So. Here it is- another story from Damian Cross. It's a work in progress, so hopefully (fingers crossed) I'll finish it! It's in a different style than what I've done before, I think. The characters are different. I've thought long and hard about my new Hermione and Draco, and thought that, well, I've written about bittersweet star-crossed lovers with war and all those gory details (Draco and Hermione), and bitchy manipulative Hermione, and annoying bully Malfoy (Cynic), anti-social Hermione and misunderstood celebrity Draco (Muggle Studies), and a Hermione who was slowly going insane (Truth of Time), and thought. Hm. What's next?
Then that lightbulb went click! And I thought- well, what about a sarcastic, mean Hermione? A teenaged girl who thinks she knows everything, but really doesn't? One that wasn't going insane, exactly, but has her issues. And, to her horror, a fun-loving Draco, who hits on all the girls (including Hermione-sometimes) and thinks he owns the world (and the ladies in it), but really doesn't?
And what if they attended a muggle university together? Living together? All the while juggling club events, teen drama, and-oh my god- muggle technology?
What if, as opposed to all the Dramione's out there, they don't get together as a couple? What if they became something more meaningful, like SPOILER ALERT, became best friends who share with each other everything? This is just a warning to all those wanting a fluffy romance. You'll get that, but not between Draco and Hermione. Instead you'll find them falling into a heartwarming friendship, forming a bond that no boyfriend or girlfriend could ever give them. Because let's face it- it's so much more fun when they can complain about the opposite gender to each other, and discuss dating techniques while breaking out beers or ice cream and sobbing over failed relationships or having the other hold your hair back while you barf after too many drinks. Or giving the 'I'm the best friend and if you break their heart, I'll effing break your bones and make a stew out of it' talk. Fun, right?
That's why, to not mislead people coming to read romance between them, I put the genre as general/drama instead of romance. And also why I'm warning you right now.
So that was a long author's note. Almost a chapter. Haha. Sorry. On with the story!
Oh, and review please -insert puppy dog eyes-
Before It All Began
Location: Ministry of Magic- Auror Department
Time: 10.36 am, two weeks before departure.
"Well?"
I flinched, but mustered enough of my dwindling supply of self control and raised my head instead of my wand.
There were four of them: Kingsley, with his signature gold earring, McGonagall and her perpetual furrowed brow, Graham, the newly appointed twitchy Warden, and Harry, who had the grace to look ashamed of himself. The "Big Four" who held authority when it came to matters of Azkaban and Hermione Granger, all seated behind a nice, oak table while I had to make do standing.
"Well?" I repeated, managing to sound both condescending and polite at the same time, "Well what do you think I feel about this?"
"Hermione…" Kingsley urged, "Please, we need you to do this."
I turned to Harry. "Are there no Aurors left?" I accused, "Yesterday there was a whole department of wizards and witches skipping about, and suddenly when work comes along, you dump it all on me?"
Harry mumbled something, his face scarlet.
"What?" I barked.
"We needed volunteers. And nobody volunteered."
"Well, neither did I! Does this-" I gestured in the region of my furious face, "scream out 'Oh, pick me! Pick me, please'?"
McGonagall sighed, and I forced myself to calm down. I tried to remember that essay I had read just last night, titled: How To Win Every Debate. Step One, I thought, reading the floating words in my mind, always remain in control of your emotions.
Oh.
Never mind then.
"I thought you were positively ecstatic with the opportunity?" My old Transfiguration professor prodded. Her eyebrows, if possible, drew further towards each other. You could hold a piece of paper with that crease.
"I was, when I thought I was going alone."
"This is a very delicate and important experiment," Graham squeaked, his voice a complete mismatch with his six feel tall muscular frame and failed mustache. "The inmate has been carefully chosen under a strict process. If this is a success, then perhaps the East Wing of Azkaban will no longer be needed."
I began to pace. "Do you know what this feels like?" I asked, "I feel like you just kicked me in the stomach-actually, no, I'll probably prefer that right now. No, it feels like you promised me a cookie and dangled it front of me until I'm drooling about the chocolate chip goodness, and finally, when you do give me a cookie, it turns out to be filled with raisins instead. Raisins." I emphasized.
Harry looked amused, "Draco Malfoy is a raisin?"
"He is the enemy," I spitted out, "of a chocolate chip fanatic."
Kingsley sighed. "I have another meeting to attend," he announced, effectively dismissing us all. "Please, do give it some more consideration."
"Of course," I said sweetly, "And after a deliberating amount of consideration, I have decided to accept."
Graham dropped his jaw. "Really?"
"Really," I said, "but only if you are willing to provide compensation."
Kingsley turned to McGonagall, who hadn't budged an inch. "You taught her too well," he told her crossly. "Now look what you've done!"
"I apologize," Minerva said, deadpanned. But her twinkling, mischievous eyes betrayed her.
"Fine. Give me a copy of your terms before six today," He swept out of the conference room, followed by a bouncing Graham, and, after a stiff nod, by McGonagall.
"Oh, shut up," I snapped at Harry, who was snickering.
"I expect updates," he looked at something wonderful and far away, "The Account of How Granger and The Ferret Drove Each Other To The Loony Bin. Bestseller, I guarantee you. Can I have an autograph, pretty-please?"
I smacked the quill in his hand away, "Quite the actor, aren't you? Mr. I'm-Here-To-Support-My-Friend-But-Really-Here-To-Watch-The-Show?"
Harry winked, "Right on, Granger, right on the mark. Now please get out, Ron and the other Aurors have planned a little 'I GOT OUT OF IT' party here in ten minutes. We appreciate your participation, and solemnly congratulate you on your promotion."
He propelled me out of the room, and I slammed the door shut before he could. Petty, perhaps, but oh it felt so good.
The euphoria of my short-lived victory lasted only about a millisecond before I stomped away and apparated. My first condition, I decided, was that my apartment had to be a five-star quality. Six stars, if possible. Complete with surround-sound, a gigantic bathtub, beanbags, and all the albums of my favorite bands.
I frowned. I needed something more petulant than that. Something that would make Harry go on a wild chasing frenzy.
Something…evil.
Oh, the possibilities!
Location: Azkaban- East Wing (Where offenders accused of violence to muggles are kept)
Time: 3.06 pm, two weeks before departure.
The first thing I saw when I turned around the corner, was the sign "Raisins, anyone?" painted in bold, red paint and hanging in full view of all the other inmates.
I tore it down, scowling.
"Malfoy!" I yelled, "Get out here now!"
"Kind of difficult, you see, seeing as I'm locked up."
I whirled around, and miscalculated the energy needed. I ended up turning about ninety degrees too far. I quickly reoriented myself. Our eyes met.
For a moment, words failed me. This is that arrogant bastard that attacked the poor muggle girl? Him? I could barely recognize the scrawny, hairy, painfully malnourished boy as the almighty Draco Malfoy who once bounced healthily across the pavement as an adorable ferret.
"Merlin's Pants!" He exclaimed, pointing at me. I looked around, thinking that a prisoner had broken out from behind me. There was nobody. I turned back.
"What?" I asked, not really sure how to speak to him. How do you talk to a person who bullied you all throughout school, tried to murder your favorite headmaster, and then broke down sobbing in a girls' bathroom? He looked incapable of even standing.
"You've gone seriously fat!"
Then he fell about, clutching his stomach as he laughed madly.
Any sympathy I had evaporated. It condensed into pure, crystalized fury.
"I. Am. Not. Fat!" I screeched, startling his neighbor who had been snoring peacefully. "I am so sorry for not being a size zero stick on heels!"
"You and me both, Granger, you and me both."
"Er, so…" Graham suddenly loomed above me. "I see I don't have to make introductions."
"What?" I sounded taken aback, "but…but… are you saying that this little boy whose life ambition is to follow in the footsteps of a pygmy puff is the Draco Malfoy Extraordinaire?"
Malfoy snarled. "What did you call me?"
I cupped my mouth and said, very slowly and loudly, "I CALLED YOU A CUDDLY PET, YOU KNOW, LIKE A FERRET?"
He snapped, and sprung to his feet. Oh, so he could stand. Good.
"At least my mother didn't mate with a mountain troll," he hissed, his voice dripping with poisoned sugar.
I feigned hurt, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know your father had an affair. Is that why you're so mean to me? Because I got the better end of the genes?"
"Stop sprouting nonsense," he said, scowling. He tapped on his neighbors shoulder through the bars, "Hey, what are genes?"
"Pants," he mumbled, and rolled over snoring.
I snickered. Perhaps agreeing to take Malfoy was the perfect plan. My counselor had said I needed a form of stress release.
"Moving along," Graham jumped in hastily, "Malfoy has been doing homework, so he shouldn't have too many problems adjusting to his new life. Today was just so you two could meet, but obviously…"
I tried to look ashamed.
"Draco, you're getting out today, but don't mess up or it's another life sentence tagged on." Keys jangled loudly as the warden unlocked the door. No magic allowed in the East Wing.
Malfoy stretched, exposing a small bit of stomach that I never wanted to see again. Although I wouldn't mind seeing Graham's- the man must work out eight hours a day to maintain his figure. Da-amn.
"Too old for you," Malfoy retorted, smirking.
My cheeks flushed as I realized my covert sneaking glance wasn't so covert after all. "Shove it up where you came from," I shot back.
"Be nice," Graham ordered, and marched the both of us to his office. It would have worked if he didn't squeak so much. If only he had Morgan Freeman's voice and shaved off that puny stab of hair he called a mustache. One fine male specimen for order, madam and mademoiselle, do I hear thirty galleons?
The door swung shut behind us, and Graham gestured for us to sit down. I quickly snagged the one with a cushion on it. Malfoy had to make do with the one they use to interrogate prisoners.
Granger: One, Malfoy: Nil, I thought, quite pleased with my head start.
Graham handed us identical looking folders. "Passport, School I.D. card, birth certificate, references of past apartments you've rented, letter of admission, transcripts of grades from the schools you were in, amongst other forged important documents."
I was quite impressed. "How did you manage it all?" I asked.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Magic, duh," Malfoy answered for him. "Are you sure she's qualified as a witch?"
"Every bit as much as you quality for the bouncing animal show," I said, just as sweetly.
We glared at each other.
"So, Mr. Potter will organize transportation and living arrangements for you both. He will meet you here next week to give to you your tickets, keys, and bank cards."
Malfoy rubbed his hands together in glee, "Money I can use!" He punched the air.
"Granger is in charge of expenses," Graham announced.
I so, so, so very much enjoyed the look of utter disbelief and dawning horror on his face. Yes, that pose-perfect! Click-click, flash! Now turn a little bit more to your left, please, gotta capture the whole expression!
"Don't worry," I assured him, "Mummy will give you lunch money."
"Hey, Warden Graham," Malfoy said, cranking up his charm, "if I get a job, will I be able to use that money without Granger's interference?"
Graham visibly relaxed, falling under his spell, "Well, of course-you earned it, after all. But you still must report to Granger your whereabouts."
"I'm getting stalked?!"
"You are not a free man, Draco Malfoy," Graham said, sternly, "if you escape or do not follow Granger's orders, you will be thrown back here and left to rot."
God, I loved the man.
"Malfoy, I suggest you review what you've learned in these past few weeks and commit it all to memory. The muggles must not suspect that you are a wizard."
"Study," For some reason, Malfoy seemed especially eager, "Of course, right away."
"What have you been learning?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"Social Norms of the Muggle, and Their Habitat," He answered seriously, "It's like learning about an entirely different species."
"That's a load of utter rats' ass," I sighed, "Muggles live in houses, just like how we do. Duh."
He waggled a finger at me. "Perhaps, my dear mountain troll stalker, perhaps. But the question we must ask is: how is the house operated? How do they survive without house-elves?"
"Easy," I scowled, "They do the housework themselves instead of sitting high and mighty in their play-pen."
"Lay off my play-pen, Granger," he warned, "I only just re-decorated."
"So, everything is probably obsolete, then?" I said innocently, "with you being in prison for the last year or so."
"You know that ugly, big, gaping hole you call a mouth? Yeah-shut it."
Ooh, I touched a nerve there. What fun!
Graham sighed. "Dismissed," he said, and pointed out the door, "the both of you."
We rose and walked out. As the door started to close, I heard Graham mutter, "are they honestly eighteen? Acting like a couple of children, the both of them!"
"Never underestimate the wisdom of children," Malfoy said seriously, "adios, my fellow ex-and soon to be not ex-school mate." He stuffed his hands in his pant's pocket and wandered away to the exit.
Funny, I thought, standing stock still. That was what I was going to say.
Location: Azkaban- Leon Graham's Office
Time: 2.59 pm, one week before departure
"HERMIONE!"
I plastered on my best innocent smile, "Oh, hello there Harry. Pleasant day?"
He scowled, "No thanks to you. What. The. Hell?" He shook out my list violently. He was so annoyed his glasses were all foggy. He pushed it up with a sweaty finger, and read the first line. "A rubber duck with the face of Popeye, complete with a cigar and smoking spinach. Must be water proof and can withstand high temperatures."
"Preferably with his kick-ass tattoo," I added.
"And then-" his glasses slipped again, and he huffed angrily, "a cat-sized room that faces west, with a window seat where Crookshanks can enjoy the setting sun. Must have a playground and sound-proof walls so he can listen to cat-soothing music."
"Vital," I snapped my fingers, "Oh, and I forgot to add that Crookshanks must travel with me on the plane. First Class, with caviar and fur grooming kit provided."
"You are being a total brat, you know that, right?"
"That's the plan, my dear friend, that's the plan." I patted him on the shoulder. "How'd that party go, by the way?" I continued walking without stopping to hear his response. "Good day to you, too!"
"Since you can't see me," Harry yelled, "I'd like you to know that I'm giving you the V sign right now!"
I waved as a response and whistled down the hallway. Ah, sweet, sweet revenge.
"Trouble in Potter-dise?" Malfoy's sneaky little voice slithered from inside Graham's office. "What's the problem? Did he finally ditch you for Weasel?"
"He wishes," I said, sitting down next to him, "But I'm too pretty and irresistible."
Malfoy choked on his butter beer. "Please tell me you don't believe in that delusion."
"It's time to you reacquainted yourself with the Outside, Malfoy. I got seven invitations for Valentines."
He snorted, "Yeah, and, which one isn't related to you?"
How did he know?
"One of my cousins is adopted," I said stiffly. "And we had a lovely time, I'll have you know. Chocolate, flowers, good music…the works."
"Corrupting children is frowned upon in our society," Malfoy leaned over and curled a strand of my hair around his fingers. "Honestly, do you ever use conditioner?"
"My hair is none of your concern," I leaned away, wincing as my hair was pulled.
"Relax, sweetheart," he grinned, "today I'm a new and free man. The ladies will be fighting to get with this." He actually had the audacity to wink at me while puffing his chest out at the same time. Ugh!
The door banged open, and Harry strode in with a hefty package cradled in his arms. He tossed it onto the desk, and immediately Malfoy lunged to grab it.
Turning it upside down, out dropped a key and two airplane tickets. Malfoy frowned. "That's it?"
"Enjoy. See you two in a year's time." Harry spun on his heels and stomped back out.
"W-wait!" I called out, "Why is there only one key?"
My best friend face split into a giant cheshire grin. "Why?" He asked, "well, why not?"
"YOU BASTARD!" Malfoy and I shouted in unison.
Harry answered by slamming the door shut in our faces.
"I sure hope the walls are thick," Malfoy winked suggestively at me, "I like my girls loud."
"Go tell it to someone who cares," I retorted, and snatched the package from him. "We leave in a week. Don't be late."
"How am I supposed to get to the airport?"
I shrugged, "your problem."
"So you're just going to leave me here? Oh, honey, please don't do that to me!" He feigned puppy dog eyes. "I'll make it worth your while, promise."
"Seriously?" I yelled, my patience worn paper thin, "You insult me, my looks, and my parentage, and then you start flirting and being a total perverted creep? God! Make up your mind!"
He opened his mouth.
"-You know what? I don't want to know." I stood up. "I have more important things to do than to sit around looking at a homeless santa. Shave, for Merlin's sake!"
"Like talking to a clipboard?" Malfoy slipped in smoothly.
I froze. "What are you talking about?" Oh no, don't tell me he knows! Please, please, please-
"Don't give me that poor, innocent look, Chipmunk, you know exactly what I'm talking about. What caused it? Weasel dumping you for that tasty morsel of Lavender? Or was it because your one true love was locked up in prison? I'm free any day, baby, just a Facebook status away."
I don't know what stunned me. The fact that he knew at least part of the truth, or that he actually knew what Facebook was.
"Social networking site," he supplied, rather unhelpfully. "Honestly, and you call yourself a muggle."
"Muggle-born," I corrected. I grabbed the doorknob and wrenched the door open.
I nearly made it out before his slimy little voice whispered, "tell your fellow lunatic friends I said hi."
It took every ounce of control to not hurl him into the wall. He snickered.
"Until next week, my dear unattractive pet! I know you can't wait!"
I slammed the door.
Location: Dr. Hopkins Office.
Time: 3.35pm, one week before departure.
I paced along the length of the rug, fuming. "He called me a lunatic!" I yelled, flinging my arms in frustration. "That stupid, dumb, idiotic, foolish-"
"-Same thing," Dr. Hopkins murmured.
"-Pretentious, manipulative creep! How dare he talk to me like that? And to think that I have to spend an entire year with him! A year! I thought it was bad enough to look at his face for several hours a day, but no! My dear, now-ex-best friend goes and decide to make us live together! He thinks it's funny! Ha! Funny! Well, I'm not laughing. How is it hilarious? God! And that red-headed twin of his! Rolled around my carpet-my carpet- clutching his stomach like it's the funniest thing he's ever heard! Well, I'll give him something to roll around for-"
"-Hermione, please, sit down." The petite woman pointed at the couch. "Sit."
I sat, glaring.
"Have you done what I asked for?" She peered at me over her clipboard. Damn Malfoy for being right.
"I'm nearly there," I mumbled, looking at my knees. "I'll do it, honest. I'm just really busy right now and-"
"-It is extremely important," she stressed, "that you find yourself a proper outlet before your energies are directed into inappropriate actions."
"I know," I sighed, "I'll find one."
"And, just so you know, hunched over a book isn't a good idea."
"What? Why?"
"You can't express yourself by reading. Maybe if you wrote-?"
I snorted. "Yeah, writing. And what am I going to write? 'Dear diary, today I expected chocolate chip and got ferret flavor instead.' Ooh, exciting!"
Dr. Hopkins looked at the wall behind me. Hanging from it was a little frame, the words, "Third Rule: No Sarcasm Allowed." was stitched evenly in bright blue thread. I wanted to grab a pair of scissors and rip the entire thing to pieces, scissors be damned. Happy, peaceful thoughts, Hermione, no violent fantasies in Dr. Hopkins office!
"How about music?"
"I like songs," I said, "but if reading is a no-no, then I suppose listening is too."
"You don't like singing?"
I laughed, "Have you even heard me sing before? Oh wait, you're still alive; of course you haven't."
Dr Hopkins looked amused. "I must say," she said slowly, as if thinking whether she should carry on, or abort immediately, "that the person your teachers described is very different to the girl in front of me."
I snorted. "I should think so. Miss I've-never-been-tortured-before is history. Did you know that I'm considered a miracle? That I was subjected to hours of torture, and got off only with a mild personality change? That there are people out there-" I nodded at the photo of the Longbottoms blinking on her desk, "who lose their entire minds?"
"It is all very admirable," she said, rather drily, "but, permit me to say this, they at least are trying their best to regain their sanity. You, on the other hand, seem to be rather enjoying your newfound bluntness. Others might say you use the torture as an excuse to put people down."
"Well then," I said, as politely as possible, "you can tell others that they're delusional, and should perhaps book an appointment with you."
"Duly noted," and she scribbled something down on that infernal clipboard of hers. I could almost imagine what she's writing: Patient is extremely insane. Prescribe medication immediately. And remember to pick up the Daily Prophet on the way home.
Her wand emitted a faint whistling noise. She put the clipboard away. "It seems our time is up, Hermione. Now, I understand that you will be going overseas?"
"An entire year," I said, with absolute relish.
"Well, then, we should continue our session next week."
I choked, "what? Did you not understand yourself woman? I'll be away. As in, out of the country. As in, not seeing your cardboard cut-out face for an entire year!"
"I don't see why that matters," the doctor crossed her legs with an elegance of a smug cat. No offense, Crookshanks, I thought hastily.
"There's going to be oceans between us," I pointed out, "I can't just fly in here whenever I like."
"You'll be going to a muggle university, correct? An entire year without wands, magic, or contact with the wizarding community, except in emergencies?"
I threw up my hands, "At last!" I exclaimed, "The doctor understands!"
And then, to my utter surprise and horror, she ducked underneath her desk and pulled out a very ordinary laptop. It was even a macbook pro. Maybe I should become a psychiatrist; the Ministry issued me with an ancient Acer Aspire 57372 that took up a whole heap of space and precious weight. How much did the Ministry pay for my sessions? A fairy ransom?
She opened it and pointed out the webcam to me. "Skype," she said, clearly and slowly. "It's an-"
"-I know what it is!" I half-screamed, "I am a muggle-born!"
"Well, it's settled then. Next week, same time, right after you settle in. How's Tuesday? Good? Excellent. See you then." Then she basically pushed me out her door.
It wasn't until I dumped my handbag on the sofa at home, did I think: How will she manage to connect to the internet? Stroll into a McDonalds on Main Street? Break into a muggle home?
Location: Hermione's flat, London.
Time: 10.58pm, the day before departure
Giggle. Giggle. Chortle. Giggle.
"SHUT THE HELL UP!" I screamed, throwing my pillow at the wall. It probably wasn't the most effective thing to make a resounding crash, but it did make me feel better, even if I had to crawl out of bed and pick it up again.
"Sorry, Hermione!" Ron's muffled voice shouted. "I thought-"
"-Exactly!" I yelled, "You thought! You should never think! You're Ronald Weasley, for Merlin's sake!"
"God, harsh much?" Lavender's voice mumbled. Loudly. "Let's go to my place. And why are the walls so thin?"
"The workers scamped on this place," Ron sighed. I heard the door open, and footsteps on the wooden floorboards as they walked into the hallway. Keys jangled and the lock turned.
"If she's such a jumpy sleeper, then why doesn't she put up a sound-proof spell?"
"Because," I replied, my temper on a very short fuse, "my wand is with Kingsley at the moment, or else I damn would have!"
"Oh right," Lavender breezed, "going on that trip into mugglehood, aren't you?"
"Thank the heavens," I mumbled into my blanket.
"Don't forget your party tomorrow!" Ron called out.
They left at last, Lavender giggling down the entire length of the way from Ron's flat to the staircase. I'm so glad that Ron left me for her; she made me realize what a fool I was to have fallen for such an idiot man-child. Our break up made the front page of Witch Weekly, I never told them that the 'anonymous good friend' who spilled the beans was actually me.
I rolled over and stared at my alarm clock, my mind hovering over the memories I had tried to bury. As the seconds went by, one by one they resurfaced in rhythm to the tick-tock of the clock, taunting and skipping, and refusing to go away.
"What the hell happened to you?" Harry shouted, his glasses askew and face prune red, "you weren't like this before! How could say that to Ginny?"
"That she's an absolute coward in the face of confrontation? I was just telling the truth, Harry. She needs to know."
"I want you," he said, very coldly, "to go away. Now. And don't come back until you're ready to apologize."
Why? I had wondered, why should I admit I was wrong, when in fact I wasn't? Why?
I watched as the man I thought was my best friend vanish into thin air. Two friends in one day. Gone. What was wrong with them? Why can't they accept the truth?
Another memory. Ron.
"I just can't," he mumbled, face buried in his hands, "I can't pretend I love you anymore. I thought I did- actually, I think I really did love you. But not the you now, the you before. What happened, Hermione? Why are you like this?"
"Nothing happened!" I snapped, "this is me! Me, me, me, me! If you can't accept that, then perhaps it is best that we just remain as friends."
He looked up. "Friends, Hermione? Do friends put each other down? Do friends gossip and insult each other? I don't think we're very good friends."
I felt cold all over. "What are you implying?" I asked, but knowing and dreading the answer.
"I think," he licked his lips, "that I can't be friends with you anymore. It's just too difficult."
Three friends in one day.
My head hurt. I reached over and gulped down the glass of water on my bedside table. Breathed in and out, in and out. Trying to clear my mind. But they just kept on coming, piling onto each other, tumbling out of that room I had tried to lock up.
"Do you know why you're here?" Kingsley looked at me, pity in his eyes.
"No," I said, hating the way he spoke down to me like I was a naughty child. "Why?"
"I have been informed that-" He sighed, "that you're...different."
"Why is everybody saying that?" I shouted, struggling to suppress the urge to throw my chair into the wall, "I'm not different! I'm the same! It's everybody else that's changed!"
"Hermione, please, lower your voice."
I sat down, inhaling and exhaling as deeply as possible.
"I've made an appointment for you at St Mungo's-"
"-There's absolutely nothing wrong with me!" I protested, "Go send the others!"
"Hermione," his stern, quiet voice cuts into me like a knife in butter, "It's mandatory you attend."
"I'm not going. I'm not mad."
"I'm not saying you're mad, just-coping."
I stared. He met my furious eyes calmly. "Harry and Ron are very worried about you, and so is Ginny. They believe-"
"-They don't know me!" I exploded, "They don't know anything about me! They are-"
"-Your best friends. They know, they just don't understand."
"-Ex best friends," I sneered, "your information is a tad outdated."
He pushed a piece of parchment towards me. It's a referral letter, and a request that he be notified of the results immediately. Like I'm a nut-case that needs to be monitored twenty-four seven.
"This afternoon at three o'clock. Don't be late." He turned back to the stack of papers on his desk.
I'm dismissed.
On the other side of the wall, I heard Harry returning home from work. He sighed tiredly, and turned on the faucet. For once, I'm glad about the thin walls.
I fell into an uneasy slumber, the sound of running water washed away my nightmares.
Location: Ron's flat, London.
Time: 9.26 am, the day of departure.
I scowled. "Really?" I accused, "lanterns?"
"Hey!" Ginny protested, "they're pretty!"
"I'm not going to Asia. Though I suppose they are nice."
Ginny beamed. "I spent the entire week planning this. I hope you like your Bon Voyage party."
"It's fantastic," I said, though I think she missed the sarcasm in my voice.
The party started an hour ago, and nearly everybody I knew had come to say goodbye. There was music (the horrible Weird Sisters) blaring through the radio, and the food was made by Molly, though most was already gone before I had arrived. Lanterns in all sorts of colors floated mid-air, giving Ron's grungy flat an almost refined atmosphere, in spite of the fire whisky bottles scattered around the floor. Everybody had came over to my little corner and said they will miss me, but I caught the guarded look in their eyes. I pretended to be all pleasant and smothered my reproach with smiles, and they grinned back, relieved that the sessions were working.
Harry came over, bottle of butter beer in one hand, and wrapped the other arm around Ginny. "My two favorite girls," he said, and took a swig.
"Women," Ginny corrected. Then she frowned at him, "and what's this about putting Malfoy and her in the same apartment?"
Harry looked slightly ashamed of himself. Slightly. "Budget cuts," he shrugged, as if in apology.
"So I can't take Crookshanks?" I asked, "No cat-sized room that faces west?"
"And no Popeye rubber duck," he said, sounding absolutely delighted while maintaining an apologetic expression, "or surround-sound. Though I think I managed to get you headphones."
"Gee, what would I do without you?" I said. Again, the sarcasm flew above their heads. Harry grinned at me.
"I told Ginny chocolate chip cookies only," he supplied. "No raisins. No Malfoy, either." Was he expecting a pat on the back for a job well done?
Ron, with his hands entwined with Lavender's stumbled into me. "Oh Merlin-sorry, Hermione. Bloody hangover-you know how it is."
Ginny hid a smile behind her bottle. She knew that I've never gotten drunk before.
"Oh, yes," I said, rather smoothly. "I'm sorry about last night by the way. I needed my sleep."
He waved a hand, "we were too loud. Should have thought to put up a spell. Anyway, Lav volunteered to take care of Crooks."
"How lovely!" I said, "but I already booked a room in the cat hotel."
"You're saying," Harry realized, "that you didn't mean any of your terms?"
"Of course I did! I meant every word. I just didn't believe it was possible for you."
It was his turn to scowl.
My phone buzzed. I'd never thought I'd love the little rectangle so much. "That's my taxi downstairs. See you guys in a year's time!"
Was it my imagination, or did they all look relieved? I brushed it away as an aftereffect of sleep deprivation.
Ron and Harry helped load my luggage into the boot, while the rest of them looked from the window upstairs. The driver, a short, portly man, gasped as he saw the three of us in all of our morning glory, complete with uncombed hair, sleep wrinkles and drool trails.
"May-may I have your autographs, please?" He stammered, summoning a quill and a newspaper article. The photo was the one they took right after Voldemort's body was buried, the three of us hand in hand looking upwards. We were so hopeful, then, and so naive and stupid. Kudos to the photographer for capturing the last true image of us united. Now it was all fake smiles and lying compliments. Ah, friendship and politics.
Harry nodded, ever so polite and gracious. He signed his name professionally and passed it onto Ron, who stared at the photo for a few minutes, his bloodshot eyes glazing over.
"Your name," I prodded. He came back to life and scribbled something down. I did, too, with an extra smiley face, and gave the wrinkled paper back to the driver.
"Thank you!" He exclaimed, tucking it away preciously, "My daughter will be so pleased!"
"That's somebody," Ron muttered.
Not wanting to break the man's illusion of us being best buds, Harry and Ron hugged me. It still felt awkward, even thought we had mended our relationship- tentatively- months ago. I patted them each on the back like good children and sat onto the leather backed seats, strapping on the seatbelt.
"Have fun," Harry waved, "Don't let the ferret drive you up the wall!"
"What, and ruin my book?" I asked, horrified, "I thought you said it was going to be a bestseller!"
He glanced at the confused driver, "Ah, yeah," he said hastily. The image, Hermione! The image! His eyes shouted.
Ron just nodded, hands stuck in his pockets. He had tears in his eyes, and the driver mistook them for sadness at leaving me into the clutches of the muggles.
"She'll be back," he said, unnecessarily.
"Huh?" Harry nudged him with his elbow. Hard. "Oh, yeah, miss you."
Ron blinked, and as if on cue, a tear trickled down his cheek. The sunlight must be killing his hungover eyes. The driver took out his handkerchief and blew his nose.
"Friendship," he sighed, "So beautiful." Then he shut my door and climbed into the driver's seat.
I finished the act by leaning out the window, watching their disappearing figures as they climbed the stairs back to the party. Waving until we turned the corner at last and I could sit back again.
"A year isn't that long," he said sympathetically, "and I heard that Malfoy boy is reformed. A true ladies' gentlemen."
I covered my snort by coughing.
"Yeah," I said, trying to not snicker, "a real gentleman."
Location: On a plane-Economy class.
Time: 2.15 pm
I felt like strangling him.
Malfoy leaned across me, flirting with the flight attendant as if she was genuinely interested in him. It's her job! I screamed silently, Just take your goddamn Sprite and let her serve someone else!
"When do you get off?" he was saying, the charm knob inside his head turned all the way to maximum.
She giggled, and fluttered her eyelashes. "I can't tell you, since you're a customer. But-" she bent down, her breasts brushing against my almost non-existent ones. I had to sit on my hands to not slap her in the face.
"But?" Malfoy asked, softly, seductively.
"But, if you wait for me in the Arrival hall, I could give you my number," she winked.
"And perhaps you could offer me a city tour too?"
"Well, I do know all the best places." Yeah, you would, wouldn't you? All the best brothels and strip shows.
"I'm sorry to break in, but as a female like you, I feel I have to warn you that he was just diagnosed with gonorrhea," I butted in.
She withdrew immediately, "Oh!" She said, then quickly regained composure, "Oh, uhm. Sorry, somebody is calling me." She hurried away without so much as a glance over her shoulder.
Malfoy slumped back into his chair. "Just because you're jealous," he bit out, "doesn't mean you have the right to scare off all the beautiful women. And what is gonorrhea?"
"A big reptilian pet," I said, as straight faced as possible. "Doctors prescribe them for crazies."
"So where's yours?"
"Oh, haha," I said, "I'm not crazy."
He winked, "but of course you are, you're crazy for me."
I noticed he had several pieces of paper in his hand. It looked like a computer print out. "What are you reading?" I asked suspiciously.
He held it up. "Homework."
In size 16 Times New Roman font (I shuddered), were the words: '100 BEST PICK-UP LINES."
"Oh Merl- I mean, Oh My God."
"Here's my favorite," he cleared his throat, "Do I know you? Because you look a lot like my next girlfriend."
"Yeah, real smooth," I said sarcastically, "I'm totally in love with you right now."
"Ew, God," He recoiled from me, "you're totally disgusting."
Breathe in. Out. In. Out.
I turned so my back was towards his face. "Just so you know," I informed him, "As soon as the plane touches down-I don't know you."
"We're going to be living together."
"As total strangers. I'm making a schedule, and you better stick to it."
He sighed. "This is worse punishment than being forced to shower naked with ten other guys."
A man, sitting across from him, glanced at us. Malfoy stared right back.
"All those bodies," he stressed, "and man, when you reach down to pick up that bar of soap-"
The man stood up and rushed away.
"I love muggle movies," Malfoy said, happily, "I learned so much!"
"What the hell did Graham teach you?" I muttered.
Too annoyed to even listen to him breathe, I plucked the earphones from the seat pocket and clamped it over my ears. Scrolling through the playlist I had made earlier, I picked my favorite song to listen to when I'm mad, and turned the volume as loud as possible. Terry Tee's totally rad slashing of his guitar, and his angry emotions bleeding into his lyrics and falsetto voice rocked me to a peaceful slumber.
But even he couldn't erase Malfoy from my life.
Here be a second dreaded Author's note:
Writing this made me feel happy. More happy than when I wrote Truth of Time, because writing that made me feel depressed, trying to imagine my favourite characters dead and all that. Well, I hoped you liked the first chapter (more of a prologue, really) and please review!
