Dear Mr. Potter

Chapter Eight

Hermione rushed her two friends away and up the stairs. She refused to answer any of their angry questions until they were safe and alone. Ignoring their housemates' eager looks and quizzing, they finally made it to the boys room. Hermione shut and spelled the door locked.

"Ok Hermione," Ron said angrily. "What the hell is going on!"

Hermione sat heavily onto one of the beds and the boys came to stand in front of her, mirroring each other's angry stances with crossed arms.

"Don't look at me like that! I'm not the enemy."

Harry took a deep calming breath and sat down on the opposite bed. Ron was still too distressed to sit, but Harry was making a considerable effort to not allow his friend's pacing to rattle him further.

"Ok," Hermione began after regaining her own composure. "I tried to tell you before Malfoy, Draco that is, came in." She took a deep breath. "I know why he called you Subicio."

"Why?"

"Because, I think, well no, I know you are one."

"What?" Ron shouted.

"Harry is an Indago, Ron. Specifically, a Subicio." She turned to look at a stunned Harry and began explaining quickly. "Indago produce pheromones, a scent that only other Indago can smell. Other than physical characteristics, this is the most definitive way in which Indago identify each other. Draco must be a Supero, Harry, and he was able to smell that you were a Subicio. That is why he called you that. That is why you became enthralled with him."

"Why?" Harry asked sharply.

"Because of the pheromones. Draco also has a scent that only you can smell. Subicios become docile and compliant when they are around Superos because of the scent. It makes them easier to, um..." Hermione trailed off, a blush coloring her cheeks.

"What? Makes them easier to what, Hermione?" Harry was starting to lose his calm.

"To mate with," she said with a wince.

"Oh, bloody hell," Ron moaned. "That is just too much, Hermione. No way. You're wrong. I know you're never wrong. But on this one you're wrong."

Before Hermione could answer that accusation there was a knock on the door and Professor McGonagall's voice was heard.

"Will the three of you please come with me."

Hermione jumped to open the door. Professor McGonagall stood in the doorway with her lips pursed. It was obvious that she was angry.

"Come along, they are waiting."

The three friends followed her quietly back down the stairs, past their still questioning housemates and to the Great Hall. Harry felt as if he were in a dream, as if he were watching his life through a television screen. He couldn't understand what was happening. It couldn't involve him. He had done his job, he had saved the wizarding world at great personal risk. He had done all that was asked of him, lost so many things he could never get back. It was his turn now. He had a future to pick out. It was supposed to be only his decisions affecting his life now, no one else's. Therefore the drama that was playing out couldn't have anything to do with him.

The Great Hall doors opened and the four of them went in.