Disclaimer: I own naught. Well, I own Fi, but that’s it.

Lost

Part 13

By Veralidaine

Hermione shifted slightly to see over Ron’s shoulder. This was, of course, a useless task, seeing as how Ron was a good foot taller than her (or, at least, from her point of view–she wasn’t sure of the exact measurements, but she had to look up just to get her nose on the same level as his shoulder). From what she could see, Professor McLellan had been dragged by Sirius, rather unwillingly, to see Professor Lupin

("Moony! Remus, my dear friend, look who I’ve just found lurking near the punchbowl!"). There was rather distant and vague discussion being exchanged between the two professors, while Sirius smirked at them in an annoyed fashion. This went on for quite a few minutes, both professors shooting Black dirty looks as they most likely discussed the weather, or some other equally exciting topic.

"…Well, this has been just peachy, Sirius, but I really need to get some marking done and…" Both Hermione and Ron practically fell over each other in their scramble to get out of McLellan’s view as she headed in the general direction of the doors next to their hiding place.

"But it’s Christmas!" Sirius called jovially, ignoring the fact that Lupin was massaging his temples, looking extremely stressful. He jogged to catch up with her and threw an arm around her shoulders. "Come sit with us! There’s so much to catch up on! Well, maybe not with Remus–he’s boring–but I’m not, and I’m sure you’ve got so much to tell us!"

"No, not really," McLellan said, starting to actually sound annoyed, and ducking out from under his arm. "Besides, I’m sure Remus would be glad to chat with you. Of course, you’re one of the guys; he kept in touch with you. So I s’pose there’s not too much to discuss, then, is there?"

Sirius seemed to be lost at this point, and for once, shut up. McLellan smiled rather similarly to Professor McGonagall and, with a swish of sea-green robes, had turned and exited the hall. Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron, one eyebrow raised. Well. This was interesting. Hermione had a vague idea of what was going on–Harry had mentioned that Professor Lupin wasn’t too keen on the topic of Fiona McLellan, but he hadn’t exactly explained why…

"Hmm, that went well, don’t you think?" Sirius asked, catching Hermione’s attention and clapping Lupin on the shoulder. The professor shot him a rather fierce glare, and Sirius shook his head. "Oh, don’t be so bloody sensitive, Moony. I was just trying to help."

"Help?!" Remus hissed, standing squarely in front of Sirius and attempting to look intimidating. He’d succeeded, as far as Hermione was concerned–Lupin wasn’t muscular, like Sirius, but he was frightening in his own way. Probably owing to the fact that he turned into a monster once every month. "Help, eh? Well, if that’s how you help, go help Voldemort instead. I’m sure he’d appreciate it."

"Voldemort’s not in love with Fi," Sirius stated simply, in the same tone one uses when explaining something to a small child.

Ron’s jaw dropped and he caught Hermione’s eye, a slow grin spreading over his face. "Did you hear that?" he mouthed, eyebrows raised.

"Of course I did," Hermione hissed. "I’m right here, you great prat, I–"

"And I’m not, either," Lupin said quietly, interrupting her. "Stop ‘helping’ me. Please."

Sirius shook his head. "D’you two even know what you’re fighting about anymore?"

Remus glanced at him tiredly and ran a hand through his now thoroughly mussed hair. "I try not to."

Sirius heaved a great sigh. "Believe me, I know it was rough during Voldemort’s first uprising. If there’s anyone to know, it’d be me. After all, look at my fascinating history." He paused for emphasis and gave Lupin a meaningful glance. "So trust me on this. I know you guys had a hard job of it. Everyone did. But… That doesn’t mean that you can’t let it go. I mean, (and this is going to sound really soppy, but deal with it) if you two just… Just sat down and talked…"

"Thanks for the advice," Remus responded dryly.

"Are you going to go talk to her?"

"Well, aren’t you just the little matchmaker these days?" Running a hand through his hair again, he nodded. "I s’pose…"

The teenaged girl in Hermione wanted to sigh at this. This was good enough for the Muggle soap operas her grandmother used to watch…

Lupin, looking distinctly ruffled, swept out of the hall, heading towards the dungeons.

*

"Let’s follow them."

Harry and Ginny only caught that much from Ron as they sneaked up behind him and Hermione, currently busy watching Professor Lupin stalking out of the hall.

Hermione turned and hissed, "Absolutely NOT! Ron, they need to work out their problems, whatever they are. Let’s leave them at it; we can’t go spy on them…"

Ginny gave Harry a confused look, and Harry tapped Hermione on the shoulder, causing her to jump. "Hi. What’s up, then?"

Hermione giggled. "Something to do with Professors Lupin and McLellan. I think they used to be…you know…"

Ginny’s eyes grew round. "Really? Oh, tell me!"

Harry, ignoring the chattering next to him, raised an eyebrow at Ron. "What’s going on?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno, really. Just overheard part of it. ‘Mione won’t let me go spy on them."

"Well?" Harry prompted. "What’d you hear?"

Ron shrugged again. "Lupin’s got love issues. That’s all I caught." He ignored Harry’s raised eyebrow. "Sorry for the vagueness, but I couldn’t hear very well."

"Then you’re obviously a very inexperienced spy. I could’ve heard the entire conversation from where you two were hiding." Sirius had joined the group. He grinned at Harry in his obnoxiously Sirius-ish way.

Harry sighed, seeing Ron look rather amused. The redhead crossed his arms. "Well, you were doing most of the talking, anyway, and we didn’t care what you had to say."

"Then you missed out on a very interesting conversation." Sirius grinned broadly. "So she teaches potions, eh?"

"Yesss…" Hermione said slowly. "Why is that so funny?"

Harry was curious about this as well. Sirius ran a hand through his hair, looking thoughtful. "Well, I figured she’d end up as either a teacher or an artist of some sort–you know, a musician or something–but I never thought she’d teach potions, of all subjects. I mean, her arch-nemesis at school (besides our dear Snape–oh, are you lot s’posed to know that?) was the potions master." His eyes took on a gleam that reminded Harry rather unpleasantly of Fred and George. "She always liked Defense much better. She had an excellent study partner, apparently."

Harry raised one eyebrow in disbelief. Was he implying–

"Mind, Moony was the top of the class in that department." He grinned. "Lily used to tease Fi about whether she actually got any studying done in tutoring sessions with Remus…" Sirius seemed to be lapsing into a memory, which he did often. Harry assumed that this was a side effect of staying twelve years in Azkaban with nothing to keep your mind off of the cold and misery except for memories. As usual, Sirius ended it abruptly as he remembered himself, clearing his throat roughly and glancing around the room, eyebrows knit. "Well, anyway…"

"So you’re saying Lupin and McLellan were… going together… when they were in school?" Ron said slowly, and Hermione cuffed him lightly on the side of the head.

"No, Ron, they were in the same gardening club." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly…"

"I thought we’d already established that I’m slow," Ron said, grinning at her.

Hermione grinned back. "Well, yes, but sometimes I forget…"

"Took me four years to figure out you’re a girl, didn’t it?" He grabbed her hand and she giggled, blushing.

Harry sighed. Another wave of romance was on its way, and he really didn't want to be there to witness it. Ginny seemed to realize this (or maybe she felt the same way), because she cleared her throat and, with a glance at Harry, inclined her head slightly towards the nearest table and punchbowl. He nodded and, excusing the two of them, followed her over to the table.

"Honestly…I’m very happy for them, but he’s my brother and it’s weird…" Ginny ladled a bit of punch into a glass. "Cute, but weird…" She looked into her cup thoughtfully and took a tiny sip. Then she laughed.

"What?"

She grinned at him. "I keep forgetting…Fred and George aren’t here. You’d think, after nearly two years, I’d know not to test the punch to see if they’ve spiked it." She giggled again, pushing a strand of coppery hair behind her ear. "Ugh…Six older brothers really does get to me at times."

Harry smiled lightly, getting himself some punch as well and staring off into space. "Ah, can’t be all that bad. You and Ron don’t have a clue how good you have it."

He mentally slapped himself, seeing that Ginny immediately looked guilty. She almost put her hand on his, but then seemed to remember who he was. "Oh, Harry, I know, but…"

"No, no, no…" He held out a hand. "Not what I meant. I lapse into that occasionally. You’ve got me talking to you now, remember?"

Ginny smiled at him and pushed the same strand of hair, which had fallen back in her face again, back behind her ear. "I know…And you know, I forget sometimes…I guess people take what they have for granted, and don’t even realize how wonderful it is, sometimes. Ron doesn’t, anyway. That’s why he gets jealous so often, of you, especially." She sighed, and the strand of hair fell back in her face again, ruining the depth of her comment as she glared at the coppery lock. "Oh, for heaven’s sake…Can’t a girl try to grow out her bangs?"

Oh, that’s what it was, then. Harry had wondered vaguely what looked different about her, and now he wanted to hit himself for not noticing earlier. "It…It looks good, though."

Ginny beamed at the compliment. "Thank you." Finally giving up on pushing it behind her hear again, she pulled out her wand and, muttering a quick charm under her breath, had it out of her face in an instant. "I’m tired of looking twelve. I’ve always thought having bangs kept me from looking grown-up, and I’d always thought Hermione looked pretty without short bangs, and I’m rambling, aren’t I?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, I think you’d look nice either way," he said awkwardly, blushing slightly. How corny could you get?

Ginny seemed to love it, though. "Thanks," she said earnestly.

There was an awkward silence, broken by "Hello, Potter."

The two of them looked up, and Harry’s eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"

Malfoy smirked. "What fabulous manners you have, Potter. So that’s how you managed to convince Weasley’s little sister to come with you. And I thought it was merely her old infatuation with you resurfacing." Malfoy’s lip curled, but there was something vaguely different about him tonight–he seemed somewhat…nervous? No, this was Malfoy. Malfoy didn’t get nervous. As far as Harry was concerned, Malfoy wasn’t human enough to be nervous, or any other emotion, for that matter. Well, maybe hateful.

After all, with the black velvet robes and pale skin, he looked like more of a vampire than a seventeen-year-old boy. And it really annoyed Harry that poor Ginny was now crimson with embarrassment and wouldn’t look at him. He sighed tiredly. "Look, Malfoy, I don’t have time tonight. We were having a perfectly good time ‘til you showed up, and frankly, I’m with Hermione on this–get some new material. Go on, if you’ve nothing new to say to us, go bother somebody else."

"Potter, I would, if I could, but I’ve got something–" his eyes flicked around the room, in that same cautious manner "–I need to discuss with you. Believe me, I’d be more than glad to leave you and the Potter Fan Club president here alone for the evening, but this is of utmost importance, I think."

Harry raised an eyebrow–he’d done a lot of that this evening–and crossed his arms. Well, whatever Malfoy considered important either really was important, or was some elaborate prank. However, owing to the fact that both Crabbe and Goyle were busy stuffing their faces the next table over and not doing whatever part they’d play in some "joke," Harry was inclined to believe Malfoy.

Just this once.

He nodded and, throwing Ginny a wary but reassuring look, followed his enemy out into the entrance hall.

*

Ron grinned , pulling Hermione out the Hall door closest to them that led into the Charms corridor. "Ron, what’re we doing?" she asked curiously.

"Just hold on a sec’…"

He stopped by one of the huge, vaulted windows that looked over the twilit grounds and the falling snow and reached in his pockets. Pulling out a small parcel wrapped in crimson paper, he shoved it in her hands and then jammed his hands in his robe pockets. There was something else he wanted to give her, but that could wait a moment…

Blushing and stammering "you didn’t have to"s, Hermione began tearing at the paper. "I’ve got your present, too, but it’s up in my dormitory, and I was going to give it

to you tomorrow…I didn’t know you were going to give me this tonight…"

Ron shrugged, still grinning stupidly. Hermione pulled out the little black box and opened it, revealing a pretty silver ring with the opal set in front. Hermione looked simply ecstatic, and Ron’s silly grin widened. "Erm…I wasn’t really sure what to get you…It was my grandmother’s, I think, and she gave it to me for some reason.

Usually Ginny gets the jewelry, you know, ‘cause she’s the girl, but I think Mum told Gran that I fancied somebody at school and, you know–"

He laughed as Hermione threw her arms around his neck. She was squeezing him so tightly he was afraid his head might pop off, but he enjoyed it anyway. She pulled away, wiping her eyes, and Ron smiled. "Aw, now don’t go getting all emotional on me, Hermione. It’s just a Christmas present. It’s not like I’m proposing or anything…" Yet…he added, mentally.

"But…" She said, sniffling but grinning at the same time, "It’s the first time I’ve not gotten a book from you!"

That made him laugh. "I know, I know…I’m clueless." He set a hand on each of her shoulders and leaned his forehead against hers. "So you like it, then?"

"I love it," she said, slipping it on her finger and glancing up at him, her forehead still against his. "And, I love you, too." She giggled, and Ron raised an eyebrow. "You may be a bit dim sometimes, but you’re still the sweetest boy I’ve ever known."

"Hmm. Thanks, I think." He straightened up and glanced out the window. He hated to make her unhappy now, and giving her the locket would do just that. His eyes flicked to where she was standing. She was pretty, he thought vaguely. Not in the traditional way, but in her own I’m-Hermione-And-I-Couldn’t-Care-Less-About-Looks way. The fact that she wasn’t trying to be pretty made her pretty, which basically made her a walking paradox. Of course, though, wasn’t love itself perfectly capable of being paradoxical?

Whoa, I’m done with deep thoughts for tonight, then…

He leaned over and brushed his lips across her cheek, making her smile, and then slid an arm around her shoulders. He’d give her the locket later; he didn’t want to ruin the Yule ball for her. Again, he reminded himself grimly. They were sauntering towards the door again when they heard voices and stopped, watching. Professor Lupin was coming up the nearest staircase, closely followed by Professor McLellan. The latter had reddened eyes, but was smiling, and Lupin looked extremely happy.

Ron pulled Hermione behind the next corner and they watched. Not spying, Ron thought, grinning at the look Hermione was giving him. Watching.

"Are you sure you want to go back to the feast?" Lupin asked softly, climbing the last stair and waiting for the other Professor.

McLellan nodded, eyes locked on his. "Aye, they’ll wonder what we’re up to, and we don’t want Sirius spreading rumors, do we?" She smiled, biting her lower lip, and followed the also-smiling Lupin through the doors.

It was quiet for a moment, save for the music and chatter, dimly issuing from behind the closed Hall doors. Hermione sighed happily, and Ron rolled his eyes, nudging her lightly with his elbow, chuckling. "Oh, come on."

"That’s sweet, though," she muttered, grinning. "They worked it out, whatever it was. This ball was a great idea–look how well everyone’s doing!"

"It’s very…" he flailed about for a good description "…mushy."

" ‘Mushy’?" Hermione repeated, stifling a giggle. "Oh, Ron…Your excellent vocabulary does turn me on. You ought to consider becoming a poet."

"Oh, I know," he said, grabbing her around the waist and dipping her back, as if they’d been dancing. She laughed right out at this, and he grinned down at her. "And I do know many big words, of course." He pretended to look pensive. "Hmm…Let’s see…Your eyes – no, too cliché…Besides, what rhymes with ‘brown’?" She snorted.

"No, no, wait, I’ve got it…" He shifted her to his left arm so he could use his right one to gesticulate. "Your hair–now stop sniggering, I’m trying to concentrate–is very curly and…Damn, what rhymes with curly?"

Hermione started sniggering uncontrollably at this, and of course, that got him laughing, too. He straightened up, setting her on her feet again. "I may be a bit slow at times, but I can still make you laugh."

"And you’ll never know how grateful I am for that," Hermione said softly, grabbing his hands and locking eyes with him. "I think you deserve a kiss."

"Well, I wasn’t going to say anything…"

*

"Potter, you need to get out of here."

Harry blinked. "What?"

Malfoy crossed his arms impatiently. "Just do it."

"Do forgive me for asking, Malfoy, but why?" Harry was trying to take him seriously, but the intense dislike he harbored for Malfoy wasn’t helping.

The pale boy rolled his eyes, his lip curling again. "I can’t…tell you…You just have to trust me on this one." Harry snorted. "I’m not joking, Potter, this is serious.

You’ll want to stay out of there tonight." His cool gray eyes locked onto Harry’s. He gritted his teeth, looking as though he was about to do something horribly painful and unpleasant. Finally:

"Please," he spat, "do not go back to the ball."

Now Harry was concerned. "What’s going to happen?"

Malfoy glared at him, but it was somehow less intense. It was… scared? Malfoy? SCARED?! No bloody way… "Potter, if I could tell you, I would," he muttered. "But…I just can’t, alright?"

"Death Eaters? Voldemort?"

Malfoy’s gaze didn’t waver, and he didn’t confirm or contradict either idea. "Just don’t go back."

Harry considered this for a moment. He could leave, but then, if something did happen, he’d feel guilty for his cowardice. He was sure something was going to happen–Malfoy did not ever say "please" to anyone, least of all Harry Potter, and Harry didn’t want to leave all the staff and students to be hurt or…killed…by whatever was about to be unleashed. Perhaps he should tell Dumbledore…

"Don’t even think about it," Malfoy said, as if reading his mind. "You can’t tell the headmaster."

"Why not?" Harry asked, now starting to get a severe headache.

"They’ll know I told." He swallowed roughly, gazing at the floor as if it held all the answers to their problems. "And frankly, Potter, I don’t want to have to undergo their idea of punishment…" He paused. "Again," he added, softly.

"So it is Death Eaters, then?" Harry asked vaguely, pondering over the ‘again’ part, but not wanting to ask about it. This was, after all, Malfoy, and God only knew what his home life was like.

Malfoy’s head snapped up–he’d still been glaring at the flagged stone floor. "Potter, I am taking a serious risk telling you this, and all I’m asking is that you keep your heroic arse out of trouble for tonight." He glared up at Harry, eyes full of malice. "And that maybe you take into consideration that I’m not as bloody evil as you’re convinced that I am." He turned back towards the hall, but threw a parting comment over his shoulder:

"Your choice, Potter," he drawled. "But for the love of God and all Wizards, don’t do something stupid."

*

Hermione smiled, enjoying the gentle weight of Ron’s arm around her waist. He was still working on a "poem"– this time about her dress robes – but it was rather vaguely recited, as he was far too busy snickering at the enchanted mistletoe Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan had loosed in the hall. It seemed to have fixated on a couple of fourth years, who were, by now, very red and very giggly.

She grinned and noticed Harry entering the hall, looking extremely nervous. Malfoy had slithered in through the same door just seconds earlier, his eyes glittering in a very Snape-like way, she thought. She poked Ron in the shoulder, interrupting him mid-verse, and pointed at Harry. Without a word the two of them started walking in his direction, but before they’d gotten two paces, the enchanted candles and torches all blew out as what was obviously a magically conjured wind the ripped through the hall.

There were many high-pitched screams that followed this immediately, and Hermione grabbed Ron’s arm to keep him close to her. It was completely pitch-black now, and she couldn’t see anything, nor could she ascertain what was happening. The screams grew louder as the time in the darkness increased, and she could hear, from the staff table, the teachers attempting to illuminate the room, but to no avail.

She cried out as a hand clamped down over her shoulder. "Granger," a voice hissed in her ear, "you have to get out of here. Potter wouldn’t listen, but I’m hoping that your reputed intelligence is, indeed, existent, and that you will. Come on."

Malfoy grabbed her arm and started pulling her – and Ron, as she was still clinging to him – towards the door. There was a rather large explosion from the opposite end of the hall, and red and orange flames sent flickering light upon the walls, causing more screams as the faint light revealed masked, black-cloaked figures – Death Eaters.

Hermione caught a glimpse of Harry running towards them, wand out and yelling.

"Harry! HARRY! No, what–Malfoy, let go, I–HARRY!" Hermione struggled, but at this point she realized that Ron had left her with Malfoy and was running back into the room, towards his friend, and was pulling out his wand as well. "RON! YOU BLEEDING IDIOT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?"

Malfoy still kept a firm hold on her, but she still struggled, yelling at him, too, but still watching the scene in front of her unfold. It was like a bad dream – one that you’ve had before and know what’s going to happen, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t run to help and you can’t stop it.

Hermione’s eyes roamed around the hall in a panic. One of the Death Eaters had grabbed a struggling McLellan, and was shooting white-hot jets of light at any of the teachers who were attempting to save her. Harry and Ron were hurling curses and hexes at the nearest Death Eater, who seemed to be struggling with the decision of who to hit first. He raised his wand–Hermione screamed–and brought it down, directed at Ron, but Harry hit him in the stomach with some sort of hex. Still, a jet of light shot out of his wand and engulfed Ron. When it faded, he lay crumpled on the ground.

The Death Eater turned towards Harry and glanced around for a moment. The masked face turned towards the doorway she was standing in, and Malfoy pulled Hermione back out into the hallway, so she couldn’t see what was going on. He ignored her protests, and wouldn’t let her back in the doorway. Suddenly, with a huge crash, a blinding white light issued from inside the hall, and then all was suddenly–sickeningly–silent. Gradually, after a moment or two, faint moans and screams could be heard, growing louder every moment. Malfoy finally released Hermione’s arms, and she toppled to the floor.

Climbing back to her feet, she stumbled into the hall. Smoke obscured her view; she started coughing, but that was the least of her concerns. Professor Lupin was lying in a grotesquely painful-looking way on the floor by the staff table, his body twisted at an unnatural angle. Numerous younger students were actually crying (Hermione vaguely thanked the heavens that the first through third years weren’t allowed at the Yule Ball), and Hermione saw Ginny Weasley, kneeling on the floor, tears streaking down her face. But that had to wait–she ran to where she’d seen Ron fall.

He wasn’t a pretty sight. He was still breathing, if lightly–the hex Harry had put on the Death Eater had most likely caused him to mispronounce whatever curse he was setting on Ron–but he was very pale and wasn’t moving, and blood from a gash on his forehead was staining his face. Hermione choked back a sob and turned to see where Harry had gone. He wasn’t there.

Hermione stood up, feeling woozy and sick to her stomach. She looked around the hall, at all the disaster and pain, but she couldn’t find Harry.

Harry was gone.