Chapter Five, The Victim of Circumstance
Title: The Victim of Circumstance
Author: raining_slash
Beta: abundantfear
Rating: Over all, R.
Pairing: H/D
Spoilers: All books, including DH.
Warnings: Slash, Violence, Sexual Situations and Language.
Summary: WIP. Post DH. Novel-length. Nineteen years is a long time. What happened between the end of the Battle of Hogwarts and Albus Severus Potter’s first day of school?
Disclaimer & Author’s Notes: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and places in this fan fiction. No copyright infringement is intended. This story has been cross-posted because I’m an internet whore.
Back to Chapter Four
THE VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANCE
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Author’s Note: Please don’t send rabid bunnies after me. I am very sorry this chapter is so very late. I was studying overseas and whatever it’s a long story let’s just get on with it, eh?
(())
“Whatever you do, stamp out abuses, and love those who love you.” - Voltaire
Chapter Five: Of Macbeth & Muggleborns
305 days after the Battle of Hogwarts
It was several hours until Draco was finally out of tears. But he felt better for it. Like he’d cried out all his fears. Seeing his parents had been wonderful, but at the same time it had been scary. They were both so changed. Not just in the way they looked either. Of course they would be thinner and a little aged through all the stress, but that was not what scared Draco so much. It was this feeling that radiated from them. A sort of desperation. And a terrible sadness that their frail bodies couldn’t contain.
So Draco was, at this stage, still undecided as to whether it was a good thing or not, seeing his parents. Though he imagined later on when he began to miss them even more fiercely, he would be grateful for the short reunion. He did feel relief. He did feel a slight lifting-of-burden. Like his worries about whether or not they were dead inside their cells and no one had noticed, or whether there was a guard doing to them what one did to him; all of that worry was alleviated.
Draco took a deep breath and lay back on his bed. The birthday present Potter got for him sat innocently on his chest. Draco now turned his attention to it. It was wrapped in blue tissue paper and Draco thought, from the weight of it and its hard shell, that it was probably a book. He gently pulled at the spello-tape and a hard covered, gold leafed book fell out. Stenciled into the cover was one, evocative word: Macbeth. Draco had never heard of it. Still, he decided to give it a go. After all, Potter had got him that brooch. His taste couldn’t be all that bad.
He was flicking through the pages with his eyes closed, enjoying the new-book scent, when suddenly he dropped the book back on his chest with a thud, and sat up quickly to attention.
Oh my God.
A lump of cold dread dropped in his stomach.
I kissed Harry Potter.
(())
Harry,
Sorry it took me so long to write back, but I’ve been a bit busy with end of school crap. My mates and me went to Amsterdam for a few weeks. It was fucken brilliant. The girls there are fit like you wouldn’t believe. And I’ve just started working for Sparky. It sucks but it was that or working for Dad and I don’t like those office types.
Anyway, we got your letter fine. Dad ignored it. Sorry about that. Mum read it but she said she wasn’t going to write back. Sorry about that too. But they’re both fine. They don’t talk about that time away from home. You know, when your lot was all fighting. The other wizards talked about you a lot when we were there. They said something about you being missing for a while, but they didn’t really seem worried about it. They talked about your school a lot and said that some of the kids were being hurt. I hope none of your friends were, you know, killed or something.
Well, I better get going. Mum’s got tea up. It’ll probably be a couple of days until I can be fucked to post this, but if you’re ever in the area or whatever, let me know and we can grab a drink at Bridie’s or something.
Dudley
Harry put the letter down. His Auror exams were over and he was waiting on the results now, so he’d turned his attention to his N.E.W.T’s - Charms in particular - when Mercury, his eagle owl, came swooping through the open window with his cousin’s letter. Mercury must have taken it upon himself to go to the post office. The intuition of owls and their function always surprised Harry.
Harry had no problems admitting to himself that he was astonished his cousin had written him back. Sure, he and Dudley had had a moment before Harry had left Privet Drive last year, if that’s what the awkward fumbling of thanks could be called. But he thought Dudley’s feelings towards Harry were merely less violent than that of his parents. Not altogether without violence.
He folded the letter up and put it into his desk draw, making a mental note to maybe follow Dudley up on his offer for a drink sometime in the future. He let out a sigh and turned back to his work. He had immersed himself in his studies this day, in hopes of driving certain images of young, blonde men, out of his mind. For the second time in a short while, Harry was feeling like he’d betrayed Ginny. He knew that in this instance, he hadn’t really betrayed her, unlike with Furio. Draco had kissed him after all. And it had been fleeting. Just simple thanks. But that fleeting kiss had sparked more feeling in Harry than the seven minutes he’d spent in the bathroom with Furio. Thus, the feelings of guilt he was currently experiencing.
Prior to The Draco Incident, as he was calling it, Harry had been resolved to tell Ginny the truth about Furio. But now he didn’t know if he should. How could he speak to Ginny about her feelings about another man getting him off at a Christmas party, when he wasn’t sure how he felt about it? He’d thought it was an accident. Not like he’d slipped on spilt milk and his dick had landed in Furio’s mouth - he wasn’t that pathetic. But he’d rather thought it had been a drunken mistake he had no intention of ever repeating. And then … The Draco Incident. Was he gay? He didn’t feel gay. He was attracted to girls. He’d been mad over Cho Chang and he loved sex with Ginny more than anything in the world. It all made no sense. He really wanted to talk to Hermione or Ron about it, to get advice. But what exactly would he say to them? Ginny was Ron’s sister and Hermione’s best friend. There was no room for objectivity.
Harry heard a faint knock on the door which broke him out of his reverie and then Hermione entered in her pajamas. He steeled his features as she held out a coffee to him at his desk.
Harry was constantly being surprised by how attractive Hermione had become, and continued to become. He had never thought her ugly, but he had never seen her as pretty or beautiful, and certainly not sexy. But in the last year, he had seen her as all at one time or another. And judging by the sounds that came from Ron’s room most nights, he wasn’t the only one.
“You’re up early,” she smiled at him and sat on the settee opposite him, curling her legs under her. “And studying, no less.”
He took a mouthful of the coffee; it was a little sweet for his taste. Harry adored Hermione but she had a habit of making things for other people - particularly food - the way she liked it and was always surprised when they didn’t share her opinion. He wasn’t up for the discussion though, about differing opinions and everyone’s counting and so kept drinking.
“I’m glad I got you alone, actually,” said Hermione, looking pensively down at her own coffee. “I want your advice about something.”
Harry looked up, thankful for the distraction but also curious. Hermione rarely asked the opinions of others, unless they had ‘Professor’ in their title.
“Of course.”
“I’d speak to Ron or Ginny about it, but neither of them could ever really understand where I’m coming from, being that they’re Purebloods. Plus,” she added with a little smile. “They’re both a tad immature.”
She sat up a little and pulled out some parchment from the back pocket of her pajama bottoms. She stood up and placed it on Harry’s desk. His curiosity was peaked and he picked it up and opened it. It was a letter.
Dear Miss Hermione Granger,
We would like to congratulate you on your promotion last month, to Team Leader of the Dangerous Animals Welfare Division in the Department for the Control of Dangerous Creatures, Ministry of Magic. We have been observing your work for some time and have unanimously agreed that you would be perfect for our society. Your hard work for the welfare of all magical peoples, your academic achievements and you heroine status all make you a perfect candidate.
We are the Muggleborn Magic United Society! I know what you’re thinking: At last! At last, indeed. We are all about the integration of Muggleborns into the magical community! We provide a place of refuge and guidance for Muggleborns. Right now, we are working directly with the Muggleborn community, but our eventual goal is to have our own department in the Ministry of Magic! Muggleborns make up 27% of the wizarding population (12% Purebloods, 61% Mixedblood/Halfblood) so it’s about time our voices were heard.
We’d love you to join our society in making a better and safer community for Muggleborns. Our motto is “Never Again!”, because never again will we allow the ostracism and genocide of Muggleborns to occur, and we think your involvement could aid us in seeing our goals reached. Please join us for our fortnightly meeting at Tudor Hall in London, next Saturday evening (snacks and refreshments from six, meeting begins at seven, coffee and tea at ten).
Looking forward to meeting you in person!
Bettie-Mae Gent
Founder and President
Muggleborn Magic United Society
Harry put down the parchment and took a deep breath. “Intense,” was all he could think to say. “Are you going to go?”
She looked out the window at the trees brushing against the glass. Mercury rustled his feathers in the corner. Ron and Hermione’s owls were out. “I’m torn. I want to go because I think it’s a good idea. But I’ve been hearing things around the Ministry.”
“What kinds of things?”
“All kinds of things. That they’re zealots is basically the gist. But when I asked Justin Finch-Fletchley in the mailroom about it, he said it was great. That they have fun melding their two worlds together, muggle and wizard, and that they’re just trying to make sure another Voldemort isn’t allowed to rise.”
Harry sensed there was more. “But …”
“But … well, you know. The road to hell is paved with good intentions and all that. What if we become the new bullies and Purebloods become the new ostracized minority?”
“Wouldn’t that be awful,” Harry said sarcastically. “But seriously, I think you’re jumping the gun a bit. I mean, they hardly sound like terrorists.”
Hermione looked thoughtfully at him. “I just don’t know if I want to be a part of any organization that only allows certain people to join.”
Harry considered his response. “Assuming they are becoming zealots, maybe your logical presence is just what they need. If you think the ideal is correct, but you’re worried about the execution, maybe you should be around. To keep things calm and on task.”
“Perhaps.” She put her coffee down and begun to wring her hands together, a nervous habit of hers. “I think I’ll go at least to this first meeting. Just to see what things are like.”
Harry nodded his head. “Fair enough.”
She meet his eyes and held them for a moment, her hands still wringing. “Can I ask you something else?”
“Of course.”
“Will you promise not to get angry?”
Harry hesitated and realised that she hadn’t really wanted his advice about that letter, she’d had every intention of going to that first meeting. There was something else she wanted to talk about. “I s’pose,” he cautiously replied.
“Be honest.”
Harry frowned. “Am I ever not?”
She wrung her hands again and Harry began to worry. Had she found something out about Draco? Had she found out he’d still been seeing him? Had Ebenezer Crick seen Draco kiss Harry and then spread it around Azkaban which resulted in it being spread around the Ministry? If so, Ebenezer was a dead man.
“I don’t know how to put it. I think its rubbish, really. But I have to know…”
Harry steeled his face again and said nothing, willing his face not to give him away. It seemed to fool everyone else, but Draco had told Harry that his face was transparent.
Hermione took a deep breath. “Alright. I’m just going to say it. Alright. Here we go. Didfuriotheitaltiongiveyouoralsexatthatdormpartylastchristmas?”
Harry shook his head, confused. “What?”
Hermione gave a nervous laugh. “Okay,” she took a deep breath. “What I meant was; did Furio the Italian give you oral sex at that dorm party last Christmas?”
Harry’s face unsteeled in shock. He could only imagine how big his eyes must have gone, or the red that must have just started colouring his cheeks.
“Oh my, God!” Hermione gasped and threw her hands over her mouth.
Harry clenched his fists and looked down. “How did you find out?”
“Soumaya, the South African girl in your class,” said Hermione breathlessly. “She saw Furio drag you into the bathroom and … and … pull down your … trousers and … and, and start … you know! She closed the door when she saw and didn’t say anything for ages.”
Harry was horrified. “So she’s started telling people now?”
“No,” said Hermione, her eyes looking past Harry, completely shocked. “She’s nice. But I ran into her at the Ministry the other day and she told me because she liked Ginny and didn’t think it was fair if you were gay.” Hermione swallowed. “But if you were just “blotto” and didn’t know what you were doing, she didn’t want to ruin your life by announcing it to everyone. She thought I’d be able to help. I thought she was full of it. I thought she was mistaken.”
Harry nodded his head and they both sat just sat there, not looking at each other. So someone new about him and Furio all along. And now Hermione knew. Harry couldn’t believe he’d ever considered telling Ginny about it. He was completely mortified. He’d rather face Voldemort again than be stuck in this study with Hermione, unable to look him in the eye. And then a few minutes passed and Harry’s heartbeat slowed down and he was able to form a rational thought. And then he was able to form a calculated response.
“I’m not gay. I was just really drunk. I was going to tell Ginny about it, but then decided not to because it was one mistake and I love her and I don’t want to tell her just to ease my own burden or something.”
Hermione took another deep breath and nodded her head. “You’re right not to tell Ginny then. But Harry, if I were you, I would never drink again.”
Harry nodded his head. He was about to say something else when they heard the unmistakable footsteps of Ron coming down the stairs. He was a stomper.
“Don’t say anything to Ron. This conversation never happened, okay? The thing with Furio never happened,” Harry looked intently at Hermione. She nodded her head in agreement and Harry breathed a sigh of relief and pushed all thoughts of Furio out of his head. The Draco Incident would not be so easily squashed though and Harry didn’t want to know what Hermione would do or say if she found out about that. Or worse, if she found out what went through Harry’s mind anytime he thought of it.
(())
When Harry visited Draco later that month, he had successfully convinced himself that there had in fact been no Incident, and that he was being a complete nob. Draco had given him a thank you kiss for reuniting him with his parents, it was inoffensive and completely heterosexual and this is the twentieth century, men can kiss. Right?
When Draco came into the meeting room, Harry had a newspaper in his hands. He held it up to cover his face and said nothing as he heard Draco sit down opposite him and heard Ebenezer close and then lock the door. He was ready with his first statement for the afternoon, when Draco interrupted him.
“That book was fucking excellent. Well. That play was fucking excellent.”
Harry took a deep breath and dropped the paper. “I know. Shakespeare knew his stuff.”
Draco looked healthier than ever. His frequent visits to Erin McAvoy, psychologist to the criminally insane wizard or witch, and his friendships with Harry and, Harry suspected, Ebenezer, was doing him the world of good. It did nothing to quell Harry’s confusing thoughts though.
“Yes, he did,” Draco added animatedly. “And I read about all his other plays at the back. This one play called Hamlet sounded hilarious too.”
“Wait. What?” Harry laughed. “You thought Macbeth was funny?”
“Didn’t you? I mean, the way Macbeth confused those hags for witches. And then when Lady Macbeth was ranting about being unsexed.” Draco began to laugh. “But the best bit was when those men carried shrubs and small trees in front of them to pretend to be part of the forest. And Macbeth’s conclusion, upon this sight, was that the forest was moving. I mean, naturally.”
Harry couldn’t help laughing with Draco.
“Can you just imagine?” Draco continued. “These grown men sticking bits of tree and bark to themselves and being all, ‘Aha! Now we’ll fool him for sure! He will most certainly mistaken me for a cherry blossom’ … what pillocks.”
“I suppose it is kind of funny.”
Harry and Draco continued talking about Macbeth and Shakespeare. Draco wanted to know what his other stories were like, but Harry had only read Macbeth and Twelfth Night. They then talked a bit about Draco’s psychologist sessions, until Draco became evasive and then changed the subject to what grades Harry was expecting from his Auror exams and his NEWTs, which he’d just finished, until Harry became evasive. They talked about everything and nothing and the whole time there was a massive, metaphoric elephant in the room, stamping its feet at them, demanding attention and not getting it.
Harry proudly remained resilient.
(())
Early Saturday evening, Hermione put on her most professional outfit, pulled her brown hair into neat twist, applied a little unobvious make-up, got her Mirror’s opinion (“Exquisite!”), ran into Ron coming back from a Canons game, had sex in the drawing room against the sofa, showered, changed into her second most professional outfit, straightened her hair, quickly threw on some foundation and mascara, got her Mirror’s opinion (“Nice and neat!”), ran into Ron coming out of the shower, had sex on the bathroom floor, looked at her alarm clock, swore at Ron for two minutes, had sex on the bed, showered, changed into her only remaining professional outfit, threw her hair into a ponytail as she asked her mirror’s opinion (“Like you’ve been shagging all day, you ninny!”), powdered her nose as she ran down the stairs, and finally arrived at Tudor Hall an hour and a half late.
Tudor Hall was in the heart of busy London and was clearly not of wizarding design. It was a large, and stately, nineteenth century design, two floored hall with four function rooms and all rooms were occupied on that night. She ran past the receptionist when she rushed in, asking which room the United Society was in, as she’d seen them called on the board outside. The other functions were two weddings and an engagement party. The man laughed at her disheveled appearance and directed her to function room three. She ran up the stairs, her favourite pumps squishing her feet and finally burst into the room.
There were around one hundred people in the room and every one of them turned to look at her. The room was set up a lot like the Hogwarts Great Hall was, except there were only two tables in the middle, and a small elevated table at the back of the room where a woman was now giving a speech, which Hermione had just unceremoniously interrupted.
She blushed furiously.
“Well now,” said the middle-aged woman at the microphone, wearing a plain grey skirt-suit and beaming at Hermione. “You must be Miss Granger. We are absolutely ecstatic that you could make it. Justin,” she said, looking down at the brown head of Justin Finch-Fletchley, “mark her off, please.” Justin smiled at her and pulled out a purple texter.
Hermione nodded her head and blushed even worse; she ducked her head and quickly sat herself down in the closest seat available.
“To continue,” the woman said. “We need to get as many Muggleborns to sign this petition as possible. And we need every Muggleborn in the British wizarding world in this society. That is why you have all been our first selected members. You are leaders in our community, and with your support, our dreams can be realised.”
Hermione slowly began to catch her breath and took a look around her. The woman addressing the audience was undoubtedly Bettie-Mae Gent, and the other twenty or so people behind her, including Justin, must have been the first and founding members of the society. They all looked normal enough, but for one young woman who had her eyes closed and her hands were gripping the sides of her chair, her facial expression was oddly tense. No one else seemed to be paying her any attention.
“What we have seen, and what we have experienced as Muggleborns in this world, no one else can ever understand. The persecution and struggles we face every day is like that of no other. We deserve to have our voice heard. And together, we are going to make it happen.”
There was a general round of applause and Hermione lackadaisically joined in, only half listening. The young woman appeared to be of Asian descent, perhaps Chinese. She was pretty, with long black hair and smooth skin. Her eyes sported heavy eyeliner and she was dressed in black.
Hermione looked around her again but no one seemed to notice the tense girl. She looked vaguely familiar to Hermione, but she didn’t know why. She looked away and turned her attention to Bettie-Mae, who appeared to be wrapping up her speech to more applause. Hermione again joined in. She inadvertently turned her head to where the tense girl had been sitting, but the girl wasn’t there anymore. Hermione saw a door in the back left hand corner closing and realised the girl must have ducked out.
“Now, now,” said Bette-Mae. “No need for all that. Thank you though, thank you. Well, I think it’s time that we start getting into groups and get brainstorming, yes?”
Hermione spent the next two hours being shuffled around into various groups, meeting and greeting different people. They discussed their worst experiences in school and then brainstormed the ways that these problems could be combated, they then discussed their experiences with blood purists and the ministry and again, brainstormed solutions. It all seemed “by-the-book” and harmless to Hermione. They invited her to their next function which was apparently going to be more fun and she told herself that she only agreed to go because she could not think of an excuse quick enough, but really she’d spent the whole peeking over shoulders and looking around exits for the tense girl, but she never reappeared. Hermione’s curiosity got the better of her and she was determined to track her down.
Hermione went home that night, ate a scone that Kreacher had left out for her, drank a glass of milk, woke Ron up when she slipped into bed, turned him down for sex, fell asleep and then dreamt of the Department of Mysteries.
The tense girl stood at the entrance to the Department, her eyes closed and her hand held out.
(())
Author’s Notes: Thank you AbundantFear, my beta still after all these years and all these degrees.
Author: raining_slash
Beta: abundantfear
Rating: Over all, R.
Pairing: H/D
Spoilers: All books, including DH.
Warnings: Slash, Violence, Sexual Situations and Language.
Summary: WIP. Post DH. Novel-length. Nineteen years is a long time. What happened between the end of the Battle of Hogwarts and Albus Severus Potter’s first day of school?
Disclaimer & Author’s Notes: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and places in this fan fiction. No copyright infringement is intended. This story has been cross-posted because I’m an internet whore.
Back to Chapter Four
THE VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANCE
(())
Author’s Note: Please don’t send rabid bunnies after me. I am very sorry this chapter is so very late. I was studying overseas and whatever it’s a long story let’s just get on with it, eh?
(())
“Whatever you do, stamp out abuses, and love those who love you.” - Voltaire
Chapter Five: Of Macbeth & Muggleborns
305 days after the Battle of Hogwarts
It was several hours until Draco was finally out of tears. But he felt better for it. Like he’d cried out all his fears. Seeing his parents had been wonderful, but at the same time it had been scary. They were both so changed. Not just in the way they looked either. Of course they would be thinner and a little aged through all the stress, but that was not what scared Draco so much. It was this feeling that radiated from them. A sort of desperation. And a terrible sadness that their frail bodies couldn’t contain.
So Draco was, at this stage, still undecided as to whether it was a good thing or not, seeing his parents. Though he imagined later on when he began to miss them even more fiercely, he would be grateful for the short reunion. He did feel relief. He did feel a slight lifting-of-burden. Like his worries about whether or not they were dead inside their cells and no one had noticed, or whether there was a guard doing to them what one did to him; all of that worry was alleviated.
Draco took a deep breath and lay back on his bed. The birthday present Potter got for him sat innocently on his chest. Draco now turned his attention to it. It was wrapped in blue tissue paper and Draco thought, from the weight of it and its hard shell, that it was probably a book. He gently pulled at the spello-tape and a hard covered, gold leafed book fell out. Stenciled into the cover was one, evocative word: Macbeth. Draco had never heard of it. Still, he decided to give it a go. After all, Potter had got him that brooch. His taste couldn’t be all that bad.
He was flicking through the pages with his eyes closed, enjoying the new-book scent, when suddenly he dropped the book back on his chest with a thud, and sat up quickly to attention.
Oh my God.
A lump of cold dread dropped in his stomach.
I kissed Harry Potter.
(())
Harry,
Sorry it took me so long to write back, but I’ve been a bit busy with end of school crap. My mates and me went to Amsterdam for a few weeks. It was fucken brilliant. The girls there are fit like you wouldn’t believe. And I’ve just started working for Sparky. It sucks but it was that or working for Dad and I don’t like those office types.
Anyway, we got your letter fine. Dad ignored it. Sorry about that. Mum read it but she said she wasn’t going to write back. Sorry about that too. But they’re both fine. They don’t talk about that time away from home. You know, when your lot was all fighting. The other wizards talked about you a lot when we were there. They said something about you being missing for a while, but they didn’t really seem worried about it. They talked about your school a lot and said that some of the kids were being hurt. I hope none of your friends were, you know, killed or something.
Well, I better get going. Mum’s got tea up. It’ll probably be a couple of days until I can be fucked to post this, but if you’re ever in the area or whatever, let me know and we can grab a drink at Bridie’s or something.
Dudley
Harry put the letter down. His Auror exams were over and he was waiting on the results now, so he’d turned his attention to his N.E.W.T’s - Charms in particular - when Mercury, his eagle owl, came swooping through the open window with his cousin’s letter. Mercury must have taken it upon himself to go to the post office. The intuition of owls and their function always surprised Harry.
Harry had no problems admitting to himself that he was astonished his cousin had written him back. Sure, he and Dudley had had a moment before Harry had left Privet Drive last year, if that’s what the awkward fumbling of thanks could be called. But he thought Dudley’s feelings towards Harry were merely less violent than that of his parents. Not altogether without violence.
He folded the letter up and put it into his desk draw, making a mental note to maybe follow Dudley up on his offer for a drink sometime in the future. He let out a sigh and turned back to his work. He had immersed himself in his studies this day, in hopes of driving certain images of young, blonde men, out of his mind. For the second time in a short while, Harry was feeling like he’d betrayed Ginny. He knew that in this instance, he hadn’t really betrayed her, unlike with Furio. Draco had kissed him after all. And it had been fleeting. Just simple thanks. But that fleeting kiss had sparked more feeling in Harry than the seven minutes he’d spent in the bathroom with Furio. Thus, the feelings of guilt he was currently experiencing.
Prior to The Draco Incident, as he was calling it, Harry had been resolved to tell Ginny the truth about Furio. But now he didn’t know if he should. How could he speak to Ginny about her feelings about another man getting him off at a Christmas party, when he wasn’t sure how he felt about it? He’d thought it was an accident. Not like he’d slipped on spilt milk and his dick had landed in Furio’s mouth - he wasn’t that pathetic. But he’d rather thought it had been a drunken mistake he had no intention of ever repeating. And then … The Draco Incident. Was he gay? He didn’t feel gay. He was attracted to girls. He’d been mad over Cho Chang and he loved sex with Ginny more than anything in the world. It all made no sense. He really wanted to talk to Hermione or Ron about it, to get advice. But what exactly would he say to them? Ginny was Ron’s sister and Hermione’s best friend. There was no room for objectivity.
Harry heard a faint knock on the door which broke him out of his reverie and then Hermione entered in her pajamas. He steeled his features as she held out a coffee to him at his desk.
Harry was constantly being surprised by how attractive Hermione had become, and continued to become. He had never thought her ugly, but he had never seen her as pretty or beautiful, and certainly not sexy. But in the last year, he had seen her as all at one time or another. And judging by the sounds that came from Ron’s room most nights, he wasn’t the only one.
“You’re up early,” she smiled at him and sat on the settee opposite him, curling her legs under her. “And studying, no less.”
He took a mouthful of the coffee; it was a little sweet for his taste. Harry adored Hermione but she had a habit of making things for other people - particularly food - the way she liked it and was always surprised when they didn’t share her opinion. He wasn’t up for the discussion though, about differing opinions and everyone’s counting and so kept drinking.
“I’m glad I got you alone, actually,” said Hermione, looking pensively down at her own coffee. “I want your advice about something.”
Harry looked up, thankful for the distraction but also curious. Hermione rarely asked the opinions of others, unless they had ‘Professor’ in their title.
“Of course.”
“I’d speak to Ron or Ginny about it, but neither of them could ever really understand where I’m coming from, being that they’re Purebloods. Plus,” she added with a little smile. “They’re both a tad immature.”
She sat up a little and pulled out some parchment from the back pocket of her pajama bottoms. She stood up and placed it on Harry’s desk. His curiosity was peaked and he picked it up and opened it. It was a letter.
Dear Miss Hermione Granger,
We would like to congratulate you on your promotion last month, to Team Leader of the Dangerous Animals Welfare Division in the Department for the Control of Dangerous Creatures, Ministry of Magic. We have been observing your work for some time and have unanimously agreed that you would be perfect for our society. Your hard work for the welfare of all magical peoples, your academic achievements and you heroine status all make you a perfect candidate.
We are the Muggleborn Magic United Society! I know what you’re thinking: At last! At last, indeed. We are all about the integration of Muggleborns into the magical community! We provide a place of refuge and guidance for Muggleborns. Right now, we are working directly with the Muggleborn community, but our eventual goal is to have our own department in the Ministry of Magic! Muggleborns make up 27% of the wizarding population (12% Purebloods, 61% Mixedblood/Halfblood) so it’s about time our voices were heard.
We’d love you to join our society in making a better and safer community for Muggleborns. Our motto is “Never Again!”, because never again will we allow the ostracism and genocide of Muggleborns to occur, and we think your involvement could aid us in seeing our goals reached. Please join us for our fortnightly meeting at Tudor Hall in London, next Saturday evening (snacks and refreshments from six, meeting begins at seven, coffee and tea at ten).
Looking forward to meeting you in person!
Bettie-Mae Gent
Founder and President
Muggleborn Magic United Society
Harry put down the parchment and took a deep breath. “Intense,” was all he could think to say. “Are you going to go?”
She looked out the window at the trees brushing against the glass. Mercury rustled his feathers in the corner. Ron and Hermione’s owls were out. “I’m torn. I want to go because I think it’s a good idea. But I’ve been hearing things around the Ministry.”
“What kinds of things?”
“All kinds of things. That they’re zealots is basically the gist. But when I asked Justin Finch-Fletchley in the mailroom about it, he said it was great. That they have fun melding their two worlds together, muggle and wizard, and that they’re just trying to make sure another Voldemort isn’t allowed to rise.”
Harry sensed there was more. “But …”
“But … well, you know. The road to hell is paved with good intentions and all that. What if we become the new bullies and Purebloods become the new ostracized minority?”
“Wouldn’t that be awful,” Harry said sarcastically. “But seriously, I think you’re jumping the gun a bit. I mean, they hardly sound like terrorists.”
Hermione looked thoughtfully at him. “I just don’t know if I want to be a part of any organization that only allows certain people to join.”
Harry considered his response. “Assuming they are becoming zealots, maybe your logical presence is just what they need. If you think the ideal is correct, but you’re worried about the execution, maybe you should be around. To keep things calm and on task.”
“Perhaps.” She put her coffee down and begun to wring her hands together, a nervous habit of hers. “I think I’ll go at least to this first meeting. Just to see what things are like.”
Harry nodded his head. “Fair enough.”
She meet his eyes and held them for a moment, her hands still wringing. “Can I ask you something else?”
“Of course.”
“Will you promise not to get angry?”
Harry hesitated and realised that she hadn’t really wanted his advice about that letter, she’d had every intention of going to that first meeting. There was something else she wanted to talk about. “I s’pose,” he cautiously replied.
“Be honest.”
Harry frowned. “Am I ever not?”
She wrung her hands again and Harry began to worry. Had she found something out about Draco? Had she found out he’d still been seeing him? Had Ebenezer Crick seen Draco kiss Harry and then spread it around Azkaban which resulted in it being spread around the Ministry? If so, Ebenezer was a dead man.
“I don’t know how to put it. I think its rubbish, really. But I have to know…”
Harry steeled his face again and said nothing, willing his face not to give him away. It seemed to fool everyone else, but Draco had told Harry that his face was transparent.
Hermione took a deep breath. “Alright. I’m just going to say it. Alright. Here we go. Didfuriotheitaltiongiveyouoralsexatthatdormpartylastchristmas?”
Harry shook his head, confused. “What?”
Hermione gave a nervous laugh. “Okay,” she took a deep breath. “What I meant was; did Furio the Italian give you oral sex at that dorm party last Christmas?”
Harry’s face unsteeled in shock. He could only imagine how big his eyes must have gone, or the red that must have just started colouring his cheeks.
“Oh my, God!” Hermione gasped and threw her hands over her mouth.
Harry clenched his fists and looked down. “How did you find out?”
“Soumaya, the South African girl in your class,” said Hermione breathlessly. “She saw Furio drag you into the bathroom and … and … pull down your … trousers and … and, and start … you know! She closed the door when she saw and didn’t say anything for ages.”
Harry was horrified. “So she’s started telling people now?”
“No,” said Hermione, her eyes looking past Harry, completely shocked. “She’s nice. But I ran into her at the Ministry the other day and she told me because she liked Ginny and didn’t think it was fair if you were gay.” Hermione swallowed. “But if you were just “blotto” and didn’t know what you were doing, she didn’t want to ruin your life by announcing it to everyone. She thought I’d be able to help. I thought she was full of it. I thought she was mistaken.”
Harry nodded his head and they both sat just sat there, not looking at each other. So someone new about him and Furio all along. And now Hermione knew. Harry couldn’t believe he’d ever considered telling Ginny about it. He was completely mortified. He’d rather face Voldemort again than be stuck in this study with Hermione, unable to look him in the eye. And then a few minutes passed and Harry’s heartbeat slowed down and he was able to form a rational thought. And then he was able to form a calculated response.
“I’m not gay. I was just really drunk. I was going to tell Ginny about it, but then decided not to because it was one mistake and I love her and I don’t want to tell her just to ease my own burden or something.”
Hermione took another deep breath and nodded her head. “You’re right not to tell Ginny then. But Harry, if I were you, I would never drink again.”
Harry nodded his head. He was about to say something else when they heard the unmistakable footsteps of Ron coming down the stairs. He was a stomper.
“Don’t say anything to Ron. This conversation never happened, okay? The thing with Furio never happened,” Harry looked intently at Hermione. She nodded her head in agreement and Harry breathed a sigh of relief and pushed all thoughts of Furio out of his head. The Draco Incident would not be so easily squashed though and Harry didn’t want to know what Hermione would do or say if she found out about that. Or worse, if she found out what went through Harry’s mind anytime he thought of it.
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When Harry visited Draco later that month, he had successfully convinced himself that there had in fact been no Incident, and that he was being a complete nob. Draco had given him a thank you kiss for reuniting him with his parents, it was inoffensive and completely heterosexual and this is the twentieth century, men can kiss. Right?
When Draco came into the meeting room, Harry had a newspaper in his hands. He held it up to cover his face and said nothing as he heard Draco sit down opposite him and heard Ebenezer close and then lock the door. He was ready with his first statement for the afternoon, when Draco interrupted him.
“That book was fucking excellent. Well. That play was fucking excellent.”
Harry took a deep breath and dropped the paper. “I know. Shakespeare knew his stuff.”
Draco looked healthier than ever. His frequent visits to Erin McAvoy, psychologist to the criminally insane wizard or witch, and his friendships with Harry and, Harry suspected, Ebenezer, was doing him the world of good. It did nothing to quell Harry’s confusing thoughts though.
“Yes, he did,” Draco added animatedly. “And I read about all his other plays at the back. This one play called Hamlet sounded hilarious too.”
“Wait. What?” Harry laughed. “You thought Macbeth was funny?”
“Didn’t you? I mean, the way Macbeth confused those hags for witches. And then when Lady Macbeth was ranting about being unsexed.” Draco began to laugh. “But the best bit was when those men carried shrubs and small trees in front of them to pretend to be part of the forest. And Macbeth’s conclusion, upon this sight, was that the forest was moving. I mean, naturally.”
Harry couldn’t help laughing with Draco.
“Can you just imagine?” Draco continued. “These grown men sticking bits of tree and bark to themselves and being all, ‘Aha! Now we’ll fool him for sure! He will most certainly mistaken me for a cherry blossom’ … what pillocks.”
“I suppose it is kind of funny.”
Harry and Draco continued talking about Macbeth and Shakespeare. Draco wanted to know what his other stories were like, but Harry had only read Macbeth and Twelfth Night. They then talked a bit about Draco’s psychologist sessions, until Draco became evasive and then changed the subject to what grades Harry was expecting from his Auror exams and his NEWTs, which he’d just finished, until Harry became evasive. They talked about everything and nothing and the whole time there was a massive, metaphoric elephant in the room, stamping its feet at them, demanding attention and not getting it.
Harry proudly remained resilient.
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Early Saturday evening, Hermione put on her most professional outfit, pulled her brown hair into neat twist, applied a little unobvious make-up, got her Mirror’s opinion (“Exquisite!”), ran into Ron coming back from a Canons game, had sex in the drawing room against the sofa, showered, changed into her second most professional outfit, straightened her hair, quickly threw on some foundation and mascara, got her Mirror’s opinion (“Nice and neat!”), ran into Ron coming out of the shower, had sex on the bathroom floor, looked at her alarm clock, swore at Ron for two minutes, had sex on the bed, showered, changed into her only remaining professional outfit, threw her hair into a ponytail as she asked her mirror’s opinion (“Like you’ve been shagging all day, you ninny!”), powdered her nose as she ran down the stairs, and finally arrived at Tudor Hall an hour and a half late.
Tudor Hall was in the heart of busy London and was clearly not of wizarding design. It was a large, and stately, nineteenth century design, two floored hall with four function rooms and all rooms were occupied on that night. She ran past the receptionist when she rushed in, asking which room the United Society was in, as she’d seen them called on the board outside. The other functions were two weddings and an engagement party. The man laughed at her disheveled appearance and directed her to function room three. She ran up the stairs, her favourite pumps squishing her feet and finally burst into the room.
There were around one hundred people in the room and every one of them turned to look at her. The room was set up a lot like the Hogwarts Great Hall was, except there were only two tables in the middle, and a small elevated table at the back of the room where a woman was now giving a speech, which Hermione had just unceremoniously interrupted.
She blushed furiously.
“Well now,” said the middle-aged woman at the microphone, wearing a plain grey skirt-suit and beaming at Hermione. “You must be Miss Granger. We are absolutely ecstatic that you could make it. Justin,” she said, looking down at the brown head of Justin Finch-Fletchley, “mark her off, please.” Justin smiled at her and pulled out a purple texter.
Hermione nodded her head and blushed even worse; she ducked her head and quickly sat herself down in the closest seat available.
“To continue,” the woman said. “We need to get as many Muggleborns to sign this petition as possible. And we need every Muggleborn in the British wizarding world in this society. That is why you have all been our first selected members. You are leaders in our community, and with your support, our dreams can be realised.”
Hermione slowly began to catch her breath and took a look around her. The woman addressing the audience was undoubtedly Bettie-Mae Gent, and the other twenty or so people behind her, including Justin, must have been the first and founding members of the society. They all looked normal enough, but for one young woman who had her eyes closed and her hands were gripping the sides of her chair, her facial expression was oddly tense. No one else seemed to be paying her any attention.
“What we have seen, and what we have experienced as Muggleborns in this world, no one else can ever understand. The persecution and struggles we face every day is like that of no other. We deserve to have our voice heard. And together, we are going to make it happen.”
There was a general round of applause and Hermione lackadaisically joined in, only half listening. The young woman appeared to be of Asian descent, perhaps Chinese. She was pretty, with long black hair and smooth skin. Her eyes sported heavy eyeliner and she was dressed in black.
Hermione looked around her again but no one seemed to notice the tense girl. She looked vaguely familiar to Hermione, but she didn’t know why. She looked away and turned her attention to Bettie-Mae, who appeared to be wrapping up her speech to more applause. Hermione again joined in. She inadvertently turned her head to where the tense girl had been sitting, but the girl wasn’t there anymore. Hermione saw a door in the back left hand corner closing and realised the girl must have ducked out.
“Now, now,” said Bette-Mae. “No need for all that. Thank you though, thank you. Well, I think it’s time that we start getting into groups and get brainstorming, yes?”
Hermione spent the next two hours being shuffled around into various groups, meeting and greeting different people. They discussed their worst experiences in school and then brainstormed the ways that these problems could be combated, they then discussed their experiences with blood purists and the ministry and again, brainstormed solutions. It all seemed “by-the-book” and harmless to Hermione. They invited her to their next function which was apparently going to be more fun and she told herself that she only agreed to go because she could not think of an excuse quick enough, but really she’d spent the whole peeking over shoulders and looking around exits for the tense girl, but she never reappeared. Hermione’s curiosity got the better of her and she was determined to track her down.
Hermione went home that night, ate a scone that Kreacher had left out for her, drank a glass of milk, woke Ron up when she slipped into bed, turned him down for sex, fell asleep and then dreamt of the Department of Mysteries.
The tense girl stood at the entrance to the Department, her eyes closed and her hand held out.
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Author’s Notes: Thank you AbundantFear, my beta still after all these years and all these degrees.