Purely Mudblood (Dramione FanFic)

McGonagall's Office

"Sit down." The wrinkles in Minerva McGonagall's face were slightly deeper, the only sign of worry on her entire body. Shoulders pulled back and nose still a bit upturned, she asked aloud, "What the hell is happening?"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco all exchanged glances. Draco's face was no longer tear-stained, but the fear still loomed bright in his colorless eyes. Hermione wanted to place her hand on him, to soothe him, but she could feel the weight of McGonagall's watchful eye.

Ron cleared his throat and began, "Well, Hermione and Draco began talking to each other, what would you say?" He turned to his peers. "Two weeks ago? And that's all fine and dandy of course, but who the hell would've guessed it? Draco's nose is still a bit crooked from when she punched him in the face. But the next thing I know they're all over each other, snogging and whatnot--"

"I meant with Chamomile, Weasley."

Ron murmured something along the lines of, "The question was a tad unclear," as the color of his face deepened to match the pigment of his hair. 

"You see, Headmaster, we don't know what happened," Hermione interjected. "We think it might be the same creatures as before, and that she'd be in the same place she was kept last time. But we told you about that, and I'm sure you had someone check the old dungeon."

The three boys all turned to Hermione, confused.

"Well one of us had to report it to a professor. And since none of you did it, I visited McGonagall myself."

"Slipped my mind, honestly."

"It was the last thing I was thinking of."

"I don't even bloody know the girl!"

"Silence!" McGonagall urged, taking a seat behind her ornate desk, the very one both Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape had sat at, all within the past two years. She rubbed her temples and very softly uttered, "It's always you three." 

"Four," Hermione corrected. "There's four of us now."

"Respectively, I don't give a damn about that part, Miss Granger." McGonagall erected her posture, returning to her normal, foreboding stance. "Right now my biggest concern is that an eleven-year-old was just kidnapped by some mysterious creatures, and no one has the faintest idea of what they are or how we can save Chamomile."

There was a very tense, very silent moment, until Harry spoke. "Prof-- er, Headmaster?"

McGonagall looked up, eyes urging him on. 

"You know Hagrid's dog?"

"I do."

"Well, his name is Fang, and he's a bloodhound, and--"

McGonagall sighed. "I really thought you had something important to say, Potter. If all you want to do is talk pooches, then--"

"No, no, I think this might help," Harry insisted. "What I was getting to is that he's an excellent finder. You give him a bit of Cammie's scent, like her worn clothes. And if she's still on the Hogwarts grounds, like she was last time, he can find her."

"But how," McGonagall started, "Do we know these monsters haven't made themselves Untraceable? I'm sure that would affect Fang's nose."

Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure, Headmaster. But I think it's worth a shot."

McGonagall sighed for the ump-teenth time this meeting. "I suppose you're right," she admitted. "Go get Hagrid."