A Saviour Uncaused (Harry Potter, Drarry)

A Saviour without a Cause

Chapter 22

A Saviour without a Cause

Harry, Ron and Hermione did not stop running until they reached the Gryffindor common room. The Aurors in the corridors they flew past, bewildered by the sudden activity, took off in the opposite direction to investigate what they were running from. The Fat Lady's voice, which took on a celebratory tone as soon as she caught sight of Harry, was shut out when the door closed.

"What do you think happened in there?" Ron asked between gasps as he helped Hermione through the portrait hole.

"He's probably fled, for now," Hermione replied, clutching a stitch to her side as they settled themselves at their haunt around the fireplace.

"Fudge has really gone off the cliff," Harry observed as he threw his Invisibility Cloak on the couch and sat on it. He shared a look of hesitation with Ron and Hermione when Dean, Seamus and Neville joined them.

"Harry!" Seamus shouted joyfully.

"You don't know how awesome it is to see you, Harry!" Dean enthused while he and Seamus shook Harry's hand, a light behind their eyes. "Lightning has struck!" After exchanging knowing grins, the pair fought for an armchair until they resolved to share it in a rather uncomfortable arrangement.

"So why's the Minister of Magic gone off the cliff?" Seamus enquired loudly, at which point Hermione gave the Irish Gryffindor a look that could kill. If it did not astonish his soul, it certainly muted it. This told him, Dean and Neville that as secure as their invitations to their conversations usually were, a lack of subtlety could endanger this one.

"Fudge fired Dumbledore," Hermione whispered through the corner of her lips.

"WHAT?" Dean and Seamus said loudly together, whereupon the other three shushed them down severely. Dean, Seamus and Neville, mouths agape, sat erect at the edge of their seats.

"It just happened. They had a duel with Aurors and everything," Ron was explaining, during which time Harry had noticed something he could not get over: Seamus's and Dean's knees were touching. He could not bring himself to note it publicly and only managed a nonplussed shufty at Seamus, who, resplendent in disbelief about the headmaster's sacking, missed it. As the conversation continued in the background, Harry tried to rationalise what he was seeing. It must have happened before and he had not realised it; after all, Dean and Seamus were friends, and friends can be close like that... But he and Ron—as far as he could recall—did not touch knees for extended periods of time. They were also not—he thought as he resurfaced to the conversation to catch Dean filling in a recent blank for Seamus, who nodded in appreciation—so mentally intertwined as to gather where the other had been lost and return them to the new place in a conversation.

"But doesn't Fudge need Dumbledore's help wrangling the Dementors and whatnot?" Neville whispered, his voice so full of shock he practically begged to be hugged.

Hermione shrugged. "You can't credit Fudge for intelligence beyond the little that he needs to save his own arse, can you?"

Neville was scandalised at the language used to describe a man of high authority—the highest, in fact. Seamus's snort reverberated in the silence Hermione left after her assessment of the Minister, which everyone around the hearth, less Neville, obviously thought was true.

"Where did he escape to, you think?" Dean asked uneasily.

"No clue," Hermione replied, looking briefly at Harry as though she thought he had a better idea. Harry shrugged along with Ron. Dean, Neville and Seamus looked particularly disappointed at his reaction.