Flying Without A Broom
Dancing Between Raindrops
By Ruskbyte
Chapter Four
~ Dancing Between Raindrops ~
Hermione found herself faced with something of a quandary. She had most emphatically not expected to find herself in such a situation when she woke up this morning. Looking to one side, in the hopes of getting some guidance from Tonks, it was only when faced with empty space that she remembered how she and the Auror had been separated in their frantic search for Harry after he had left them gaping in the Three Broomsticks. After knocking over one young wizard with black hair, whom she had mistakenly identified as Harry, Tonks had rushed off down a side street and left Hermione so far behind that the young witch had completely lost sight of her.
With her partner (the entire DA group from the Three Broomsticks had paired off in their search for Harry) missing and thus unable to give any advice on how to handle the situation confronting her, Hermione found herself trying to work out on her own exactly what to do with the two students sprawled at her feet. Apparently, where Hermione and Tonks had failed, Ginny and Neville had succeeded in finding Harry.
Unfortunately they had also let him talk them into a drinking game of some sort and were currently plastered to the point where they could not even stand upright. At least that is what she was able to gather from their slurred ramblings, which were interspersed with bouts of drunken laughter.
"This is getting completely out of hand," she muttered to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose as Neville giggled inanely while pointing out the similarity between Professor Snape and a lone cloud that was drifting overhead. Already a few drops of rain were beginning to fall, even though the sun still shone brightly in a sky that only lightly clouded over.
"Then letsh gedit in hand," said Ginny with a leer before reaching over and groping her partner's crotch. Neville gave a surprised yelp which promptly caused them both to burst into gales of laughter.
Musing distractedly that perhaps it was fortunate she had discovered them rather than Ron and Luna, Hermione drew her wand in preparation to cast a Sobering Charm in the hopes that it might sort things out. She was about halfway through the motion and incantation when realization struck her like a thunderbolt out of the blue.
Ginny and Neville had found Harry.
Harry had convinced them to join him for a drink.
Ginny and Neville were now drunk as lords.
Harry was still missing...
Which meant that Harry was now not only stoned out of his mind, thanks to the Aquila he had consumed earlier, but was now probably blind drunk as well. And to think, only moments ago, Hermione had not believed that things could possibly get any worse than they already were. If Harry had been prey to any stray Death Eater that happened to find him in his earlier state, he was now likely to be as helpless as a lamb being led to the slaughter. As if to emphasise the seriousness of Harry's plight, the few drops of rain already falling began to multiply.
"Oh God," she whispered before turning on a heel and running down the narrow cobblestone street, thoughts of returning Ginny and Neville to a state of sobriety completely forgotten. Ginny had, before deciding to molest Neville, indicated that this was the direction Harry had taken off in.
For a brief moment as she ran Hermione felt a stab of anger at her friends. They had known the state Harry was in, known how unstable it would have made him; particularly taking into account the stress he had been under recently. The first thing they should have done when they found him should have been to contact the rest of the searchers and then escort Harry back to Hogwarts where they would at least have a chance to look after him properly. They should not have sat down to have a drink with him, let alone enough drinks to get sloshed. They most certainly should never have let Harry get away from them, even if they were too drunk to stand up without immediately toppling over.
Hermione slowed down as she approached the next street corner, the faint sound of music reaching her ears. She frowned as she continued onwards, at a more sedate pace, certain that she recognised the tune but not able to place where she had heard it before. It sounded like... a saxophone? No, maybe an oboe or something similar? It was definitely familiar and for some reason conjured up images of her childhood, before coming to Hogwarts.
Rounding the corner she crashed headfirst into Harry.
She caught a flash of two brilliant green eyes under raised eyebrows and a seemingly delighted smile. Then she collided with his surprisingly firm chest and bounced off, falling to the ground and landing on her rear with a thump. She immediately tried to scramble back onto her feet, but found herself instead being lifted up by Harry, who was grinning wildly at her.
"Harry! Thank goodness!" she exclaimed with relief, grabbing hold of his arms to steady herself as he set her down in front of him.
"Mione! I was hoping to run into you," he replied, still grinning brightly. He paused to ruefully rub his chest, where she bumped into him, and teasingly joked, "Only not so hard."
"Harry, you..." Hermione looked at her friend in surprise. Considering the way Ginny and Neville had been lolling about, drunker than she had thought possible, it was something of a surprise to find Harry seemingly stone cold sober. In fact, he seemed almost perfectly normal, save for the fact that he was grinning like a two year-old who'd just discovered that Christmas was coming early. It must have been the Aquila that was making him so cheerful, but it did not explain why he wasn't swaying back and forth like a palm tree in a hurricane - which was Hermione had been expecting to find. She looked closely at him, a stare he scarcely noticed, and asked, "You're not drunk?"
Harry looked positively scandalised and exclaimed, "Of course I'm not!"
This left Hermione feeling very confused as she sputtered, "But Ginny... and Neville..."
"Come on, Mione," he urged her, tugging on her arm in a gentle attempt to pull her off the pavement and into the street with him. He looked pleadingly at her, the look he usually wore when trying to coerce her into joining Ron and him in some illicit adventure. "Dance with me?"
She look at him strangely. Harry hated dancing ever since the Yule Ball in their fourth year.
"Why?"
"Because it'll be fun," Harry said, beaming at her. He pulled on her arm again and implored. "Trust me."
Hermione had to struggle to contain the nervous laughter that threatened to bubble up. Whenever Harry happened to ask someone to trust him in such a tone of voice, it was usually a warning that the person in question should not trust a single thing of whatever was going to happen next. In moments like this Harry sounded oddly similar to how Fred and George did when offering up one of their latest products to an unsuspecting victim. Against her better judgement, especially after seeing what had happened to Ginny and Neville, Hermione nodded her assent.
"Okay."
Harry's delighted smile was far more than Hermione's acceptance should have warranted. He was definitely too happy, clearly still under the Aquila's influence. The sight was enough to make her heart ache, reminding her of the stark contrast between the young boy who had saved her life in their first year and the brooding teenager he had become. She now understood, all too well, what had happened to Ginny and Neville. The temptation to let Harry enjoy himself without the burdens of his life weighing him down, if only for a short while, was simply too great to resist - even knowing the possible consequences. Besides, what could it hurt to share one dance with the young man she trusted beyond anyone else?
Before she knew it Hermione was twirling and spinning lightly in the street, Harry leading her about with childlike exuberance. The rain was so gentle that she scarcely noticed it, there was not even any cause to worry about her robes getting more than a little damp, the fat raindrops sparkling in the sunlight as they fell.
Harry moved them around with such a deft and easy touch that was almost impossible to believe, especially considering how much of a klutz he had been on the dance floor with Parvati during the Yule Ball two years earlier. Now he was skipping about, seemingly as light as a feather but at the same time as sure footed as a gazelle, as if he had been born to dance. It was a remarkable transformation and Hermione was almost lost in the feeling of it.
"Harry, what are we doing?" she asked after several minutes, slightly breathless as they continued to waltz down the village road to the faint sound of a quirkily tune that Hermione knew she had heard before but could still not recognise.
Harry laughed and, with a flourish, spun her about in his arms. He took one of her hands in his own and settled the other on her hip - as if preparing to tango, smiling down at her with the look he always gave when someone asked something that was perfectly obvious.
"Dancing, silly."
"I mean, what kind of dance is this?" she asked, tilting her head to one side in an attempt to pick out the tune they were dancing too more clearly. "I don't recognise it."
"It's raining," Harry told her, as if this were also perfectly obvious - which it was. "And we're dancing between the raindrops."
"You can't do that," Hermione protested, before realizing that (maybe) Harry wasn't being serious and was actually pulling her leg. This seemed to be born out as he laughed merrily, spinning them about again and again in a dizzying series of swooping twirls.
Hermione fought her blush and otherwise ignored the laughter at her expense, mostly because she knew that this was something Harry needed very much. It was also because she knew very well that Harry's sense of humour was never intentionally cruel, but simply quirky in that way everything about him tended to be a tad off centre.
Hermione was so caught up in her musing that she almost lost her footing when Harry abruptly stopped on a dime. Literally.
"A dime!" he exclaimed, releasing his hold on her so that he could bend down and pick up the Muggle coin at his feet. He held it up for them both to see. "Uncle Vernon gave me one for my birthday when I was six. They had taken Dudley to Disney World that summer."
"Uh, Harry..."
"I've got to show this to Niks."
"Niks? Nikki Fraser?" asked Hermione, wondering why Harry was referring to Tonks by the young Auror's alias. Perhaps it was the Aquila? If the dose he had ingested was as potent as believed, it was entirely possible that Harry had forgotten the fact that Nikki Fraser was in actual fact Tonks. He always, as a matter of course, referred to Tonks by name, except when in the presence of anyone that did not know her true identity.
"Uh huh," Harry bobbed his head up and down so quickly she was almost afraid it would fall off. He started to eagerly look about, clearly hoping to catch sight of Tonks. "I wonder were she is? She's not very good, is she? She should've found me ages ago!"
"You've seen To-- uh, Niks?"
"I tagged her," he said happily. "She's it."
Hermione blinked. "It?"
"Uh huh," Harry's head was nodding dangerously fast again. He paused and a dreamy smile stretched across his face as he added, "Did it right after I helped Ron tie the knot with Luna."
"WHAT?!?"
"It was so beautiful," he told her, reaching up to wipe a tear from his eye. He sniffed happily, like a proud parent. "They promised to name their firstborn after me, y'know."
"Ron... and Luna." Hermione was, understandably, having some difficultly processing that particular thought. Luna, she had no doubt, would probably have played along with Harry's little fantasy. Ron, on the other hand, would have had an entirely different reaction.
She cringed at the thought. If Harry had done as he said, it could only have been accomplished if Ron had been restrained somehow. Something else which would not ease Ron's volatile temper. At the rate things were going it would not only Death Eaters they'd have to protect Harry from, but his best friend as well.
"Come on, Mione," Harry urged her, pulling on her arm before sprinting off in a seemingly random direction. "We've got to find Niks and show her this."
"Harry!" she called after him, breaking into a run and chasing after him. "Harry, wait! Harry!"
Harry was fast, much faster than Hermione would have thought, but if she could just get him to slow down a bit... He disappeared around a corner and Hermione pushed herself to move faster, fully aware that she could easily lose track of him if she couldn't keep him in her sight. She rounded the corner at almost a full run, and promptly found herself skidding to a halt in an attempt to avoid careening into a dancing broomstick.
Tripping over her own feet she tumbled to the ground in a heap, landing almost on top of the broomstick. The music, to which she and Harry had been dancing, seemed much louder and the broom seemed to be dancing along to it. Sitting up with a groan, and reaching down to rub her bruised rear, Hermione was about to get up and resume her chase after Harry when a wet and very dirty mop slapped her in the face.
"Gah! Get away!" she cried, pushing the cleaning implement away.
Blinking the cleaning water out of her eyes and rubbing it off her face with a sleeve, she looked up to see that the broomstick was not, in fact, dancing as she had first thought. It was, it seemed, enthusiastically mopping the floor in time to the beat of the music. It dipped the mop in a small bucket of water and began slapping and sweeping the mop over Hermione's front. Apparently it was unable to tell the difference between a witch, half lying on the cobblestone floor, and the floor itself.
"Reducto!"
With a crack the animated broomstick was blown away from her. It was also blown into several dozen little pieces, which clattered to the ground before her. The mop and water-filled bucket it had been using, in its attempt to wash her, toppled over and Hermione knocked them aside as she scrambled to her feet. The strange music that had been playing in the background stopped and she waited a moment for the broom's owner to come and start shouting at her for destroying it.
After several seconds passed, in which Hermione decided that whoever had charmed the bloody thing wasn't coming to complain, she cast a quick cleaning and drying spell on her clothes and resumed her chase after Harry. Unfortunately her tumble had cost her precious seconds and she doubted that she would have an easy time finding him again. As she ran down the street, not bothering to look back, Hermione could have sworn she could hear that familiar tune starting up again.
Somehow she just knew Harry had something to do with it.
TBC...