Revolution and Requiem
October 29th 2007
A flock of fifty wizards, slayers and witches mounted on broomsticks like swooping eagles flew their way to the forbidden fortress in the North Sea that contained the guilty and innocent alike.
“Hey, Honey?” Kennedy rested her cheek on Pansy’s mackintosh clad shoulder, the high flying droplets of sea spray were soaking the liberation party.
“Yes, Kenny?” Pansy’s wet, bedraggled hair whipped around her face as she began the sharp angled descent onto the slate roof of one of the prison’s towers.
“We’re not going to let everyone out are we?” Kennedy hugged Pansy tightly around the waist. “I mean not the serial gnome killers, etcetera?”
“No, we have a list remember?” Pansy assured her. “I’m sure it’s going to go smoothly.”
Kennedy didn’t feel entirely convinced about this.
Upon landing the group of liberationists got out a chainsaw and cut a hole in the roof. Seeing how a chainsaw was utterly unmagical Azkaban’s magical forcefield was easily penetrated.
Kennedy and the rest lowered themselves swiftly down on ropes through the jagged hole and dropped down onto the top floor of the tower.
The top floor of the tower contained dusty, disused torture devices from earlier years.
“Good Lord.” Giles nudged Kennedy and pointed to an oak stretching rack for naughty house-elves. “Look at the craftsmanship on that thing.”
October 29th 2007
The living room
Faith and Percy’s Townhouse
“I say, darling?” Percy bounced baby Rick up in the air after he finished changing his son’s nappy on the sofa.
“Yeah, Perce?” Faith was slouched in an armchair, flicking through a pile of bills on her lap wondering how the hell they were going to afford their mortgage repayment to Gringotts this month. Perhaps if they sold Percy’s shares in a broomstick bristles company?
“Is something out of the ordinary happening this evening?” Percy inquired, continuing to jig his gurgling offspring on his knee. Hermes was very agitated for some reason.
“Like what?” Faith smiled innocently at him. Giles and Kennedy thought it best if Faith did not accompany the liberation party for fear she might go ape shit on the prison guards. That Faith didn’t care much for prison guards was the biggest understatement there was.
“I don’t know dearest, perhaps something so out of the ordinary.” Percy flinched as the owl flap crashed open. “That it’s caused twelve owls and a sparrow to arrive simultaneously in our living room with messages.”
“Christ!” Faith sprang up to put newspaper down on the carpet before the birds pooped everywhere.
“No, I’m sorry Mr. Malfoy but I can’t possibly let you out.” Pansy apologized to the indignant man.
“But Pansy, I think this ingratitude on your part is quite dismal.” Lucius sulked in his cell as his room mate was freed but Lucius remained in chains. “Who rescued your enchanted balloon at my son’s sixth birthday party? Who took you out to lunch in Hogsmeade as a treat in your first year at Hogwarts because your parents couldn’t make it on Half Day? Who…”
“Yes, Mr. Malfoy but you weren’t very nice about me coming out were you? And you’re very evil don’t forget.” Pansy reminded akwardly Draco’s dad.
“I don’t see what that has to do with it.” Lucius complained.
“I brought you this.” Pansy pulled out from beneath her robes a squashed fruitcake wrapped in greaseproof paper. She handed it over to him as a peace offering.
“Does it have a file in it?” Lucius inquired hopefully.
“Well no.” Pansy tried to cheer him up. “But it has almond icing.”
Kennedy came into the cell and pulled Pansy out hurriedly. “Come on, Pans, we’re gonna lynch the nastier guards humanely.”
The living room
Faith and Percy’s Townhouse
“This is terrific news, my love!” Percy flicked owl crap off the biggest letter and showed it to Faith.
“Oh, baby!” Faith gushed thrilled reading the letter quickly. “The student revolutionary movement has just citizen arrested the entire corrupt cabinet of the M.O.M and want you to be the new Minister of Magic!”
“Acting until elections happen, let’s not get too excited.” Percy cautioned her. He winked at the new First Lady of the Wizarding British Isles. “Better than a poke in the eye with a burnt stick however, I must bloody say.”
The larks were still bravely singing a morning chorus in the sky as Dawn bravely stepped out of her cell-tent and faced her executioners.
The spell explosions stopped an hour ago and an eerie peace lay over the Bulgarian Front.
“Any last requests?” the Captain in charge of the wand firing squad asked Dawn politely as he tied her to a post.
“A chocolate thick-shake.” Dawn decided promptly.
The Captain waved his wand. “Bovine Confectioness.”
“No cherry on top?” Dawn’s eyes gazed at her last meal on Earth in disappointment. “It’s okay, I’m over it.”
The Captain placed the milkshakes straw between her lips. Dawn slurped down the thick shake to it’s last chocolatey goodness drop.
“Any last words?” The Captain went through the closing rituals automatically.
“The hardest thing in this world is to live in it? The hell with that, you can go bang yourself with your wand.” Dawn spat defiantly. “I didn’t know Viktor Krum was an enemy officer and I so did not pass on military intelligence to him. Which is an oxy moron and so are you.”
“Blindfold time, Sister Summers.” The Captain placed the blindfold brusquely over Dawn’s eyes. There was no call for the witch to be rude, he was just following orders.
“Wait! Wait!” Hermione and Oz came sprinting breathlessly up to the wand firing squad, bearing a piece of official looking documentation.
“What’s that, a pardon?” The Captain asked hopefully. He hadn’t particularly felt like executing a nurse before his morning porridge, he happened to believe Dawn’s protestations of innocence, but chain of command and all that.
“Yes.” Hermione puffed, she and Oz had run as fast as they could all the way from the command tent an anti-magic patch in the frontline made Hermione’s broomstick not work. “It’s from General Flint.”
“General Flint?” The Captain examined the paper more closely.
“New world order, Captain.” Oz untied Dawn from her post.
Buffy had originally just stopped in to give a motivational speech to the latest batch of international trainee slayers, but Giles had persuaded her to have a cup of tea with him.
“God, the Daily Prophet’s changed much?” Buffy read out loud from the front page. “'Page three witch Rosie Boggs explains how nothing comes between her and her broomstick
’. Quality journalism I don’t think. Hey, here’s an interview with Faith. "I think it’s great, Ireland, Wales and Scotland are now independent magical countries because – Celt here. And at the same time Perce can devote more time to English matters – so win win.” The attractive Minister of Magic’s twenty-six year old wife told our interviewer outside her child’s Muggle day care centre. “Uh shift your ass please, pal, kinda in a hurry.” She went on with the sexy candor that has endeared her to all of Magical England
.” Buffy put the paper down. “Oh please, I’m gonna barf.”
“Faith’s PR people are doing a sterling job, they even managed to save her faux pas when she said, Werewolves were alright as long as they didn’t hump your leg.” Giles stirred his tea. “So how is life finding you?”
“Okay, Andrew’s had to move out of our apartment so our marriage can get annulled but Oz has moved in as my new Roomie. He has a cute friend in his Werewolf rights action group. I’ve got a date with him next Saturday.” Buffy flicked through the paper some more. “Robin’s got engaged to a Scottish barmaid from Hogsmeade?”
12th December 2007
The Malfoy Townhouse
Draco threw his latest medal carelessly into the jar where he kept his small change. It could get flushed down the toilet for all he cared, but his mother was proud of it. Over a year and a half of his life wasted in mud, blood and spell-fire and he got a campaign medal and a free scholarship to the magical University of his choice –whoopity do. He only wore it tonight to please Mother.
He threw himself down on his bed and watched Granger getting undressed.
“I still hate you, Malfoy.” Hermione threw off her bra.
“I know. I hate you too.” Draco knew when he took Hermione home from Lavender Brown’s Christmas party this was going to happen again. This would be the third time he and Granger had gone to bed together.
“You’re a cowardly pig and it’s no surprise you’re alive when so many other people bloody aren’t.” Hermione kicked her shoes off and crawled into bed with him.
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Draco put his arms around her.
Hermione clutched him tightly. “I don’t fit in, Mum and Dad try…I never cried once in Bulgaria and now I can’t stop crying every night.”
“So how does Weasley kiss away the tears?” Draco drawled, nibbling on her neck.
“Do you mind not discussing my fiancé when we’re about to have sex?” Hermione ran her fingers through his hair and pulled his head down harder.
“Granger, you’re such an idiot.” Draco mumbled against Hermione’s flesh. “Did you get engaged because everyone is doing it? Never thought you were such a crowd follower.”
24th December 2007
Krum family castle
Hank Summers accepted nervously his glass of mulled wine from one of the Krums serf elves. “Thanks, er Kuche.”
“We never thank the serf elves, Hank.” Mrs Krum explained merrily. “Not slapping them is reward enough. Not that ve can hit them anymore due to the reforms that are now in place. Leave our presence, Kuche you groveling vorm.”
Kuche crawled backwards from the parlor.
“Of course.” Hank met beseeching eyes with his eldest daughter who arrived from Rome an hour ago. “So, Buffy honey, you’re looking well.”
“Thanks Dad, you too.” Buffy wasn’t that close to her father anymore but she and Hank were going to be natural allies this Holiday Season in experiencing the weirdness of Christmas at the Krums.
Dawn and Viktor sat on a velvet couch together holding hands.
“Can I see your engagement ring again, Dawnie?” Buffy asked nicely, she was on speaking terms with Dawn again and held no grudges. Dawn held her left hand out and Buffy re-examined its diamond splendor. “Shiny.”
25th December 2007
“And so I said to her, put ze garlic in ze gravy.” Fleur blew out smoke from Faith’s borrowed cigarette in an agitated cloud. “And she zaid, Fleur dear, zis recipe has been in the Prewett family for centuries. Solstice, Christmas, zis gravy is what goes on ze goose, not foreign muck. And I zaid, oui, centuries of oh so mediocre food. And she zaid, I don’t like your tone. And I zaid, I’m leaving you to eet, Molly.” Fleur took a gulp of Christmas Champagne from the bottle on the table. “Let Angelina and Ginny help Molly cook ze Chreestmas feast. I don’t give a sheet. I bought along ze indigestion tablets for after and I ‘ave spares.”
“I’m surprised it took you so long to get up here quite frankly, girlfriend.” Faith sipped from the bottle in turn and passed it onto Amy.
“So you two hid up here last Christmas, too?” Amy confirmed. She admired the way the women ordered their husbands to look after their kids for the next hour.
“Hell, yeah, it’s gonna become our tradition, huh, Fleur?” Faith stretched out her feet. “And don’t feel bad Molly don’t like you yet, just pop out a red headed brat and she’ll be all over you like a rash. Telling yah what to do, how to do it, what you do wrong.”
“Ah oui.” Fleur reached for the champagne bottle again just thinking about it.
The three Weasley daughter in-laws turned their heads to watch someone else climb up the stairs into the tree house.
“Is this a ladies only thing or can anyone normal join you?” Blaise Zabini requested. He held up a bottle of champagne. “I brought supplies.”
“Pull up a seat.” Amy passed him over the open bottle of champagne. “Arthur on your case?”
The husband of Ginny Weasley shuddered. He was in love with Ginny and their shot-gun marriage brought about by her accidental pregnancy was proving successful, but unholy gods, Ginny’s folks drove him crazy.
“So when’s dinner gonna be ready?” Amy crossed her legs comfortably in her easy chair.
“Who the hell knows?” Blaise put his head behind his hands. “Draco Malfoy just showed up and there’s a big drama taking place in Arthur’s study between Hermione, Ron and him.” Apparently Bill informed him quietly, big dramas were a normal Weasley occurrence.
“Draco?” Faith spluttered in surprise. “What the hell does he want?”
“I repeat, what I want, Weasley, is for Granger to just come to her bloody senses and break off this ridiculous engagement to you.” A split lipped Draco plunged his hands in his pockets. A moaning sound caught his attention. “What the hell’s that?”
“Family bogle.” Ron explained shortly, a trickle of blood ran out of his nose and he staunched it with a tissue.
“You have one? That bogle must be scraping the bottom of the barrel haunting your twee hovel. Why hasn’t Faith staked it?” Draco was quite distracted for a minute at the thought.
“She tried to once, but Perce stopped her in time.” Ron recalled the unfortunate incident that almost ruined a family meal. “In any case, where do you get off, coming here uninvited and telling Hermione to break up with me? The only reason I’m not continuing to punch your teeth down your throat is because Hermione’s begged me not to.”
“I don’t need males fighting over me like cavemen.” Hermione hissed her hair was fallen out of her bun in her physical efforts to break up Ron and Draco’s scuffling brawl.
“I’m not fighting over you, Granger, don’t be a twit. I don’t bloody want you.” Draco contradicted her immediately. “But does Weasley know you spent the night with me in bed last week?”
“You’re such a pig!” Hermione screamed in outrage. Why did Draco have to tell Ron that?
“You did what?!” Ron breathed stunned betrayed. “Hermione, how could you?”
“I wasn’t in my right mind at the time.” Hermione sniffed coldly.
“You never are, are you? She’s done it more than once.” Draco informed Ron quickly.
“Only twice, and that time in the troop train coming back to England this November doesn’t count, because I was extremely drunk and it could easily have been Crabbe or Osbourne instead of you.” Hermione declared vehemently, ignoring Ron’s gasp of shock.
“Oh if you say so.” Draco scoffed.
“We’re going home.” Hermione emerged from the study with a tear streaked face and informed her parents who were sitting in the living room with Arthur and the Weasley sons.
“What’s wrong?” Mrs. Granger demanded.
“The engagement’s off. So I know you’ll be thrilled, Mum.” Hermione’s body shook with sobs. “I’ll wait in the car. Thank god we came up in it.”
Hermione ran out through the living room, down the hall and out the front door. She reached her father's car and tried the rear door.
Her father had locked it of course. She took out her wand. “Entrus.” Hermione sat in the back seat taking gulping breaths trying to calm down.
Draco knocked on the window.
Hermione wound it down. “Rack off! Haven’t you done enough bloody damage?”
“Granger, I had to do it.” Draco leaned in through the window. “You couldn’t marry Weasley, live out your life as some district healer, having his meal ready on time as he came back from his job arresting people he doesn’t like the look of.”
“Ron was safe, he loves me, I just wanted a quiet life, do you hear?” Hermione screamed at him in fury. “You’ve just ruined everything!”
“Granger, you’re meant to set the world on fire.” Draco groaned in annoyance, opening the door and pushing his way in to sit beside her. “You’re meant to change things that are quite nice as they are actually in your meddling priggish way. Are the wretched house elves completely free yet? No they’re not, that’s the …”
“What do you care, how is that your business what I do?” Hermione interrupted him.
“Because Nott made it my damn business didn’t he?” Draco whispered haunted. “He lay dying in my arms, in Bulgarian mud, his intestines hanging half out of him and made me swear an unbreakable vow that I’d always look out for you.”
“And you made it?” Hermione stopped crying and looked at him in amazement.
“Well I thought I’d bloody die in a second myself.” Draco whined petulantly. “But I didn’t, did I? So I’ve had to keep watching out for you, saving your silly life, preventing you getting arrested for insurrection and now stopping you throw your life away by marrying that cretin Weasley.”
“My god, it all makes sense.” Hermione whipped her head up. “I don’t believe having sex with me fell into the category of looking out for me.”
“Rogering you? No, of course not I was just availing myself of the opportunity to get my leg over.” Draco shrugged. “At least I was getting some benefit out of being noble.”
Hermione punched him in the arm. “You’re a complete pig.”
“Yes, I know you keep telling me that and it is getting so bloody boring, Granger.” Draco rubbed his arm. “Anyway, I’m heading back home. Kennedy’s cooking Christmas dinner for me, Mother, Giles and Pansy and its turkey apparently with cranberry sauce.” He could never believe how his Mother embraced these naff Muggle customs with gusto these days and Draco was going to have to be polite to her Muggle boyfriend. Women.
“Sound’s yummy. I’ve ruined Mum and Dad’s Christmas dinner, nowhere’s open, not even McDonalds.” Hermione fretted.
“Call yourself a witch, Granger?” Draco chided her. “Buy a can of baked beans at a Muggle Petrol Station and transfigure it.”
“I suppose.” Hermione kissed him on the cheek affectionately. “Merry Christmas, Draco.”
Draco got out of the car and picked up his broomstick he’d leaned on the bonnet. He prepared for the long cold flight back to London. “Seasons Greetings to you too, Hermione.”
AN:Many, many thanks to all who reviewed and recced.