it should be done. She will be safe at Hogwarts…even as Harry Potter.”
Molly gaped at him. “Our daughter…”
“Is strong,” Arthur looked proudly at Ginny. She flushed again and returned a loving smile. Molly’s rigid stance relaxed somewhat in apparent, reluctant acquiescence.
Dumbledore watched the way her shoulders drooped and sighed. “Molly, I promise you, no harm shall come to Ginevra as a result of this.”
Molly still looked unconvinced and Dumbledore held out his hand. “I vow it,” he added seriously.
She stared at the offered hand and then suddenly looked away, averseness and shame fighting for dominance in her expression. “That won’t be necessary,” she whispered hoarsely. She closed her eyes as if trying to calm herself and then looked back up at Dumbledore. “But if anything should happen to her…if even ONE hair is harmed…you have MY word that no amount of defensive spells will be able to help you.”
“Fair enough,” Dumbledore conceded.
“Shall we get on with it, then?” Moody said loudly, his voice jarring after the fresh and tentative truce between the protective mother and determined headmaster. He fished a bottle from the bag on the table and held it up. He unstoppered it and sniffed at it.
“I suppose that would be best,” Dumbledore replied. “It is getting rather late. The longer we stall, the greater the chance for someone realizing our absence.”
Moody grunted in agreement as he briefly set aside the potion to pick up his wand. He pointed it at Ginny, and, before anyone could react, shot a spell at her that transfigured her pajamas unto a man’s sized t-shirt and baggy flannel bottoms.
Ginny squeaked in surprise as she hurriedly clutched at the bottoms to keep them from slipping off. “Some warning would have been nice,” she frowned.
“You and I are going to have words,” Molly threatened Moody.
He didn’t bother acknowledging the statement as he set aside his wand and took the potion bottle in hand again.
“Bottoms up, then,” he said gruffly, thrusting it out to Ginny. She handed Harry’s glasses, which were still clutched in the hand she wasn’t using to hold up her changed clothes, to Hermione and then took the bottle from Moody and peered down at the thin golden liquid within.
Ginny looked up at him and then glanced anxiously around at the others.
“You don’t have to do this,” Molly reminded her. Ginny looked thoughtful for a moment and then settled her gaze on Harry’s sleeping form. She regripped her fingers around the potion bottle, took a deep breath, and then raised it to her lips.
“Yes, I do,” she said. “Here goes nothing.”
She tipped the bottle back to down the potion. The moment she swallowed she began to cough and splutter. The bottle fell from her twitching fingers and tinkled about the floor.
“Urgh…I think I might be si…” she began as she hunched over slightly, her hand at her stomach. But the words were lost as her skin began to ripple dramatically.
The others all watched tensely as Ginny rapidly transformed where she stood. Her long, red hair darkened as it receded rapidly into her scalp. Her shoulders broadened as her torso stretched. Her legs sprouted inches longer, sending her upward in height. Her freckles disappeared as they blended into the tanner hue that was taking over her pale skin.
With a gagging cough, she doubled over once more and then went still.
“Ginny?” Molly said fearfully.
“Gin?” Hermione also asked anxiously. “Are you alright?”
Ginny slowly unfolded herself to stand to her new full height. “Yeah,” came the answer in Harry’s voice, “I…I think I’m okay.”
“Bloody hell,” Ron gasped as Ginny covered her mouth in shock at the sound of her changed vocals.
“I sound like him,” she said. “This is so strange…”
“You’re telling me,” Ron replied as he watched his sister rove the hands she’d lowered from her face down over her changed body.
“Do I look like him?” she asked, peering down curiously.
“Exactly,” Hermione answered in the affirmative. “No one could tell the difference.”
Ginny blinked around. “I never realized just how blind he is,” she commented, squinting at the nearest shape of a person.
Hermione snickered to herself at the memory of making a similar comment when she’d transformed into Harry, but said nothing and handed her back Harry’s repaired eyeglasses. Ginny slid them on at once and smiled.
“Much better.” She looked down at herself and felt at her flat chest. She giggled as she peeked beneath the collar of her t-shirt.
“I can’t get over this,” she grinned, letting go of the shirt and running one of her hands down to cup her crotch. She squeezed. “Holy shite,” she whispered.
“Ginevra!” Molly scolded.
Ginny’s now green eyes went wide behind the glasses and she quickly lowered the hand. “Sorry,” she said, still grinning, “it’s just…I’ve always wondered wh…”
Both Arthur and Dumbledore’s brows rose in amusement and Molly looked about to spit.
Ginny ducked her head. “Nevermind,” she said in a rush.
“Try moving around,” Hermione suggested to cut into the forming awkwardness, “see if you can mimic his gait.”
Ginny gave her a grateful smile and took a few tentative steps. “I feel so heavy,” she said as she then twisted back and forth at the waist to get a feel for her new center of gravity.
“That’s not half bad,” Ron said with an impressed nod as he watched her resume her walk around the space. “He does have that little spring in his step sometimes, doesn’t he?”
Ginny nodded as she stopped to stretch in place. “And he likes to swivel his head a lot,” she noted, tilting her head at varying angles. She had his mannerisms down to a T.
“This is so creepy,” Ron commented again.
“This is going to work,” Hermione said, looking to Dumbledore. But he said nothing and simply shifted his gaze from Ginny to the real Harry, his eyes devoid of their usual twinkle.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: I'm back!! Hooray! Thank you for sticking with me.
I received some completely AWESOME reviews from you all these past few weeks and I am truly grateful and happy for them. I was in a bad place for a while and your encouraging words really meant SOO much. They're what spurred me to throw myself back into this and get you guys this chapter. I hope I didn't disappoint after my short hiatus.
And just a reminder for updates...I post to my tumblr account whenever I update (see my profile), and I'm willing to email you as well if you send me a request (but you must email me first to RavieSnake@gmail.com). Also I just saw that if you add a story to your current reading list here then it includes the last posting date which is semi-convenient.
Anyway...love you all! Let us hope it's not another 2 months before I see you again.
XOXO - Ravie
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Songs of Regret