Chapitre Une: Meeting for the Very Second Time
It was 10 a.m., on January 3rd, when a shooken Hermione Granger could be found on the Hogwarts Express returning to the magical school after her seventh and last Hogwarts Winter Holidays. The year before, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter returned from Ron's house, full with Christmas leftovers and boxes of presents, and met a jubilously happy Hermione carrying even more presents, and with even more anxious looks on her face. She always looked excited to be returning to school and studying, but this year, her face had changed.
Harry and Ron noticed it at once. They came onto the train, looking for Hermione, because usually she would meet them somewhere before she boarded. However, this year, Harry and Ron searched and searched until they entered the last compartment of the train, where a red-eyed Hermione sat, small and sullen-looking in the empty room. The two boys' happy smiles were suddenly wiped off and replaced with concern and sadness at their friend's depressed expression.
Hermione usually looked jubilant and bright-eyed, but her eyes now looked sunken and dark, rimmed with redness and tears. Over the years, her poufy, brown hair had been put into a new position at the back of her head in a neat, thick bun. She had an average body; thin, but not scrawny, with the normal fat that a teenage girl has. She had slightly too chubby cheeks, that made her look like a hampster when she ate, or so she thought, and bushy eyebrows that she refused to pluck because it hurt too much. She thought herself too short, too flat-chested and too big-footed to ever get another boyfriend after Viktor Krum and she had broken up in her fifth year. She usually had those bright eyes, even when she was sad, but niether Harry nor Ron had ever seen them so dark. They stared for a moment, then:
"Hi, Hermione," Ron said, breaking the silence.
She hadn't even looked up upon their entrance. Her face in the window showed no expression at all, and she glanced at Harry's and Ron's reflections. Swiftly, she stood up and took Ron's arms and wrapped them around her, leaned into his shoulder, and sobbed.
Ron had the oddest, most shocked face Harry had ever seen. Ron and Hermione had spent six and a half years denying feelings for each other, and now Hermione was being so forward, it seemed almost surreal. Ron led Hermione back into her corner and sat in her once-occupied seat and placed Hermione so she was leaning on him, but lying down on the seat as well.
Harry just watched them for a while, wondering what was wrong with Hermione, and, mostly, how Ron always got all the chicks. But he didn't ask that thought out loud. About an hour into the journey, Harry spoke up.
"So, Hermione... er... what's happened?"
Hermione paused. Apparently, she hadn't thought about what to say when they questioned her.
"You won't hate me... will you... if I said... if I said...." She trailed off. "If I said that I couldn't tell you?" The last four words came out in a completely different tone than the beginning of her sentence.
"What?!" Ron started, but Harry interrupted.
"Ron, stop. She looks exhausted. We'll bother her about it tomorrow." Just then, the witch with the food trolley came down the hallway of the train.
Stopping outside their compartment and opening the door, she said, "Hello, dumplings. Anything off the trolley?"
Hermione just glanced back out of the window. Ron looked down, seemingly into Hermione's hair. Harry knew what he was thinking. He didn't have any money with him.
Ron, and his family of five older brothers and one little sister, were extremely poor, all red haired, and easily embarassed. Ron, inparticularly, turned red at the slightest mention of anything embarassing (from girlie parts to achievements in Charms class), and was redder than the scarlet Hogwarts Express at the moment. He had brown eyes and pale skin, just like his family, and his hand-me-down clothes were often worn and torn, but still wearable. Despite the fact that his hair clashed with his rough clothes, he never seemed to spend a Friday night alone, and somewhere cheap.
"We'll take three of everything," Harry said, pulling out a handful of Sickles. He decided it was okay to splurge; it was his last year of Hogwarts, for Merlin's sake, and he could buy way too much candy if he so chose to.
With a compartment full of candy, you would figure that three teenagers would be bouncing off the walls. However, the three were as sullen as ever, and gloom was in their every move.
Harry decided it best to leave Hermione and Ron alone, and besides, he couldn't eat the candy all by himself. He'd be lagging by the time the Quidditch season started.
So, Harry went down the train's winding hallway, and, looking through every window into every compartment, finally found some of his other friends.
Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil and Neville Longbottom sat across from one another, with boys on one bench and the girls on the other, lost in an argument. Harry opened the compartment door, and went and sat next to Lavender.
"Hi everyone," he said. "Want some snacks?" He poured all the Cauldron Cakes and Chocolate Frogs and such onto the floor, in the middle of the benches.
Everyone said their hellos, took some Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans (or something of the sort) and then they all, omitting Harry, carried back onto their argument.
Parvati sighed. "You guys are so immature! We're not -- NOT -- playing Spin-the-Bottle!"
Harry laughed, and said, "Lemme guess: this was Seamus's idea, wasn't it?"
Seamus looked down, in phony shame. "Guilty as charged." Looking back up, we argued back, "Why not?! What, are you scared?"
Oh God, Harry thought. How manipulative. When Harry realised how pathetic it was that he was a sarcastic bitch even in his own head, he stopped thinking and started listening to the argument.
"Am not!" Lavender was starting to shout.
"So prove it!" Seamus shot back.
"Fine!"
"Fine!" Seamus sat down, and winked at Harry.
Lavender sat down. "Parvati, we're playing Spin-the-Bottle." She took out an old-fashioned glass bottle of Diet Coke, and gulped it down quickly, while the others stared. "What? I'm gifted. Let's play." Clearing an area on the floor so there weren't snacks in their way, she placed the bottle in the area and pointed her finger at Seamus. "You go first."
"My pleasure," Seamus said. He bent down in his seat, and gave the bottle a huge spin. The suspense was killing everyone in the room; Neville was even sweating. The bottle started to slow down, and then:
"Maybe it's best that we don't play," Seamus said, seeing where the bottle was going. He snatched it up, before he realised the huge mistake he had just made.
"Ha! You took the bottle up when it was pointing at Neville! You have to kiss Neville!" Parvati screamed, laughter interrupting her every word. Everyone in the compartment besides Seamus and Neville were rolling around on the floor laughing, until Dean interrupted.
"Well?" he said, expectantly.
Seamus stared. "You don't really expect me to do it, do you?!"
"Well, why not?" Harry asked.
"Because... I'm a guy... and Neville's a guy... and that's... ew!"
"Yeah!" said Neville, reluctantly.
Lavender took out her wand. "Do it or I'll Leg-lock you."
Seamus, looking regretful and scared, with cheeks as red as Santa Clause's ass, leaned into Neville slowly, muttering, "You couldn't have made me kiss anyone better looking?"
"Hey--!" Neville said in resentment. But, whatever he was going to say next was cut off by Seamus's lips on his. It was just a quick peck, nothing big or too into it, but it was enough to shut Neville up, run Seamus to the bathrooms and make everyone else almost pee in their pants from laughing too hard.
Neville just sat there, looking perplexed.
"Gosh, if I didn't know better, I'd say Neville almost looks like he enjoyed that!" Dean said, jokingly.
"Shut up!" Neville said, before storming out of the cart, almost running into the doors, but putting his hands out to open them just in time.
"Touchy, much?" Dean said, unable to keep a grin off his face.
Harry smiled, questionably, and began a new conversation about their Christmas presents.
"Nothing, Harry? Your family gave you nothing?" Dean asked, in awe.
"Nothing," Harry replied, "although, my cousin Dudley was in rehab for the holidays, so that was sort of a present all its own."
The population of the compartment laughed, then continued on their conversation.
Neville Longbottom made his way to the boys' lav on the Hogwarts Express. He pushed open the door to find Seamus at the sink, splashing water in his face. Neville had always had a crush on Seamus. As far as Neville knew, the Scottish boy wasn't gay, and therefore he didn't try anything with him. Neville had discovered he was gay in fourth year, and, feeling that he had better try and either cover it up or turn himself straight, asked Hermione to the ball that took place that year, ceasing suspicions that the paranoid Neville had of anyone finding out, even though Hermione turned him down.
"Oh... erm... hi," Neville started, noticing the boy at the mirror.
That boy was the brown haired, green eyed and rather freckly Seamus Finnigan, with a particularly prominent bridge over his medium-sized nose. His eyebrows were rather thin to belong to a boy, but Neville thought they were attractive. His lips were rather skinny, yet Neville still felt they were kissable. His eyes were sea-green and looked shallow and watery almost all the time.
Neville, on the other hand, had a pointy, yet chubby, face, with full lips and bushy-ish eyebrows. His eyes were plain, dark brown, but they had especially thick eyelashes around them (that Ron and Harry liked to call "camel eyelashes.") His nose was small and pointy, and his cheeks chubby and tannish. In fact, the only thing he seemed to have in common with Seamus was the freckles, though he had very little of them. They sprinkled his upper nose and right under his eyes, which looked likes deep pools of mirky brown muck, with an island of blackness penetrating the water.
"Hey," Seamus replied. "Sorry about back there... I didn't want to kiss you... but I had to. You know what I mean."
"Yeah, it's fine. That doesn't bother me. What bothers me is...." He trailed off, leaving Seamus with an expectant look on his face, thinking, What really bothers me is why you didn't use tongue. However, Neville was not so frontal, and sustained himself from continuing.
"Yes?" Seamus asked, staring.
"What really bothers me is... why... er... why Parvati wasted a whole bottle of Coke for that."
"Yeah, I s'pose so," Seamus agreed halfheartedly. "That was so embarassing. God, you ever just wanna die, never go on?"
"Do you know who I am, at all?" Neville replied, seriously, yet sarcastically.
Seamus laughed, sensing the joke, then continued, "Indeed. Well, that's okay, I guess it'll die out in a few days." He put his arm around Neville's shoulders, in a friend-like manner. "At least I didn't have to kiss Dean. Those chapped lips are so gross."
Neville laughed, then said, "Well, let's get out of here. I think the train'll be stopping soon, and people will wonder where we went."
"Yeah, okay," Seamus said. He had been staring at Neville until Neville spoke up. Neville felt he should have said something before he grew so bold as to close the space between Seamus and his lips once more.
They left the bathroom and returned to the compartment, where they both sat silently while Dean, Harry, Parvati and Lavender talked about their favourite Muggle restaurants.
Hermione was sleeping; she had been in Ron's arms for almost eight and a half hours. Ron looked into the dark sky out the window. As the train turned a pretty sharp curve, Ron saw lights ahead, and decided that they must be stopping soon.
He shook Hermione softly, whispering, "We're almost there. You'd better get up." He kissed the top of her head.
She quickly got up, looking around. "Where's Harry? What time is it? Did we do anything?" she said quickly, making Ron cringe.
"Er... Harry left about two hours into the ride, it's about 6.30, and no, we just slept... well, you did anyways."
"And you just sat there the whole time? Watching me?" she demanded.
"No... mostly I looked out of the window." He looked at her, confused. "What's it to you where I looked?"
"Well, I don't want some creepy boy watching me drool!"
"Creepy boy? Hermione! I'm your best friend!"
"You're still a creepy boy! God, I have a headache!"
"Hermione, are you drunk?" Ron said, standing up and forcefully shaking her shoulders.
"No!" She hesitated. "Yes." Another pause. "Well, I was."
"Hermione! What the hell is going on?!" Ron demanded of her. "What's gotten into you?!"
Hermione opened her mouth, as if to speak. Her eyes darted around, as if she was quickly thinking. "I... I have to go."
And before Ron could say anything more, or restrain her, she darted from the compartment to... somewhere else; Ron didn't know. Ron stood there for a moment, while the train slowed down, and then sat down. There was no need to chase her; he'd rather be hurt than hurt her.
Draco Malfoy, seventh year Slytherin boy, marched with his nose in the air out of his train compartment, carrying nothing but his umbrella. This umbrella was his most prized Christmas present. He had gotten it from his mother, and it had a black canvas and a silver handle, with a snake twisted around the Malfoy family crest for the handle, with emeralds embedded into the snake's eyes. The best part of it was that if you pushed a button, the handle would come off, and there was a little hole that held your wand, and, given you use it like a regular wand, shot your spell, charm or hex out of the tip. Draco's friends were very impressed when Draco demonstrated his new wand holder on a first year.
Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, Draco's cronies, stepped off of the train, and looked around. They walked a step behind Draco, on either side, and flexed their fat-padded muscles on anything and everything that could, in the slightest way, be a threat to Draco or themselves.
Draco made his way to the horseless carriages with a new black leather cloak wrapped around his muscly body. He had gotten pretty tall, around 6'1", and his father, his will, and his Quidditch training sessions had made him into a blonde, strong and handsome man, replacing the immature, scrawny maggot of a boy he once was.
His girlfriend, Annalise Strumbly, also a Slytherin seventh-year, was red-haired, heavily made up and had big breasts. Draco had a thing for red-heads.
She burst through Crabbe and Goyle and jumped onto Draco's back, almost knocking him down. He thought the obnoxious ways of the pretty girl to be sexy, and laughed along with her as she fell. She could never knock him down, no matter how much of a head start she got. He helped her up, helped her into a carriage, and helped himself to a kiss.
Since both Crabbe and Goyle together could not fit into the same seat, Crabbe and Draco sat on one side, and Goyle and Annalise sat on the opposite. Draco looked at Annalise (a gentleman always made sure his lady was comfortable before he forgot about her) and then stared out the window at the glorious castle on their way up to the school.
As much as he complained about Hogwarts, Draco would always have a weak heart for the sight of the glorious castle, illustriously reflected, along with the moon, onto the gargantuan lake below. Draco remembered his first time seeing Hogwarts, and how his heart raced as he rowed his way towards the south end of the lake, and towards the castle. It was beautiful, with many turrets and towers and lights, and oh, Draco thought he'd never feel the same way again. He thought he'd never see something so magnificent, so pure. He never thought so... until he looked into the carriage next to his.
A beautiful, red haired girl sat, staring out of the carriage window in a deep violet wool jacket. Draco recognized her; he knew who this girl was. But he also knew how stunning she looked, in that way in which she didn't mean to be, and how curious and innocent her eyes were, and, most of all, how they reflected the stars. Her cheeks, nose, and ears were bright red from the cold, and her old, green glove that sat on the windowsill of her carriage had a small tear in it. Her hair was orange-red and imperfect and wavy, but still somehow lovely, and her face was mature and yet childish at the same time, as if she had experienced a lot, but still had a lot of growing up to do.
Annalise cleared her throat; she had noticed Draco's lack of attention towards her, and needed him to look at her.
Draco looked ahead at Annalise. He was crazy. Annalise was sexy and bold and bright, but why was he so captivated in the eyes of this almost-stranger with such a negative view towards him? Yes, crazy he was. And so he leaned forward and kissed Annalise, never closing his eyes (he never did, he never knew who was looking at him,) and erased all thoughts of Ginny Weasley from his mind.
A/N -- Awright! Chapitre Une est fine! I like this story. I'm particularly fond of the many views; it's as if we're following more than one story. Plus, it won't make me bored while writing it. Hope y'all liked it. Review and tell me!
Disclaimers- Characters (except for Annalise Strumbly) and setting all belong to JKR. The name Annalise was my devotion to Melissa D shining through. In her fic, Draco has sex with a girl named Lissanne, and I'm modeling Annalise to her. Read it on schnoogle.com, author: Melissa D, story: "We'll Always Have Paris."
Love, Sully, Atty, Lola, or whatever.