The Sleeping Beauty
Disclaimer: I don't own anything! I don't make money off of anything! But I do own this wacky plot! Mwha ha ha ha!
Rating: "M" for later chapters
Full Summary:"Are you telling me that I have to invade Granger's memories to bring her back from this bloody bewitched sleep? That's complete and utter rubbish. This Sleeping Beauty shite is rubbish! Granger isn't even a beauty!"
Author's Note: Oh my God, I know, another story. But it'll be short. Really short. Please don't hate me. Here's Part I. There are gonna be three parts to this story. The whole thing should be completed HOPEFULLY by this Thursday. About Six Chapters! Enjoy!
Part I: Maleficent
Dreaming in the joys of night;
Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep
Little sorrows sit and weep."
--William Blake
---
The dank castle held no secrets anymore—all was bare. The very walls shook with tales of sordid affairs and secret meetings happening within the school. Anyone could be found within seconds of a whispered word. There was no refuge. There was no space.
Hermione Granger has heard of the walls telling all. It was why she kept herself preoccupied from slander by visiting the Library. She was lucky to have been given the gift of intelligence and rightful modesty concerning others and herself. She stayed in her own space, and never bothered anyone unless necessary. She had been forgotten nearly, by her own friends. Her own boyfriend, Ronald Weasley, found it better to practice his skill out on the Quidditch Field, then busy up with her. She hadn't seen him all weekend. And she preferred it that way. She was fine on her own, having learned how to be alone at an early age.
She had been in the Library since it had opened—that being nearly at five am. It was now noon.
She was in the Muggle Section of the famous Library. This was her most prized section. It allowed her to reconnect to her world outside of Hogwarts. It was a sweet reminder of home and things to come, possibly, after school was over. Her fingers gently caressed the spines of the novels shelved. The very books seemed to sigh in anticipation of being opened up, as they inwardly gasped and shivered against her touch. She smiled.
"Who would ever think that a book would bring a smile to your impassive face, Granger?" said a voice from the shadows.
"And who would ever think that the Mudblood-hating Pureblood would grace the Muggle Section? By God, I think the world is ending," Hermione said without a flinch. She could practically hear the Pureblood boy sneer. She finally stopped her hand on a small yellow Muggle book, pulling it down and turning to face the Slytherin. Again, her face took the look of an angry witch. "Are you stalking me? This is the third time this weekend."
"I'm afraid your foul fantasies are all in your head, Granger," he said. She waited for him to continue. Finding that he wasn't, Hermione simply collected her things, deciding to move to another section into the Library, this time, a much deeper section.
"Well, good day Malfoy," Hermione said dismissively, walking around the shadow that the Head Boy was standing in and exiting the secluded row of books.
The weird encounters had been happening a lot to Hermione. She had to share quarters with Malfoy, and now she was enduring his presence outside of their tower. He had started a habit that entailed him following her into the Library. For awhile, she had played homage to paranoia and believed that he was watching her so he could attack her and hand her over to his Father for torture purposes. After reassuring herself several times that Lucius Malfoy was no longer a threat to society, she had thrown her paranoia out the window, simply accepting Malfoy's odd behavior.
Now that she was deeply rooted in the History of Magic section, her Muggle book still in her hands, she was able to relax. Having placed it aside for a bit, she decided to wander the section a bit, noticing just how poorly the books were kept in this general area. They were covered with a thick layer of dust and spider webs. She sighed unhappily, suddenly producing her wand from the sleeve of her robe. With a swish of it, the History of Magic section was squeaky-clean; just how each section of the Library should be, in her opinion.
After finding a book that told the personal story of the famous Glaberstern Bloblyn, a Goblin during the Goblin Revolt, she sat at a now-clean table, pulling out a snuck-in sandwich and container of pumpkin juice from her bag. While eating her sandwich and reading the book, Hermione couldn't help the nagging thought in the back of her head.
She'd never learn enough. She'd always be behind.
The fear of being left behind gnawed at her insides. She had to prove herself to the people at this school. She'd done a good job so far, but the knowingness of failure was present and was rearing its ugly head. She couldn't do anything. She was eleven years behind the rest of the magical students here. The Purebloods were way beyond her. She gritted her teeth, her knuckles becoming a shocking white as they gripped the book—the very thought that Malfoy may indeed be her superior on a magical level made her sick to her stomach.
But she was Hermione Granger, known to be the smartest witch of her generation! There was no room to have doubt about her talents and intelligence.
But what about her looks? She wasn't one to fawn and fret over her appearance. Usually a good pair of jeans and a sweater was enough for her. But Ron's frequent absence from her life was leading her to think that she wasn't as pretty as she thought herself to be. With a slender shrug of her shoulders and a slight shake of her head, Hermione went back to reading her book.
"You've got everyone fooled, Hermione," she said softly to herself as she came to an end of a chapter in the book. She placed the book back of the shelf, done with her light reading and small lunch. As she stepped back from the bookshelf, her attention caught on the Muggle book she had pulled down before Malfoy interrupted her. Glancing at her watch and then at the book, she decided that the slight rumble of an unsatisfied stomach outweighed the forceful pull this book was giving her. She would check it out and flip through it later, she thought, gathering her stuff once more.
Making her way to Madame Pince, Hermione noticed Pansy Parkinson in a corner, hunched over a book. She was then approached by the Head Boy. The two appeared to be studying together.
"C'mon Hermione, I know you've got spare time. I'm just asking you to look over my Transfiguration homework."
"Ron, really, do you think Hermione wants to read through your crappy assignments?" Ginny said with a giggle. Harry wrapped his arm around her tighter, pulling her to his body. They nuzzled against each other, causing Ron to blush at their display of affection.
"Hermione here is my girlfriend! She'd do anything for me, right love?" Ron asked.
"Honestly Ronald, I don't know why you can't open your own bloody book and make sure the information you wrote down in haste is correct!" Hermione snapped. It was finally Monday, the weekend over and done with. Having found refuge in the Gryffindor Tower from the stiff boredom in the Heads Tower, Hermione was now facing down her boyfriend's hardheadedness.
"What's got you all fired up?" Ron barked. Hermione began to stand, pulling her bag with her, when Ron wrapped his hand around her wrist, yanking her back down. She released a yelp of pain at the sudden pull and fell back onto the floor.
"Ron, what the hell!" shouted Harry, watching alarm spill into Hermione's eyes. "What did you do that for?"
"I—I just want you to stay, Hermione. I'm sorry, really," Ron said, lifting her offended wrist to inspect it. She pulled it away slowly, her eyes downcast as Ron stumbled through an apology.
"You're insufferable," she said, finally lifting her eyes to meet his. "I'm tired of you using me!"
"What?"
"You ignore me when you don't need anything! If I don't have the answers, you push me away! This isn't a relationship Ron, this is, this is, bullshit."
She was met with a shocked silence.
"I'm going now," she muttered, standing and leaving the common room.
Upon entering the empty Heads Tower, Hermione was alert to the lit common room. Dropping her bag at the front foyer, she made her way down a narrow hallway into the common room, hearing laughter ring through the vast space. In front of her were Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass. The four of them lounged on the chairs surrounding the fireplace. It had been Pansy who had laughed, Blaise joining her. She suddenly felt like an intruder, when eight pairs of eyes locked on hers.
"Oh—I'm sorry. Please excuse me. I was—err—just heading to my room."
"Granger, so lovely for you to show your ugly mug," Draco said coolly. Hermione couldn't stop the embarrassing blush that covered her cheeks. Instead she walked quickly to the staircase heading towards her room. She stopped halfway however, cursing herself as she forgot her bag in the foyer. Turning around, she went back to get her bag, but when she turned around, Malfoy was behind her, alone.
"Plan on leaving any time soon?" he offered helpfully, a look of loathing on his face. Hermione shook her head.
"Are you planning on dying anytime soon?" she shot back. As she moved her bag to one hand to the next, she whimpered at the soreness of her wrist from Ron's yank.
"What's with you?" he asked, looking at her arm. "Did you sprain your wrist by flipping too many pages in a book?"
"Shove off," Hermione said, walking down the hall back to her room's entrance. Draco let her go with a noise of disgust.
"What, jealous that you're not going to be included on our fun, Granger?" asked Draco, making reference to his company.
Hermione rolled her eyes, "As shattering as not being included on your fun is for me, Malfoy, I think I'll survive."
"Just stay out of the common room Granger. I don't want my friends to be tainted by your lack of a personality."
"No problem there," Hermione muttered, walking away from the offending Head Boy.
---
"Do you all know where Ms. Granger is?" Professor Flitwick asked the next morning in Advanced Level Charms. The class looked on in surprise and cluelessness. Hermione had never missed a day of class. "Mr. Potter? Mr. Weasley?" they shook their heads in the negative. "Mr. Malfoy?"
Draco shrugged carelessly. "The last time I saw her it was nine in the evening. She was heading to her room."
"How strange," the Professor said, returning back to his roll-call, but still deeply troubled.
-
When Draco returned to the Head Tower before lunch to drop of his morning books, he had nearly tripped over Hermione's open bag in the foyer. The contents were spilled across the hall, as if thrown about in search for something. He swallowed, what he would never admit to, a rising ball of fear. Something seemed wrong about Granger's precious books being thrown carelessly about the room. He slowly stepped over the books, and made his way into the common room. On the floor were spilled contents of a Pensieve, the ancient-looking bowl not too far from it. He was definitely worried now, especially when he saw the Head Girl cowering in a corner.
He searched for his voice, "Granger? Are…Are you all right?" His response was met with a whimper. He approached her. She shook her head.
"No—stay where you are!" she cried frantically. Draco nearly jumped a foot back. He watched as Hermione crawled out of the corner. Her hair was in disarray, her uniform rumpled and stained with the contents from the Pensieve. She crawled towards a small yellow book. When she touched it, she cried out and pulled her hand back, as if burned. She then haphazardly pulled herself to her feet, swaying on the spot. Draco instinctually reached out to steady her, but she threw herself back. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" she screamed, nearly slipping in the liquid. "ANYONE BUT YOU!" she continued. "Anyone but you, Malfoy!" she swayed again, but this time her eyes became incredibly heavy, and then she was falling forward. Into Draco's open arms, where she immediately passed out, her body becoming dead weight.
"Holy fuck," Draco swore, lifting the young girl in his arms. He carefully brought her to the couch and laid her out on the soft surface. Instantly he kneeled beside her to check her pulse, but drew back when he heard a soft rumble of a snore come from her parted lips. He didn't know whether he should leave her there or take her to the Infirmary.
In the end, he allowed for his logical side to kick in. He left her on the couch.
As he cleaned the mess of her spilled memories, he could do nothing but discard them. Once memories were spilled out of its container or the Pensieve itself, they were no longer useful. He placed the nearly cracked Pensieve away in a spare cabinet in the common room.
He then stared down at the small yellow book that the Mudblood had been reading. Feeling incredibly cautious, Draco turned the book right-side-up with his foot, the title pointing up at him as he withdrew his wand.
-
The Mystical Tales of Sleeping Beauty
The Evil Fairy Maleficent could be considered today's modern Witch in society. Despite these fictional creatures and the dubious existence of witches in general, the myth of finding the True Sleeping Beauty is still tested and viewed in today's mythological setting. It was said that Maleficent would reemerge again to fulfill the failures that she could not accomplish during the medieval era.
Passage from a supposed entry from Maleficent (as studied by Mythologists and considered to be a breakthrough in research):
Come what may,
What lies within the early ways?
Of lifelong dreams lost
And love long wasted for?
Sweet nothingness of beauty can corrupt a man's soul
Leaving you in a tumble
A Rumble
So deep like slumber,
So hollow the blessing of beauty itself--
It is a sin of restful loss.
Is your True Love worth waiting for?
And for him to see what is among your reality?
It is said that anyone who reads this passage three times will be exposed to their true love, however…
-
Draco squinted at the damaged pages followed by the excerpt. He used his wand to turn the pages, not wanting to touch the book himself. He didn't know if the damage as made before or after Granger had gotten the book, but frankly he didn't care at this moment. He had finished cleaning the Mudblood's mess, and was now incredibly hungry.
With one last look at the Head Girl, Draco exited the Tower.
Little did he know what dilemma he had just partaken in.
Please leave constructive criticism about this short story. I will update tomorrow. The little snippet (poem) in the passage about Maleficent was written by me, in case anyone wants to know!