Runaway
by
Jiwwy
Chapter
6
Interlude
With Pig
Hermione
was sleeping soundly, curled contentedly into the fetal position on the
couch, when suddenly
something
slammed into the window. She shot up at the dull thunking noise and stared
at the window.
There
was nothing there.
***
Outside
in the garden, a tiny ball of feathers sat up on its little talons.
Pigwidgeon
cocked his petite head and stared at the living room ceiling— all he could
see inside the
house.
He hooted happily and flew back at it.
Thonk.
He
was back on the garden floor, now looking rather ruffled indeed. He glared
at the living room
ceiling,
for not much could be said for the poor owl’s intelligence and he still
hadn’t caught on to the
fact
that there was a window there. Even so, he found the ceiling rather
inhospitable and waddled
around
the corner of the house, up the walkway, and right into Crookshanks’ kitty
door as though
he
knew exactly the route to take and had just been running into the window
for fun.
He
saw Hermione on the couch and pranced up to her with a little owl dance.
He would recognize
that
hair anywhere! He’d hid there many times to escape from Ron of course.
Pig
hopped up on the couch, then on her temple. Feeling very proud of himself,
he danced the dance
again,
and then finished it with a lively “HOO!”
Hermione
jerked awake again, seemingly having a heart attack until pig jumped right
on top of her
sweater,
flapping his wings happily. “Pig!” She shrieked joyously. He hooted the
affirmative and
commenced
bouncing off the walls, literally, for his pride of Hermione getting his
name right.
“Come
here, come here!” She yelled, trying in vain to catch him out of the air.
“How’d you get here,
stupid?
Where’s Ron?”
She
sighed and sat on the backrest of the couch, watching him bounce around.
Up until this point
she’d
forgotten about Draco, but even now she thought of him only fleetingly,
as she had to catch
Pig
and get him down. She suddenly realized what to do, disappeared into the
kitchen, and came
out
a few seconds later with a pasta strainer. She hopped back onto the back
of the couch and,
teetering
alarmingly, attempted to scoop the owl up with it. This might’ve worked
had she taken
gymnastics
at all, but unfortunately she hadn’t. She miscalculated the distance to
the damned bird
and
shrieked as she lost her balance and nearly went to the ground, but threw
herself sharply back
the
way of the cushions, ending up straddling the back. She blew a curl of
chestnut out of her hair
and
glared contemptuously at Pig, who, if anything, seemed to have gotten giddier.
“Having
fun?” She turned sharply to her left, squealed again, and toppled sideways
to the ground.
Of
course, not before Draco, (who had been standing in the doorway smirking,
watching her through
most
of this) ran over and scooped her up an inch from the ground. She blushed
furiously as he
waited
for her to sit up.
“I
got ‘im.” Draco said slowly, watching Pig fly. He climbed on the couch
far more gracefully than
Hermione
did, squatted and watched Pig for a few seconds before…
“HOO!”
…
Jumping up and grabbing him lithely out of the air. Pig hooted, annoyed,
now getting a bit low on
energy.
Hermione
was still red as a Weasley as he handed her the owl. His hand closed around
hers as they
made
sure Pig didn’t get away. He smiled warmly at her, but she didn’t see as
she looked for a place
to
set Pig. With lots of qualms she set him in a large desk drawer. He didn’t
seem to mind, but there
were
the usual Piggish banging sounds as he went about the drawer, doing his
Piggish exploring.
Hermione
opened another drawer, got out a roll of parchment, and a quill from the
pencil holder on
the
desktop.
Dear Harry-
I’m so sorry for writing you at the Dursleys’, I know they hate it, but
this is so important.
First
off, did you see the news reports on the Dark Lord’s attacks? One was in
North Carolina,
where
Ron went. We haven’t heard any news from him, but Pig just came here as
you can see. Did
he
take Pig with him? Do you think they’re stranded, and that’s why Pig didn’t
have a note? I
doubt
pig could fly all the way from America, don’t you? … I’m so scared Harry.
The next news- and you wont believe it, I’m serious. I’ll bet you anything
you won’t.
Here it is- Draco Malfoy’s at my house. Something happened to him, he was
mugged in
the
park across my street. He has amnesia and can’t remember a thing. Not anything.
He came to
the
first house he saw and it was ours. I came back from Ron’s the moment he
was going to sleep
on
the couch last night. He had told my parents his name was Neville.
Please Harry, I need your help. Like I said, I don’t think Pig could make
it all the way
to
America, could you see if Hegwig would go? I don’t know what’s going on.
Obviously Draco
doesn’t
either.
Do you have any advice? Does Sirius? Oh, yes, please ask Sirius, he must
know what to
do!
And he keeps tabs on wizarding affairs more than either of us could. He’s
at Professor Lupin’s
too.
Lupin could help with Draco’s amnesia.Hurry with a reply. Unless you want
to send Hedwig
to
America and Pig to Sirius and Professor Lupin. Or maybe you could send
Hedwig to Lupin and
have
him-
“Hermione?”
“What,
Draco?”
“I
think he’ll get the point.”
Hermione
bit her lip. “Sure. Okay.” She crossed out the last sentence and added
‘Love, Hermione’ at
the
end, smiled softly at Draco and said “Ready?” wearily as she placed her
hand on the handle.
He
nodded and grabbed the owl as he went off like a shot and sat on Draco’s
chest, glaring up at him
nefariously.
Draco looked down at him nervously, but handed him to Hermione, who tied
the note to
his
little leg and hurled him out the window.
“Hermione?”
She
stared out the window, her fingers barely touching the warm glass. “Yes?”
“I…
I hope he’s okay.” Draco shifted, hands in his pockets, looking so much
smaller than she’d ever
seen
him before. “And…. And, I’m… I’m sorry… for stuff I did to you. Before.”
He smiled
uncomfortably.
She
closed her eyes and for some reason felt close to tears.
“I…
Er, Are you okay?” he took a step forward and brushed over her shoulder
with his fingertips,
making
her shiver. She nodded without speaking. Slowly, so slowly, he leaned forward,
and just like
last
night, expectation fluttered somewhere over her heart, making her loose
her breath. Her eyes
were
still closed, but it was so silent she tell by the soft sigh so close to
her cheek that he was hardly
an
inch from her now.
She
waited again… Just like last night… A tear rolled down her cheek at the
same time his lips
grazed
it.
“Draco.”
She finally managed.
“Hermione?”
he murmured softly into her ear as he dotted her cheek with kisses.
She
was now truly crying. Her little sleep, Ron, Harry, Pig, and the surge
of hormones as Draco
touched
her transformed her breathless exhilaration into a feeling like she was
about to vomit. She
made
a small sobbing sound and he pulled his head back, and hugged her. Over
the night his touch
had
gone from awkward to steady, consoling. He held her tight, and she cried.
She cried a lot.
He
held her waist and patted her hair, kissing the top of her head gently.
He wondered how he
hadn’t
fallen in love with her before, and she wondered what in God’s name she
was thinking.
***
Harry,
unlike his friends, had been having a rather uneventful summer, as summers
had been ever
since
his third year at Hogwarts. The high points were right before he went to
bed, when he could
write
to Sirius or Hermione or Ron. The low points were the hours after that,
and the dreams…
oh
god, the dreams…
Ever
since he ad left Hogwarts, he’d had recurring nightmares, horrible nightmares
that left his scar
aching
like a bruise for days. It was as if he’d been tied to Voldemort on a string
that inverted the
Dark
Lord’s emotions… whenever he killed, Harry knew it, it shot him out of
his dreams. Now he
was
hearing more voices. The cries of newly killed witches and wizards, or
innocent children,
screaming
out to him. Of course they were only screaming but to Harry, and his hero’s
heart, he
heard
them screaming for him, and every goddamned day he spent in this house
it hurt more that
he
wasn’t with Sirius or Dumbledore, trying to make this better.
It
was one of these dreams that made him shoot up, nearly ramming his eyes
into his knees, shivering
and
shivering in a cold sweat.
He
breathed deeply, slowly, trying to catch his breath, catch that lump in
his throat from coming out.
He
opened his eyes as wide as they could go, trying to escape the images of
green flashes of light.
Finally,
very slowly, he reached blindly behind himself to the bedside table for
his glasses and settled
them
on his nose.
Scratch
scratch scratch scratch.
Harry
turned his head to the window, next to which Hedwig was sitting in her
cage, glaring evilly at
the
tiny owl banging on the window happily. Pig. Yes.
He
went over to the window and opened it a little, grabbing Pig out of the
air as soon as he shot
through
the small opening, at stared at the sheet of parchment, folded so meticulously.
This wasn’t
from
Ron.
Pigwidgeon
was quickly let loose in Hegwig’s cage, much to her distaste, as Harry
shuffled over to
the
bed and read the letter.
About
halfway through, he stared back at Pig in the cage, who hooted happily
at him. Harry sat
back
up and put the letter on his lap before finishing.
This
was bad. This was very, very, very bad. “Fuck” about summed it up, as Harry
decided. Of
course
he believed Hermione, but she’d put responsibility on his shoulders. Not
that he wasn’t
accustomed
to this, he thought as he took Hermione’s note and a quill and added
What do
you think, Sirius? Sending Hedwig to America to see if Weasley’s are OK.
Tell you
first thing
I get. Does Lupin have anything on amnesia?
Harry
He
attached this to Pig and threw him out the window before the owl could
cause any trouble, then
took
a new piece of parchment and wrote-
Ron-
Just wondering if you’re alive and whatnot.
And
now that he sounded nice and stupid.
Hermione heard a news report about Dark Lord in North Carolina. Hope
to god
you’re
all right. Please send note. If Hedwig comes back without anything we’re
sending Sirius
after
you on motorcycle.
Harry
***
Back
in America, Nancy Bennet was showing the Weasley kids around her house.
There were three
bedrooms.
One was Nancy’s, for she was a single mother, and the other was for her
daughters,
Brooke
and Halie. Halie was seven and loud, Brooke was thirteen and at basketball
practice.
“This
is your room… Ginny, if you’d like to stay in the girls’ room, I’m sure
it will be less crowded in
there.”
Nancy smiled and pointed down the hall. She’d learned their names amazingly
well, and she
could
already almost tell Fred from George. It usually took normal people years
to do this, and some
of
their best friends still got them confused.
Ginny
nodded. Halie grinned widely and stood in her chair, nearly flipping it
over as she leaned on
the
reclining back. “She can do my hair and we can play barbies! I’ve got all
of them!” She yelled.
“Oh
you do not. Most of them were mine anyway,” called a voice from the kitchen,
and a girl with
long
blonde hair in a ponytail and a blue and white shirt on came in from the
kitchen. She eyed the
Weasleys.
“Brooke,
this is… Ginny, Ron, and… Fred and George. They’re staying with us.”
Brooke
stared at her mother. “Why?” She finally said, with a bit of an edge in
her voice.
Nancy
gave her daughter a look, then turned back to the kids. “You guys get yourselves
settled in,
okay?”
she suggested softly, then marched forward to Brooke and dragged her into
the kitchen.
Halie,
who was still standing over the back of the recliner, laughed loudly and
screamed “Brooke’s
in
trouble! Brooke’s in trouble!” gleefully.
Ron
stared after Brooke, the tops of his ears turning pink, and the twins and
Ginny all tried not to
laugh
at him. Halie squealed as she noticed this and screamed “George LIKES
Brooke!” and
cackled
in classic second-grade fashion.
“My
name’s Ron, he’s George.” Ron finally managed, blushing furiously and trying
to hide inside
his
tee-shirt.
Back
to Chapter 5
Chapter
7
Back
to Index
Back
to Fanfiction by Title
Back
to Fanfiction by Author