The twin's looked at each other. Twin A grabbed the marauder's map and tossed it to Harry.
Harry elegantly snatched it out of the air. "Thanks. You'll have it back soon."
"Sure thing." The Twin's bent back over their work bench.
Harry paused at the trunk's lid. "Oh, and thanks for helping the settlers out with that bit of alchemy. It was really helpful."
"So long as they can continue doing rune jobs for us." Without looking around, Twin B idly waved a small sphere of aluminium on which hundreds of tiny runes were engraved. "These things are INSANE!"
From inside Harry's trunk, safe in the fidelius in the Hogwarts library, Hermione gazed at the marauder's map. Some two hundred metres away, Harry and Daphne were walking in a loop around the second floor well within their ear mirror's range.
"Status?" came Daphne's voice through the tiny mirror in her ear.
"DD is still circling the third floor on the left hand side. I think… yes — DD has started moving towards the second floor," Hermione saw Harry and Daphne stop where they were, half way down their current corridor.
"DD is coming down the stairs. He will turn the corner behind you in ten—good luck—seven, six, five, four—"
"Cutting magic."
"—three, two, one."
Harry glanced up the corridor just as Daphne quickly shoved the miniature ear communication mirror into the pocket of her robes.
There was no one there.
"H-Harry," Daphne bit her lip, standing far too close to him for what would be considered appropriate. "We shouldn't be doing this."
"Why not?" Harry gave her an adoring look and pulled her unresisting arm into a nearby empty classroom. "You are just so, so perfect."
Dumbledore couldn't believe his luck. Invisible, he carefully walked up to the open classroom door.
"H-Harry." A breathy voice sounded from inside.
He moved into the classroom and the scene that greeted his eyes could not have been better if he'd planned it, which, in a way, he had.
The Greengrass heiress was sitting on a table, allowing an obviously aggressive Harry Potter to kiss her on the lips. The kisses were hardly more than pecks, sweet and innocent, but the closeness of the two, and the way they had their hands intertwined, made it clear that this was the pre-teen equivalent of what, at an older age, would certainly require certain cautionary potions and charms.
He faded into sight. "Mister Potter! Miss Greengrass!"
The Greengrass Heiress jerked backwards and stared at him in horror. "Headmaster!" She ducked away from the boy, jumped off the table, and straightened her robes.
Harry Potter glared at him.
"What are you doing, Miss Greengrass?"
The look of horror quickly faded to be replaced by that familiar indifferent countenance of the trained occlumens. She cleared her throat. "Ah, Headmaster Dumbledore, I trust I can count on your discretion on what you've seen here?"
Harry Potter had sidled back to the Greengrass heiress, trying to put his hand in hers, which she was subtly trying to swat away.
Dumbledore shook a disappointed head. "Miss Greengrass? Surely you must understand the seriousness of what you were doing? You are under contract. As a responsibly adult, I have no choice but to bring this to your father and betrothed."
The icy look of indifference cracked and a look of fear seeped through. The girl started to breathe harder again. "Please, sir. Please don't. It was just kissing! My contract doesn't say anything about that! There isn't anything—"
Dumbledore continued to shake his head.
"—wrong with it!"
"I'm sorry, Miss Greengrass. If there truly isn't anything wrong then you won't be in trouble, but it is expected of me." He turned to leave. "And you, Mister Potter, I suggest you distance yourself from Miss Greengrass for the foreseeable future."
Harry glared at him. "I love Daphne!"
Greengrass winced.
"I won't let anyone have her! No matter what any stupid contract says!"
The Greengrass mortified.
heiress
now
looked Perfect.
He frowned in disapproval one last time before leading the two out of the room and escorting them back to their common room, after which he immediately locked himself in his office, pulled a silvery strand of memory from his temple, corked it into a vial, and began to write.
Later that day, Hermione, now under the effects of half a dozen potions and transfigurations, marched through Hogwarts like she owned the place, trying to give off just the right amount of righteous anger and rage, occasionally adjusting the mask on her face, and fighting not to blush to high heaven at the thought of what was now weirdly situated between her legs. She approached the great hall's huge double doors, almost completely closed except for the small door at the bottom that allowed students in and out for mealtimes, which it now was. Dinner, in fact.
Hermione pulsed a pre-arranged message into her lightning bolt ring and continued to stride forward as though there wasn't several tonnes of solid oak in her way. Now, boy thoughts. No, male thoughts. Man thoughts! Rage. Rage and fury. Someone was kissing my girl! Rawr!
Harry, sitting two chairs down from Daphne at the Slytherin table, felt a pulse on his lightning bolt ring. He reached into the wards and carefully manipulated the magics on the great hall doors.
The huge doors swung open with a loud whoosh of colder castle air, every head turned, and 'Lord Slytherin' strode into the hall like an angry god.
John startled the moment Lord Slytherin walked into the great hall. He was here. He was here right now. This was his chance. He stood up, making some excuse to his year mates.
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