Author's Note: Last chapter. Sad, isn't it? But before you start to bawl your eyes out (or not), let me remind you that this is only the first part in a trilogy, meaning there will be two more. And if you're afraid it might take me weeks/months/years to get started with the next piece, fear not - I'm already writing it, and will post the first chapter in about a week. :)
Other than that, thanks to all my wonderful readers and reviewers, thanks to all who followed and enjoyed this story. This is my first fic I have got over a hundred reviews for, and I can't tell just how much that means to me. :) THANK YOU!
By the way, I was going to post this chapter tomorrow, since it's the 9th chapter and tomorrow is the 9th of October, but my beta told me that since today is the 8th of October, and October is the 10th month, and ten plus eight is eighteen, and eighteen divided by two is nine, I should really post it today. Who can argue with logic like that!
Disclaimer: Two times four I've been telling you this, but I will once more, so it makes three times three - Harry Potter belongs not to me.
The Founding Of Pigwarts I – Recipe For Chaos
Chapter 9: Rise and shine
It was noon when Draco finally woke up. Had he known that, he might have even panicked, although there was no need since he was the early bird in their group. But before he got the chance to look up at the sun at its highest peak of sky, he noticed two things.
Had he noticed these two things in the opposite order, the consequences might have been devastating.
However, the first thing Draco noticed on that fine sunny day was Hermione sleeping in his arms. His initial reaction to that was to stare with a wide mouth, and then scream. He managed to do that staring part all right, but before he managed to yell (and wake everybody up and bring forth the devastating consequences), he noticed the other thing.
His killer headache.
And the sun shining into his eyes and Weasley snoring did not help at all.
Nor did his trying to think back to the previous night. He remembered something about his resolution not to drink, afraid in whose arms he might wake up. Glancing from the sleeping girl to the other two, he realized with a shiver that he could have done a lot worse. Hell of a lot worse.
Still, things weren't as fabulous as they could have been. First, he still had that headache. Second, his memory was a heavy clump of haze. Third, the sun was still shining into his eyes and the evil glare he gave it only made his eyes hurt and water. Not to mention the fact that he was sitting in the ruins of Hogwarts with three bloody Gryffindors. That a couple of hours ago he had got drunk with the same three bloody Gryffindors and it was probably a blessing he didn't remember much of what had happened then.
Oh Merlin! Well, his only consolation was that if he was feeling like shit with no memory, the others would feel the same. The thoughts of Potter suffering were almost enough to lessen his own pain. Almost, but not quite.
And the memory thing meant that they had no recollection either of all the stupid things he had done, and therefore unable to blackmail him, or simply point a finger and laugh. Too bad he didn't remember anything he could use to blackmail them, or simply point a finger and laugh devilishly. Or sell to the Daily Prophet, so that everyone could point their fingers at the bloody trio and laugh, devilishly or not.
But as things were, he had a killer headache and no memories. Draco would have really liked to exchange one for the other.
Too bad that was impossible, he thought with a sigh, letting his eyes slide over Granger's journal and three vials of Hangover Potion beside it.
Wait a second.
Just wait a bloody second.
He turned his gaze back to the aforementioned objects and stared at them for long moments. It took some time to set his brain in motion and form the connections, but there was no stopping it now that the process had started.
Despite his killer headache, the stupid sun, and three bloody Gryffindors, Draco began to realize things that were not quite as awful as the other stuff he had had the displeasure to learn this fine day.
Slowly he stretched out his hand and grabbed a bottle, opened it, sniffed at it to make sure all this wasn't just some major hoax to poison him, and then downed it in one gulp.
Once his killer headache started to subside, things were rapidly getting a lot better. Of course, much to his disappointment, the three bloody Gryffindors did not evaporate or crumble into dust, but at least the sun didn't seem to have a personal grudge against him anymore.
Then he took the book, making a grave mistake of feeling too relieved and throwing his caution to the wind, but fortunately to him (luck really seemed to favour him on this beautiful morning… erm… noon) Granger had placed no protective charms upon it. How stupid of her.
Draco turned the book around in his hands, ostensibly examining it, but in reality gathering enough courage to actually open it.
When he finally realized how ridiculous he was being – after all, whatever he had done, he had been drunk, and none of it had really mattered – he opened it at the last page that had writing on it, and started to read, only to snap the book shut a moment later.
He had managed to read nothing else but the very last sentence. Yet that had been enough. More than enough even.
Draco could feel the thoughts and questions arising in his mind, and none of them were very pleasant. At least if he wanted to go on trying to pretend that nothing important had happened. And that he did.
With a groan he stood up, taking the book with him of course, to read it through carefully some other time when he was feeling a lot more confident. And a lot further away from three bloody Gryffindors who might wake up any minute now to start yelling and sending hexes at him.
Perhaps he would even find something he could use to blackmail them, or point his finger and laugh devilishly, or sell to the Daily Prophet.
Thinking about all the wonderful possibilities opening up to him, Draco smirked and walked straight into the magical Cupola he had cast the night before.
Oww.
Making sure that the three bloody Gryffindors were still deep asleep, and had not witnessed his wonderful act of stupidity, he drew his wand and took the dome quickly down.
And realized that his wand wasn't really his wand.
"Bloody Gryffindors," he swore under his breath and searched the ground for his lost possession. He did find it in the end. And tried to remove it from her grip. And failed. And tried again. Until she let out a groan and turned to her other side, holding the wand firm against her body.
The fact that he could understand her behaviour very well did nothing to improve his mood. The war was over, yes, but too little time had passed, and they had yet to grow out of their habit of keeping a wand close at all times, even in sleep.
And as he knew that, he also knew that taking it away from her, by a spell or by force, would definitely wake her up, and that he was not going to let happen.
Three bloody Gryffindors were better served asleep than awake.
And even though there was a spell to reveal the owner of a wand, the time she would cast it he would be far, far away, leaving her with nothing but confusion and dread of all the things she did not remember.
Draco grinned evilly, and walked away without a backwards glance to the three bloody Gryffindors.
---
It was already late afternoon when Ron and Harry finally woke up, feeling like it was a really bad idea.
With some groans and co-operation they managed to locate the two other vials of the potion and drink them up.
When their senses turned a bit clearer, and they managed to stand up, the boys momentarily realized something was amiss.
"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked, a note of panic creeping into his voice. The war was over, but old habits die hard, and the world was still not as safe as they would have wished.
Harry looked around scanning their surroundings, which wasn't really much since they couldn't look over the ragged stone wall around them.
"Let's get out of here," he offered, pointing to the small opening between the rocks.
Once out of the pile of stones, they were able to find her quickly, sitting under a tree by the lake.
When they had reached her and sat down by her side, Ron noticed a bottle in her hands. It was the same one she had had last night, which still had a couple of mouthfuls of liquid in it.
"You shouldn't be drinking in the morning," Ron told her.
"It's not morning anymore."
"All right then. But you should at least share."
"There's nothing to share anymore," Hermione grinned and emptied the bottle quickly.
"That was evil," Ron teased her.
After a few minutes in comfortable silence Harry suggested a refreshing swim.
Ron agreed and stood up, but before taking off his robes and rushing into the water, he snatched Hermione's bottle from her and took a long sniff of it for no particular reason.
"That odd," he commented absentmindedly. "Smells like apples."
But he thought no more of it, as he stripped off his clothes and jumped into the lake.
Hermione took the bottle and stared at it for a while.
"Of course it smells like apples, idiot," she spoke, even though no one was there to hear. "It's apple juice, after all. Did you really think I was stupid enough to get drunk for real last night? Someone had to remain sane and keep you two away from trouble."
She put the bottle down and glanced at the ruins of Hogwarts, her crystal clear memories of the night before giving her no rest.
The End (of Part One)
A/N:
Heheheheee. Liked my twist?
:P
If you're confused as hell, and can't wait till I explain it in some other part of the trilogy, demand an explanation in your review. ;)
Also, the second part – "The Founding of Pigwarts II: Cooking Chaos" – is up. :)
Three times three I'm telling thee - REVIEW!