Transi de Froid

by Incitata
 
 

Chapter 9
Quincunx
 

"You know
that I adore you
you know
that I love you
so don’t make me say it
it would burst the bubble
break the charm"
Bjork: Debut 1993
 

The result of the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor came as a surprise to
everyone. The Slytherins were fielding the strongest team they’d had in several years, they were
fit, well trained and worked together with ruthless efficiency. Their Captain, Adrian Pucey had
done a remarkable job on a team where personal glory often came before co-operation. When
the Gryffindor team heard that the Slytherin Seeker had been suspended they could barely keep
the news secret. Without Malfoy on the team they stood a fighting chance; his replacement,
unfamiliar with the gameplan might make mistakes.

Students and teachers swarmed down to the Quidditch pitch at ten o’clock on Saturday morning.
The conditions were perfect, no breeze, clear sky and bright January sunshine. No one wanted to
be stuck inside on a day like this. Owing to the current balance of points in the House Championship
many Ravenclaws were lending their support to the Slytherin team and joined in the booing as the
Gryffindors walked on to the pitch. When the Slytherins followed carrying their broomsticks over
their shoulders a gasp arose in certain sections of the crowd.

"Who’s that?" spat a Slytherin seventh year before hiding his head in his hands.

"Where’s Malloy? a Ravenclaw sixth year asked a friend.

"Malfoy!" corrected Lisa Turpin, tartly.

Ron nudged Harry; "It was worth keeping the secret just for their reaction really." He grinned.
Their eyes darted over the faces of the Slytherins who faced them across the pitch; between
Malcolm Baddock and Graham Pritchard, the Slytherin Beaters, a smaller nervous looking boy
stood. The Gryffindors didn’t even know his name.

A loud muttering tainted the air by the time the players mounted their brooms but silence fell as
Madam Hooch released the balls and blew her whistle.

The game was on.

The Gryffindors were right to have been worried. Nothing could get past the Slytherins with its
limbs intact and their attack was just as hard, and beautifully orchestrated; what they lacked
today was a Seeker. The Slytherin team ratcheted up Ten points, Twenty, Thirty, Forty before
the Gryffindors even got near their goal. Their score was at Sixty before one of the Gryffindor
Chasers finally lobbed the Quaffle through the hoop. After two hours of play the elusive Snitch
had not been seen once and the score stood at One Hundred and Fifty to Ten in the highest
scoring match the school had seen in a long time.

Harry’s eyes scanned the field; Gryffindor could still win if only he could find the Snitch in time,
then his eyes widened as he caught sight of something that nearly made him fall off his broom.
Without that particular sight drawing his eyes that way Harry would never have seen the Snitch,
which hovered tight against the stands, camouflaged against a yellow Hufflepuff banner. Harry
ducked to dodge a Bludger sent his way by one of the Slytherin Beaters.

A roar erupted from the crowd, Slytherin had another goal, One Hundred and Sixty points to Ten!

The maths wasn’t difficult. There was only one option other than a resounding (not to mention
embarrassing) defeat. The Golden Snitch flashed in the sunlight and Harry saw the Slytherin’s last
minute Seeker above him making leisurely circuit of the field.

It was times like this that Harry actually missed Malfoy; he wouldn’t have given him so much
space, he’d be right on Harry’s back. Harry’s eyes flicked between the stands and the Snitch
as Harry inched his broom sideways, then he swerved as if to avoid the broom of one of
Gryffindors own Beaters. Harry dived and he pulled up sharp against the stand with the Snitch
held fast in his grasp.

The Gryffindors cheered and the Slytherins scoffed.

It was a draw.

Harry’s head bobbed up above the rim of the stand.

"Hi Hermione!" said Harry with a wave. He peered a little closer then added, "Hi … Justin!"

Hermione jumped, disentangling herself from the Hufflepuff. Her face was scarlet. Harry didn’t
wait for a reply. He grinned and flew down to join his team. Harry glanced at Ron who was
spitting a string of words that would have made a Boggart blush. Quidditch wasn’t the only game
at which the both houses had drawn, thought Harry.

Harry didn’t tell Ron what he’d seen while they were in the changing rooms or even as they
walked back up to school. Ron was too busy muttering, darkly about blatching, cobbing and
stooging; he even went as far as to suggest that Madam Hooch might need her eyes testing.
Not triumphant but relieved that they hadn’t actually lost the game the Gryffindor team traipsed
back toward the school.

Much later Harry found Ron sitting on a rug in front of the fire in the common room. Harry
shrugged; there would never be a right time to tell Ron so now would do:

"Justin Finch-Fletchley!" Ron roared, dropping his toasting fork and consigning his crumpet to
a fiery end. He gaped at Harry. "When?"

"At the Quidditch match this morning. They were in the stands together, snogging."

Ron hadn’t noticed, he’d been too busy trying stop the Slytherin Chasers chucking the Quaffle
through his hoops; Seekers might have time to watch what was going on but Keepers certainly
didn’t.

Harry threw his cloak over the back of a couch and sat down on the rug next to Ron. "I just
spoke to Hannah, apparently they’re now officially an item."

"Great," said Ron, mournfully. "Why am I never around when she’s single?"

"You only had four years," said Harry, blandly. "Give her a break Ron, she’s had a hard time
recently."

"Deserves it!" Ron muttered half-heartedly as he tried to retrieve his fork from the flames. "Stupid
idiot, going near that git."

"Which git?" asked Harry.

"Both of them!"

~0~

The following Saturday was a Hogsmeade weekend. Hermione waited by one of the suits of
armour in the vast entrance hall for Justin. She didn’t know where the Hufflepuff common room
was and didn’t really want to. It was she who had suggested that they meet here. Hermione found
that her eyes kept wandering from the stairway over to the dark archway on the other side of
which lay the staircase that led down to the dungeons; she kept jerking them back. Dark things
lurked in those dungeons.

"Hi Herm," said Justin. Hermione felt a thick arm snake its way round her shoulders she noticed
that his other hand held a parcel, carelessly wrapped in brown paper. Ernie Macmillan was with
him. "You don’t mind if Ern comes with us do you? He was going with Hannah but she caught a
rotten cold. Stuck in the infirmary."

"Course not, hi Ernie." Hermione turned to Justin. "I told Cho Chang we’d meet her and Harry
in the Three Broomsticks later."

"Great." Justin smiled, "Let’s go."

They walked down the long driveway toward the main gate, their feet crunching loudly on the
gravel. Hermione paused for a second and looked out over the lake just where a low ragged hedge
separated the road from the cliff. Squashed grass and snapped twigs suggested that someone had
walked there recently.

"You coming, Herm?" Justin came back and smiled at Hermione.

Hermione looked down at her feet, "Just tying my lace," she said and quickly bent down to fiddle
with the perfectly tied bow that secured her shoe. Hermione craned her neck to get a look at the
path in daylight, from what she could see it barely qualified as a ledge. What nutter would have
walked that way in the first place, let alone taking her there with him at night? It just didn’t make
sense, hardly the right place to go for a stroll!

Seeing Justin and Ernie were growing restless Hermione straightened and dashed after them.
"What are your plans?" she asked hoping that she sounded interested.

"Zonko’s then the Three Broomsticks," said Ernie.

"I want to post this home," Justin waved the parcel, "Pop into Honeydukes and then I’ll join you
in the Sticks."

"How old are you?" grinned Hermione, "Really, a sweetshop at your age!"

"Some of us are just big kids, we were born that way and always will be." Justin laughed,
Hermione thought that when he did that he looked rather like a very large happy puppy, a bit like
Fang. Big and harmless. "Take Snape, I think he was born bitter, and Neville Longbottom."

"Born clumsy," chipped in Ernie.

"Hmmm," commented Hermione, she wondered about Neville. Everyone was good at something;
Neville just had to find out what it was, unless of course he was just good at melting cauldrons.

Ernie Macmillan, born boring! Hermione thought, making an effort to get in the spirit.

"And those Weasley twins from a couple of years back," said Justin, "born clowns."

"And don’t tell me," said Hermione, finding their basic pigeonholing rather boring, "I was born
forty and always will be, right?"

"I wasn’t going to say that Herm. Anyway, what’s wrong with being sensible?"

"Nothing, usually." Hermione wasn’t always sensible, not any more.

Ernie spoke, "So you reckon people are born one way and don’t change?"

"Well," said Justin thoughtfully, "Upbringing has a lot to do with it but I suppose there must be a
point after which a person can’t change. Take that Malfoy, he’s been around a certain attitude
since he was born, so much so that it’s part of him."

Hermione felt her face grow hot; she saw Justin glance her way then hesitate. "Sorry Herm,"
he said, uncomfortably "I forgot."

"Don’t be!" she said emphatically, what surprised her was that someone who appeared so nice
could hold such prescriptive views and condemn people so lightly for being born what they were
born as. At least Malfoy made no secret of the fact that he judged people on superficial factors
like blood or wealth; these two were just as prejudiced and they didn’t even seem to know it!
Why was she defending Malfoy, even if it was only in her head? Stop it, Hermione told herself
then she gave a bitter laugh, "Nothing could change Malfoy for the better except maybe a bullet!"

Justin and Ernie simply stared.

Hermione went to Gladrags leaving Justin and Ernie to buy as many bags of Fizzing Whizzbies
and Dungbombs as they wanted. It was nice to get rid of them for a while and Hermione didn’t
really think they’d enjoy looking for underwear. No, actually she thought that they would enjoy
it. Hermione really didn’t want to give Justin any ideas; he’d come as close to the inside of her
robes as he ever would.

About an hour later, carrying a small yellow paper bag under her arm Hermione entered the
Three Broomsticks. Cho and Harry were already there keeping seats around a small round table
by the window. As usual the low ceilinged room was dark, noisy, smoky and crowded.
Hermione waded through the throng to reach her friends.

"Justin not here yet?" Hermione asked, though the answer was quite obvious. "Bunk up Harry,"
Hermione shuffled on to the padded seat that ran along the window placing her bags down beside
her. From there she could see the street outside through the uneven panes, and the bar inside.
Justin and Ernie could have the two spindly wooden chairs when they turned up.

"I’m so glad you two are talking again," said Cho from Harry’s other side. She smiled and pushed
a waiting Butterbeer in Hermione’s direction, "He was such a pain moaning about it! I never thought
someone like you would go for Malfoy. He’s not bad looking I suppose, if you go for the blonde
silent type but…"

"Cho!" Harry sounded shocked.

"Well he is," retorted Cho, taking a sip from her glass. "Harry actually thought he might be using
an Unforgivable on you…"

"I’m afraid not," said Hermione, looking directly at the gap between Cho’s eyebrows. Someone
had once told her that it was the most polite place to look when you didn’t quite feel able to make
eye contact. "But she’s right Harry, he is good looking, unfortunate really that there’s not
something nice beneath the surface."

"You’re not the first Hermione," said Cho, sympathetically, "A similar thing happened to Orla
Quirk last year, she was devastated. Apparently he was seeing Lisa Turpin behind her back. I
don’t know how he does it but you’d think that after that no-one would bother with him."

Any more notches on your broomstick I should know about, Malfoy? Hermione was
beginning to wonder if there was any female in the school he hadn’t been involved with. What
was he trying to prove?

Cho wrapped her arm around Harry who was looking deeply unimpressed with the direction
the converstaion had taken. Cho hugged him, "Stop looking so sulky, he’s no competition for
you," then she grinned and turned back to Hermione, "I’m just pleased you’ve ended up with
Justin, he’s such a sweety!"

True, thought Hermione, but a little dull don’t you think?

"Yes, he is," Hermione agreed, wishing that she and Justin had the tiniest spark. Like Victor
he was nice enough but again there was just no ooomph! Justin behaved rather like a boisterous
kid and Hermione didn’t really feel like being anyone’s mother, quite the opposite in fact. Plus,
the only thing that Hermione could find that she had in common with Justin was the fact that they
were both Muggle born and that they had both been petrified by a basilisk; not much to build a
relationship on. Everything with Justin was rather forced and passionless, as if she were kissing
a brother. Hermione shuddered.

"You okay Hermione?" asked Harry who seemed to be regarding her oddly.

"Just a draught," Hermione smiled, "It went right down my neck,"

Through the rippled window Hermione saw a tall and familiar figure. Hermione sipped her drink
thinking of the conversation she’d had with Ernie and Justin on the way to Hogsmeade that morning.
Malfoy is another person who’s never really been young, she thought watching as he shared
some joke with his friends, as he bared his teeth in a grin and clapped one of his friends on the
back. Under the table Hermione crossed her fingers hoping that they would pass by, but no. One
of the stooges was already reaching toward the door. Great, Hermione thought as Draco Malfoy
entered the room.

Pale grey eyes flicked in her direction and rested for just a moment too long before moving on.
Had he seen her watching? Hermione turned her head a little more toward the window and began
to talk pointedly to Harry. But In the small windowpanes she could see multiple reflections of
Malfoy and his friends leaning against the bar talking. Every now and then he looked her way.

"Listen, Hermione," said Harry looking uncertainly toward the bar, "I know Justin isn’t here yet
but we’re meant to be meeting Ron at the Post Office. Do you want us to wait?"

Hermione tapped a fingernail on the side of her glass. "Off you go. Stop worrying." Hermione
said while under the table she was already reaching for her wand, "He’s not a problem."

Harry seemed reluctant to leave her in the same room as Malfoy but eventually Hermione persuaded
them to go. Alone at the table in the window Hermione tucked one leg beneath her and turned slightly
to watch Harry and Cho walk down the street. It warmed her to see Harry constantly glance back
in the direction of the Three Broomsticks.

At least someone’s bothered about me, Hermione thought, with a sigh, Where are you, Justin?

Despite what she had told Harry, Hermione wasn’t actually that confident about being left alone
with Malfoy and his friends both of whom were built like brick outhouses. Hermione knew that if
Harry had any idea what Malfoy had been doing recently he would never have left her there; but
Hermione hadn’t told anyone, that would mean admitting that it was over. Hermione continued to
look out of the window until:

"Are these seats taken?" enquired a low smooth voice. Hermione couldn’t ignore it. She turned.

Malfoy leaned over slightly; one hand lay flat on the wooden tabletop. Crabbe and Goyle stood
a little way behind him and Hermione thought that they looked rather like a pair of very solid
bookends. Draco’s pale eyes sparkled, Hermione fancied that she could read his mind; he knew
she wouldn’t make a fuss, he knew that she … don’t even think that. Hermione scolded herself.

"They’re taken," Hermione replied, watching a bubble creep its way up the inside of her glass
and burst as it reached the surface.

"I must say," said Draco, slipping into the chair opposite, "That your friends are looking a bit
insubstantial today."

"Are you deaf?" said Hermione raising her voice slightly.

"Pardon?" asked Draco, coyly.

"How original!"

"I think you’re being very unreasonable Hermione. Oh, sorry, Herm." he dropped his voice
to a whisper, "Live dangerously for once and have a Butterbeer with me. Crabbe's just off to
the bar." Draco turned his head and smiled at Crabbe who looked oddly at Goyle; they both
moved away without a word.

Hermione remembered the last time she’d had a drink with Draco Malfoy; the same teasing
light had glowed in his eyes then and she had been sucked right in. But not this time. Not again.

"It’s Hermione!" she snapped.

"Herm is a special privilege is it?" said Draco, sourly. "Sounds dreadful if you ask me."

"No-one did."

"Where’s that big prat Finch-Fletchley anyway? If you were mine I wouldn’t leave you lying
around like this. There are some very untrustworthy people about these days."

"So I noticed," Hermione really didn’t like the way that Malfoy spoke of her as an object, too
long with him and a girl would probably find herself locked in a cupboard! Why couldn’t he just
take a hint? It wasn’t as though she was being paricularly subtle about it. "I don’t want to talk
to you, drink with you or even breath the same air as you, Malfoy." Hermione’s free hand
tightened round her glass, which was almost empty.

"Don’t be so obtuse, Hermione," Draco said, sounding bored. He rested his chin on the palm
of his hand and leaned forward, "I know exactly what you want, and so do you. You’re just too
pigheaded to admit it. Why don’t you save us both a lot of bother and talk to me?"

"Which part of bugger off don’t you understand?" Hermione breathed, wondering if she should
just go. But if she stayed there were at least other people around. If she left the Three Broomsticks
he might follow and Draco had his friends with him. There wasn’t much that Hermione could do
against the three of them.

Draco chuckled. "I understand the words. But, Hermione, you just smiled at me with your eyes…"

Hermione could feel the blood flooding her cheeks. I did not, I did not, I did not, she told herself.
The hand that gripped her wand was sweaty and holding it there unseen was becoming awkward.
Go away, she screamed inside, go away.

"… sooner or later you’ll realise that I’m right. It’ll be much easier if you admit it now."

"Go away, Draco!" warned Hermione.

"Or what? You going to AK me with that wand you’re holding under the table?"

"Just get lost…" How the hell did he know about the wand? Hermione was running out of
things to say. Draco was doing it again; twisting everything, trying to provoke her. Hermione
was determined not to fall for it, otherwise they’d argue and he’d win; he always did.

At last, you stupid idiot! Hermione thought as she caught a glimpse of Justin through the
window. Hermione blinked slowly then she smiled broadly and waved.

"Hi Justin, Hi Ernie!" she called giving Malfoy the most hate filled look she could manage as
the Hufflepuffs picked their way through the crowd. Hermione was thoroughly glad to see them.

"Sorry we’re late Herm," began Justin, "got held up at … oh, Hallo Malfoy."

Draco’s jaw tightened and he got to his feet. "Finch-Fletchley, how nice to see you," he said in
a voice that implied no pleasure whatsoever.

Justin was a good three inches taller than Draco’s lean six foot. Hermione watched as something
far deeper than hate rippled across Draco’s face as he looked Justin over. Whatever else he
might be, Hermione knew that Draco wasn’t stupid; there are simply some people that no-one
ever makes an attempt to bully or control, and Justin was one of those people.

"I’ll see you round, Herm." said Malfoy, through a thin smile, then he went to join his friends
at the bar.

"Was he bothering you?" asked Justin, concerned as he took a seat beside Hermione.

"Nah," said Hermione slipping her wand unnoticed into her bag. "He was just trying to be funny."

"Didn’t look very funny!" remarked Ernie, "What happened to Harry and Cho?"

"They had to meet Ron."

"Wasn’t he with them?"

Hermione shook her head and snuggled up next to Justin hoping that she looked perfectly
contented.

It wasn’t long before Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle left the Three Broomsticks.

~0~

"How was Hermione?" asked Ron quietly, as Harry and Cho arrived. He was sitting on a wooden
bench outside the Post Office mutilating what had once been a crocus, "Oh, and Justin?"

"Justin didn’t show up," said Cho, who Ron noticed, glanced oddly at Harry, "We left her at the
Three Broomsticks."

"She practically pushed us out of the door," said Harry, "I think she was just trying to show Malfoy
that she doesn’t care."

Ron leapt to his feet; "Malfoy was there? And you left her?" Ron bristled.

"She insisted." Said Harry in his defence.

"Where the hell was Justin? Why’d he leave her alone with someone like Malfoy about?"

"Hermione wants to take care of herself, Ron." said Harry, sensibly.

"After what that snot rag has done I wouldn’t let her out of my sight if she…" Ron fumed, then
before either Harry or Cho had a chance to work out what he was doing Ron ran in the direction
of the Three Broomsticks. Ron could hear his friends following, their feet clattered off the
cobblestone’s and he could hear them shouting:

"Ron, leave it!"

"Come back!"

But Ron didn’t want to hear it, he didn’t want to be sensible. Ron was determined not to let
Malfoy do it again, he was going to rip Malfoy’s head off if he so much as said a word to Hermione.
If Hermione didn’t like it and wouldn’t speak to him again? Well, it didn’t really matter, she would
be safe and that was what mattered to Ron; Hermione wasn’t speaking to him anyway so he really
had nothing to lose.

Ron flung open the door of the Three Broomsticks so hard that it slammed into the wall, startling
an old witch who dropped her sherry. He charged inside but saw no Malfoy. Ron did see a hundred
pairs of eyes turn on him, their owners wondering who was making such a commotion and he saw
Hermione looking relaxed and happy leaning comfortably against Justin-Finch Fletchley.

"Sorry," Ron mumbled to the witch who was now mopping liquid from her cloak, she scowled at
Ron as he backed out of the door.

Ron leaned heavily against the the wall outside.

"Cheer up, sonny. It might never happen," commented an irritatingly cheerful stranger. Ron supposed
that the man’s only reason for existance was to make him feel worse.

"It already did!" Ron muttered sadly in reply, "It already did."
 
 
 

In Part Ten: Unity tempers fray, arguements abound and Draco takes a shower; yum;)

Authors Notes
Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’ve never had so many reviews for one chapter of anything;
I’m feeling quite overwhelmed by the support you guys are givng me (No, please don’t stop).

If you’re not yet on my update list and would like to be, send a note to seeker@slytherindungeon.net
or hyria@yahoo.com

Chapter One has been extensively updated. Since it has grown in to rather a monster (TdF was
originally meant to be two parts) I thought I needed slightly firmer foundation to write on. Nothing
has been taken away, just several things slipped in that might prove useful later;). I’m also
thinking about changing the title. Any thoughts?

Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans to the Betas (with all the nasty ones removed); Bumblebee who
has done the impossible and made me undertand not only where commas should go, but why they
go there, Squin who caused a fit of the giggles for implying that my other half might just be a nutter
and Daphne for once again casting her beady eye over my pages.

That was a short one, wasn’t it? Imagine what 60k of Justin and Ernie would have been like!
Anyone else think that they’re a right pair of muppets?

Enough waffle from she of the increasingly long and illiterate authors notes.

Cheerio

~Incitata~
 

Back to Chapter 8
Chapter 10