Author's Note: I'm proud to say that this story is entirely within canon except for one very small change. Originally, Hannah Abbott's mother died around mid-October. I changed this to mid-November as not to rush the plot. Thank you for bearing with me and on with the story!
All Hufflepuffs Are Boring
Hannah Abbott remembered the day when she realized it. It was a cold October morning during Herbology when she realized it. Ernie was boasting about his 16th Century Charms essay and how he'd received an owl from the Ministry commending him when she realized it. Her gloved hands were entangled in the dirt under imported Sri Lankan Vine weeds when she realized it. She was wearing an "I Heart My Best Friend" shirt made by Susan when she realized it.
All Hufflepuffs are boring.
She tuned out from everything else going on. A ringing filled her ears. Her stomach felt empty. Her vision grew blurry.
She imagined the Sorting Hat, sitting atop everyone's head, looking for limitless temerity, unparalleled cleverness, or sharp cunning. She imagined the Sorting Hat, upon finding none, call out HUFFLEPUFF and wait for the next. Her imagination was interrupted when Susan shrieked, pointing at Hannah's wrists, which were bound by the vines. Hannah hadn't even noticed them herself. Ironic, she thought.
After a charm and a long walk to Madam Pomfrey's, Hannah found herself lying in a Hospital Wing bed waiting for the side-effects of the healing spells to wear off. If only I could have a healing spell for my mind, she thought, still plagued with grim feelings about herself. She felt like she was drowning. It's as if everything she'd done in her life was useless, nothing really mattered. Sure she was able to get commendable OWLS the year before and sure she'd gone to the Yule Ball with a sixth year two years before. But did it really matter? Perspective was strangling her as she struggled to find something powerful she'd accomplished, something to set her aside from every other dreary Hufflepuff she spent her days with.
No dice. No luck. I'm boring.
Her nose suddenly caught a whiff of cologne when Madam Pomfrey approached and placed an unconscious Draco Malfoy on the bed next to her.
She'd thought him to be a bit quieter this year than usual, but up close, she really noticed a difference. He was unconscious, with a face so extraordinarily pale that Hannah wondered whether it was just the spell that left him in such a manner or whether he'd been like that all year. He hadn't shaved; his chin and neck were plagued with wispy blond hairs. Under his closed eyelids where purple bags, illustrating insomnia or worse. His breathing was harried even though he was unmoving atop the sheets. He looks…
There were a lot of adjectives she could surmise, but the one that stuck out in her mind was beautiful. The trance was broken when Madam Pomfrey asked Hannah to call should Draco wake up. Flustered, Hannah stammered a yes before being left alone with an unconscious Adonis.
She stared for quite awhile before she remembered her previous thoughts. But before being dragged back into her rut, she realized that emancipation from boredom had been laid before her in the form of an unconscious classmate. I could get to know him. I could date him. I could kiss him. I could fall in love with him. Thoughts continued and her hand traveled downward, latent urges rising from her as her eyesight was replaced with visions of the unconscious boy conscious, more than conscious, active and fulfilling everything that Hannah ever—
"I didn't know that Hufflepuffs masturbate."
Hannah gasped and swiftly removed her hand from her robes when she heard Draco's voice. She blushed so strongly that it felt as if the rest of her body was deprived of blood. She wanted to grab a shovel and dig deep, deep, deep and bury herself alive in her embarrassment.
Wait. Wait waitwait! Don't be a Hufflepuff! Say something smart! Say something clever! Break yourself free!
"Well then there must be a lot you don't know about."
That caught him off guard. He turned on the cot to face her in the eyes for a moment, perplexed. But he soon broke out and started laughing. "Don't think you can get all cool with me, Abbott. I saw you lose it for a moment."
Hannah pushed off her urge to blush again and tried to find a different emotion. Anger? "Well I was having quite the jolly time before you woke up," she growled with a hint of sex appeal.
Draco opened his mouth and closed it again. The smirk returned to his face soon. "What were you thinking about then?" he teased. "Must be me then."
"And what if it was?"
Now Draco was the one flustered. A bit of color returned to his pale face. Hannah did the best she could to stay calm and suppress that squeaking voice inside of her screaming that a loyal Hufflepuff would never discuss her sexual fantasies with any boy, let alone the subject of them. He took a second to look down and then whispered, "I guess you would have good taste then."
Hannah smiled. One point me. "So what are you doing here anyway. Madam Pomfrey told me to call her if you woke up." Draco suddenly shifted to a sitting position.
"Don't!" he hissed, his eyes wide and pleading. Hannah was surprised by his sudden movements and she turned on her side, facing him. She was happy to oblige, though, and keep some more alone time.
"Why not?" she replied.
He paused and then looked away. "No reason." He started to sit up. "I should get going."
"Wait, don't! Keep me company!" Hannah was the one begging now. She didn't realize how much she really wanted him. Between carnal desires and a need to be interesting, Hannah was desperate to keep him around, to talk to him, to help him. Her face seemed to have said something to him, and his eyes melted a bit.
"Okay, fine," he replied, sitting down on her bed next to her, "But only for a few minutes. And don't think you're getting anything out of it."
Smiling, Hannah shifted her legs to give him more room. She opened her mouth to say something, but the strikingly sorrowful look on his face stopped her. He was at profile, staring at a picture playing in his mind. She'd never wanted Legillimency abilities so much until then, to see what he was seeing, to feel what he was feeling, to know what he was thinking. The twilight beams through the windows seemed to reflect off of his skin. "You're so pale," she murmured unknowingly. He turned to look at her.
"Yeah."
"And your eyes…have you been sleeping alright?"
He sucked in a breath fast and he looked more vulnerable than ever. Hannah's heart nearly stopped, but it kept going when Draco hardened up again and muttered, "I'm sleeping just fine, mum."
"You don't have to be so cold, Draco." Her mouth must've been someone else's. Is this really me? Am I really saying these things? Am I really talking to him?
That look came to his face again, but this time, he couldn't get rid of it. He turned away and swiftly rose from his place. "I really should get out—"
"No, don't!" Her body went before her mind and she grabbed his hand and pulled. He gasped, not expecting it and turned slowly to face her. He didn't attempt to wrench his hand free or tell her to stop. Instead, he leaned down, his eyes hid by his bangs, closer and closer to her face so she could breathe his aroma and feel the warmth from his skin. If she could move her face just a little closer, if she had the ability move anything at all, she could…
Too late. He pulled back and she let go willingly and watched him stalk away. He paused at the door, hand clutching his chest, before hurrying off.
Madam Pomfrey arrived fifteen minutes later and asked where Draco had gone. A lie easily slipped out of Hannah Abbott's mouth: she'd been asleep and he was gone when she awoke. But the strange actions of the day made her lie seem much more truthful than the actual events. How would any of her friends believe that a Slytherin entered a room and completely changed who she was? The old Hannah would have given up then, but the old Hannah didn't seem to exist anymore.
She didn't see him until Potions the next Friday. His pale look and demeanor would've rendered him practically invisible to anybody except for her. She stared at him the entire class, not taking notes, shushing Susan when she whispered to Hannah to pay attention, keeping her eyes fixed instead of averting them when he stole curious glances at her. He was afraid of her. That much she knew. But for reasons that were certainly different than those that made her afraid. She was afraid of what he might cause. She was afraid of the ways that she would feel. She was afraid of what the people around her would think. She was afraid of just a drastic change.
But she knew he had something much bigger on his mind. She could tell from his empty eyes.
And this was far from over.
When she heard the bell, her heart started to beat faster. Now or never. "Susan, I'm going to stick behind and check on my grade with Professor Slughorn. You go ahead to lunch." Susan gave Hannah a strange look, still confused about Hannah's aloofness, but shrugged and headed off with Justin and Ernie. Slowly, people trickled out of the room and Slughorn waddled to his office. As Draco packed up, Hannah shot a spell from behind her bag at a test tube sitting right by the pale boy's desk. Draco watched it fall and shatter on the floor.
"I hope what I heard gets cleaned up," yelled Slughorn from his office.
"Will do, sir. I'll help Draco with that," replied Hannah calmly. She heard Slughorn close his door before walking across the empty classroom to Draco. He had his wand pointed at the broken glass on the floor, but seemed unable to utter the mending spell necessary. He didn't look up when she came and sat down on his desk, right in front of him.
"What's wrong?" she asked quietly. He was silent.
"Why are you so pale, Draco?" No answer.
"Why were you at the hospital wing the other day?" No answer.
"Why do you seem so afraid?" No answer.
"Why do you make me…" she whispered, unable to find the next word. She thought it was enough, though, and she straightened up, her face approaching his slowly, pushing to do what she failed to do yesterday. But she didn't need to close that final gap, for she felt cold lips on hers just a moment before she expected it. Soon her hands were behind his head and his around her waist and in her hair and it wasn't just a kiss but it was a light and a dark and visions flew by her closed eyes, flying faster and faster as his hands crept across her breasts and lower and lower…
"Not here," she hissed at him. "Later?"
He pulled away a moment and paused. "The alcove by the storage room at the end of this hallway. Eleven tonight." And just as he did in the hospital wing, he turned around and headed for the door. This time, though, he turned around and looked at her. She thought she saw a bit of color in his face, but then again, it could've just been a trick of the dungeon light.
Later, every vision she saw seemed to be a trick of the dungeon light. As she walked down the corridor, the shadows on the wall danced and contorted into strange and sexual images and mind wandered to what awaited her at the destination. Would they act as the fates told them to? Or was this some sort of trap, a ploy, a joke? The uncertainty propelled the blood in her veins, like an electric current.
He was there. His eyes were cold and devoid of anything. But his face was shining bright in the torchlight. Hannah gasped at its beauty and Draco, with a bewildered look, flung his wand at the torch. Now the two were engulfed in darkness.
"Why did you do that?" whispered Hannah. "Your face…it's so…"
"No," he whispered back, weakened. "I…I don't want you to see it."
"But…"
"Shh," he hissed. "I don't want you to…act like you know me. Because you don't. But here in the dark, who we are doesn't matter. All that matters is this."
And then he kissed her. She was still for a moment, grasping the meaning of his strangely fluid words, before responding with equal passion to his. As the seconds ticked by, she understood more and more what he meant. Here, I am not the shy girl I was a few weeks ago and he is not the son of a Death Eater. Here, I am not Susan's best friend and he is not Pansy's boy toy. Here, he is not a Slytherin.
And I am not a Hufflepuff. Her heart pulsed harder and her body pushed closer as she felt herself sinking into blissful oblivion. Now she knew what it was like to be…different. To be someone else, a small gemstone of nobody's soul broken off from drifting spirit and pinned to her own. She did things that night she never could have imagined, and when it ended, she took her hand and slid it over her own body, just to make sure this was really her living this. Even afterward, she still didn't know if she could believe her touch.
"Hannah…Hannah can you hold up a minute?"
"Huh?"
"Hannah, um…could you look over here."
"Why?"
"I don't know if you're listening to me."
"Of course I am. But make it quick Suz I gotta go."
"Um, okay. Well it's just that I feel like…for the past few weeks or so, you've kind of become…a little more…I don't know, uh—"
"Well how about you mull it over a bit more. I really—"
"Hannah, STOP!"
That got her attention. She stopped mid-step and turned around to face Susan, whose face had turned red with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. Things had certainly been quite different recently with Hannah's constant secret meetings with Draco. They met all over the castle at all different times to keep things new, not wanting to stay attached to a singular location, as they were afraid that such constant passion would rub off onto the space. In that time, Hannah had grown much more aloof, distancing herself from her friends and her classes. Her mind was always resting on visions of things in past visits and fantasies of things to come. But from Susan's expression, it seemed that she wouldn't be going without a fight.
"Look at you, Hannah, just look at you! Sneaking out of here at ten at night against the rules! Dressed in those…trashy clothes! Imagine if someone saw you! What would Professor Sprout think if she saw what you were wearing? Or worse, if she knew what you were doing! I haven't the slightest idea and I don't think I want to, but Hannah, this has got to stop!"
"Susan, I think you should just calm down and mind your own business and we'll talk about this tomorrow."
"No! We're going to talk about this now! I feel like…" Susan paused, her face becoming desperate, "I feel like I don't know you anymore."
That makes two of us. But only one of us is getting tearful over it.
"Look Susan, I'm still Hannah, I'm still me!" Lie. "But I'm changing. Everyone does."
"But Hannah, this is a change for the worse! You look like…you look like a whore! And chances are you're acting like one too!"
Both knew Susan was right, but Hannah pretended to be taken aback by the comment, turning her back on the pigtailed girl and stomping out of the Common Room. But as she got closer and closer to the Seventh Floor, her anger began to melt into a strange sorrow. Through thick and thin, she had always been close to Susan. They'd never fought like that before. Is this the way things are going to be? Lies and rage ruling every aspect of my life?
Well, she thought, not every aspect.
She stopped she looked into the secret passageway and gasped with horror when she saw Draco's face. It was paler than ever. His skin was bruised, his breathing staggered.
"Draco, what—"
"Don't say it! Don't say my name!"
"But…how else should I—"
"Look, Hannah," he said. It was the first time he'd said her first name. "This…this thing has got to stop. It's far too..."
"Too what," hissed Hannah back in shock.
"Too—wrong! This…this isn't okay. I can't go on…" he said, but he seemed to be saying it to himself more than her. She watched his eyes travel down to the bruises on his arms and she felt the overwhelming urge to reach out to his ghastly skin and feel them, heal them. Even as he broke her heart, she was still entranced by every fiber of his being.
"Draco…Draco what's wrong? What's going on?"
He looked up into her eyes, and for a moment, she thought he would break down then and there. But he hardened immediately. "It's…it's you! You lowly Hufflepuff, you! You with your wispy hair, you with your skinny body, you with your mangled attempts to dress sexy! I don't know why I ever agreed to this because you're just so…Hufflepuff!" With that, he was gone.
She felt something shatter under her, and then she was falling, deeper and deeper, faster than the salty tears that slid down her face.
She was running across the castle, away from him, towards him, silently screaming as the paintings watched her with utter confusion.
She was vomiting, bent over a banister as her insides convulsed, matching the crazed state of her outside, mangled hair and fidgeting limbs.
Now she was home sweet home, standing right outside of the painting that led to the Common Room. It sickened her even more. One silly hat's decision and she was cursed for life, cursed by Helga Hufflepuff, cursed to carry the burden of a house weaker than one of cards, held together of friendship bracelets and silent study sessions. She sank to the floor of the corridor and leaned back against the wall, exhausted. What do I have now? What do I have left?
She wondered for a moment, and then realized. Knowledge.The truth.
The painting was a Sixteenth Century landscape: a beautiful sunset over miles and miles of wheat. Hannah raised her wand and tainted it. She knew a fairly good spell to carve out graffiti, and she knew exactly what she would write, something that had to be said, something that had tainted every Hufflepuff ever and will now taint the very symbol of their home. Sure a professor would be able to fix it. In fact, she could probably flee the scene of the crime and have the crime blamed on a Slytherin. It even could've been her revenge against Draco. But such an idea never crossed her mind. When she finished her stenciling, she raised her wand and screamed a noisemaking spell.
She was crumpled there on the floor, laughing and crying at once as the Hufflepuff house filed out to look at her handiwork. Professor McGonnagall was able to erase the message, but not before every single soul in yellow pajamas had seen what she'd written.
ALL HUFFLEPUFFS ARE BORING
Two weeks of detention. Mandatory meetings with a counselor. A short estrangement from all of her friends which was soon ended, of course, by such powers of friendship bracelets and silent study sessions. Curious looks from Draco, which she completely ignored. Those were the direct consequences.
One could say, though, that this moment simply got the stone rolling and aligned her fates. Her mother died three weeks later, she responded by numbly chopping off all of her hair and locking herself in her room for four days. Is this the price I pay for defiance? Surely logic combats such thinking, but one in the midst of a crisis seems to ignore logic. So she picked safe superstition. She became a jolly barmaid, serving drinks and joking with customers. She married Neville Longbottom, who grew to be a handsome, successful young man. She was happy. She was quite happy.
But every time she saw the pale face of Draco Malfoy walk through the Leaky Cauldron, she stopped smiling, stopped thinking, stopped whatever she was doing and stared into those piercing silver eyes, wondering if there was anything there or if she would die before ever receiving true closure. If her graffiti came true, it would be the latter. Without a doubt.