29The Kidnap of Hermione Granger
Chapter 3, A Matter of Opinion
Email: stars_glow
Rating: PG
Summary: Someone's planning to kidnap Hermione, and with plenty of luck, it might actually succeed. H/Hr
Disclaimer: Oh look, they're not mine. Big surprise, eh?
Author's Note: If you love me send me money.
Forgive me, but I've been spelling Hogwarts as Hogswart all along. Sorry. Am doubled over in shame.
Also. Personal Ad. Young Asian Girl seeking beta reader. Just in case embarrassing mistakes (like the one above) happen. Anyone? Email at faith please.
Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road.
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go.
So make the best of this test, and don't ask why.
It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time
This part may sound a little… disturbed and disconnected, but just keep in mind, Hermione's stressed so she isn't thinking straight. Also she's mistaking her instinctive feeling that they're plotting about her for paranoia.
Hermione could sense something was up. She'd less faith in Divination than a cancer patient had in the hands of a vet, but still…
Lavender's voice came out shrilly in her brain. "The Grim, Hermione! The Grim! I swear I saw it!"
Ugh. Too much of that pumpkin pie at lunch.
But the feeling that something distinctly odd was going on just could not be shaken off. And weird things had been going on lately. Not normal, then again, when was Hogwarts ever normal?
Harry and Ron had been acting strange as well. At least, stranger than normal. They'd gone around avoiding her at times, and when she commented on it, they'd acted like two guilty boys, with all that shuffling of feet and eyes downcast. Which they probably were, she realised, narrowing her eyes.
Oh well. It's simply a matter of time before they mess something up and come to me for help.
Oh sure, her brain swallowed that, but her head and heart sure didn't. It was hopeless, she realised, staring down at her parchment. She was slowly but surely turning into a mother hen.
Hey! Her brain called to the rest of her, focus, Granger, focus!
But what was the use of focusing if all she ended up writing was an account on How to Get Wizard Boys to Confess to Their Worried Friend. It was absolute slosh to try to read a lively account of the Goblin Wars when her heart kept going back to Wishing They'd Just Bloody Tell Me the Problem.
She couldn't stand it, soon feathers were going to sprout and she'd be laying 10 eggs a day. St Mungo's didn't have a ornithologist specialist, did it? Or maybe she'd just move to the farm near Hogsmeade and start a production line.
She needed to get Ron and Harry and their Stupid Thing, whatever it was, out of her system, and fast.
All right, so she worried about them. Excessively. Obsessively. Whatever. The question was why, and why now? Time to analyse the suspects, she thought grimly to herself.
Subject Ron. Red haired good-natured Ron. He always talked too much when hiding something, and lately he'd been babbling like… well, Lavender. Whenever she'd tried to question him, he'd flail his arms, gesticulate wildly, infuriate her, and lead her off the subject. Add to that his suspicious new habit of actually taking down notes in class, he made for a highly suspicious case.
Subject Harry. Whenever she'd tried to corner him, he'd either rush off for Quidditch practice (hah!) or Ron would come to his rescue. He'd been staring an awful lot at her too, lately. Maybe she'd really started sprouting feathers.
Check. No, thank God. Not yet anyway.
Although he didn't have Ron's knack for leading her attention away from the subject, he certainly could be stubborn. He had a certain look sometimes, when he was playing Quidditch, or when solving a particularly tricky Transfiguration problem. His dark brows would slant down, and his chin would harden as he worked feverishly.
Good God, now she was obsessing over Stubborn Harry.
Oh certainly, not while there was Adorable Harry, Confused Harry and Laughing Harry to obsess over.
Very good Granger, now you're a few sandwiches short of a picnic.
With an inarticulate cry of what could only be described as pure frustration, she threw both parchment and quill out of the nearest window.
"You threw, Madam?"
Seamus's sarcastic tones floated up from the ground level as she ran down to apologise.
"Psst… Harry, just a feeling, but I think she can tell something's fishy" Ron hissed conspiratorially into Harry's ears.
Distracted, Harry stared at the Halibut on his plate, about to make an inane comment when his green eyes widened considerably and his mouth rounded, Hermione was headed his way, and for the most part she didn't look calm.
The words Gulp it and Leg it made an appearance, but at the Gulp it, he choked as she came and casually patted him on the back. That considerably slowed him down some, as did the decidedly determined voice bent low over him.
"Have a drink of water Harry, and come with me to the Common room."
"Quidditch Practice…?" he trailed off meekly, all the while knowing his was a lost battle.
"At night? Honestly Harry, come up with a better excuse next time."
"Detention."
"Right. Tomorrow."
"Homework."
"Made you do it all this afternoon."
What was to be done, after that, but to follow a Hermione, who was beginning to have a maniacal grin on her face, back to the Common room. Yes, Operation Kidnap would be not a moment too soon. It was for her own good, he told himself grimly.
And just remember, no matter what she does, don't give the game away.
He unhappily recalled from a book somewhere, that thinking was far easier than doing. Drat.
The following is something I did because I felt like experimenting with styles. I'm hoping it'll add a little more humour, but that, is up to you to decide, dear reader. Its Harry's head meshed with Alfred Hitchcock mashed up with reality. I mean fiction. Hell, you know what I mean.
"Don't even try to pretend I don't know what you're up to. I do. I know all about your secret plot."
The beautiful detective slit her eyes as she sidled up to him. The quest for the truth shone feverishly (with a touch of stress related mania) in her gold-flecked irises.
Name's Potter, Harry Potter. And right then I could feel my resolve weakening along with my brain in a heady mix of secrets and espionage. Quickly replaced by a growing dark pit of secret horror deep in my stomach. She knew.
"You… knew?"
I tried to pass it as a casual remark, off hand, as if I knew she knew I knew she knew.
"Yes. Trying to keep a secret from me? Fat chance." She suddenly snorted, ruining my little daydream for a second, but soon resumed the interrogation.
"As if. I know all about you. And Ron. And the illegal thing you're doing."
Wait. Doing. Doing, as in the present tense verb. She didn't know a thing! She'd been bluffing all along. I admired that kind of nerve in a woman. It was a pity we were on different sides. If we'd been on the same side the possibility was mind blowing.
"We're not doing anything illegal." Ah… not yet at least.
"Really."
"Really. I promise you, okay? Trust me on this one."
I move in closer to her to stare into her eyes, add some sincerity perhaps. But me, I've had a thing for beautiful mysterious detectives with winding brown tresses and a good figure. Me, I get lost in her eyes…
"Okay." Her voice breaks the little tête â tête. Is it just me or does her voice sound just a little raw?
And then my partner in crime burst in. Thank God.
"HulloHermioneHowyoudoinIneedHarryNow."
Rescue procedure began and I was whisked off to the safe house, or rather, the boy's dorms.
No doubt leaving an even more frustrated beauty in the wake.
"Listen now, Harry. We can't put this off any longer. Scrap the plans, it happens this Saturday."
Ron was pacing the floor enthusiastically.
"Saturday, as in tomorrow, Saturday?"
Harry cleared his throat slightly, hoping against all hopes that somehow, a magical little path would appear in the distance, in which the problem to his confusion would be solved, Hermione would ease up, and Ron wouldn't get any more bright ideas. No path, but the door was there, very practically placed into the wall in case he needed to make a dash for it. Yes, thank God for doors.
Ron sighed. Either Harry was being dense on purpose, or he was naturally being dense to provoke him. Same, same. And besides, Ron knew his friend well enough to know he was trying to buy time.
"No, next year Saturday, of COURSE this Saturday, you git." Here he paused dramatically before letting the bomb fall, "And what is more, old buddy, old pal, YOU are going to be the abductor…"
It took a few seconds for the penny to drop.
"I… I am? What about you?"
"I shall be preparing the… stuff. Yes. Don't bother your little head about that. And besides. Only you could pull it off."
"Ron. Its just grabbing her and making a dash for it. You could do it, easy."
Ron sighed again, and tapped Harry's temple. "Hallo, anything in there? Not very easy to grab a great girl like Hermione and run to the other side of the grounds."
"So? Doesn't make a difference. I'm not much stronger than you, you know, and besides. Hermione's only about 5 feet. You could grab her as well as I could."
Ron smiled. Dear sweet innocent Harry. It was a good, good thing clever Ron was in charge of this operation.
"Let me clue you in on some of the finer details…"
A tête â tête is one of those little awkward situations or confrontations . It literally means head to head.
Hurrah sweethearts, we are nearing the final stretch. I never meant to make it so long, sorry if it does come off a bit winded. It was originally meant to be a 2 parter, but I'm not the sort of author who spits out 3000 words per chapter, you should know that by now. I'm more of a 1500 sort. Lazy, I know.
And now I shall set my pet bunny on you if you don't review.
All those who listed this on their favourite stories, thank you. I'm really seriously quite touched. Really.
Lady Prongs, you shall see… Ron dear has his ways and means.
Shadowpals: Thank you. *Takes deep bow* Seriously now. I don't feel insane. Is that one of the symptoms?
white dove: You forget. Your conscience? I own it!
Apolla: Am greatly honoured. Yes. A full inbox is a wonderful, wonderful thing.
fopalup: There's glory for you! As Humpty Dumpty would say.