LITTLE MISS MUDBLOOD – ACT 2 : SCENE 1 : CHAPTER 77
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But the mermen had different plans. One surged forward, catching her unconscious, sinking body, and he and the rest of them quickly rose through the water, breaking shore to hundreds of anxious and shouting faces, watching the surface of the lake. Madam Pomfrey, looking furious, let them lay Y/N on the sand and, with bated breaths, the crowd watched as she pumped the water out of her lungs before them.
"Atta girl!" said the matron relievedly, as Y/N coughed and hacked. The crowd roared even louder, louder than even the screeching song of the merpeople.
Y/N felt horrible as she wheezed, feeling several blankets wrap around her and a hot potion being forced down her throat. Steam gushed out of her ears. Madam Pomfrey checked her over once more before moving around to everyone who was in the lake, who all were wrapped in thick blankets. Gazing around dizzily at the crowd, Y/N sat there before two, familiar arms encased her fetal position, and hundreds of kisses peppered her face and neck.
"Stay – away," Draco growled slowly as figures approached, forcing Y/N's head onto his shoulder. She looked up at the blurry figures and smiled as best she could, sighing as she turned her face away from them and closed her eyes.
And then – it wasn't long before Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice boomed out beside them, making them all just, and causing the crowd in the stands to go very quiet.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows. . . .
"Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points."
Applause from the stands.
"Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour. We therefore award him forty-seven points."
Y/N couldn't care less about points at this rate – she didn't even want to be in this tournament, and she almost died in this task . . .
"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points."
Again, more applause, but this time Y/N's head hurt from the noise.
"Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect," Bagman continued. "He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchiefainess informs us that Mr. Potter was second to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own. Most of the judges feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However . . . Mr. Potter's score is forty-five."
Y/N sighed softly as the crowd roared, but quieted once Bagman started talking again,
"Y/N Grace made her very own potion from scratch," he said, and the crowd started muttering curiously, "which worked wonderfully in her favor – first to reach the hostages but second to last in returning, she had the same idea as Mr. Potter, to stay with the hostages until all reached safety.
"But even though she had arrived second to last, she had gone back into the lake with no protection except her wand, she retrieved Mr. Potter and almost sacrificed her life, which is why the judges awarded her fifty points – full marks."
Deafening noise came from the crowd, and though she was grateful for the support, she couldn't help but cover her ears under Draco's shirt, digging her head against his chest as bouts of dizziness crashed over her.
"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June," continued Bagman. "The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you for all your support of the champions."
It was over, Y/N thought dazedly, as Madam Pomfrey forced her and Draco to stand, and herded them and the other champions and hostages back to the castle to get into dry clothes . . . it was over, she had got through . . . she hadn't drowned . . . she didn't have to worry about anything now until June the twenty-four. . . .
Well . . . the next time someone said she was lucky that she was in the Tournament, she was going to punch them out and make them wish they hadn't opened their mouths at all.
Y/N hadn't left Draco's bed for a week after the second task, ignoring classes and everybody asking for her. The boys had gotten so tired of fetching coffees from the kitchens that they put a coffee bar in the corner for her, complete with a magical espresso machine and refrigerator. Theodore and Blaise had thought it was a bit much, but with a sharp look from Draco, they never said a word again.
But then Monday evening soon became Sunday morning, and Y/N figured she should start going back, despite the fact that she didn't even have to take exams. So she stood there, making herself a caramel macchiato with the espresso machine and reading over Hermione's neat notebook of notes, only in Draco's white button up shirt and small black knickers.
Okay so here's the thing — no, she did not like Draco. However . . . well, Y/N didn't know what the 'however' was, but all she could say was that there was a huge fluttering in her stomach whenever she realized she wasn't in her own bed, or had put on his much comfier clothes.
"You have to go back to school this week, before you get too far behind," Draco said sternly as he came into the room with a tray. Y/N rolled her eyes.
"I know," she huffed, annoyed because that was what she was planning on doing, and put down the notebook to pour the milk.
"And I suggest reading someone's notes instead of a book," he jabbed at her, and she almost slammed her coffee cup down.
"For Merlin's sake, I know," Y/N hissed, and took her coffee and Hermione's notebook and sat criss-cross at the head of his bed, pulling the tray of breakfast towards her. Draco's arms crossed as she stared at him over her cup, and put it down on the nightstand.
"I don't like that attitude of yours, Y/N," he snapped, frowning deeply. "All I said was that you needed to go back to classes and start studying, so I really don't see where all the annoyance is coming from. And I'm helping you when I don't even have to so you should appreciate me more often."
Y/N glared.
"Well, I was planning on coming back to classes and I am reading 'Mione's notes, so you can stop acting like my father and more like my – my – whatever you are to me!" she said loudly, and snapped her book shut. Honestly – she was sick of all this 'I don't like you attitude crap so I'm gonna punish you blah blah blah' shit! Couldn't she get a break, Merlin!
"Don't raise your voice at me!" he said sharply, his arms flexing threateningly at her.
Y/N almost let out a laugh at him. How dare she get mad! How dare she feel anything but happiness! In the wise words of Fleur Delacour — men!
"I can do whatever I want to, daddy," she mocked, raising an eyebrow at him.
As calmly as possible, Draco glared at her and rolled up his sleeves, putting the tray of uneaten breakfast on Theodore's bed and stood at the end of his own, glaring darkly at Y/N. She watched his every move – every muscle that ticked, every vein that appeared, every flash of annoyance in his eyes. And then –
He reached forward and seized her ankles, yanking her to the end of the bed with a sharp tug and standing above her intimidatingly. Butterflies found her core and she stared up at him, breathing heavily and subconsciously allowing her thighs to squeeze together as they made and held eye contact together.
Moments passed – then, in the blink of an eye, Draco pried her legs apart, snatched her wrists in one hand, held them above her head, and grabbed her hip with the other, running one long finger under her underwear waistband. Y/N gasped lightly, her back arching as their hips met sharply, and the urge to rock back and forth took over her mind, her libido rising with each passing second. Fuck, how many times did she have to tell herself? She was only fifteen!
"Stop," Draco ordered, and Y/N swallowed deeply, hating herself as waves of lechery shot through her. "Do you remember what I told you at the beginning of summer?"
Frankly, Y/N didn't think she could remember anything anyone told her at the moment, as her mind was heavily clouded with erotic thoughts of what he could do to her and –
"Keep up the nasty attitude, darling, and I might just have to fuck it out of you."
As they entered March the weather became drier, but cruel winds skinned their hands and faces every time they went out onto the grounds. There were delays in the post because the owls kept being blown off course. A pale owl turned up at breakfast on Friday morning with half its feathers sticking up the wrong way; Y/N had no sooner torn off Grandmother Gertrude's letter than it took flight, clearly unwilling to travel all that way again.
It wasn't long after she had read and pocketed the letter did she look up to see Harry, Ron, and Hermione were beckoning her over to the Gryffindor table.
"I'll be right back," she muttered to Daphne, Theodore, and Blaise, and took off.
Harry made room next to him on the bench and she sat, reading a letter he had handed to her.
Be at stile at end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Bring as much food as you can.
"It's from Sirius," Harry muttered in her ear, and Y/N nodded, frowning.
"He hasn't come back to Hogsmeade?" she said incredulously.
"It looks like it, doesn't it?" said Hermione.
"I can't believe him," said Harry tensely, "if he's caught . . ."
"Made it so far, though, hasn't he?" said Ron. "And it's not like the place is swarming with dementors anymore."
Y/N gave Harry the letter and he folded it up, going quiet.
The rest of the day was rather boring – Y/N had soon caught up with everyone after her week off, and now she was even exceeding them with no problem. Especially in Potions, whose classroom she stood right outside of now, reading the articles of Witch Weekly with a sneer.
Harry Potter's Secret Heartache
She knew adults were nosy idiots, but to write whole articles about teenagers and their love lives? She expected that from The Hogwarts Herald, not Witch Weekly!
Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, Tracey Davis, and her dumbarse friends snickered as they huddled over their own magazine, making snide remarks about Harry and Hermione. Daphne and Pansy barely missed Y/N as she stormed over to Davis, ignoring Theodore and Blaise's shouts from behind her.
"Don't you have anything better to do than obsess over someone else's love life, Davis?" she hissed nastily as she approached the group, avoiding Draco's eyes. She hadn't forgotten her moment of . . . vulnerability . . . in his dorm, and was determined to not mention it ever again. "Or are you so lonely you have to find solace in other people's relationships because you can't seem to get one of your own?"
Davis's cheeks flared as her friends giggled behind her back. Some friends they were . . .
"It's not like you have one either –" she started, but Y/N quickly cut her off.
"Page three, dumbarse," she said swiftly, pointing out the page detailing Y/N and Draco's trip to America and their Yule Ball experience. "Besides, I find myself sleeping more in darling Draco's bed than my own so please, don't ever compare me to your low bloody self."
Draco reddened deeply in Y/N's peripheral vision but she paid no mind to it, throwing Tracey Davis a glance of undeserved pity before rejoining Daphne, Theodore, Blaise, and Pansy.
"Well, that's one way to make Draco flustered," Blaise chuckled lightheartedly, glancing at his friend across the corridor. "But . . . maybe you shouldn't have done that, Y/N. Who knows what lies she could tell Skeeter? After all, she was the one who made up that tidbit about 'Mione in this article, so she definitely could make some up about you . . ."
"To hell with that," Y/N said, shaking her head. "Skeeter's too much of a suck up to say anything bad about me. Honestly, B, haven't you read those articles she's written? I might as well have lipstick prints with how much she kisses my arse!"
Blaise shrugged and ruffled her hair, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and resting his chin on her head. They watched as Harry, Ron, and Hermione approached from their previous class, and Tracey Davis approached them, tossing a magazine at Hermione just before Professor Snape opened the dungeon door, beckoning them inside.
Y/N took a table with Harry, Ron, and Hermione at the back of class, right in front of Daphne, Theodore, Blaise, and Pansy's. Draco spared her a glance and he and Crabbe and Goyle took a table diagonally behind him, and Y/N fidgeted as she felt his stare on her, and pulled off her robe. Once Snape had turned his back on them to write up the ingredients of today's potion on the blackboard, Hermione hastily rifled through the magazine under the desk.
"I told you!" Ron hissed at Hermione as they stared down at the Witch Weekly article. "I told you not to annoy Rita Skeeter! She's made you out to be some sort of – of scarlet woman!"
Hermione stopped looking astonished and snorted with laughter. "Scarlet woman?" she repeated, shaking with suppressed giggles as she looked around at Ron.
"It's what my mum calls them," Ron muttered, his ears going red.
"If that's the best Rita can do, she's losing her touch," said Hermione, still giggling, as she threw Witch Weekly onto the empty table next to them. "What a pile of old rubbish."
She looked over at Tracey Davis and her friends, who were all watching her and Harry closely across the room to see if they had been upset by the article. Hermione gave them a sarcastic smile and a wave, and she, Y/N, Harry, and Ron started unpacking the ingredients they would need for their Wit-Sharpening Potion.
"There's something funny, though," said Hermione ten minutes later, holding her pestle suspended over a bowl of scarab beetles. "How could Rita Skeeter have known . . . ?"
"Known what?" said Ron quickly. Y/N felt a stare on her back and, fed up with the attention from him, gave something for him to stare at. With her skirt hiked unusually high, she leant over the table and stole a few beetles from Ron (even though she had some of her own) before 'accidentally' dropping one, faking surprise and bending over to retrieve it. She heard a loud slam behind her but ignored it, standing back up to grind up her beetles. Hmph! "You haven't been mixing up Love Potions, have you?"
"Don't be stupid," Hermione snapped, starting to pound up her own beetles again. "No, it's just . . . how did she know Viktor asked me to visit him over the summer?"
Hermione blushed scarlet as she said this and determinedly avoided Ron's eyes. Harry and Y/N exchanged an amused glance.
"What?" said Ron, dropping his pestle with a loud clunk.
"He asked me right after he'd pulled me out of the lake," Hermione muttered. "After he'd got rid of his shark's head. Madam Pomfrey gave us both blankets and then he sort of pulled me away from the judges so they wouldn't hear, and he said, if I wasn't doing anything over the summer, would I like to –"
"And what did you say?" said Ron, who had picked up his pestle and was grinding it on the desk, a good six inches from his bowl, because he was looking at Hermione.
"And he did say he'd never felt the same way about anyone else," Hermione went on, going so red now that Y/N could almost feel the heat coming from her, "but how could Rita Skeeter have heard him? She wasn't there . . . or was she? Maybe she had got an Invisibility Cloak; maybe she sneaked onto the grounds to watch the second task. . . ."
"And what did you say?" Ron repeated, pounding his pestle down so hard that it dented the desk. Y/N resisted giggling, and instead moved onto the next step of the potion.
"Well, I was too busing seeing whether you and Harry and Y/N were okay to –"
"Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is, Miss Granger," said an icy voice right beside them, and all four of them jumped, "I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor."
Snape had glided over to their desks while they were talking. The whole class was now looking around at them.
"Ah . . . reading magazines at the table as well?" Snape added, snatching up the copy of Witch Weekly. "A further ten points from Gryffindor . . . oh but of course . . ." Snape's black eyes glittered as they fell on Rita Skeeter's article. "Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings. . . ."
The dungeon rang with Snape's idols' laughter (three guesses who), and an unpleasant smile curled Snape's thin mouth. He began to read the article aloud.
"'Harry Potter's Secret Heartache . . . dear dear, Potter, what's ailing you now? 'A boy like no other, perhaps . . .'"
Harry's face turned a bright shade of red. Snape was pausing at the end of every sentence to allow his idols a hearty laugh. The article sounded ten times worse when read by Snape, than when Y/N's inner voice read it. Even Hermione was blushing scarlet now.
"'. . . Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate.' How very touching," sneered Snape, rolling up the magazine to continued gales of unnecessary laughter from Tracey Davis' group. "Well, I think I had better separate the four of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than on your tangled over lives. Miss Grace, you stay here. Weasley, join Crabbe and Goyle, facing the wall. Miss Granger, over there, beside Miss Davis. Potter – that table in front of my desk. Malfoy – over here, next to Miss Grace, in case Weasley decides to make small talk and lose more points for his House. Move. Now."
They left, and Y/N's hands shook as she cut up her ginger roots, feeling someone come beside her and set their stuff down. She didn't say a word, make a move, or acknowledge him, but he did quite the opposite.
"Nervous, love?" he muttered in her ear, and his hand trailed from her back, to her bum, to the hem of her skirt, where he yanked it down sharply, making her flinch madly next to him.
"No," she lied, tipping her ginger roots into her cauldron. He chuckled darkly.
"You should be."
There was a knock on the dungeon door.
"Enter," said Snape in his usual voice.
The class looked around as the door opened. Professor Karkaroff came in. Everyone watched him as he walked up toward Snape's desk. He was twisting his finger around his goatee and looking agitated. He approached Snape, but Y/N couldn't make out what he was saying.
The class was silent the rest of the lesson, and Karkaroff hovered behind Snape's desk for the rest of the double period. He seemed intent on preventing Snape from slipping away at the end of class. Up ahead, Y/N saw Harry deliberately knock over his bottle of armadillo bile with two minutes to go to the bell, and smiled at his quick thinking.
Y/N, Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the castle at noon the next day to find a weak silver sun shining down upon the grounds. The weather was milder than it had been all year, and by the time they arrived in Hogsmeade, all four of them had taken off their cloaks and thrown them over their shoulders. The food Sirius had told them to bring was in Harry's bag; they head sneaked a dozen chicken legs, a loaf of bread, and a flask of pumpkin juice from the lunch table.
Theodore and Daphne and Blaise and Adelaide had all gone on dates together, and Y/N didn't even bother looking for Draco as they went into Gladrags Wizardwear to apparently buy Dobby the house-elf a present – which were the most lurid socks they could find. Apparently, his favorite thing ever was socks, which deeply confounded Y/N.
At half past one, they made their way up the High Street, past Dervish and Banges, and out toward the edge of the village. Y/N had never been in this direction before. The winding lane was leading them out into the wild countryside around Hogsmeade. The cottages were fewer here, and their gardens larger; they were walking toward the foot of the mountain in whose shadow Hogsmeade lay. Then they turned a corner and saw a stile at the end of the lane. Waiting for them, its front paws on the topmost bar, was a very large, shaggy black dog, which was carrying some newspapers in its mouth. Goldfish stood a little ways behind it, grinning how dogs do and wagging his tail as he saw Y/N.
"Hello, Sirius," said Harry when they had reached him.
The black dog sniffed Harry's bag eagerly, wagged its tail once, then turned and began to trot away from them across the scrubby patch of ground that rose to meet the rocky foot of the mountain. Y/N, Harry, Ron, and Hermione climbed over the stile and followed.
Sirius led them to the very foot of the mountain, where the ground was covered with boulders and rocks. It was easy for him and Goldfish, with their four paws, but Y/N, Harry, Ron , and Hermione were soon out of breath. They followed Sirius higher, up onto the mountain itself. For nearly half an hour they climbed a steep, winding, and stony path, following Sirius' wagging tail and sweating in the sun.
Then, at last, Sirius and Goldfish slipped out of sight, and when they reached the place where he had vanished, they saw a narrow fissure in the rock. They squeezed into it and found themselves in a cool, dimly lit cave. Tethered at the end of it, one end of his round around a large rock, was Buckbeak the hippogriff. His fierce orange eyes flashed at the sight of them. All four of them bowed low to him, and after regarding them imperiously for a moment, Buckbeak bent his scaly front knees and allowed Hermione to rush forward and stroke his feathery neck. Harry and Y/N, however, were looking at the black dog, which had just turned into Harry's godfather.
Sirius was wearing ragged grey robes; the same ones he had been wearing when he had left Azkaban. His black hair was longer than it had been when Y/N had last seen him, and it was untidy and matted once more. He looked very thin, which worried Y/N greatly.
"Chicken!" he said hoarsely after removing the old Daily Prophets from his mouth and throwing them down into the cave floor.
Harry pulled open his bag and handed over the bundle of chicken legs and bread.
"Thanks," said Sirius, opening it, grabbing a drumstick, sitting down on the cave floor, and tearing off a large chunk with his teeth. "I've been living off rats mostly. Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself."
"Sirius . . ." Y/N muttered, sighing. He looked up at her. "You could've just owled me . . . I've got so much to spare – a place to stay, food, actually presentable clothing . . . after all, I am one of the most famous and richest witches in the world . . ."
"And yet, you still can't properly dress yourself," he said playfully and Y/N grinned. "I can't – I've taken too much from others – living with the Potters' was debt enough –"
"And you can repay me by keeping yourself safe," Harry muttered, and then he spoke up. "What're you doing here, Sirius?"
"Fullfilling my duty as dogfather – er – I meant, godfather," he grinned, gnawing on the chicken bone in a very doglike way. "Don't worry about it, I'm pretending to be a lovable stray."
He was still grinning, but seeing the anxiety in Harry's face, said more seriously, "I want to be on the spot. Your last letter . . . well, let's just say things are getting weirder. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's getting worried."
Their talk with Sirius was rather . . . interesting, to say the least, however, they learned much more than they had in any Divination lesson, until it was cut short by the need to go back to the castle.