Somewhere I Have Never Traveled.

[Liz-Miia Parker]

Panen siia ühe väga hea fici, selle loo pärast küsisin teie ingliskeele tausta, kuna see vajab suht ingliskeele oskust:)

Fic on muidu Draco/ Hermione armastajatele, samas on seal väge hea seiklus, põnevus ja ..surma

Loodan, et meeldib ja kommige ka siis.

Fakt on see, et see sama autor on kirjutanud ka Võta mu süda

[Liz-Miia Parker]

Summary: Deception. Illusion. Redemption. Draco, Hermione, and three other Ambassadors embark on a high-strung journey through three countries, and on the way they fall farther and farther into a web of passion, lies, and betrayal. This story includes black pearls, spies, champagne, boat rides, murder mysteries, ballroom dancing, and thunderstorms. DM/HG, Pre-HBP

**

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond

any experience, your eyes have their silence:

in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,

or which i cannot touch because they are too near.

– somewhere i have never travelled, by e. e. cummings

***

Chapter 1; Archinad’s Ambassadors

Evil.

The word rang through Draco Malfoy’s head like a thousand reverberating gongs. His skull was pounding as he pulled back the sleeve of his left forearm.

Here was everything he had ever wished for being handed to him on a silver platter; fame, fortune, security and power beyond his wildest dreams.

Here was the life he had always wanted and he had always scorned, here was the life he had prayed for yet feared above all.

Ultimately, here was his destiny. Everything he was.

The skull burned into his flesh, and then…

******************************************************

“Look who’s here,” Hermione sniffed, turning to Harry and Ron. They followed her gaze across the train station to a group of students, or rather, a group of students surrounding Draco Malfoy. Suddenly he looked up and locked eyes with Harry, as if he had known they had been watching him. Harry bristled slightly, so slightly that his two best friends were the only ones to notice.
Something was different about his silver streaked gaze, though. Perhaps Harry was only imagining it, but Malfoy radiated far more superiority and power than he ever had.

“Let’s get on the train,” Harry said, pulling his gaze away from Malfoy’s. “That git seems more certain of himself this year.”

They clambered into a compartment, and Hermione looked back once more at Malfoy. A pin gleamed on his chest.

“It’s because he’s been made Head Boy, no doubt,” Hermione said acidly. “But we all know who got him that position.” She was referring to Lucius, who held the school directors in the palm of his hand.

Harry had seemed surprised, though not disappointed, when he had found that he had not been made Head Boy. When he had discovered, however, that Malfoy had earned Head Boy in his place, he had been furious.

Hermione looked closely at Ron. His gaze was downcast, and he seemed preoccupied with something on the floor. He was quieter than she had ever seen him, and the strangest thing of all was that Harry did not seem to notice Ron’s odd behaviour.

Hermione wondered if something had happened to him over the summer, and decided to ask him later in private.

Hermione’s thoughts were swiftly interrupted by Ginny banging into the compartment, Neville closely in tow. Ginny had always seemed more mature than a sixth year in her speech and actions.

“Hermione!” she said excitedly, “Congratulations on your position as Head Girl.”

“Thanks,” Hermione said with a tight smile. “It would feel more like an accomplishment if it didn’t mean I’d have to spend the rest of the year with Malfoy.”

Ginny frowned before understanding. “Malfoy’s been made Head Boy? That git!”

“Malfoy’s a git alright,” Ron said half-heartedly from the corner seat.

“He’s such a big bully, I’ll bet you his father browbeat the school into it,” Neville said with far more conviction, taking a seat next to Ron.

“I just can’t believe Dumbledore gave him the position,” Harry said angrily. His expression lightened as he looked at Hermione. “But that shouldn’t make us any less proud of Hermione for getting Head Girl.”

“You know what Head Girl means, don’t you, Hermione?” Ginny asked, as if eager to divulge information. Her brown eyes were flashing with an ill-concealed excitement. “Five students are going to–”

“Ginny,” Ron said sharply, briefly looking up from his reverie. Ginny’s eyes went wide and she covered her mouth quickly.

“You’ll find out soon enough anyway,” Ginny said after a moment. “It’s just that dad’s known about it all summer, as usual, and he sort of let it slip to us. We really can’t tell anyone. You’ll love it though, I’m sure.”

If it has anything to do with Head Boy and Head Girl, I highly doubt I will. Hermione thought drearily.

Ron’s eyes seemed to blaze as he looked out the window.

******************************************************

Dumbledore watched calmly as the seventh and sixth year students filed into the Great Hall. He smiled sadly as he looked at the Gryffindors. Harry would soon be approaching the final battle, and Hermione had her own test to endure. As for the youngest Weasely boy, Dumbledore had suspicions that were soon to be confirmed. Besides that, Ginny would begin her training soon, if all went as planned.
His eyes wandered to the Slytherin table, where Draco took a seat, surrounded by the other Slytherin seventh years. How they adored him. He had no doubt taken the Dark Mark, and had gained power and assurance over the summer. He would endure the biggest trial of them all, and yet his ending would be the most tragic. Finally, Dumbledore’s eyes flew to the seat at the Slytherin table that was empty, and the Headmaster nodded in confidence.

It was just that he was enjoying his last moments watching them now, as they were.

In a few seconds everything would change. Sighing wearily for what he knew was to come, he stood up and clapped his hands. The students fell silent immediately.

“Welcome, welcome, old hats and fresh faces alike. To the fresh faces, Iwelcome you grandly to our school. To the old hats, I have a special announcement before the feast begins. In light of recent events,” Dumbledore started, looking across the audience sternly and hoping that they caught his drift, “the Archinad’s Ambassadors program will be reinstated. This is a 360-year old program that was invented by the wizard Arambelee Archinad during the reign of the Dark Lord Morgan. Before I put you all to sleep with a history lesson, the gist of the thing is that five handpicked students from each school get chosen as Ambassadors. This group of fifteen students will travel to Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts together to observe each way of life.”

By now the excited murmuring in the hall had grown. It was so great that Dumbledore had to pause and settle the students down.

“Not only will these students unfortunately have to miss the first three weeks of term, but they will have first class accommodations at each school. Finally, there will be three balls, one at each school, held in their honour.” Almost everyone looked excited now. The sky over the Great Hall had turned stormy, however, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Dumbledore smiled, though his voice took on a firm edge. “Not just any five students will secure a position in the program, however. Keep in mind that these five students represent the entirety of Hogwarts, so they will need to be diverse in house and background. We are also looking for 6th and 7th years only, since the journey will involve advanced study courses and some knowledge of the outside world. To sum it up, my friends, I seek five of Hogwarts brightest, strongest, and most sophisticated students. If you wish to participate in the program, Professors McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, Snape, and I will be conducting interviews in my office. Write your name on the sheet in your common room and a time will appear next to it for the interview.”

Dumbledore beamed across the golden hall and checked his wristwatch. “My, I’ve babbled for too long. You must all be starving. Without any further ado, let us eat!”

As always, heaping plates of food appeared at the centre of each table, and the students heartily dug in.

“I always have wanted to see Bulgaria. I never went when Victor invited me in forth year,” Hermione said breathlessly. “I think I’ll sign up for an interview.”

“Don’t you know, Hermione?” Ginny asked, as she poured herself a cup of pumpkin juice. “Head Boy and Head Girl are practically guaranteed a place.”

“Really? How exciting, but I would worry about missing three weeks of term, and . . .” she trailed off as she saw Harry’s expression.

“Does that mean Malfoy’s going?” Harry sputtered incredulously. Mashed potatoes fell out of his mouth.

“Harry!” Ginny said indignantly. “Chew with your mouth closed!”

“Well, I . . . I suppose I never considered that,” Hermione said, looking a bit dazed. Her brow creased. “That just ruins it!Does this mean you aren’t going to go for an interview, Harry?”

His green eyes flared for a moment, and he unconsciously straightened his glasses. “Let’s just say I would hate going, but I would hate for you to have to endure Malfoy alone even more.” He grinned, then added, “Honestly, knowing you, we would get twenty owls a day, filled with complaints, and that would be downright annoying.”

“Do you lot even realize how much we talk about Malfoy?” Ron cut in suddenly. “He doesn’t talk about you this much, I know so.”

Ron’s smile seemed a bit lopsided as he said this.

“You’re right,” Harry said, setting his fork down. “We have been talking about him too much. That slimy git doesn’t deserve our attention.”

And after that they did not talk about him, though Ron still found it odd. The truth was Malfoy probably talked about them just as much as they talked about him.

They blew each other way out of proportion, Slytherins and Gryffindors. It was true that the Gryffindors were sometimes arrogant and a tad self-righteous, but they were not the big headed heroes the Slytherins made them out to be. And the Slytherins themselves were conniving, shrewd and very cynical, but not all of them were the junior Death Eaters the Gryffindors imagined they were.

Ron smiled as he thought about this. It was a lopsided smile. He knew that if the two sides came together they would create a power greater than anything previosuly imagined.

That was, of course, the point of keeping them apart.

[Kathreen Granger]

Tundub täitsa huvitavaks minevat.
Loeks heameelega edasi.

[Liz-Miia Parker]

Come to me in the silence of the night;

Come in the speaking silence of a dream . . .

From “Echo,” by Christina Rossetti


Chapter 2; Draco’s Dilemma

A colossal dragon reared up out of the distance, and began flying toward Draco. As it neared him, Draco saw its color. Silver.

It was not like any kind of dragon Draco had seen before. Its wings were complex, intricate, and made of laced steel. It was feral as it neared him, and Draco found that he had no weapon to combat it.

The dragon sucked in a fiery breath and loosed a sparkling silver flame onto him. It burned his left arm, and he screamed . . .
He screamed as he sat up in bed, clutching his left forearm. His skin was on fire, and as he looked down he saw that the skull had lit up to a volcanic red.

A meeting, at this time of night? Draco thought angrily. It was the first night of term and he had school. What could it be that couldn’t wait until morning?

He pulled on trousers and a shirt, ran his fingers through his hair, grabbed a cloak, and went to his dresser. In a small jewelry box he looked at an opal pendant before touching it. The world spun around and around, and Draco felt a familiar jerk at his navel. He was engulfed in a myriad of colors and sounds, and at last he felt the whirlwind of movement cease. Draco blinked before looking around. He had portkeyed to his own Malfoy Manor.

Lucius was standing in front of him, and stepped forward.

“It is about time you arrived. I expect you to be punctual next time, Draco. Really, you are irresponsible. Lateness is never rewarded.”

“I apologize, Father,” Draco said immediately. “I will try to be more punctual in the future.” Sorry if I was sleeping at two in the morning. Sorry if I can’t Apparate myself off of Hogwarts at your beck and call, Father.

“Lord Voldemort requires your presence in the in the Pavilion, Draco. Come quickly.”

Draco followed his father down the stone halls, lined with flickering orange flames.

“I have been meaning to talk to you,” Lucius said softly, as they strode along the passionless corridor. There were no decorations, and the walls were slate gray. “As I’m sure you are aware of, Draco, you near the proper age for marriage.”

Draco sighed inwardly. In Pureblooded society, it was normal for the children to marry almost as soon as they got out of school. It secured their position in society, and was supposedly a high class tradition. Of course, all marriages in Pureblooded families were arranged. Draco suspected that many Wizarding parents in high class society merely used their children as leverage to boost their own status.

“Every Pureblooded family with a daughter in England will be vying for your favor, Draco,” Lucius continued, “After all, you are heir to one of the biggest fortunes in the Wizarding world. It is sufficient to say that you may choose any bride you wish and she will happily marry you.”

Lucius smirked.

“That is, I get to choose any bride you wish,” he amended shortly.

“Who did you have in mind to be my . . . wife?” asked Draco.

Cor, it sounded odd to say wife. Seventeen year-old Draco Malfoy felt as if he were too young to say that accursed word. He didn’t much like the idea of being pawned off to whoever had the most money and power in London. Draco had never been romantic, but he did not wish to be condemned to a life in which he had not even chosen his own wife.

“There are the Rossis, the Notts, the Averys, the Blacks, the Adamsons . . . the Parkinsons, of course . . . I haven’t decided yet, Draco. I will inform you when I have made up my mind, and then we will set a wedding date.”

“I suppose,” Draco said reluctantly. They had reached the Pavillion, and opened the doors without another word.

Voldemort sat upon the dias, and Draco realized with a start that there were no other Death Eaters present. It was only Draco, Lucius, and Voldemort. They each bent one knee in front of the Dark Lord.

Waiting.

“Your son is quite charming, Lucius.”

It really was not what any of them had expected, to put it lightly.

It was actually the last thing Draco had anticipated to come out of Voldemort’s mouth.

“ . . . Thank you, My Lord,” Lucius said uncertainly.

Draco was slightly disturbed.

“That is what makes him perfect for the mission at hand,” Voldemort continued easily. “I have decided that the key to luring Harry Potter out of safety is to pinpoint the people that he cares about, not to pinpoint Harry Potter himself.”

Draco saw a movement in the shadows. Had that been the swish of a cloak?

“This was demonstrated when he lost Sirius Black. However, that was only an illusion, and the boy has learned to block me out of his mind. We need someone real, someone tangible. His friends, however, prove to be incorruptible.”

Voldemort stopped there and looked down at Draco. Draco was beginning to understand what Voldemort was implying, and it was making him sick.

“This is where you come in, Draco. I want you to befriend Harry Potter.”

“Come again, My Lord?” Draco asked weakly. Surely he had not heard Lord Voldemort correctly. Perhaps there was a large quantity of earwax in both his ears, though he could not see how, since he had cleaned them out just that morning.

“I said that I want you to befriend Harry Potter.”

There it was again!

“Befriend . . . Harry . . . Potter?” Draco choked out.

“There seems to be an echo in the room,” Voldemort said coldly. “Yes, and I will give you a good reason why. You are his age, in his year, and at his school. You are the closest person that we have to Harry Potter. You will gain his friendship and his trust. That way, when we need to lure him away from safety, he will easily come with you. Then I will mutilate the brat like he has always deserved.”

“If I may, sir,” Lucius cut in quickly, “the toll this would take on our family’s reputation would be–”

“What has possessed you, Lucius, to think that I care?” Voldemort said acidly.

“My Lord,” Draco started desperately, “I don’t think you understand. Harry Potter and I have a rivalry, of sorts . . . well, we have despised each other ever since we met. We are rival Seekers, I am a Slytherin, he is a Gryffindor . . .” Draco cut himself off when he realized that he was babbling desperately. “The point is, sir, that nothing on this Earth could convince him to become my friend.”

There was silence, and Voldemort stared down at Draco. After a long while he spoke, his voice soft and icy.

“Well then, Mr. Malfoy, you will have to be convincing, because I don’t think you understand. This is not a choice. This is not a walk in the park. Let me put it this way. If you do not complete this mission by November, the Malfoy line will end.”

Lucius’s mouth was moving but nothing was coming out. Draco realized there was more than one way to interpret that statement, neither of which he cared to dwell on.

But why me! Why . . . me?

“To sum it up, Draco, you must do anything and everything you need to in order to gain Harry Potter’s trust. It is crucial to our next mission. As I said, you’re a charming boy. You’ll manage. And if you don’t, well . . . my deepest apologies to your mother.”

And he smiled a slow and appalling smile. Draco wanted to strangle Voldemort, and then strangle himself.

He would have been delighted to cheat Potter, to lie to Potter, to kill Potter, but to make friends? Hell would freeze over way before he and Harry made friends.

It was going to be a long year for Draco Malfoy.[/color]

[Liz-Miia Parker]

Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright

As sunlight on a stream . . .

From “Echo” by Christina Rossetti

Chapter 3; Intellectually InvigoratingInterviews

One week later . . .

Hermione entered Dumbledore’s office a tad apprehensively. She was surprised to see the five teachers that had conducted the interview. Snape, Sprout, McGonagall, and Flitwick were seated on each side of Dumbledore, and she thought that they looked like a panel of judges. And Hermione, being Hermione, was worried that she had not made the cut, though she was Head Girl and ranked number one in every subject but Potions.

“Sit down, please, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said quietly. McGonagall looked stern and Snape looked disgruntled, which Hermione took as a good sign. Then again, who was she kidding? Snape always looked disgruntled.

She took a seat across from Dumbledore.

“I am disappointed to say, Miss Granger . . .” Dumbledore started softly, and Hermione’s heart leapt to her throat, “ . . . that you will have to miss the first three weeks of term, because you’ve made the cut.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled in a good-natured fashion as he gazed across the desk at her.

Hermione sighed in relief and smiled before speaking.

“May I ask, Professor, what the real point of this trip is? I mean, I know that you said we needed to experience other ways of life and form alliances with the other schools, but that isn’t the whole truth, is it?”

Dumbledore laughed at that, and shook his head in disbelief. “You never miss a beat, do you, Miss Granger? You truly are the brightest witch here.”

“The point,” McGonagall said clearly, “and don’t go telling people about this, Miss Granger, is that the Dark Lord grows more and more powerful by the day. There would be nothing he would like more than to see the three greatest schools in Europe lose contact with one another. It would be easy to turn the schools against each other, isn’t that true? If the schools united against him, he would face a power far greater than he could deal with easily. Ever since that disaster at the Triwizard Tournament, the schools have been on uneasy terms. This, Miss Granger, is a subtle attempt to bring them back together. This is also why the five of you have a lot of responsibility, and why you cannot make a foolish error.”

McGonagall stared her down sternly, but Hermione did not flinch.

“Excuse my being frank, Miss Granger,” Snape started icily, “but you were chosen for one reason and for one reason only.”

McGonagall’s sniff told Hermione what she thought of the notion, but Dumbledore motioned for him to continue.

“Do not kid yourself. You are not sophisticated, you are not brave, you are not beautiful–”

“Severus,” Dumbledore intoned severely, “that is quite enough.”

“Really, now, Severus,” muttered Sprout in an outraged manner.

“What I mean to say, Miss Granger,” Snape plowed on, “is that you are intelligent. And unlike some of the candidates, you are not completely irresponsible. We are relying on you to keep the others in line. You are to impress the other Ambassadors with your knowledge, but by no means to act as an insufferable know-it-all. Have I made myself clear?”

“Perfectly,” Hermione enunciated, staring coldly into his eyes. To her satisfaction, he looked away after a moment.

“We wish you the best of luck, Miss Granger,” Flitwick said chirpily. “You will depart tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Dumbledore . . .”

She looked pointedly at Snape before smiling at Dumbledore. “It’s really an honor.”

And she left.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Come in, Mr. Potter,” Dumbedore said kindly, “do have a seat.”
Harry took a seat.

Snape gave Harry a look that clearly said I-wish-you-would-keel-over-and-die.

“It came down to you and one other student in the end, and . . .”

Harry found that he was holding his breath.

“ . . . we’ve chosen you,” Dumbledore concluded. Harry let his breath out, and Snape coughed and snarled at the same time.

“You must understand that the three schools are not on the best of terms, Potter,” McGonagall said sternly. “They may seem friendly at first, but you must be careful. You are the most aware and powerful – if not particularly law-abiding – student in the school. This is why we chose you.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry intoned. He was surprised they had chosen him, actually. “Is it safe for me to travel to other schools with . . . Voldemort gaining power?” Harry asked curiously.

“There are two reasons why we are allowing you to go,” Sprout piped up. McGonagall continued for her, “The first is that the other two schools you will be traveling to have similar wards to Hogwarts. You-Know-Who would have a hard time breaking into any of them. The second reason is that this mission is critical to the well being of our country and our school. We would not trust anyone else with a task as important. You have shown great courage and determination in the past, Mr. Potter. Do not disappoint us now.”

Dumbledore dismissed him. He was about to leave when he heard, absurd as it was, a voice in his head.

“And Potter, you know that if you step one toe out of line, I will get you expelled.”

And Harry left.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ginny entered next, and could not help noticing that Snape looked particularly agitated. What’s gotten into him?
“Sir,” Snape uttered in exasperation. “You said diversity, not five Gryff–”

“Look how diverse they are, Severus. A Muggle-born, a Half Blood, and a Pureblood. Already we have spanned the school in diversity,” McGonagall said airily. She looked smug.

“Enough, Severus, Minerva,” Dumbledore said.

Snape was absolutely fuming.

“As you may have guessed, Miss Weasley, you have been chosen as an Ambassador. We thought about it for a long time, and at last decided that Hogwarts would not be adequately represented without a member of the Weasley brood in the mix. Your marks are fairly good, and you will prove an excellent mediator between schools. I am sure of it.”

I am amazed they did not pick Ron over me, Ginny thought dazedly. Whatever happened to the Golden Trio?

In any case, she was delighted to be going. Snape looked ready to have an epileptic fit, however.

“I’m excited to be going, sir,” she addressed Dumbledore.

Ginny smiled and thanked them before leaving, and before Snape blew his top.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Draco entered Dumbledore’s office and took a seat without being asked. Snape looked livid, but when he saw Draco he calmed down.
“Draco Malfoy, you have obviously . . . been chosen for this event. You are well known, mannerly when you wish to be, and though your marks are not the best, I somehow have no doubt that you will be able to complete advanced study courses. You are intelligent, Mr. Malfoy, perhaps as intelligent as Miss Granger.”

“Thank you,” Draco said, for telling me something I didn’t know, he finished sarcastically in his head.

Dumbledore kept talking, but Draco was not listening. He had not even wanted to take this trip in the first place, but he was Head Boy and was almost required to go. Aside from that, Potter had interviewed, and by some twisted turn of events, Draco had to go wherever Potter flounced around to, in order to make friends with the bloke.

Friends? How was it even possible? They couldn’t have a two minute conversation without ending up with wands at each other’s throats.

Draco did not have even the slightest beginning of a notion of how he would make friends with Harry. Obviously he could not start being nice to the prat. That would be more suspicious than Lucius handing out teddy bears to needy orphans on Christmas Eve. He would have to do something subtle, yet something that would catch Potter’s attention . . .

He was not a Slytherin for nothing.

Draco needed a Really Cunning Plan.

It's a lose-lose situation, really, he thought morbidly. If he did not succeed in gaining Potter’s trust, he was as good as dead. If he did become Potter’s friend, he was likely to kill himself.

Couldn’t they have gotten some girl to do this? Draco thought heatedly. I daresay Potter needs a little girlfriend. He would fall for a girl right away. Couldn’t they have gotten Pansy to seduce him or something?

He wrinkled his nose at the thought of Potter and Pansy snogging, and cringed at the thought of what their child would look like.

“Mr. Malfoy?” Dumbledore asked, sounding concerned. “You looked positively disgusted for a moment. Will going by train be a problem?”

“No, it . . . why are we taking a train?” Draco wondered out loud.

“It is too unstable to Port Key to stormy Durmstrang, so a train will be the fastest. And, Mr. Malfoy . . . I am aware of the grudge that Mr. Potter and yourself hold against one another. For this trip, it must be forgotten. Is that clear?”

“Crystal, sir,” Draco said quickly.

And so his worst nightmare began

[Kathreen Granger]

Dracole tundub ikka see mõte,et tema ja Harry sõbrad võiksid olla ikka tõsiselt vastik.

[Greete Black]

Mulle meeldib ^^
kuigi lugemine võttis aega veits:D Korraga ei tasu mitu osa järjest panna;d Muidu kaob huvi.
Kuid praegu sooviks küll, et jätkata!

[Christian Bray]

Jätka, ma tavaliselt fanfice ei loe, kuid see on hea.

[armackyysu]

Ma olen lugenud selle autori juttu "Võta mu süda" väga hea jutt on.

[Liz-Miia Parker]

Jap on.

Draco 7 raamatus ka lõpus tglt ikka pöördus hea poole mitte, et ta seda välja näitas, kuid mulle tglt meeldib ta rohkem külmana, tundetuna.

Siin on lugu alles alguses ma varsti juba lõpetan selle lugemise, jutt läheb huvitamaks , kui eales arvate ;D Mwohahah.

Siit siis 4 peatükk. ( tõsiselt naljakas algus, naersin niiet pisarad silmad. Malfoy tõesti ei oska koputada:D)

PART I: COME TO ME IN DREAMS

Come back in tears;

O memory, hope, love of finished years.

From “Echo” by Christina Rossetti


Chapter 4; Darkness of Durmstrang

The next morning dawned, ironically, bright and clear. Harry and Hermione had been bidden farewell by the rest of the seventh year Gryffindors, and despite herself, Hermione was excited to be going.

“You’ll all be sitting in one compartment,” Professor McGonagall said firmly, ushering them into a side compartment. “You are almost adults, and as adults I am speaking to you now. You two are responsible and level headed, but you must be careful. I do not doubt that there are plans afoul amongst the other schools. This is our chance to unite with the other schools, and you must do your best to create strong friendships.” She said all of this very quickly and sternly. “And, good luck.”

“This is going to be interesting, to say the least,” Hermione told Harry after McGonagall had left. She looked casual and confident in khaki pants and a collared, button up blue blouse.

“It would almost be fun, if Malfoy weren’t . . .” Harry started, but was startled as the door clicked.

“Speak of the devil,” Hermione said loudly as Malfoy waltzed in. His face contorted into an ungainly sneer when he saw them.

“There must have been some mistake,” he said in a calm voice. It was smooth and confident, as if he knew every word he said was true. “Granger, I can see why you’re here . . . they needed to enter at least one Mudblood to make it look fair. But Potter? What redeeming qualities do they possibly imagine you to possess?”

“Maybe, Malfoy, you’re just sore because Harry’s defeated your boss six or seven times in a row now,” Hermione said stonily, glaring up at him. She was implying that he was a Death Eater.

“I wouldn’t go making assumptions like that, Granger,” Malfoy said, his voice deadly calm. “You never know where you might end up.”

“Did you just threaten her?” Harry asked incredulously. The tension in the small compartment seemed to mount.

Draco considered briefly. “That would be a ‘yes’,” he said lightly, after a moment. “Though I shouldn’t waste threats on her . . . killing her outright would be far more fitting to her worthless bloodline.”

Harry stood up suddenly, upsetting his trunk. It clattered to the ground.

“Insulting me is one thing, Malfoy. Insulting my friends is another.”

“Okay,” said Draco softly. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I need to provoke you.”

“Malfoy, you–” Harry reached into his pocket for his wand, but their attention was diverted to the compartment door as it opened. Ginny stepped in, looking flustered.

“Well,” she said weakly, “It’s been thirty seconds and you’re already at each other's throats. I can tell this is going to be a lovely journey.”

Harry, looking a bit ashamed, sat down and righted his trunk. Wordlessly, Ginny took a seat on the opposite side of the seat Draco was sitting in. Draco threw up his hands in disgust.

“A Weasley, now, too? What happened to equality between houses? What happened to common sense? When a plebeian, a Mudblood, and a reckless prat are the top three students in the school, you know something’s gone wrong.”

Ginny seemed to have regained her composure.

“Not to mention a rat-faced coward with an ego the size of a Norwegian Ridgeback,” Ginny said loftily.

Hermione thought that this description was dead on. Perhaps not the rat-faced part, but that was aside from the point. She needed them to stop arguing, because she knew that this would only lead to another brawl.

“Speaking of top students,” Hermione cut in quickly. “Does anyone know who the fifth Ambassador is?”

Draco ignored her question, but Harry and Ginny shook their heads.

As if on cue, the compartment door slid open. Ernie Macmillan looked back at them.

“Hello, all,” he said cheerily.

Draco apparently could not find the words. Finally, he did.

“A Hufflepuff? This is a new low. It could have been a Ravenclaw, or a Slytherin, or, Merlin forbid, a Gryffindor . . . but Dumbledore has chosen someone from an absolutely worthless house!”

“My house is highly superior to yours, Malfoy,” Ernie said haughtily. “We did far better than you Slytherins on the O.W.L.s.”

Draco rolled his eyes, draping his arms on the back of the seats. “Go on, then, Macmillan . . . name one famous witch or wizard from Hufflepuff.”

Ernie opened his mouth.

“And don’t say Cedric Diggory, he was only famous for dying, and that was all Potter’s fault.”

Ernie closed it.

“Point proven,” Draco said after a moment.

“Listen, Malfoy,” Harry said, “none of us has a problem with Ernie but you–”

“I have a problem with all of you, really,” Draco added helpfully. Harry decided to ignore him.

“– no one has a problem with him but you, so lay off.”

“Oh, well said, Potter. I’ll ‘lay off’, as you put it, because I’m actually at a loss for words at the prospect that I’ll be spending the next month or so with you lot.”

“You’re a right little ray of sunshine yourself, Malfoy,” Hermione retorted.

But after that, they were silent.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
FACT: King Arthur was a legendary knight of the Dark Ages. He was rumored to have existed in Britain and to have died around 537 A.D. In Malory’s retelling of his life, Arthur has a wife, Guenevere.
Remus Lupin stepped into Dumbledore’s office, and was immediately bombarded with a thousand memories. He had been here many times, mostly for punishment, along with the other three Marauders. They were happy memories, memories of a younger, healthier time.

“Sit down, Remus,” Dumbledore said, gesturing expansively.

Lupin took a seat, and wondered why Dumbledore had called on him. Dumbledore did not seem in the mood for idle conversation. After a few pleasantries, Dumbledore folded his hands and looked gravely at Lupin.

“You are aware, Remus, that Voldemort grows stronger with every passing day.”

“I am aware,” Lupin confirmed.

Dumbledore stared across the desk at Lupin. He felt as if he were being measured.

“There is something of grave importance I am going to reveal to you,” Dumbledore continued, “but you must tell no one. Not your closest friend, not your most trusted ally.”

There will be no danger of that, Lupin wanted to say bitterly. My most trusted friends are dead.

Instead, he nodded his head.

“An inside source has informed me that Voldemort has devised a way to regain his full power. It involves the use of an object so ancient and mythical that I had believed it long ago vanished into the ages. He has, however, found proof that it still exists.”

“What object is this?” Lupin asked, his interest piqued.

“It is so long lost that I do not know even that much. It has been rumored to be a coin, a bottle, a cup . . . perhaps the Holy Grail itself.”

Lupin raised an eyebrow. “And how does Voldemort plan on finding this . . . object?”

Dumbledore sighed. “That I do not know either, Remus. He has more information, I am sure. I do know that if he succeeds in finding this object, the war will be lost before it has even begun.”

“Albus, this is madness.” Lupin said, shifting uncomfortably. “The Dark Lord is searching for a mythical treasure that does not even have a name, a location, or a history? An object that very likely does not even exist? I say leave him to it, Albus. He will rot trying to find it.”

“There is one thing,” Dumbledore said, holding a finger up.

Lupin sighed noisily. “There’s always one thing. What is it? And what in the name of Merlin does this all have to do with me?”

“Everything, I’m afraid,” Dumbledore said, a hint of sadness in his voice. He sighed, and then leaned back. “I do not know why I try to avoid the unavoidable,” he said, half to himself, “time and time again.”

Dumbledore stood up and strolled over to a cabinet. Lupin frowned.

To Lupin’s great surprise, he withdrew a Pensieve. It had snakes as a border, and the words “Mind’s eye” engraved in Latin.

“I want you to enter this Pensieve,” Dumbledore announced, “and watch carefully at what occurs. There is only one memory stored in here.”

Dumbledore set the Pensieve in front of Lupin. “Go on, then.”

So without another word, Lupin submerged his head below the shimmering surface.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The rest of the journey on the train went by slowly, though quietly. Harry and Hermione talked, their heads close together, for some time, but all Draco could hear was the deep rumble of his voice and the calm alto of hers.
As Draco watched them through slitted eyes, he tried to puzzle out their relationship. They knew each other well, but often friends knew each other. It was more than that, though . . . it was almost uncanny. When the lunch trolley came, Hermione ordered for both of them without asking Harry what he wanted. When he got his food, however, he grinned at her and she smiled knowingly back.

They were a couple, they had to be. Yet he saw none of the telling signs that betrayed a young couple. They were never closer than they needed to be, and Harry looked at her with happiness and respect and mischief, but never love. He did care about her a great deal, Draco supposed, because when the train gave a massive jot he clamped a hand on her shoulder to steady her. She seemed to think nothing of it, however, and Harry acted as if it were completely natural.

They didn’t like each other that way, he supposed, but if this was the case, then he didn’t understand their relationship.

Ginny, also, seemed used to being left out. It wasn’t that Harry and Hermione snubbed her or were rude to her. On the contrary, they talked to her openly and were friendly and polite. It was just that when those two were together it was as if they had a secret little world of their own and were oblivious to all else around.

Ginny seemed to be brooding for the majority of the train ride.

Ernie was reading a book titled Wizarding Finance; How to Become Chief Executive Officer of Your Own Company by the Time You Turn 18.

Lengthy title, that one had.

As for Draco, he spent the entirety of the ride Owling his father and the other Slytherins. Aside from the mandatory little quip or snide comment, he was silent also.

Needless to say, they were all grateful to arrive.

Draco could see his own breath as he stepped off of the train and onto the snowy platform. The air smelled salty and had the taste of the sea. The light was waning, it seemed; it had taken them the majority of the day to get there. Hermione gasped, and Draco assumed that it was from the cold. Then he looked up, and saw why.

His first impression was that it was some ancient military fortress. Up a steep snow white inclinestood a shockingly black structure, looking so solid and emphatic that he was sure if the whole world came crumbling down around them, that one building would stand erect, untouched. The great looming black turrets rose menacingly into the sky, and unrelenting eyes of stone overlooked the angry blue sea. He heard waves crash on the cliffs below, but seemed nothing more violent than the contrast of the fresh snow and the midnight black castle.

It was a castle, after all. It was the great stronghold of Durmstrang.

“Unbelievable,” Harry breathed. “Is it even real?”

“The logistics of the architecture,” Ernie said in awe. “How can such a structure be built?”

Draco was sure they would have stood there for the remainder of the evening if he hadn’t said something.

“Stop gaping like fish,” he intoned wearily. “It isn’t polite to stare at anything in Bulgarian culture.”

They tore their eyes away from it. “What do you know about Bulgarian culture?” Hermione challenged.

“My father has taken me on vacations and business trips many times here, Granger. I know a lot about their customs, so if you’re unsure of anything, just ask me,” he said with a wink. He said it only because he knew it would annoy her to death that he knew more about something than she did. She grumbled incoherently and looked away.

Presently a man appeared out of thin air. Harry choked, and Draco realized it was none other than Igor Karkaroff, a Death Eater to this day. He had been punished for running away, but Voldemort had taken him back. Harry’s mouth was working soundlessly.

“Manners, Potter,” Draco spat his way before Igor was in hearing.

“Professor Karkaroff,” Draco said immediately, sticking out his hand. “Always a pleasure to see you.”

Igor took Draco’s hand, smiling entreatingly back. “And you, Mr. Malfoy. My how you’ve grown.”

Malfoy nodded. In Death Eater terms that meant, you’ve taken the Dark Mark, haven’t you?

“And Harry Potter,” Igor said pleasantly.

“Nice to . . . see you again, Professor,” Harry said, smiling a half-hearted smile. They were staying under the same roof as a convicted Death Eater? Things were not looking good.

“And this is . . . ah, I remember, Hermione Graker, wasn’t it? You and my student Krum were quite fond of each other, if I recall correctly. He’s still here, you know.”

Hermione studiously ignored Draco’s muffled snort, and smiled brightly at the Headmaster. “It’s Granger, sir. And how can that be? If I remember correctly, he was seventeen when I was fourteen. Shouldn’t he have graduated by now?”

“He is nineteen right now and his birthday is in December. My castle contains a Finishing School for students who wish to study further. Wizards of up to twenty-five study here.”

“How wonderful.”

“I don’t believe I know you two, however,” Igor said quietly.

“Oh!” Draco smiled as if it were all the pleasure in the world to introduce them. “This is Ginny Weasley, sir, a sixth year at Hogwarts.”

Draco smiled as they shook hands, and Harry was scared at how pleasant he was being.

“And Ernie Macmillan, from the esteemed house of Hufflepuff.”

There was not a trace of mockery or agitation in his voice, and Ernie was surprised that it sounded like a compliment.

“A pleasure.” Igor intoned. “Well, we won’t be wanting to climb the steep slope up to the castle, so we will take a Portkey.”

They each put a hand on the proffered Portkey, and soon landed on firm ground. Draco was immediately aware of his vast surroundings. They were smothered by black marble halls inlaid with gold veins. A grand staircase spiraled below them.

The whole of the castle seemed dark and rich and foreboding. It was exactly as Draco had always imagined it to be. It had a shadowed and enigmatic beauty that seemed to weigh down heavily on their movements. He related it to the deep, rich, sound that rang out after striking a gong.

“You all will be staying on the fourth floor, the highest of all floors.”

He led them down the hall until they came to three adjoined rooms.

“Here you are. Your luggage is inside,” Igor told them cheerfully. “The Welcome Feast begins at seven, so I will send someone up to remind you. There we will make formal introductions to the other Ambassadors. I hope you will all enjoy your stay at Durmstrang.”

He left.

They entered the rooms and were surprised to see that they were as nice and straightforward as the rest of the castle. Two rooms had two beds, and one room had a single bed. Harry and Hermione decided to share a room, and Ginny, feeling decidedly awkward about sharing a room with either of the two boys, took the single. That left Ernie and a slightly disgruntled Draco with the other. Each room had deep marble floors, a roaring fireplace, and a view of the sheer black cliffs and the ocean. Everything was gold and black, and the beds were covered in dark cashmere and silk.

“This is amazing,” Hermione said to Harry, once they were alone in the room. She watched a wave crash violently onto the cliffs just below them. Durmstrang was powerful and intense, and perhaps had the dark and elliptic quality that Hogwarts lacked. The light was fading.

“I’m going to check up on Ernie,” Harry said after a while, “just to make sure Malfoy hasn’t thrown him off of a cliff or anything like that.”

“Sure,” Hermione replied, “I think I’ll stay here.”

After he had left, she pulled out Eleven Ways to Earn All Eleven Newts, a book she was completely immersed in. Harry stayed in Ernie’s room longer than she expected, and when Hermione checked her wristwatch it was half past six. She decided to get ready for the welcome feast.

She chose a soft cream blouse and tailored trousers, and took off her traveling shirt. She wore jeans and a rather flimsy undershirt when she heard the doorknob turn.

“Oh . . . Harry,” she said, rather relieved. For a moment she had expected Malfoy. She continued putting her hair into a bun.

Harry, noticing what she was wearing, grinned. “You really shouldn’t let me see you like that,” he said teasingly, “it’s indecent.”

“C’mon, Harry,” Hermione chided with a small smile, picking up the shirt. “It’s you. You’ve known me since I was eleven years old. You’re not going to do anything.”

“Oh, yeah? How do you know I’m not going to do . . . this!” And he sprang at her and snatched the shirt out of her hands.

Her mouth formed into a small ‘O’ and she whirled around. “Harry Potter! Give me that blouse back!”

A grin played at his face. With a laugh, she lunged at him, but he was too quick for her. He dodged her lunge easily, and hovered on the other side of the bed.

“Just wear that,” he said with a laugh. “It looks good on you.”

“I will kill you!” she said, exasperated, but a smile was playing at her lips all the same. “Now, Harry, that is the only blouse that goes with these trousers . . .”

“Since when did you care about style, Hermione?”

“Oh, Harry, of all the clueless, conniving, blundering boys, you must be the very wo–”

Two things happened simultaneously, then. Looking only slightly reproachful, Harry had decided to give her back the blouse, and had reached across the bed to hand it to her. The door also clicked open, and Malfoy was standing there.

He saw Harry with Hermione’s shirt in his hand, and the two of them were leaning over a bed.

He cleared his throat, and they looked over at him, startled.

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt whatever kinky moment you two were probably about to have, but it will have to wait. We’re needed downstairs in five minutes.”

He didn’t leave, but instead just stood there, looking quizzically at the two. He whistled. “And here I was, Potter, thinking you had never–”

“Get out, Malfoy,” Hermione said vehemently. As a sarcastic afterthought, she added, “ you too, Potter.”

They both left, but Harry couldn’t help sticking his tongue out immaturely at Hermione when Malfoy was not watching.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Draco shut the door, with Harry right behind him. So Potter and Granger are together, he thought. End of that mystery.
Harry turned to Draco.

“Look, Malfoy, Hermione and I aren’t–”

Draco was rapidly shaking his head. “You know what, Potter? I really don’t need to know. I don’t even care what you and Granger are doing, just don’t ever do it where I can see or hear you. Bad images, you know what I mean?”

Harry was angry. “We’re not–!”

But Draco was striding down the hall.

Draco next came to Ginny’s room. He opened the door, checking his watch as he did so.

“Five minutes, Weasley. And wear something halfway decent, not your usual shabby . . .”

He looked up and for the second time that day had intruded on something he had not meant to. And no, it was not Ginny and Ernie making out. It was Ginny, without a shirt on.

Perhaps I should kill myself now, Draco thought, before I die a horrible and painful death by torture.

Ginny stood perfectly still for a moment. Draco took a deep breath. “Believe it or not, I did not mean–”

“GET OUT, MALFOY!”

He got out, slamming the door behind him. Exasperated, he went to Ernie’s room, reached for the handle . . . and knocked. Most emphatically and certainly knocked. If there was one thing he was not up to seeing, it was Ernie with any article of clothing removed.

Ernie opened the door, fully dressed. “What are you knocking for, Malfoy? This is your room. And did you hear screaming a few moments ago?”

“Erm . . . it was just the wind . . . howling through the cliffs,” Draco said jumpily. “Anyhow . . . we need to be downstairs in five minutes, and . . . put a new tie on this instant, you have the worst sense of fashion I’ve ever seen in my life!”

He slammed that door shut too, upset with life in general.

Five minutes later, they had all conjugated at the top of the stairs. They were fully, and, in Ernie’s case, stylishly, dressed.

Harry turned to Draco. “I’m going to try to say this one more time . . .”

“Oh, tell it to someone who remotely cares, Potter,” Draco drawled wearily.

“Do you ever knock, Malfoy?” Ginny asked angrily, glaring at him through slitted eyes.

“Yes, he does knock. Quite a bit, actually . . .” Ernie trailed off, confused at the heated conversation. Ginny rounded on him.

“Who asked your opinion, you Hufflepuff sissy?” she boomed, her voice rising steadily. Ernie looked surprised.

“This coming with a freckled Gryffindor with a wench for a mother,” Malfoy retorted, his voice deadly calm.

Ginny just stood there, trembling with anger. Ms. Weasley was like a mother to Harry, and he was personally affronted.

“Malfoy, why I’ll–” he lunged for Draco.

“What is your problem?” said Ernie to Ginny.

Harry collided forcefully into Draco, and Ginny pointed her wand at Ernie threateningly.

“Expelliarmus!” a voice cried, and wands flew into the air.

Shocked, they all turned to see Hermione holding five wands, and breathing through her nostrils.

“All of you,” she said in a dangerous voice, “in my room, now.”

Wordlessly, they marched in a single file line into her room. She slammed the door shut behind them, and stared with disgust and anger. Draco reached to take his wand back.

“No,” she said venomously, evading his grasp. He backed away.

“Look,” he said at last, “it’s no big secret that we’re all not the best of friends. Actually, most of us hate each other,” she continued, sounding resigned.

“When we go into public and meet the other Ambassadors, we must put on a facade. In public, we are all friends. In public, we all trust each other.”

She shot Harry a deadly glare when he snorted.

“If the other Ambassadors find out that we cannot work as a team, they will shatter us apart in a moment. We are all to be polite to each other, though I say it would be so much more fun to bite each other’s heads off. Understood?”

Everyone nodded.

“And one more thing,” Hermione added, as an afterthought. “I believe that you all are familiar with the saying, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. It applies.”

Little did she know how fully she would regret her words later on.

Hermione opened the door, handing everyone back their wands.

“I hate you all,” Draco mumbled dramatically as he grabbed his own wand. With that they headed down the stairs, and in the distance Draco could swear he heard a gong ring.

[Christian Bray]

Jätka !

[Benjamin Bray]

Väga huvitav.
Jätkata!

[Kathreen Granger]

Ootan uut osa

[Liz-Miia Parker]

PART I: COME TO ME IN DREAMS

Oh dream how sweet, too sweet, too bittersweet,

Whose wakening should have been in Paradise . . .

– From “Echo” by Christina Rossetti

***


Chapter 5; Immensely Irritating Introductions .


They all halted outside of the door to the dinner hall, Igor behind them. The Hogwarts' studentswere a bit late, predictably, and everyone else had already been seated. Draco observed that Ernie looked nervous, Hermione looked confident, Harry looked sick, and Ginny still looked angry.

“Are you ready?”

“We are, sir,” replied Draco confidently. Igor opened the double doors. Their eyes were met with blaring light and their ears with incessant chattering. As they entered, the chattering died down considerably. Draco could feel eyes on him, and many of the females in the room were openly gaping. They came to a round table at the center of the Hall where the other Ambassadors were sitting. Draco had to consciously stop his mouth from dropping open as he recognized Viktor Krum (How had he gotten accepted?), and (what was her name?), the female champion of the Triwizard Tournament. He noted that she was immeasurably stunning.

They were introduced loudly to the entire school after that, which was a trifle embarrassing to Draco and the others. After that ordeal they had a chance to meet the other Ambassadors. The Durmstrang team consisted of Krum, two equal hairy boys (one which bared an odd resemblance to Harry), a blonde pigtailed girl, and a darker girl with thick eyebrows and an imposing air. He learned that their names were Victor, Ivan, Franz, Hilda, and Ava respectively, but quickly forgot who was who. Krum lit up when he saw Hermione, butchering her name (Herm-o-ninny!), and introduced her to his friends.

“It is wonderful to see you again, Victor,” Hermione said, sounding genuinely happy. “This castle is simply amazing”

“I am glad you think so, Hermi-o-ninny. I vill show you all of it vile you are here.”

Draco turned away from them, disliking Krum on the spot.

The Beauxbatons group proved much more to his liking. There was Fleur, and also a dark haired and beautiful girl by the name of Myra, two poncy looking boys named Jaime and Michael, and a red-haired girl named Renae. When Draco first spoke to the auburn haired Renae, he thought it odd that she had no trace of a French accent. Fleur was something else, though. Her long silvery hair and starlit eyes were surreal. Draco had never seen anyone more beautiful.

“Ah, ‘Arry!” Fleur gushed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “My, ‘ave you grown. You are taller than me now! And Geeny Weasley . . . ‘ow is your brother Bill doing?”

She did not wait for an answer, but instead turned to Draco.

“And who eez ‘zis?” she asked softly.

Draco flashed what Hermione would later coin his Charming Smile, swearing that if it was ever directed at her she might drop into a dead faint. Whether this was from utter shock or his admitted good looks, she was not sure.

“I’m Draco Malfoy, it’s a pleasure,” he said charmingly, and swept down to kiss her right hand. “And you are?”

Fleur could not have looked more delighted. “I am Fleur Delacour. Malfoy . . . I ‘ave heard that name before.”

“I’m sure you have. We’re a very prominent family,” Draco replied without a shred of modesty. Fleur seemed all the more delighted.

Disgusted, Hermione turned to Harry, but at that moment a gong rang, and Igor Karkaroff stood in front of the school. He proceeded to make a long and uninteresting speech about the Ambassadors and the importance of reviving the program that only two of the Ambassadors bothered to listened to.

After that, dinner was served, and Draco tried not to look upset about getting placed next to Harry and Ginny. Hermione nudged him as she walked by, and Draco refrained from rolling his eyes. Of course, Draco thought sarcastically, she wants me to be civil to Potter.

“Enjoying your meal, Harry?” Draco asserted in a falsely pleasant tone. He stabbed a fork into his meat as he said it, glaring daggers at Harry.

“Immensely, Draco,” Harry retorted with a painful smile. He grabbed a bread roll and ripped it apart savagely.

Meanwhile, Hermione was chatting with Krum.

“Tomorrow, Hermo-ninny, ve vill take you on my boat to the ocean, and you vill experience the dark might of Durmstrang,” Krum proclaimed in a hearty voice.

“That sounds interesting,” Hermione replied. Her attention was drawn to Ernie, who was chatting with the dark-haired beauty, Myra, about his opinion on world affairs. Surprisingly, she was listening very closely, and seemed engaged in the conversation.

After dinner was over, the tables all disappeared, and Draco surmised that was a bit of a social period, set aside to talk and mingle.

Hermione and Krum joined Draco and Fleur, and Fleur immediately smiled at Hermione. “Ah, ‘Ermione, I believe your name is. And ‘ow could I forget Viktor Krum? You two were partners at ze Yule Ball, I believe? Isn’t that sweet, you are still together.”

Hermione flushed. “Oh, we’re not together,” she opined quickly.

“Of course you are not,” Fleur replied condescendingly, “but you ‘ave not changed one bit, darling. You are still zat bushy haired fourteen year old girl I remember so well.”

Fleur’s plastered smile irritated Hermione, but she grudgingly smiled back. Fleur turned to Draco and beamed, as if they shared some intimate secret, and he smiled quickly back. Krum was standing very close to Hermione.

“I zink Hermo-ninny has grown a great deal since I last saw her. She is very pretty,” Krum stated.

Hermione flushed at this too.

“I don’t recall anyone asking your opinion,” Draco pointed out.

“And who are you?” Krum interrogated, rather rudely.

Hermione’s eyes flashed dangerously at Draco, and her face seemed to say be careful. She turned with a smile to Krum.

“Viktor, this is Draco Malfoy. Mal . . . Draco, certainly you remember Krum.”

She smiled brightly at Draco, willing him to cooperate.

“Oh . . . I remember Krum,” Draco assured her, in what some would consider a sinister voice.

Meanwhile, Ginny had been talking with Harry, until he had been steered away by Ava. Now one of the large Bulgarian Ambassadors approached her. Ivan was his name, if she remembered correctly.

“Ah . . . Geeny, is it?” he asked loudly.

“Yes,” she said a little too quickly.

“I did not know the Hogwarts girls were so beautiful.”

He was staring at her disconcertingly, and she did not like it one bit. She did not know what to say. “Well, I . . .” she began.

He took her arm and began steering her forcefully toward the door.

“Come upstairs with me, Geeny. I vill show you my . . .”

“Your room?” came a voice from behind them. “How thoughtful of you.”

Draco had appeared, looking cool and calm as ever. He took Ginny’s other arm and smiled tightly at the other Ambassador.

“We would love to take a tour of the castle with you later,” Draco continued nonchalantly. “I’m sure it would be . . . delightful. But Ginny, Fleur Delacour is asking to speak with you, and I’m sure we don’t want to keep her waiting.”

He steered her away quite pleasantly, but when they were far away enough, dropped her arm like a hot potato.

Ginny turned to him, meaning to thank Draco for rescuing her.

“Malfoy, why in the world did you . . .?”

“Weasley,” he cut her off quite savagely. “I would have six older brothers to answer to if anything happened to you, and I would rather not be eviscerated before the age of eighteen. Don’t expect me to do it again. Just stop flirting around like a dunce.”

“I wasn’t–”

But he was already gone.

Truthfully, Draco had been looking for any excuse to get away from Krum. He hated the bloke.

Minutes after that, Hermione announced that they were tired from their journey and would be leaving. They said goodbye, all laughter and pleasant smiles. Hermione shut the door of the Dining Hall behind them, and in moments was glaring at Draco.

“What was that stunt you pulled in there with Krum, Malfoy? What is your problem?”

“I don’t like that bloke at all,” Draco said callously.

“You don’t like anyone, Malfoy,” Harry cut in.

“Blatantly untrue, Potter. I like Fleur well enough,” Draco pointed out.

They began walking up the staircase to their rooms.

“Why do you put on this whole charming facade when you’re really such a bastard?” Ginny asked bluntly.

Draco’s expression seemed icier than ever as he said, “Did it ever occur to you, Weasley, that maybe that wasn’t a facade at all? Did it ever occur to your self-centered little mind that maybe I just can’t stand self righteous do-gooders like Potter and yourself?”

“Right, Malfoy,” Harry said pointedly, “because on the contrary, we really want to hang around with Junior Death Eaters like you.”

Draco rounded on Harry. “For the last time, Potter, do not go making false assumptions. Just because my father is a Death Eater doesn’t mean that I am one too.”

His eyes were blazing. He looked really angry.

“Show us your arm, then,” Ginny said, crossing her own arms.

Draco turned his gaze to her and seemed to consider. “Fine,” he hissed, and threw back the sleeve of his left arm. It was pale and clean.

Harry was genuinely surprised. He had been so sure Malfoy was a Death Eater.

“If you’re all finished asking idiotic questions, I’m going to bed now,” Draco informed them defiantly. With that final statement, he stalked off into the darkness.

[Christian Bray]

Jätkata.
Tõsiselt meeldib Malfoy suhtumine.