Furze

Furze

Disclaimer: It's a sair fecht fir a hauf loaf an' a sairer fecht fir a hale een.

Translation: Scots / Doric – Life's tough. (literally: It's a hard fight for half a loaf of bread and a harder fight for a whole one.)

"Please, sir, could you clarify exactly what happened with the Sword of Gryffindor?"

Which was followed by a soft "Oof!" as the grumbling pupil received an elbow in the ribs from a neighbour.

~*~

Neville was nervous, but Luna's gentle presence and his own confidence he was doing the right thing settled his anxiety somewhat. A niggle in the back of his mind questioned how breaking and entering, theft and assault could be construed as 'doing the right thing'. He steadfastly ignored the concern, concentrating on taking a few deep breaths and preparing his reasoning before launching into an explanation to Professor Snape.

To give him his due, the dour man, despite his brusqueness, listened attentively, asked relevant questions and refrained from hexing him, though Neville observed a slight twitch in the fingers of Snape's wand hand on occasion, especially when he mentioned certain names.

Brushing sweat-flopping hair from his eyes, Neville looked up at the portrait of Phineas Black as he finished his speech. To the youth's surprise, the old man tapped the side of his nose and gave him a quick wink. Neville blinked, lost his train of thought and stumbled over his last few words. His eyes swung anxiously back to Snape, who appeared unaware of the incident, though Neville could not be sure with that dark, all-seeing gaze.

Ending with a small nervous giggle followed by a clearing of his throat, the young man took a step back from the headmaster's desk, his shoulders slumped a little and his cheeks pinked. He glanced behind him to see Luna kneeling beside Draco, holding his hand and touching the boy's pale skin with tenderness. Neville allowed himself a small smile at the sight. He could see the simmering magic between the pair, even if Malfoy appeared to be shunning Luna's ministrations.

His attention was jerked back to the headmaster by Ginny tugging firmly on his sleeve. His mouth fell open in question. "Uh?"

"Delighted as I am to observe you have returned to your normal intellectual level, Mr Longbottom, I must be seen to dispense a punishment commensurate with your infractions. What would be appropriate? Hmm. Cleaning the silverware? No, you've done enough damage to our treasures. Something with Mr Filch? Perhaps..." As Snape rubbed his pursed lips with the tips of steepled fingers, a sly glint sparked in his eye. "The Forbidden Forest!"

Neville paled, sensing Ginny's hand clamp harder to his arm. Her whimpered negative response was barely audible.

"Yes," continued Snape. "The Forbidden Forest will be perfect. You will report to Hagrid tomorrow after your evening meal, and he will apprise you of the details of your detention."

Neville shrank back as the headmaster stood abruptly, looming over them. "What are you brave, little Gryffindors waiting for? Get back to your dormitories now. You can hold each other's hands all the way back to your common room, if the dark corridors frighten you." A sneer twisted the tall man's gaunt features.

Luna rose from her spot next to the couch as the Gryffindors headed for the door.

"Not you, Miss Lovegood. You have some explaining to do yourself."

Luna continued to drift towards the door, gently pulling Draco up off the couch to follow after her. "I do believe, Professor Snape, the hour is late, and Madam Pomfrey would prefer not to be roused from her bed. I'll take this poor, injured boy to the hospital wing for assessment before she retires, shall I? And, when Madam Pomfrey's finished with Draco, I can send her on to tend to you. Be a sweetheart, Uncle Phin, and let her in when she arrives, won't you?"

Snape's mouth gaped in amazement as the young witch smiled mildly and disappeared down the stairs with Draco in tow. Closing his mouth with a snap, he rounded his pent-up frustration on Black's portrait.

"Phineas Nigellus!"

But his expostulation went unheeded. The picture frame was empty.

He gave the trashed coffee table a sharp kick before he Banished it with a slashing action of his wand. Muttering a string of profanities and something rude about how his life was tormented by Slytherin traitors, idiotic Gryffindors and nutcases, Snape limped over to the couch. The plump cushions cradled his aching body as he sank into them, and with a murmured spell he stirred the fire into life before fixing himself a stiff drink without leaving his comfortable position.

As his limbs relaxed, his mind ran through the events of the evening, coming to a sticky spot when he tried to figure out why the idiotic trio were trying to steal the Gryffindor Sword. He hoped Longbottom hadn't wrecked the priceless artefact when the clumsy oaf had tripped down the stairs, careening into him and Malfoy and impaling Snape's arm. As Severus prodded his wound with a tentative finger, he thought he ought to check the Sword for damage.

"Accio Sword." Lazily, he held out an expectant hand, but nothing happened. Confused, Severus sat up, looking around the office and again called, "Accio Sword."

Nothing stirred and, more importantly, no sword arrived in his waiting palm.

"They've stolen it. The cheeky, little bastards!"

The crash and flame of his whisky glass smashing against the hearth had the occupants of several pictures scampering for cover. Many of them were still cowering when Poppy Pomfrey arrived to tend to Snape's wounds.

~*~

"Lovegood, what do you think you're doing? You're going to get us into trouble."

"Don't worry."

"I'm not. What you've just done is dangerous and foolhardy."

"You're just annoyed I hid it in your robes."

"Not in my robes, Looney. You shoved a huge, sharp, pointy sword down the front of my trousers. You could have done me a serious injury." Draco huffed.

Luna gazed at the front of the aforementioned trousers with a speculative gleam in her eye. "Are you certain, Malfoy? I'm sure there's plenty of space in there for a house treasure next to your family jewels."

"Are you questioning my manhood, Looney?"

"Not at all. Just making an observation."

"Well, you can just stop observing." Feeling a little off kilter with the conversation, Draco tried to gather his robes around him with some dignity.

"Is that a sword in your trousers, or are you just pleased to see me, Malfoy?" Luna quipped, patting his groin rather firmly.

Draco yipped and backed away. "Careful! You'll cut me."

Grabbing the waistband of his trousers, Luna shoved a hand in and slowly withdrew the sword which had, until recently, been in the headmaster's office.

"Mmm... It's nice and warm," Luna murmured, running a finger along the flat of the blade as she extracted it. "You must be really hot down there, Malfoy."

Draco's normally pale features became ashen, and he groaned with suppressed fear as the sharp blade ran close to his genitals for a second time in one evening.

"Lovegood! Take care! I'll kill you if anything gets damaged."

"I agree, Draco. We couldn't allow that to happen to such a fine specimen."

"Well, I'm glad we both agree on the preservation of the Malfoy lineage."

"I was talking about the Sword."

"As was I, Lovegood." Draco raised his eyebrows with a hint of haughty suggestion, and Luna broke into peals of laughter. Her unrestrained mirth sent pulsing waves of warmth through the habitually cool wizard, and he was pleasantly surprised by the sensation, but responded by drawing his pale eyebrows together in a disapproving frown. "And what do you plan to do with it, now you have it?"

"I think, we should...ˮ

Suddenly, with one swift motion he pulled her to the side of the corridor and into a dark alcove, wrapping his cloak around her and hugging her hard against him. Her hands pinned by his cloak and encircling arms, held Gryffindor's Sword tight between them.

"Draco?"

"Shh!" he whispered against her cheek before dipping his head and covering her lips with his, a hand sneaking into her curls and drawing her closer.

Luna's eyes widened with surprise, and her lips moved in a questioning response, but stilled when she heard approaching feet.

"Malfoy?" A rough whisper came from close by as a large, shadowy figure turned a corner and crept towards them, followed by an even bulkier person tiptoeing behind. The enquirer stopped, holding up a hand to silence his partner. "I'm sure I heard his voice."

"You're hearing things."

"Malfoy?" The deep voice rumbled in inquiry.

Lifting his lips from Luna's, Draco straightened up, but kept a hand on the back of her head, pressing her face against his chest. His grey eyes hardened as he confirmed who was creeping down the corridor.

"Crabbe and Goyle," he snarled. "What are you doing out after curfew?"

A wand-tip brightened into light, shedding a pale glow over him.

"We was just checking you was all right, Malfoy. Not that we care what happens to you anymore, but the Carrows sent us to make sure you got your girly arse back to the dorm."

"I'm fine and shall return when I am ready," replied Draco.

"Come back now, otherwise you'll get a detention."

"Can't you see I'm a little... occupied?" Draco indicated the witch in his arms with his chin.

"Who's that?" asked Goyle.

It was bad enough to be found in the company of Lovegood, but to have to confess to it was beyond him. Draco's features blanched as he scrambled for a lie.

"No-one." He felt Luna's slender body tense against him.

"Who is it?"

"Have some dignity, please, gentlemen." With a regal twitch of his wrist and a slight sneer, Draco flicked the edge of his cloak around Luna, accidentally loosening her tumble of hair. His heart lurched, and he sensed the witch's pulse speed up in an anxious response. "It's...ˮ

"It's a girl!" Crabbe exclaimed. "But, I thought you were...ˮ

Goyle guffawed with raucous laughter, slapping Crabbe heavily on the back.

"Are you sure you know what to do with her, Malfoy? Let me show you how it's done with a witch." Goyle's face broke into a nasty leer, and a meaty paw reached for the corner of Draco's covering cloak to expose the hidden person who was now breathing heavily against the blond wizard's chest.

"I'm quite capable of that myself," growled Draco, pulling the girl still closer. "Kindly leave us to it, gentlemen."

Draco kept his hard, grey stare fixed on the two thugs as he dropped his head and again took possession of Luna's lips. His lip curled in contempt against hers as Goyle dragged a gape-mouthed Crabbe back round the corner. As soon as they disappeared, his body relaxed, his eyes drifted closed and his lips sought the inviting softness of the witch in his arms. Fingers tangling instinctively in her tresses and angling her head to suit him, he plundered her lush mouth.

Drawing a shocked breath in through her nose, Luna wriggled in an attempt to loosen his embrace and distance herself from his marauding mouth, but Draco's arms wound tighter around her, drawing her into him. Luna braced against his chest, pulling her head back, only for his body to follow the movement without breaking contact.

With a sharp snort, Luna jabbed downwards with her clenched fists and bit down hard.

"Fuck!" Draco's eyes flew open, and he hopped back with one hand wiping his bleeding lip and the other clutching for his stabbed foot. "You crazy nutter! What was that for?"

"No-one, am I?" She shook a sword-bearing fist at him.

"What the...? Careful with the sword, Looney." Draco pushed the blade away from the proximity of his nose.

"Don't do that again, unless I ask you to."

"What did I do?"

"You..."

"I just saved you from being mauled by those Neanderthals, didn't I?" Draco snarled in her face.

"You kissed me without asking... and called me a no-one." Sparks snapped in Luna's large eyes as she hissed at him.

Draco reeled back as if struck. "I did." He pulled himself up to his full height and fixed Luna with an icy stare. "You were asking for it, Lovegood."

"I don't want...ˮ

"I understand that now, but I didn't think being an oddball meant you would be completely lacking interpersonal skills or gratitude. Obviously, I was wrong." With a final swipe of his hand across his bloodied mouth, Draco turned on his heel and limped away. "I'll make my way to the hospital wing on my own, thank you, but I'm not sure how I'm going to explain the puncture wound in my foot, you flaky fruitcake."

Luna's shoulders drooped, and the Gryffindor treasure clanked against the stone floor. Slowly, she lifted it back to eye level, her gaze flicking from the Sword to the still muttering, departing figure of Malfoy.

"This needs a little care and attention, I think." Luna's eyes glinted as she tucked the sword into the gauntleted hand of a nearby suit of armour. "Hidden in plain sight," she murmured, patting the bejewelled pommel before making her way back to Ravenclaw Tower.

~*~

Hermione perched on a rickle of stones, which at some time must have been a shepherd's cottage.

Below her in the pale morning light, she watched low-lying fog drift along the line of an invisible watercourse. Fluffy, white heads of bog cotton nodded and swayed as a light breeze dispersed the damp mist, pushing it up the glen and over a low col. With eyes closed, Hermione lifted her chin into the wind, enjoying the freshness of the morning air on her camping-grimed face.

She had spent the night tossing and turning in her damp, uncomfortable bed, listening to raindrops thrumming on the canvas roof and trying to decide what to do about Lupin's request. By the time the rain had stopped and dawn started to lighten the sleeping shadows inside the tent, she had realised she had little choice. If Remus needed her to brew Wolfsbane for him, she would just have to grit her teeth and suffer Professor Snape's vitriolic teaching. The thought of working with the hard disciplinarian brought a chill to her bones, and she rubbed her arms vigorously to dispel the shivers.

Taking an invigorating breath of rain-fresh, pine-scented air, she opened her eyes and started planning.

Firstly, she would have to reset her protective charms to allow Professor Snape into their camp. It wasn't too difficult for her; she had done the same for Remus, but the thought of allowing a Death Eater into her secure area made her skin crawl. Even though she was well aware Lupin believed in him, Hermione's primal instincts screamed distrust.

Secondly, she would have to allow him access without the boys' knowledge. That wouldn't be hard either. They were so lethargic and miserable in the presence of the Horcrux neither of them noticed when she left to hunt for provisions now, so she doubted they would even register her disappearing for a while to do a bit of brewing.

And there was the rub. It wasn't going to be just a 'bit' of brewing. To make a complex potion like Wolfsbane, she would need a fully stocked store of ingredients, a decent cauldron and a space with a consistent environment. An extension of the tent was not going to be an option, but nowhere else came to mind immediately. The only place she could think of was the dungeon classroom at Hogwarts, which wasn't a viable choice, though the thought sent a pang of homesickness through her chest. Grimmauld Place? No, the reason they were on the move was to avoid detection and not to draw attention to the Order's headquarters.

Running fingers through her tangled mane of hair, she tried to figure out how she would manage.

Caught off-guard, tugging with frustration at a recalcitrant knot close to her scalp, when her security wards were breached by an unexpected arrival, she was unable to free her hand quickly enough to brandish her wand. A firm hand covered her mouth, stopping her alarmed cry, and a warm breath at her temple whispered a warning to keep quiet as the sudden vertigo of Disapparition swept her away. An address was murmured into her ear just as the campsite disappeared from her vision.

~*~

Ron stared ahead of him with lethargic disinterest. His sleep had been poor since they had started camping, and he had been woken from fitful dreams by Hermione unzipping the tent flap and sneaking outside. Turning over and trying to nod off again had been unsuccessful now the soothing patter of rain had stopped. So, he hauled himself out of bed and trailed out into the cool morning, feeling the light mist enshrouding him in a comforting fog. Rubbing his temples with a smoothing, circular motion, he tried to summon up some enthusiasm. No matter what he did nowadays, he could not muster up any energy.

Harry had the locket, leaving Ron free to accompany Hermione on her watch if he wanted to, but this morning he had no desire to do so. Hands in pockets and feet scuffing through the dead leaves, he shuffled over to a nearby birch. Leaning his bony back against the silver bark, he sank down onto his haunches.

From this position, he could see Hermione sitting on the tumbledown wall of a ruin. Not once did she turn and look in his direction. It became clear to him the girl he loved no longer cared for him. If she did, she would know he was over here watching over her. Instead, she sat with eyes closed and face tilted up, ignoring him. Ron's heart withered in his emaciated chest, and leaning his head back against the tree, he allowed tears to flow silently down his cheeks.

When a tall, caped figure appeared suddenly behind Hermione, Ron's strangled cry was muted by his overwhelming sorrow. As she vanished from sight, his leaden emotions shifted slowly from distress at her abrupt disappearance, through annoyance at her lack of forethought about her own safety, stopping finally at a low, smouldering anger at her absence of consideration. Imagine leaving with another man when she must have known Ron was sitting waiting for her.

"Bloody hell," he wailed, "I've lost her." Ron's long fingers covered his face, and his shoulders shook with sobs of despair.

~*~

"Look what I've got."

Hermione squinted into the darkness, trying to discern her surroundings. A large hand pulled her to standing from the heap she had tumbled in on landing.

"Up you get. Come over here."

She stumbled slightly as she was tugged to her feet.

"This is perfect."

Hermione swore when her toe struck something solid on the cluttered floor.

"Oops! Sorry!" A sweeping wand-stroke cleared the floor and lit the lights, revealing a grinning werewolf standing in the middle of a small, windowless room.

"Just right, isn't it?" Lupin's smile faded a little as Hermione looked around with obvious bemusement at the cramped, untidy space. "Don't you like it?"

"Um, yeah. It's..."

"I know it's a bit of a guddle at the moment. But, once we've tidied up a bit, cleaned the work bench and bought a cauldron, it'll be a perfect place to brew, won't it?" His faltering smile sought approval.

"Actually, I think you're right. This could work well." Hermione's quick mind set to work immediately, planning shelving for ingredients arranged in alphabetical order, storage for vials and bench space for chopping. "What is this place?"

"It's our box room, which isn't used much at the moment as we're both so busy. The whole flat is Secret-Kept, and I've secured this area against any unauthorised entry. What do you think?"

Looking up, her eyes took in the high, dimly lit ceiling. "What about ventilation?"

"Don't worry. I'll sort something out."

"Okay."

"So, you'll do it?"

"Of course I will."

"You will? Oh, my giddy aunt, that's fantastic. Hermione, you're the best." The breath whooshed out of her as Remus hugged her enthusiastically. "Just wait till I tell Sev."

"Yes, well..."

"He'll be delighted."

"I don't think so."

"Seriously, he's got so much on his plate at the moment. If you can take over the brewing he'll be over the moon."

"Don't be daft."

"You're not worried about working with him, are you?"

"Well..."

"Just remember his bark's worse than his bite, and if you feed him chocolate, he'll soon be eating out of your hand."

Hermione snorted at the idea of the dour professor eating from her hand; it was so completely out of character. Her overactive mind conjured up a picture of Professor Snape bending respectfully over her outstretched palm, inhaling the rich scent of the chocolate she cradled there. She imagined his nose nudging her curled fingers open and those thin lips nipping the fleshy pad at the base of her thumb, or that wicked, acid tongue licking luscious, melting streaks from the sensitive dip at the centre of her palm. Her breath caught in her chest.

Blushing, Hermione turned away, clearing her throat and fanning her face with her hand.

Bloody hell, I must be going mad. That's what happens if you live in close proximity to teenage boys for too long, she thought.

"Are you okay, Hermione?"

"Yes, just a little... overwhelmed."

"If you think this is overwhelming, come through here." Grabbing her hand, Lupin ushered her through a concealed doorway to another even tinier room. "Voilà!" he proclaimed, turning on the lights.

"Oh!"

"You don't like it?"

"It's..."

"It's practical. You know how hazardous some potions ingredients can be, and if you spill anything, you'll need somewhere to wash...ˮ

"It's perfect." Hermione's hands were already bringing fresh, laundry-scented towels to her nose and tracing fingers over clean tiles before turning on the tap in the sink. "Hot, running water. Thank you, Remus." Hugging him tight to her, she whispered into his neck, "Thank you."

Lupin kissed her temple then sniffed at her hair. "Actually, I think you'd benefit from using the facilities before you leave. You smell worse than a wet werewolf after a full moon. Here, use this shampoo, and here's your conditioner. I'll leave you to it. Just give me a shout when you're finished."

Having closed the door behind Lupin, Hermione turned the shower on full, luxuriating in the warm steam as it filled the room. She had dreamt of this luxury many times as she had quickly 'topped and tailed' herself with cold water without ever getting fully undressed in the tent. Peeling off her grubby clothes, she cast a thorough cleansing charm over them before dropping them onto the bathroom stool.

Hermione believed nothing could be as heavenly as stepping into a hot shower and washing all the grime from her itching skin until she opened the shampoo. Absolute perfection, she mused, lathering the rich preparation into her hair and massaging her gritty scalp. Inhaling deeply, Hermione was transported to a warm, sunny place by the scents of honey, lemon and a hint of ginger.

Languorously sponging the etched-in dirt from her legs, her brain stirred back into gear, and her head jerked up. Hold on a minute, she thought. Lupin said 'our flat'. He and Tonks live in a cottage, and not at the address he whispered in my ear as he abducted me. What's going on?

As she rinsed the last of the suds off her skin, she peered through the steam at the shampoo's label, wondering whose hygiene products Remus had lent her. Shocked, she dropped the bottle, glass shattering on the tiled floor, as she saw only a single phrase, neatly printed in the very recognisable, precise handwriting of Severus Snape. For my Charming Beloved.

"Sweet Merlin!" Remus Lupin and Severus Snape?

Surely not! But, try as she might, she could not clear the memories from her head of Lupin talking about Professor Snape in glowing terms.

Pressing a hand to her chest, she took a few deep breaths and stepped out of the shower on shaking legs. As she rubbed her body dry with unnecessary roughness, anger built within her when her thoughts turned to poor Tonks. No wonder Lupin had said his life was complicated, she thought as she shoved her limbs back into her clothes. The man was a... was a...

"Lupin!" she shouted as she barged back into the other room. Finding the space empty and with no obvious doors, she banged hard on a wall. "Lupin, you're a manipulative, lying... shit."

Gaining no response, she shouted one more time. "Lupin, I'm leaving and don't expect me back anytime soon!" With an angry spin on her heel, she Disapparated.

"Sorry, Hermione, I forgot this room's soundproofed. I...ˮ

Remus appeared through a concealed doorway just as the crack of her furious departure echoed around the room. Checking the bathroom to assure himself he was not mistaken about her leaving, he spotted the broken shampoo bottle on the tiles.

"Bugger," he muttered, running fingers through his shaggy locks. "How did I screw this one up?"

~*~

Ron whimpered and covered his ears as an explosive bang heralded Hermione's return. Magic sparked around her, following her angry stride in shimmering waves as she headed for the tent.

Scrambling to his feet, Ron caught up with the livid witch and, ignoring her ferocious scowl, flung long, clinging arms around her rigid shoulders.

"'Mione, you came back to me. Don't leave me again, babe. How could you leave me?"

Tension stiffened her body as he snuffled loudly in her ear. "Not now, Ron."

"Here, you smell different. Where've you been, Hermione?"

"Sod off!" Hermione swatted his pawing hands off her hair.

"As your boyfriend, I have a right to know...ˮ

"You have no right, Ron. Take your hands off me, and give me some space."

"Like that, is it? So, I'm not your boyfriend anymore. Is that the deal? What about the man who escorted you away this morning? Is he your new boyfriend?"

Hermione looked daggers at him before turning her back and walking away.

"Don't think I don't know you've been going with someone else behind my back, ʼMione. Can't wait to let another wizard into your knickers when I'm not up for it, can you?"

"Grow up," muttered Hermione as she unzipped the tent's canvas door.

"I'm bigger and more grown up than you, Miss High-and-Mighty." His peeved voice followed her.

Hermione rounded on him, a finger pointing very close to his face as he ducked into the tent behind her. "Back off. I know you don't mean half the things you're saying, Ron."

"What do you expect, ʼMione? You're not exactly the doting girlfriend, are you? You just left this morning, not giving a stuff about me."

"Will you two please stop bickering?" Harry's request sounded mildly vexed, as if he lacked the energy for any stronger emotion.

"I don't suppose you thought to get any provisions whilst you were away gallivanting, did you?" Ron asked almost hopefully.

Dropping her hand, Hermione's shoulders sagged as she sighed. "No. Sorry." She laid a gentle hand on Ron's arm, but could not look him in the eye. "I'm sorry, Ron. Truly, I am."

"Wait. You're not serious, are you, Hermione?" Ron's eyes were wide, and his throat worked in long, dry swallows. "This isn't about the food, is it? You're not chucking me, are you? I didn't mean all those things I said. Honest. It's the... the Horcrux."

"We can't blame everything on the Horcrux, Ron, when things just aren't working out between us."

"But, I love you."

"It's a shame you've lost your trust in me and lost my respect," replied Hermione, turning away and wiping a hand under her nose. With an effort, she straightened her shoulders before continuing. "So, we'll just have to make the best of what we have, won't we?"

Shrugging Ron's restraining hand from her shoulder, Hermione busied herself gathering ingredients to prepare a meal, clattering plates and pots with fury. The crashing of utensils mirrored the discordance within, which overwhelmed her every time she returned to the camp.

"'Mione," he whined.

"Leave it, Ron," advised Harry.

"But..."

Harry glowered in response.

A/N: Sunny33 has taken time out of her busy life to sort out my appalling punctuation. Thanks, chook!

Translation:

Furze – thorny bush, in Scotland usually gorse.

Rickle – a heap or an unsteady structure (especially a dilapidated building).

Guddle – Scots – a muddle, mess.