Be Careful
73: Who You Point Out
By Anne B. Walsh
I disclaim the two lines near the end.
"Beware the prickly cat," Ginny warned Draco and Luna in a whisper as they arrived at the TVP room. "Ron set her back up this morning and she hasn’t been speaking to anyone since."
Sure enough, Hermione was sitting bolt upright in a corner, nose buried in a book, the lines of her shoulders radiating bad temper. It was a marked contrast to the rest of the group, who were sprawled across the floor in patches of sunlight, discussing schoolwork, demonstrating new spells, or simply basking. Draco looked from Hermione to Ron and Ray, who were chatting about Quidditch a few feet from Hermione while casting wary glances towards her, and a wicked idea blossomed in his mind.
"You be all right on your own, love?" he asked Luna.
"Of course. Starwing and I are going to go over the more difficult fingerings in that Easter duet we’re learning." Luna kissed Draco’s cheek. "Don’t get yourself worse hurt than your mum and your aunt can heal."
"Short of death itself, I don’t think that’s possible." Draco made his way across the room, unslung his bag, and dropped it beside his two friends, who looked up with smiles as he seated himself.
"All I did was ask why she hasn’t been having so much for breakfast as usual lately," Ron said plaintively when the typical male greeting rituals were finished. "She went off about my thinking she eats too much and she’s fat, and when I said I didn’t think that at all, she called me a liar and stamped off. Hasn’t said a word to me since."
"Is it her time?" Ray made vague hand gestures to indicate the particular time he meant. "She gets touchy around then. Touchier than usual," he added quickly as Ron and Draco both started to speak. "And sometimes she doesn’t want to eat."
Ron shook his head. "It’s been going on for longer than that. A couple weeks at least. I don’t know what it is, but I’d really like to know when it’s going to stop."
Hermione coughed. All three boys turned to look at her, but no part of her face was visible behind the blue leather binding of her book.
"False alarm," said Ray, turning back to the group. "Thoughts, Malfoy?"
"Just one." Draco leaned in and sketched out his plan in a few whispered words. Ron snorted at the first part of it, and both he and Ray had to repress snickers at the end.
"Sounds good to me." Ray arched his arms over his head, cracking his knuckles by flexing his interlaced fingers backwards. "Let’s go."
Moving cautiously, so as to make the least noise possible, the three turned their backs to Hermione and slid a few inches closer to her, out of easy arm’s reach but within it if certain measures were taken. Ron proved it a second or two later, as he lay down on his back and poked Hermione in the knee, sitting up again swiftly as the blue book closed with a snap.
"Who did that?" Hermione demanded, glaring around the room. "Come on, who was it?"
Draco assumed a highly innocent expression; it might be wasted on Hermione, who could see only the back of his head at the moment, but the rest of his friends were enjoying it immensely. Ginny and Starwing, in particular, were having trouble controlling their giggles, and his own Luna was watching Ron with a calm intensity Draco found somewhat disturbing. It’s me you’re supposed to love, dear, not him...
Luna’s eyes flicked to him for a second, and she winked once and blew him a kiss before returning to looking at Ron.
Just so long as we’ve got that straight.
Ray was the next one to move. As Hermione’s book opened once more and masked her face, he lay down and tapped a finger against the toe of her shoe, shooting upright in time to avoid being seen when the book came down again.
"This isn’t funny," Hermione said severely, open snickering from several corners of the room contradicting her. "The next person who bothers me..." She left the threat open, instead going back to her book with an audible hmph.
I do believe that’s my cue.
Draco removed his arm and laid it in his lap. Moving deliberately to allow his friends to watch every step, he straightened the index finger, folded the others back into a loose fist, and hoisted the arm by its back end. A half-turn put him in position to reach out and tap the outstretched finger three times on the top of Hermione’s book.
Explosion in three, two—
"STOP IT!" Hermione shrieked, slamming her book shut. Draco yanked his arm back into his lap just in time to avoid it being seen. "What is wrong with you?"
"It wasn’t me!" Ray protested as his sister’s glare fell on him. "It was the one-armed man!"
Hermione switched her glare to Draco. Draco promptly pointed at Ron.
Let’s see if she notices...
Blue eyes narrowed. With the flick of a finger, Hermione indicated that Draco should turn around.
She did.
Draco obediently scooted around, revealing that the finger pointing towards Ron was located on his prosthetic, which lay across his right shoulder, held in place by his right hand. Hermione’s glare intensified. "You," she said, pointing her own finger at him. "Do you think you’re funny?"
"Hmm." Draco rubbed the outstretched finger of the prosthetic against his head, as if scratching it in thought. "Yes."
Hermione maintained the glare for one more moment. Then her shoulders slumped, and she began to laugh. "You’re right," she got out between giggles. "You’re horrible—as are you!" she added to Ray. "But you are funny. In a horrible way, of course."
"What other way is there?" Draco asked, reattaching his arm.
Ron held out his hands to Hermione, who smiled and took them. "Feeling better now?" he asked.
"Yes. Yes, I’m feeling much better." The smile broadened. "I might even be able to tell you what you wanted to know."
"Hmm?"
"You were saying you wanted to know when I’d stop feeling ill the way I have been." Hermione pulled a mock-chagrined face. "I can tell you that, but first I have to give you the bad news."
"O...kay," Ron said slowly. Draco looked from tall redhead to medium brunette, and a suspicion began to stir in his mind, one bolstered by Meghan’s ecstatic grin and the secret smile Luna and Starwing were sharing. Ginny was covering her mouth, probably so Ron wouldn’t see her laughing at him.
How is it girls always seem to know these things and boys never do? Is it some kind of telepathy we don’t have?
"I’ll stop being the way I am right now sometime late this fall," Hermione was saying now. "But then we’re both going to change, and there won’t be any going back from it." A fraction of her earlier glare returned. "And it’s all your fault, too."
"Me?" Ron spluttered. "What did I do?"
Ginny choked. Harry thumped her on the back, now grinning openly. He’d clearly caught on. Neville, too, had an arm around Meghan and was watching Ron with a tolerant smile.
Yeah, yeah, Draco grumbled mentally. Just because you’re sure you’ll be good at it doesn’t mean you can be all serene... oh wait, yes it does.
Ray coughed, getting everyone’s attention. "What you did, Weasley, is something I don’t want to think about too closely," he announced. "Even if it is legal now that you’re all married and the like."
"I suppose we really should have expected it before this," Luna put in. "Your family being the way they are."
Ron was looking more bewildered than ever. Hermione patted his hand. "Ron," she said kindly. "I’m pregnant."
So once we woke Ron back up—no, I kid. He was amazed, he was happy, we all cheered for them, they kissed, we had the inevitable conversation about "wow, your kid’s going to have an auntie less than a year older than he is, how crazy is that..." basically, there was much rejoicing.
You can’t see it, but he’s waving a little flag and saying "Yaaaay."
Quill thief. Remind me why I’m marrying you again?
Because you think I’m beautiful and you can’t live without me?
That might just be it. In any case, Mum, we’ll see you after Easter hols, since Mother and Lucius are expecting me home for them and it isn’t terribly safe for us to make transit at the Manors without anyone else there on this end.
It won’t do our story any harm for me to be seen at Malfoy Manor for a few days either. I wonder what we’ll find to do, all alone in Draco’s bedroom?
Look, I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but Ron’s perfectly welcome to that title of "first father" as far as I’m concerned.
Spoilsport.
Every single time. Love you, Mum, and take care,
Until we meet again,
Draco
Luna
Narcissa Malfoy rolled over with a sigh. Her usual facility of willing sleep over herself seemed to have deserted her lately.
Not that I disturb anyone else with my restlessness, of course.
And tonight, of all the absurd things, she kept fancying that she heard music...
No, wait. Narcissa sat up, shutting her eyes to concentrate harder on listening. I do hear music. It is no fancy, no trick of my imagination. It is real.
But who would be playing music at such a time? A glance at her bedside clock confirmed that it was well past midnight, into the wee hours of the morning. I suppose it could be a wireless left on, which I have only just now heard...
Or it could be something else.
She slid out of bed and reached for her dressing gown.
By the time Narcissa had reached the top of the main stairs, the singing had been replaced by quiet conversation, bolstering her instinctive feeling that the music came not from a carelessly abandoned device but from living hands and voices.
And one of them, a voice I know well.
"...do you get off to... morning?" Draco’s words, blurred by distance and the hush with which he spoke, drifted into her ears disjointedly. "...up after that crazy Saturday and everyone was... looked around, but the only place I thought... behind the great..."
"It’s a long story," answered a girl’s voice clearly. "And it’s getting late. Why don’t we try that one duet now and talk about this tomorrow?"
Narcissa had to bite down on her fingers to keep from gasping in shock as she realized who this must be. With all he has done to her already, what is Luna Lovegood doing in casual converse with my son? Unless he has Confunded her, or even placed her under Imperius—but that would not give her the ability to play music, unless she had it already—
Music sounded now once more, the tinny tones of a piano hastily tuned by magic and dampened by inexpertly cast spells for silence. Narcissa slipped down several steps and seated herself, listening, as Luna began to sing.
Draco stood beside the piano, listening to his fiancée accompany herself in the first half of Mabel and Frederic’s love duet from the second act of Pirates.
"Ah, leave me not to pine alone and desolate..." Not intending to, sweetheart, not intending to. And unlike dear Freddy, I haven’t got an overinflated sense of duty or a crazy indenture with a leap-day birthday to pull me back to the life I hate. As long as I can steer Harry to that last Horcrux, I’m home free...
Well, almost. I still want to know what Snape was doing out at Dumbledore’s tomb the other day.
Unbidden, Draco’s mind replayed the strange scene. The night before leaving for home, he’d been walking by the lake, as he usually did in the evenings at his original Hogwarts (the otherworld’s version had more interesting options for the hours between dinner and bed), when a cloaked figure, walking with purpose towards the white marble tomb, had caught his attention.
I’m not certain it was Snape, but it was the right size and shape to be him, and after it did whatever it did at the tomb, it went straight to the Head’s office and never came out. Wish I’d been able to get a little closer, to see what it was up to over there...
Luna finished her final "Fa-la-la" and rolled the chord up the piano for Draco’s entrance.
I’ll find out eventually. Right now, there is singing to be done.
He took a breath and began. "Ah, must I leave thee here in endless night to dream..."
Perhaps not the best-omened choice of song for the moment, no? Next chapter, we’re back to the action, with Draco forced to make his hardest choice yet, and learning that all actions have consequences, but that doesn’t necessarily make every consequence of your actions your fault...