| Jarvey
Join Date: May 2008 Location: Leicester, UK
Posts: 567
Hogwarts RPG Name:
Krysta Hedwig
Sixth Year
Ministry RPG Name:
Kye Black
Magical Creatures | 
Chapter 8: Dreamcatcher
Sitting around a table in the common room at 2am, no one really knew what to say. No one could sleep. The first years had all disappeared to bed, and most of the second, third and fourth had done the same. Everyone else was wide-awake. Hermione had joined them and they all sat silently, hands clasped on the table in front of them. Hermione was the first to speak.
“I knew something was up.” Silence followed.
“It must be serious for Draco to miss school.” Said Harry sullenly.
“Yeah, his Father likes having a little spy on the premises.” Hermione added bitterly.
“Maybe he’s worried he’ll get too much hassle when people find out his Father’s a Death Eater.” Suggested Ginny who suddenly appeared at the table, taking a seat between Ron and Harry. She’d obviously been listening. They all gave her a look that told her to think again. “Just a suggestion.” She said sulkily.
“He wouldn’t care. He’s proud of it. He’d tell everyone in the school if he wasn’t afraid one of the teachers would hear.”
“Maybe that’s it. Maybe his Father’s worried he’ll shoot his mouth off about something. Maybe he heard something he shouldn’t have.” Said Ginny looking at each face for a response. They all thought about it carefully. It was an interesting idea, thought Harry: with only one minor snag.
“The only thing is, if his Father was keeping him out of school, then he wouldn’t be missing, exactly. Just absent. The rumours flying around here suggest no one, including his family, knows where he is.” They all looked at each other thoughtfully. There was silence for a while. Then Ron spoke.
“Well, whatever’s happened to him, I hope it’s having hard time.” Harry nodded in silent agreement. Hermione looked straught.
“This could be serious!” she suddenly exclaimed to their surprise.
“I hope it is! He’s probably spying for You-Know-Who!” said Ron, indignantly.
“Ron, way too many weird things have been going on. First You-Know-Who attempts to kidnap Harry again…”
“That’s normal!” shouted Ron receiving a scowl from Hermione and a hurt expression from Harry.
“Then Hedwig is attacked…although that happened first…then Sirius is forced from his hideaway, this witch tries to kill you and you’ve no idea who she is, someone else has taken it upon themselves to protect you and has given you and the Weasleys a load of cash – probably – Our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher has been ‘detained’ leaving us with Snape, and now Malfoy’s disappeared.” She finally finished, and gasped for breath.
“So?” said Ron, still sulking.
“Well has it occurred to you that this might all be linked?”
Harry and Ron looked at each other. Ron shrugged.
“Hermione’s got a point.” Began Harry “but I think it would be jumping to conclusions to say that all of its linked. Weird stuff always happens to us, and they could all be entirely unrelated coincidences.”
“Hanging around with you, I’ve learnt not to believe in coincidences.” Announced Hermione, and Harry once again wondered whether she had a point…she usually did after all.
“Well, one thing’s for sure. Whatever’s happened to Draco, it’s bad.” said Hermione in conclusion.
“Yeah.” Began Harry “But bad for who?”
An hour later they were still up. They talked about anything and everything: everything except Draco Malfoy. They talked about the Knight Bus and what had happened when the Death Eaters attacked. Some of their fellow Gryffindors gasped in disbelief and surprise when Lucius Malfoy’s name was mentioned. Harry hadn’t meant to let it slip, but he been unaware of the other students listening to their conversation. They talked about how awful the year would be with two sets of lessons from Snape, and how the 5th and 7th years had it the worst, with him setting two sets of exams. The consoled themselves that the missing teacher may return in time to take over before exam season, and talked about who it may be. Harry’s own opinion, which he kept to himself, was that it might be his old friend Lupin. He hadn’t seen him for ages, and he was a wonderful teacher. He had only left because his identity as a werewolf had surfaced and he was worried about parents’ responses to the news.
Ron suggested as a joke that Dumbledore may have asked Lockhart to come back, which received roars of laughter from almost everyone and a scarlet coloured flush from Hermione. Soon the crowd of tired Gryffindors began to peter out as they left for bed. Ginny left, yawning, and soon only Harry, Ron and Hermione were left.
“We really ought to follow suit.” Said Hermione watching Ginny ascend the stone spiral steps. Harry and Ron nodded in weary agreement. No one moved. Hermione rested her head on her arms and Ron yawned loudly. Harry moved over to the sofas surrounding the great open fire. Ron followed, as did a very sleepy Hermione.
“To sleep, per chance to dream.” Muttered Hermione sleepily, closing her eyes. Harry smiled vaguely.
“What?” asked Ron, stifling another yawn, looking at them from beneath weary eyelids.
“Shakespeare.” Hermione told him, nearly asleep.
”What’s a Shakespeare?”
“Muggle play-write. Tell you tomorrow.” Ron nodded to her answer, not really caring.
“Dreams.” Repeated Harry, thoughtfully. “How does the Arinella work?” he asked, getting no reply. He looked around to see Hermione had fallen asleep, her head against the back of the sofa near Ron’s shoulder. Ron wasn’t far off the land of nod, watching the sleeping Hermione’s eyelashes flutter with interest.
“She’s dreaming.” He whispered to no one in particular.
“Ron? How does the Arinella work?” he asked again.
“Wha? Go gerrit. Show ya.” He murmured only just awake. Harry got up from the sofa and hurried up the stairs to the dormitory. Creeping across the floor so as not to wake the other lads fast asleep (Neville snoring as always) he silently pulled the redwood box from under the four-poster and hurried back downstairs. When he slipped back onto the sofa he noticed that on the sofa opposite Ron too had fallen asleep. Hermione’s head had slipped all the way onto Ron’s shoulder and his head rested just above hers. Harry smiled faintly. He liked them like this, when they weren’t bickering. The three of them were so close, and they knew each other better than they realised. The truth was, despite the fighting, annoyed glares, jealous indignations and differences of opinion, Ron and Hermione cared a lot about each other. A bond had formed between them that first year at Hogwarts that had grown stronger and stronger, especially over the last year. Harry had felt it himself. They had all become closer. But something set Hermione and Ron apart from him. Something he couldn’t touch.
Harry had lost count of the times he had led his friends into danger over the years. But they had gone willingly. He remembered Hermione encouraging them to go into the restricted area of the library in the first year and how Ron had said they were having a bad influence on her. He remembered Ron sacrificing himself in that deadly game of chess so that Hermione and Harry could go on and retrieve the Sorcerer’s Stone. Other memories came and went. Hermione making the polyjuice so they could sneak into the Slytherin common room, Ron risking the Forrest with him to hunt for the deadly creatures Hagrid had set loose there, the way Hermione had stood by him when his name came out of the Goblet of Fire. Time after time they were there with him. But it always seemed to be Harry’s fight they were fighting. It was always about him. Always his fault. Always because of him they were always in hospital, in detention or facing possible expulsion.
He looked at Hermione, her face buried peacefully in Ron’s shoulder. He noticed how much they’d all grown. Especially Ron. He had the height of Charley and Percy now and was beginning to become burly. His hair was thicker and his freckles had thinned a little, his jaw was stronger. Harry was still thin, but he’d definitely filled out a little. He looked healthy rather than underfed. His hair was as it ever was but his face was fuller and his features more prominent. He looked at Hermione and wondered why he’d never noticed her growing up. Her hair was still bushy, but had begun to curl and was neater somehow. Her teeth of course were now one of her favourite features and somehow her face was gentler than he remembered in his head. Her neck looked longer and her cheekbones seemed higher, more defined.
In the firelight sleeping against Ron’s shock of red hair she looked quite pretty. She stirred a little and murmured something inaudible to Harry. She frowned a little and shifted her position. Ron did the same, an unconscious reaction. Hermione was whispering something, Harry couldn’t hear. He didn’t know she talked in her sleep, and he smiled with amusement. Thinking about the changes in Hermione made him think of similar thoughts he’d had about Ginny. He hadn’t noticed her growing up either. Had he been that out of touch? Had he been too busy running around after Dragons, Prisoners and Mer-people to notice? A stab of guilt went through him. He looked down at his jeans. Some things hadn’t changed. He and Ron were pretty much the same as ever in that department. Hermione had changed again, there. He hadn’t noticed! Her plaid skirt had long gone. It seemed strange to think of her wearing it now, but somehow he hadn’t noticed it disappearing. She mainly wore long, straight skirts down to her ankles now with black boots. He’d never really noticed that either. The one she was wearing now was black and was tucked under her with her legs. She was wearing a pale marine-coloured top over it, which Harry though made her look older. She is older! He thought to himself. He felt so strange. Everything had changed around him, and he hadn’t even noticed? Was it because he was so consumed with his own life to notice? Or was it just part of growing up? Maybe both?
He sighed. He opened the Arinella case and set it on the small drinks table in front of him. He thought of Ginny again. She’d changed so much, and he’d not noticed it. He’d barely even noticed her before. She had been the little girl who wrote in Tom Riddle’s diary for such a long time, he hadn’t had time to think of her any other way. And Quidditch! Who would have thought she could out-fly Fred and George like that? “Well, probably everyone except Me.” he though bitterly to himself taking out the pendant that apparently had been his Mother’s. He held it up for himself watching it dance and spin in the firelight, casting sparkles of light around the room. He laid it carefully down on the table and watched the spheres of light dance around in the Arinella. He took off his glasses, placing them next to it and rubbed his eyes. He touched his scar briefly, almost daring it to twinge, but it remained quiet and he yawned, stretching his arms and legs. He really should go to bed. But it was so warm. He suddenly noticed how quiet it was. The only sound was the gentle breathing of his friends as they slept and the occasional crackle from the fire. The Arinella was so pretty. So pretty. With the spheres of light dancing in his slowly closing eyes, he drifted away.
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