~ Chapter One ~
What's in a Name?
"Well, if you don't like it, you know what the solution is don't you?" yelled Hermione; her hair was coming down out of its elegant bun now, and her face was screwed up in anger.
"Oh yeah?" Ron yelled back. "What's that?"
"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"
Not as a last resort!
Last...
"Bloody hell."
Yup, I said that. Me, Hermione Granger, actually swore.
And there's Ron, mouthing soundlessly like a goldfish out of water, once again.
Why, you ask? What possibly could make me, of all people, utter a swear?
Three words.
The Yule Ball.
Well that, and my big mouth.
"What was that, Hermione?" asked Ron from across the table.
"Nothing," I said quickly. The boy is stupid sometimes, but I didn't think he'd buy that.
He didn't. He kept a knowing look on his face for the remainder of dinner. And what a torture it was.
For Dumbledore, mad-man that he is, decided that enough people had signed on to stay over the holiday, so they were going to have another ball. Technically, it wasn't called The Yule Ball, since that was only held with the Triwizard Tournament, but it was a Christmas ball, all the same.
And I really wish I had kept my mouth shut, two years ago.
"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"
At the time, that had been what I had wanted. Ron to ask me. But now I don't. Hell(sorry), even last year I had fancied him. But then something just...stopped. I felt different. And I think he finally caught on that I had fancied him, and that he fancies me.
Confusing, eh?
Well, since I don't fancy him anymore, I do not want to go to the ball with him.
And he's likely to ask me.
Soon, if he listened to my advice.
So here I am. In the library. Again.
There is no book in here that can help me now. No books written by teenage witches, advising girls about fancying a boy, and then not fancying a boy, but he fancies you... No. No books on that. I looked.
Maybe I should write one? Better wait to see how it ends.
Okay, it's been a day since the ball was announced. He hasn't asked yet.
Maybe he just forgot about that whole thing?
I doubt it. No, he's just waiting. Bidding his time, I'd say. But he will.
Listen to me! I sound as though he's a Dark Lord, about to return! I am overreacting. Yes, overreacting. I could just say no, right?
Yeah, Hypocritical Hermione. That's what they'll call you.
Urgh. Who's they? No, not the time to be questioning the logic of my own thoughts. I need to find someone. Yeah, someone to ask me first. Then I could just stand behind what I said before, and maybe by the next ball he'd get over me.
Yeah...but who?
Harry?
No, he's like a brother to me. That would be just...odd. And talk about hypocritical? Remember fourth year, Hermione?
And he'd never want to go with me. Even now, he's spluttering over himself as Ginny sits down next to him at breakfast. He's been crazy about her all year. I can tell. I can always tell.
"Hey, Hermione," Ginny says as she begins to butter a slice of toast. Well, why not set aside my own troubles for a minute to help out a couple of friends?
"Hey, Gin," I say, a thoughtful look in my eye. "Any idea who you're going with to the ball?" I ask, innocently.
Harry spits out his pumpkin juice over himself. It's pretty hard to keep a straight face as he momentarily forgets he's a wizard and try's to clean it up the muggle way.
"Er, Harry..." says Ginny. "Let me help you."
She takes out her wand and says, "Scourgify!" His robes are as good as new.
"Er, thanks, Ginny," Harry says blushingly.
If she can't tell...
"Any time."
"Well?" I ask, bringing Ginny's attention back to my question.
She glances at Harry before answering. "Well, I was thinking about asking Malfoy..."
"What?" Harry nearly screams. Ron walks up to the table and sits next to me, across from Harry.
"What I miss?" he asks.
"Oh, nothing," I say, "Ginny's just telling us how she wants to ask Malfoy to the ball." Like Malfoy would go with a Weasley.
"What?" he says, looking at Harry oddly, as if to say, 'What about you?'
Wow, I didn't think Harry'd told Ron that he wanted to go with his sister. Well, there was always the chance that he'd figured it out by himself... Nah. Harry had to of told him.
"I'm just joking, you two. You both know that Hermione is the one who fancies that slimeball." I what?
Ron's head snaps to me. "What?" he says once again.
"Er..." I what?
"You'll believe anything, Ron," Ginny says. "Why don't you just go ask Luna, and be done with it?"
His head snaps back. "What?"
"Develop a vocabulary, big brother. It was a joke," she says. I can't help think that they would make a good couple. Ron and Luna. Luna and Ron. Luna Weasley. Ron Lovegood. I laugh out loud. Couldn't help it.
"Hello, Ronald." My head turns around just in time to see Luna Lovegood drift by the table, on her way to the door.
And their kids, they would have red hair...and huge eyes, and would be obsessed with the letter Q. Quidditch. Quibbler. Quaffle.
"Cwumple Howrned Snowkak!" I could picture the little guys calling... "It's twoo! It's twoo!"
"Isn't it kind of funny," I say, "that Luna only says hello to Ron when she drifts by?"
"Yeah," Harry says, speaking for the first time in a while, since the joke was not to do with him or Ginny, "I wonder why?"
Ron has his usual puzzled look on his face. "What are you on about?" he says.
"Oh, it's obvious, Ron. There's no reason we should need to tell you..."
Well, that's over. Back to the vexing problem I have on my hands.
Dean or Seamus?
No. Taken. No chance Lavender or Parvati would give them up.
Neville?
Hmm. He did want to go with me last time. And, he's not going with anyone...
But no... I don't like him that way. He's a friend. And hell, he might be going with someone. I just assumed he wasn't. Bad Hermione! You know what they say about people who assume...
Yes I do. Doubt anyone else here does, but I do. I've read the Lecter books seventeen times. And another one is supposed to be coming in a few years... I'll need to get that.
You'll make an
ass of u and me both.Sounds like something Malfoy would say.
Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy.
No...No! I...I couldn't!
Talk about the opposite of Ron.
"Hermione, wait up!"
Damn. It's him. Ron.
Empty corridor.
Yup, he's gonna ask.
"Hermione," he says, catching up with me, "I was wondering..."
Here it comes. What am I gonna do?
"Er... You know fourth year?" he asks. "Oh, of course you know fourth year, I mean, do you remember...you remember everything, I know, but..." His ears are red. No!
"After the Yule Ball, you said, "Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!'" Wow, a direct quote! But...I do not sound like that!
"If it isn't Weasel and the Mu- and Granger."
Thank Merlin for Malfoy!
What did I just think?!
Did he just call me Granger?
Ron just stiffened. I'm already ready to hold him back. No doubt I'll need to.
"What do you want, Malfoy?"
Malfoy took on a mock-pleasant manner.
"Oh, that Lovegood girl. The blond one with the funny eyes? She's been looking all over for you. Can't imagine why."
I can't help but snort at that.
"Hey, Granger thinks I'm funny! My life is complete! You may kill me now."
"I just might." Ron takes a step forward, and I take a handful of the back of his robes.
I can't help but thinking how...nice Malfoy looks when he's not threatening, or acting venomous.
"What do you want, Malfoy?"
"You know, something? We've known each other for six years. You'd think we'd be on a first name basis by now, don't you Ronald?"
"Well, Draco, at least my first name is a name. Not a magical creature," Ron says through gritted teeth.
"Or," says Malfoy looking straight at me, "a character in a play."
My eyes widen, and I'm sure I must look like Luna.
"You're kidding," I say. "Does your father know you read Muggle plays?"
"What?" says Ron, turning around to look at me. "Your name's from a play?"
"No, he does not," says Malfoy. "But he is in Azkaban, and what he doesn't know can't hurt him. Or me."
"Your name's from a play?" Ron repeats.
"Yes," I say, recalling it from memory. "The Winter's Tale, by Shakespeare. Hermione's daughter Perdita, falls in love with the prince of Bohemia, Florizel. The marriage is disapproved of, and they have to flee for protection. She's reunited with Hermione, and her father, Leontes, who had thought her dead. The play...it takes a potentially tragic situation and uses it to stress rebuilding rather than destruction. The characters become wiser from their sadness, happily face the future."
"Oh," says Ron. "You could of just said 'yes,'" he mumbles, but I'm not really paying attention.
"You, a Malfoy of all people, read Shakespeare?" I ask disbelievingly.
"So what if I did?" he says. "Is there a law against wizards reading Shakespeare? Only Muggles and Muggle-borns, eh?"
"Muggle-borns?" I ask.
"Mud-bloods," he hurriedly corrects. It seems as though he's scolding himself.
"That wasn't my favourite anyway," I say. What the devil has possessed me? Why am I making conversation with Malfoy?
Maybe...just maybe...he's human after all.
"Oh?" he says. "And what is?" He actually seems to care. What happened to him?
"Romeo and Juliet."
His eyes seem to widen. Just slightly.
"Mine, too." I don't know if he actually said it, he might have just mouthed the word to himself.
Maybe...maybe he always was human. Maybe I'm just blind.
"Well," Ron says uncomfortably. "I'll meet you in the common room, Hermione. This is just too weird for my small brain to comprehend."
And he leaves. Just walks away.
I stare into Malfoy's eyes. Grey, cold, unfriendly...
Scared.
"Well," he says, "seems we have something in common."
"Seems that way."
Does he ever blink? He just...stares. I don't think I'm breathing.
"What's wrong with you today?" I ask, desperately hoping that it's not just an act. A way of making fun of me. But it seems so real... "You call me a Muggle-born, you read Shakespeare... Not your usual attitude at all."
"No, not my usual attitude. Let's just say my outlook on life, it's a bit different today." He blinks. His eyes seem a little less cold. More alive.
"What happened?" I ask.
I see him swallow. "Why the hell should I do what he said? Why the hell should I follow in his footsteps? What good would it do?"
"What happened?" I ask again.
"I got a letter." He raises a hand, a letter clutched in his fist. "Read it."
He holds it out.
Why? I ask silently. Why should I read it? It could be cursed. Could be a portkey. Could take me to Voldemort. Why should I trust him? Why am I walking closer?
For I am. My legs are slowly moving, one after the other, toward the boy that had made me and my friends lives as miserable as possible. The boy that tried to get Hagrid sacked. The boy who helped Umbridge catch us last year. But I can't stop walking. I want to read the letter. I reach him.
The letter reads,
You have been chosen to serve the Dark Lord. Your father, as you know, is not currently available. He had suggested your recruitment numerous times, and the Dark Lord now thinks it a good time to act on the suggestion. Respond soon, or expect some...unpleasant news.
My eyes widened. Malfoy...Dark Lord...why am I not screaming in pain right now?
I look up. "Well, congrats. Just what you always wanted..."
I hand the letter back to him. "You really think that?" He leans back against the corridor wall, and closes his eyes.
"Well, yeah. You always gave off that sort of aura. That you wanted to be just like your father..."
"I got that two days ago," he says.
"Yeah?" I ask, not comprehending.
"I didn't respond. I was thinking it over. This morning Snape tells me my mother was killed."
"What? But, I thought your mother was loyal to Voldemort!"
"She was."
"Then why...why kill her?" I ask him.
"Because they assumed my lack of response was a no. They killed the only person that I cared the slightest about, because I didn't do as they said." A single tear falls down his cheek, and he hastily wipes it away.
"I was on my way to Dumbledore. Fool that he is, he's against the Dark Lord. You know what they say, 'My enemy's enemy is my friend.'"
Wow. Never thought that would happen. Draco Malfoy opposing Voldemort. No one thought that would happen.
"Won't your father be angry with the Death Eaters? They killed his wife..."
Draco, as I just started to think of the blond boy in front of me, began to laugh. "Like he cares. He'll marry someone else. Probably as soon as he's out of Azkaban. If the bastard ever gets out, which I severely hope he doesn't."
I wince at the language. If it was Ron, I would have reprimanded him, but as it's Draco...
Draco. Draco Malfoy. I feel the strange urge to...to comfort him. Who would of thought?
"Dumbledore's not a fool," I say. "He can help you. Trust me."
"You know what, Granger?" he asks. "I actually think I will."
Hang on readers! Don't touch that little purple button yet! First, read this tantalising bit of an Author's Note.
Well, I know this started out as a humour fic, and it sort of turned Sirius. I mean serious. Sirius is dead. You knew that, right?
Don't worry, if you like the humour, cause it will be funny again. Don't worry, if you like the drama, that's not done yet.
Yeah, well, R&R, please. Wait, you've already read so there's no need to R&R. Just &R.
(Now you can click it.)
