'You're never the same afterward,' she said grimly, climbing up on the stool and wobbling precariously.
'Here — take my hand,' Draco said, coming to stand beside her, and she took it gratefully, reaching for the bucket with her other hand. Draco tried not to notice that he was now at eye level with her slender, black- stockinged calves. Even when he had detested Hermione, he'd thought it was a sign of an unfair universe that the repellent Ron Weasley should get to date someone with such nice legs.
'Got it,' she said cheerfully, and handed the bucket down to him. He set it carefully on the desk. 'Ugh,' she added, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she glanced down at the bucket's contents. 'There's something all squashy in there.'
'Well, what'd you think dragons ate?' Draco replied lightly. 'Waffles?'
'Dragon kibble?' suggested Hermione, who was still using his hand to balance herself. 'I'm sure Charlie said something about kibble…'
'No dragon worth his salt wants to live on kibble. That's why they're always devouring pretty young virgins in fairy tales, not bowls of salad. In fact, if I were you, I'd just stand well away from the dragon, no matter what Charlie says…' and Draco trailed off, realizing that Hermione was giving him a most peculiar look. 'Not,' he added hastily, 'that you're a virgin.' Her eyebrows went up even higher. 'And not that you aren't one either,' he said, even more hastily, realizing that he had never given this aspect of her relationship with Harry a thought, assuming on some level that well, they just wouldn't…would they? 'And not that I would know. I mean, how would I know? Because Harry hasn't said anything about you to me. I mean, not that he doesn't talk about you — he talks about you all the time — ' Draco realized that he was raving, and, with an effort, stopped the flow of speech. Hermione was staring at him in what he could only interpret as total fury. 'I don't suppose,' he said finally, 'that if I agreed to eat whatever was in that bucket, you would forget everything I just said?'
For a moment, Hermione was silent. Then, to his surprise, she burst out into peals of laughter. She put one hand over her mouth and laughed until she overbalanced, nearly tumbling off the stool; she stumbled and slid forward and he reached up and caught her by the waist as she fell and set her down on her feet, still laughing. 'Oh!' she said, her face turned up to his. 'Oh, the look on your face — would you really have eaten what was in the bucket?'
'I don't know,' Draco said. He was having some trouble keeping his mind on matters at hand. He wasn't sure Hermione realized how close to him she was standing. He had a feeling that if Harry came in at that moment, he'd be facing a fencing match that wasn't just for practice. 'Probably, if you wanted me to.'
Now, what had possessed him to say that? Damn, he thought fiercely, damn, damn, damn. Her eyes went suddenly wide and luminous and her mouth curved up into a smile and she opened her mouth to speak — and stopped. Sudden color flooded her face, as if she had been dropped in boiling water. Hastily, she stepped away from him.
'It's getting late,' she said quickly. She reached for the bucket on the desk with a trembling hand, seized it, and nearly threw herself towards the door. 'We'd better go — Charlie will be wondering where we are,' she said breathlessly, and hurried out into the corridor.
Draco stood and looked after her, perplexed, until something else caught his attention. Tucked into the frame of the mirror near the door was a photo of Ginny in a white sundress, her hair tied back, smiling and blowing kisses. He looked at it, and then hastily away, back at the doorway through which Hermione had just disappeared.
How had life managed to get so complicated in such a short time? He wondered. And whatever was going on, he couldn't help but feel that it showed every sign of not working out well for him.
Hey, Ron. You look good. Harry, you look like a wet weekend. What's wrong? Upset about the game yesterday? Speaking of which…' Fred pitched his voice lower. 'How's Ginny?'
'She's fine. Up and around and sassy and obnoxious,' said Ron, sinking into once of the huge stuffed lime- green sherbet sweet-shaped chairs, that decorated George and Fred's front office. 'Showing no respect for her elders as usual.'
Beyond the huge glass window set into the wall, they could see down to the floor of the Wheezes factory. Huge industrial-size steel cauldrons bubbled and smoked with exotic brews, alembics as tall as a full-grown wizard contained dried and flattened potion ingredients, and a scooped-out pool in the floor held a whirlpool of melted chocolate — for Penguin Peppermints, Harry guessed. The ceiling, like the ceiling of the Great Hall, was enchanted to look like sky, but unlike the ceiling in the Great Hall this one reflected a sky unlike the one outside. Right now it looked like desert sky, vast and blue, touched with dark gold clouds. Harry suspected it was probably the sky over Egypt, where Bill was. (It certainly wasn't the sky over Newcastle, where Percy was.)
'New shipment from Slug and Jiggers,' George announced cheerfully, staggering into the office under the weight of a large carton. He dropped it at Fred's feet, and rubbed his sweaty face with his t-shirt. 'Hey, kids,' he said, nodding at Ron and Harry, both of whom glowered at being called kids. The twins were, after all, only nineteen. 'What brings you here?'
'Paperwork,' said Ron, tossing his roll of parchments to George, who caught it and perched on the edge of the desk to read the contracts.
'Looks fine,' he said. 'I can sign this…why didn't you just have these owled over?'
'I wanted to look at the factory space,' said Ron, getting to his feet and coming to stand by Harry at the window. 'We thought we would wind up the Crawl here, and I just wanted to make sure the place was big enough…and sturdy enough.'
Fred and George, having been through their own Pub Crawl, grinned.
'Look around all you want,' said Fred, 'In fact, I was just about to take this shipment of Benson and Hexes Exploding Cigarettes down to the floor
— do you two want to come?'
Ron nodded, but Harry, feeling weary, shook his head. 'I'll stay here.'
Fred looked at him. His blue eyes were kind. 'You feeling all right, Harry?'
It was Ron who answered for Harry. 'He's just upset because of our History of Magic assignment. We each have to interview one person who was involved in the downfall of Voldemort, and Harry got Snape.'
Harry looked at Ron in surprise; while this was true, Ron knew well enough that this wasn't what he was upset about. Or, maybe he didn't.
Harry supposed that Ron was simply trying to save him questioning; it was hard to tell since Ron would not look at him.
Fred snorted. 'Sorry to hear that, Harry,' he said. 'Well, if you find out if the refusal to wash his hair has something to do with fighting evil or is just laziness, let me know.'
Fred and Ron left, carrying the carton between them. This left Harry alone with George, who was sitting on the desk with his blue-jeaned legs dangling down. 'I thought you didn't mind Snape so much anymore,' said George curiously. 'After all, he was at your birthday party. And his rendition of The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald was masterful.'
Harry shrugged. 'I don't mind him so much anymore.'
'So what is bothering you, then?'
'Nothing,' said Harry, and looked at his feet.
'If mum saw you like this, she'd throw a wobbly,' said George. 'I've half a mind to tell her, too.'
'I have parents now,' said Harry, stung. 'I have Sirius.'
'Sirius spent twelve years in Azkaban, he might not be quite as quick to pick up on you looking thin and haggard as an ordinary bloke might — '
'Sirius takes very good care of me,' Harry ground out, deliberately not recalling the fact that the night before, he'd accused Sirius of being a neglectful, selfish git.
'All right, all right,' said George, taken aback. 'Never mind. You look fabulous. Blooming. I hear under-eye circles are in for spring.'
'Thanks.' Harry was again having trouble paying attention to George. He had been pondering all day how he might get to his parents' graves, if Sirius wouldn't take him. Something kept niggling at the back of his mind.
'Oh, come on, Harry, what is it? Girl trouble?' George burst out in exasperation, having managed to remain
