CHAPTER TWO
To feed your own ambition
Hermione found herself awake before any of the other girls in her dormitory were. Her dreams had been troubled, but most of them forgotten, dissolving into her subconscious the second she opened her eyes to stare up at the red and gold canopy of her lavish four poster bed. Judging by the lack of light that trickled through the windows and eerie silence that wrapped around the tower (save for the distant hooting of an owl), she was the only one up. Hermione contemplated getting up, wondering if she was quite possibly the only person awake in the castle, and she figured that it might very well be that she was the only person lying awake with many difficult things pressing in on her mind; but of course such selfish thoughts were silly, even coming from Hermione. Little did she know, however, that down in the dungeons, in front of the dying embers of a once warm fire was a familiar pointy-faced, white-blond haired boy.
He sat with a glazed look flickering across his grey eyes, the sleeves on his shirt had been rolled up to his elbow, and the fingers of his right hand lightly traced the slightly raised flesh that'd been marked by a black tattoo of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth. His gaze saw nothing in particular, focusing on the thoughts that swirled around in his head instead. There were so many questions that he'd buried and done his best to forget about that had resurfaced now that he was actually back at school. The most prevalent question was: how? How was he going to do it? How was he not going to get caught? How was he supposed to smuggle a hoard of Death Eaters into the school under the noses of the Order, the teachers, and Dumbledore? And most importantly; how was he supposed to kill Dumbledore?
Something fairly light jumped up onto the back of the couch and in a jerky movement, Draco jumped up and yanked the sleeves of his shirt down over the Dark Mark, his wide grey eyes looked around the dim common room with a wild look in his eye that could be comparable to that of a cornered wolf, hackles raised (or in this case, wand drawn), ready to kill. However, he soon realized that he was far from being under unfriendly fire. The thing he had felt jump up onto the back of the couch was not an enemy but an elegant Siamese cat. She sat gracefully on the edge of the couch, eyeing him with a piercing blue stare as if to question why he'd reacted in such a matter. Irritated as the adrenaline wore away and a pounding headache formed Draco snarled and made a move to brush her off the back when a pair of hands out of the darkness swooped her up and out of harm's way and a sharp voice barked at him,
"What are you doing?"
Draco glared at the person he could not see and hissed, "come out of the darkness before I blast you out of it." He was far too wrapped up in his paranoia to even realize that the voice of the bodiless person that'd stolen the cat out of his warpath was a familiar one that he shouldn't be reacting to in such a way. The person scoffed and took a few haughty steps into the light of the dying fire. As the dim red-glow fell across her round face and wide eyes, Draco instantly dropped his wand and rolled his head back and growled, "Pansy! What the hell are you doing awake?" She seemed a little offended to be talked to in such a manner and she hugged her sand-and-black cat a little closer to her chest and hissed between clenched teeth,
"I suppose I could ask you the same, Draco. But if you must know, I woke up from a startling dream and I realized that 'Rissa wasn't on my feet, so I came to look for her. What are you doing up so early?"
Draco peered at the girl through the diminished light and wondered why she was so worried about him. What did she care about his problems? What would she understand? Of course, he knew that to some degree Pansy would attempt to understand; if he complained, she was sure to listen. But he couldn't confide in her what he was supposed to do, and that's where he felt he needed an understanding ear more than ever. The knowledge of having to do what he was going to have to do ate at him like an internal bug, gnawing on his soul making him desperate to share his plight with anyone that would listen, and he knew that if he asked, Pansy would –but it was the Dark Lord's spoken will that no one save for his family and those the Dark Lord himself chose to tell knew what the youngest Death Eater was to do. Pansy seemed to take note in his hesitation and stomped her foot quietly (but demandingly all the same) and asked,
"Hello? Draco?"
He focused his unfocused gaze back on her and knitted his light-colored eyebrows together into something of a scathing scowl and sharply asked,
"What?"
"I was just making sure you were still in there, you got really quiet for a second," she explained, in a concerned voice that he was hardly used to hearing from her. Shrugging off her worry he waved a hand at her and sat back down on the couch with a heavy sigh,
"Yes, I'm still here. And what I'm doing up this early is my business; if you chose to loosen your lips like you do your legs for people and spill out all their secrets, then I am not going to stop you, but I however will exercise a bit of secrecy in my life."
Used to discreetly being called a 'whore' by Draco (she felt that their childhood friendship and undeniably close bond kept her safe from his actual opinions of her), Pansy set her cat down at her feet and watched for a moment as the cream-colored Siamese cat streaked away from her and into the darkness. Carefully, she came around to the side of the worn green velvet couch and sat down on the cushion the farthest away from Draco, making sure not to step into his ever-widening 'bubble' of personal space as she did so. Silence wrapped around them like a thin blanket and Pansy felt that if she even moved, she'd break it. In the quiet, she could practically hear the gears of Draco's mind running at full speed. She dared a sideways glance at her oldest friend and lamented over how old he suddenly seemed to look. There were premature creases running across his forehead, and in the crease of his nose and mouth. Rumors had been passed around the Slytheirn common room that Draco had been forced to join up with Him, but for some reason, Pansy still held onto hope that he had not yet crossed the line of evil that her parents had, she hoped that he too was still a shining beacon of innocence in a world that was so dark and corrupt.
Of course, deep in her heart she knew that none of that was true –just look at the boy! No sixteen year old should look like he did.
Draco could feel her gaze burning into the side of his head as he forced himself to not look at her. He could feel her questions bursting to bubble over. He knew that she wanted to know what he was up to, what 'important mission' he'd been given like he'd told her in that owl right before school started. He had trusted Pansy for a long time with many things, and enjoyed her company because she knew what it was like to have over-bearing parents; she knew what it was like to be forced to do great things by their parent's bidding. She was a common force that he had tied himself to before the years of Hogwarts and even during his schooling. Oh, she deserved to know, but he couldn't tell her. That'd risk just one more person knowing, just one more person with a mouth bigger than their bran, and just one more person that could potentially stop his mission and end his life (and his family's) for good. Finally, after several moments of silence he looked at Pansy. The look of worry that had crossed her face was almost shocking enough to make him say something. He could see that the first and foremost question burning in her mind was if he was ok. Reaching out, he gingerly took her hand and patted it –she twitched at the contact- and with an unconvincing smile he spoke in a voice that might have been too soft to be his own,
"You worry about me too much, Parkinson. I will be fine, and I am fine. I promise."
Her smile was weak in return, his unconvincing statement was followed by an unconvincing belief, "I know." With that, she pulled her hand from his and headed back up to her dorm. Draco watched her go and turned around when she walked beyond the dim glow of the firelight. He turned back around and stared into the dying fire once more. This was so hopeless, he couldn't even convince anyone else that he was ok and that everything was going to be 'fine'. Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, a lonely Draco heaved a giant, quiet sob.
Hermione wasn't exactly sure how long she laid there in bed, just staring up at the ceiling and thinking about Malfoy and what all he was up to, but the second she started to hear the girls in her dorm start to stir, she sprang up out of bed without much contemplation and hastily threw on her uniform and grabbed her robes. Streaking down the stairs she found herself face-to-face with an almost empty common room. The students that were actually up were simply milling around and yawning in their aimless wandering. Some of them were dressed; others meandered about in their pajamas still. She searched the room for signs for Ron and Harry, but did not detect either of them. Irritated with their lack of initiative and not being up early like she was, Hermione bounded back up the staircase and into her dorm and grabbed her bag. Sidling back down the stairs once more she placed herself in one of the big comfy armchairs closest to the fire and began to go through her bag, packing and re-packing her books, quills, inkwells and rolls of parchment. After the third re-pack, she found that she no longer had an excuse to go through her stuff.
Looking around the common room once more, she noticed that Harry and Ron were finally awake and were making their way down the stairs, lugging their bulging book bags on their shoulders as they discussed what the day would be like and how their sixth year would pan out. Standing up and walking over she stood down at the bottom of the steps and peered at her friends with a curious expression. Ron eyed her warily,
"Blimey 'Mione, classes haven't even started and you're looking at us like we've done something wrong."
Hermione glared at the pair and sniffed indifferently, "Well, it's the first day of classes, I was hoping you two lazy boys would have at least bothered to get up early and make sure you have everything ready."
Harry yawned and rubbed a green eye, "C'mon, lay off it Hermione. We haven't even had breakfast yet."
Huffing in an irritated manner, no doubt annoyed by her lack of sleep, Hermione turned on her heel and headed out towards the exit, looking over her shoulder to make sure that, reluctantly, Harry and Ron were following. The trio started off shoulder to shoulder down the staircases, sweeping past frightened first years and confused second years on their way to the Great Hall. Immediately, the three began to discuss exactly how hard their second to last year at Hogwarts would be. Hermione predictably gushed over how hard all of the new material was going to be and how being N.E.W.T students would really set them on the final path. Ron laughed at Hermione and said,
"Charlie told me that sixth years get free periods! I can't wait to just lay around doing nothing."
Hermione shot Ron a disapproving look and scolded him, "Ronald! Those free periods will be for you to do your school work."
Ron seemed to almost deflate at that but rebounded quickly as he said, "hey, no more Divinations this year, Harry!"
Harry, who had been considerably lost in thought, startled at the sound of being addressed and forced a smile across his morose face and feebly replied with a, "yeah."
Ron continued to chatter on about Quidditch and school work while Hermione remained passively quiet, watching Harry the entire time and shamelessly ignoring Ron (who did not seem nonplussed by his friend's lack of attention, as he simply talked on unawares of his lack of audience). She couldn't help but distress over how tired and worn he looked, how sad his eyes seemed –no doubt still lamenting over the loss of Sirius and the grave understanding of the Prophecy. She was about to ask him if he was really ok, but they had arrived into the pleasantly loud and food-filled Great Hall. Students talked loudly amongst themselves, and in an instant, Hermione sought out Malfoy's white-blond head. She found him sitting oddly alone at the end of the Slytherin table. She seated herself at the Gryffindor table with a clear view of Malfoy. Half paying attention to the conversation that went on around her and half watching Malfoy, Hermione hardly had time to eat. The familiar flutter of owls overhead signaled that it was close to time to leave for class. Hermione watched with great interest as Malfoy's spirits seemed to rise when a large barn owl carrying a nondescript package landed in front of him.
Every part of her burned to know what was in that package. Was it what he had reserved at Borgin and Burke's? Sometimes she wished she had an invisibility cloak of her own, she could be sneaking over there right now-
"Hermione!"
She pulled her hungry gaze off of Malfoy and glared at Ron, "what?"
"It's time to go, 'Mione…"
"Oh. Thanks, sorry Ron."
Sixth years lined up in front of Professor McGonagall, their head of house, and waited to have their schedules sorted out. When it was her turn, she presented her O.W.L.S grades to McGonagall, who seemed almost pleased to see the grades she got. Bespectacled eyes swept over the grads then with a tap of her wand on a blank sheet of parchment, Hermione was given her schedule. Looking down she noticed that her Ancient Runes class started in a mere ten minutes, waving a hearty goodbye to Ron and Harry and wishing them good luck on their first day and mentioning that they'd meet up again in Potions, she swept out of the Great Hall, hardly even noticing that Draco hadn't even bothered to get a schedule and was stalking off in the opposite direction of classes. Ancient Runes proved to be (if possible) harder than the year before and by the time the double-block class was over, she was greatly looking forward to her thirty minute break in between before Potions. Emerging with a head full of runes, she made her way towards the Gryffindor tower, but as she passed the courtyard, she noticed a familiar blond haired boy making off towards the school's owlry. Suddenly all thoughts of runes and translations slipped her mind and the reminder of the strange package Malfoy had received at breakfast reignited an almost extinguished fire of curiosity. Her course suddenly changed to follow a good distance behind the Slytherin prince as he went. Looking desperately for a way to make it look like she was not following him, Hermione pulled out a school book, opened it to a random page and stuck her nose in it, and only dared to glance up every now and again.
Funny enough, she actually started to read the page she was on and quickly got lost in the deep theory of creating and writing runes (she had coincidentally pulled out her runes book). She was so distracted, in fact, that she didn't even feel her feet carry her up the tower into the owlry, and let out a squeak of surprise as she ran into what she could have only assumed was Malfoy. The two students reeled from the impact, Hermione dropping her book in surprise, and Draco grabbing for his wand, the package he'd received earlier that morning still tightly clutched beneath his arm. His sharp voice seemed magnified in the circular, stone room as he shouted,
"Mudblood! Can't you take your damn nose out of a book for more than two seconds to even pay attention to where the hell you're walking?"
Shocked by the face-to-face encounter that she had not predicted nor wanted, Hermione stuttered and stammered, looking for the right words to explain herself as she flushed red with embarrassment and picked up her book. When she finally thought of what to say, her words came out far more demanding than they should have been,
"Shouldn't you be in class? Unless you don't even have classes, I didn't see you get a schedule!"
Malfoy peered at her with keen grey eyes, and then he burst out in laugher that caused her to start, she was not expecting this reaction from him. Finally, he quieted down but had a hard time hiding the rueful mirth in his voice,
"Was that…was that you demanding knowledge from me, Granger? God, that was the funniest shit I've heard yet, aside from that fat Slughorn bloke who I'm sure is a joke becoming the new Potions Master and the fact that they let you, Weasel, and Potty back into the school that is. Shouldn't you be in class?"
Hermione lifted her chin defiantly and firmly answered, "You didn't answer my question."
"Please, I don't have to answer anything you ask of me, mudblood."
"But why didn't you get a schedule?"
"Merlin, you are persistent, aren't you?" Hermione couldn't help but feel that Draco was just goading her on, the smirk across his face told her that he was simply enjoying watching her flounder and flail around while she searched for an answer in all the wrong ways. Malfoy sighed and shifted the box under his arms a little and he noticed her gaze slide towards it hungrily. His haughty mood quickly turned sour as he snapped, "I might ask why you aren't in class either, Granger."
"Because I have a break right now, that's why!" She answered with a confident trill in her voice, but it hardly seemed to impress the haughty Slytherin, who simply sneered at her and said, "I suppose then, it hasn't occurred to you; the brightest witch of our age, that there is more than one way to get a schedule for school. Namely being well connected and personally knowing your Head of House and getting O.W.L. scores in early. I've had my schedule for months now, silly mudblood. And I also happen to have a break before Potions with the fat slug-man. I am also compelled what has brought you, the infamous bookworm, up to the owlry before class. Surely you can't be sending a letter to anyone, because I highly doubt you've got anyone in the world aside from your gross muggle parents and your two sniveling friends that actually care about you enough for you to sent constant letters to."
Hermione's mouth hung open in disgust. How could one person be so mean? Shaking her bushy, brown-haired head heavily and shot back, "for your information, I have plenty of people that care about me, and my mum and dad sent me a beautiful quill this morning in reward for my O.W.L. grades and I'm simply taking the time to thank them." It was a hastily thought up lie that she was quite certain Malfoy would see right through.
And she was right.
His already dark expression grew darker has he advanced upon her and snarled, "Liar. You were following me, you didn't get anything at breakfast, and as I said before, there's no one that actually cares about you."
For a brief moment, Hermione thought he was going to curse or hex her, but the screech of an approaching owl made both of them startle and turn their heads. Apparently it was an owl Malfoy had been waiting for because he rushed over to the window, and Hermione just caught a glimpse of an address on the package that the Slytherin attached to the owl a 'Ro' something before she took the opportunity to sprint down from the tower and away from Malfoy before he had a chance to realize she had gone. By the time she arrived at the dungeons where all Potions classes were, her lungs were burning and she felt like her heart was pumping acid through her veins. Leaning over and placing her hands on her knees, she wheezed for a moment before realizing with a jolt that she was late. Sliding into the classroom, she noticed several potions pre-made, Professor Slughorn was happily describing each one. The entire class turned to look at her, along with the Professor. She smiled ashamedly at him and apologized for her lateness,
"I'm so sorry, Professor Slughorn…I got caught up with my Runes homework…"
Professor Slughorn smiled at her and jovially explained,
"Well, well, Miss Granger! If you can tell me what this potion," he motioned to a golden potion that sloshed back and forth merrily in its cauldron without spilling a single drop, "is and what it does, I will excuse your lateness."
Peering over at the potion, Hermione knew instantly what it was, as she'd remembered reading about it in the previous year and had been fascinated with its properties. An excited twinge to her voice was hard to disguise as she confidently explained, "that, sir, would be Felix Felicis, otherwise known as 'Liquid Luck'. It's known to bring the drinker twenty-four hours of solid luck. Tricky to brew…and horrible should you do it wrong…"
Professor Slughorn beamed at her and clasped his pudgy little hands together, "yes, yes! Excellent, you are forgiven for your lateness, and ten points to Gryffindor. Please, have a seat."
Happily doing as she was told, she took the only empty table that was located near the back of the class. She felt a little horrified to be sitting there, as she'd never actually had to sit so far from any instructor before. Nonetheless, she was proud of herself for getting out of a tardy punishment and pulled out her cauldron and waited for further instruction. Just as she was getting settled in, she noticed Malfoy quietly sliding into the door of the Potions dungeon. She didn't exactly hear what he and Professor Slughorn were saying, but she glared at the Slytherin nonetheless. Likewise, he did not look impressed to have to be sitting next to the 'Gryffindor mudblood' (his muttered greeting to her) for the remainder of class. The students were set off in their respective directions when Professor Slughorn asked them all to brew up a Draught of Living Death, and in return, the best potion would win a bit of Liquid Luck. The students chattered away happily, but Hermione remained silent and stony next to her unwanted table partner, who did not seem any more excited about it than she was. By the end of the class, her hair had reached new volumes and somehow, Harry had turned out to be an undiscovered potions wizard that no one knew existed. Hermione glowered at him as he happily received his prize and got a lack-luster round of applause from the rest of the class, only clapping because Professor Slughorn had told them that Harry deserved congratulations. Angrily packing up the contents of her table and stowing away her cauldron, she noticed that Malfoy had already left.
Catching up with Ron and Harry, she found them talking excitedly over how Harry had managed to beat out even Hermione, to which she asked, "yes, Harry, that was some brilliant potionwork back there, how did you manage it?"
Harry laughed and said that he just followed some different instructions in the second-hand book he'd gotten out of Slughorn's cabinet. Hermione was absolutely horrorstricken, "you…copied…instructions that weren't a part of the book? Harry! How daft can you be!"
Harry glanced at the flustered Hermione and shrugged, "it turned out alright, didn't it? Some bloke by the name of 'the Half-Blood Prince' or whatever. Whoever he was, he was a genius."
Having knowledge of people coming across books with aforementioned owners, Hermione gave Harry a warning look and was about to say something but caught a brief glimpse Malfoy stalking off towards the library (a place she didn't even know he knew existed) and started off in that direction. Startled by her change of mind, Ron and Harry called after her to where she was going. Sharply turning on her heel she barked, "to the library to study so I don't have to follow some shady person's directions to become good at something!"
Her haughty reply left Ron and Harry confused as ever, watching at their friend disappeared out of sight.
A/N: Aww yeah, chapter two is up! But c'mon guys, only one review? No alerts/favorites? I know chapter one was a little boring, but you gotta trust me! It's gonna be a good story, guys. YOU MAKE ME SO SAD.
