All in the Gaze
The drum of fingers on wood grew louder, faster in tempo. Ordinarily it was a sound that irritated her, one that reeked of impatience and she had little tolerance for such a thing in this place.
Things happened slowly in the library. Methodically. That was how she liked it. Perhaps if it had been someone else, anyone else, it might have irritated her on this occasion too. However, it wasn't and so it didn't.
Hermione tried to keep her gaze steady on the parchment, her fingers loose and fluid as they guided the quill in its eloquent strokes. She bit into the side of her lip because he, Seamus, was undoubtedly trying to catch her attention and she was trying best as she could to be stern and disapproving.
In actuality it just made her want to laugh. And given the many times she had discussed, though some might have said lectured, with him the importance of study, she didn't think she wanted to prove him right by laughing aloud.
Instead she glanced up at him and rolled her eyes, but she knew he saw the amusement there. In any case, he stopped tapping his fingers because he now had what he had sought: her attention.
He grinned his easy grin.
'Yes?' She said the words primly and he let out a bark of laughter. Impossibly, he seemed to read her thoughts so well: impossibly, because in truth they had not been friends in this capacity for very long at all.
Hermione had always considered Seamus Finnigan to be an acquaintance, just the same way she viewed all her other housemates. And she had been especially disenchanted with the Irish boy as a result of his behaviour to Harry in their fifth year.
He had redeemed himself since then, though. He had become a great advocate of Dumbledore's Army and in turn, the Order of the Phoenix. Though his mother still did not completely approve, he had decided that doing the right thing just might be more important than soothing her fears.
In this instance she was more than relieved because he had become one of her closest companions over the long summer and she needed his friendship now, with the absence of Ron and Harry, more than ever.
He had taken up the mantle superbly.
'Yeh've had yeh nose in those books long enough. Let's get on before we miss lunch.' He rose from his seat and looked down at her, ready and waiting for her reluctant response.
She almost gave him what he was expecting just to serve him right. Instead though, she acquiesced and began gathering her effects. When she straightened her spine and glanced at him she could not help giving him a small smile as he watched her with amused eyes.
They wandered down the corridors and ever changing stairways in the direction of the Great Hall. Seamus was chatting away lightly, commenting on various amusing things which had happened in their first period Transfiguration class that morning.
Hermione smiled and laughed on cue but in truth she was highly distracted. Her thoughts were still in a bit of a scramble after the incident of the previous night and all that she had witnessed.
She could recall with clarity the erratic beat of her heart and the flow of adrenaline that caused the blood to pound in her ears. Never in her wildest imaginings had she thought she would come across such a revealing display.
More to the point, she would have never guessed that Draco Malfoy himself was so deeply involved. She, like the Order, had assumed that he would have some knowledge about his father and his aunt's whereabouts and perhaps some information gleaned from eavesdropped conversations.
But clearly he knew far more than they had ever anticipated. And Hermione had fallen upon the opportunity quite unexpectedly.
But now, in the light of day, she was not sure which step to take next. She had lost her ring the night before and when she had hurried out to the forest before light this morning, it had not been there. She did not like to think of the prospect of his having it.
One thing she knew for certain, he had heard her there last night. He knew someone had been listening and, given what he had revealed, she felt certain that he would not settle until he had found the culprit.
He was, she reflected, no longer the spineless coward he had always been. Now he was an unknown quantity and all her previous thoughts of what he was capable of had flown out the window.
Time to start afresh.
It was in this state of introspection from which she was jolted at a disgusted noise erupting from Seamus. Hermione glanced ahead and felt the prickling heat of anxiety as her eyes clashed with the mercurial gaze of the boy himself. Malfoy.
*
The dormitory was sheathed in darkness but for the small burst of light spilling from a wand laid carelessly on the sleek quilting of the bed. It was enough light to help the boy make out the lines of furniture in the room and that was all he cared to see in any case.
He lay languorously beside the narrow strip of wood, gazing up at the ceiling of his opulent four-poster bed. The drapes of fabric which ordinarily lined the majestic bed had been pushed back to reveal the dark and open space beyond.
Draco Malfoy did not like closing the drapes. It was too claustrophobic. He just wanted to breathe.
It was very early morning: too early to be awake, but likewise too late to attempt sleep. Such sleep had evaded him anyway, a result of the heavy weight of his thoughts throughout the night. He had not minded in any case, he found the silence of this time of the day allowed him to think.
He thought about this very room and the bed on which he was sprawled. That he had been elected as Head Boy had, at first, seemed entirely surprising and if truth be told Draco could not deny the immediate rush of triumph which had imbued him. The glow had lasted scarcely a minute before he had realised what it meant, and why. His father had drawn the same conclusion upon hearing the news.
That the late Dumbledore's merry band of muggle-defenders had overrun the school had been undeniable, but it seemed quite clear to the Malfoy family that their son's receipt of such an honour could only have been to ensure that he would always be close at hand. Whether this was because the Order planned to glean information from him, or whether they simply wished to keep him under close watch, they had yet to ascertain.
It was for this very reason that Draco had been instructed to keep a low profile in his final year of Hogwarts. It was something he had fully intended to hold true to; that was, until last night, the ramifications of which could bring down everything that had been worked for.
He had not endured such a summer to come unstuck at the first hurdle, his master, he thought rather bitterly, was not known for being all that understanding of such lapses in judgement.
Draco sighed, and carded an agitated hand through his hair. The circumstances of his final year at Hogwarts were very strange indeed. Many of the faces of which he was accustomed to seeing were no long in residence. The most notable absences were, of course, Weasley and Potter, a point of much interest to inquiring minds. That their beloved mudblood, Granger, had remained was all the more curious.
He felt confident that he would get to the bottom of such loose ends though, for his own sake and his family's, he had no other option.
Chasing that ominous thought was the remembered fumble of the night before. He cursed both himself and his mother and aunt for allowing such a situation to occur. The fact that there had been a witness to their meeting was, he reflected with distaste, highly unnerving.
Without inclining his head from its resting position, Draco lifted a hand carelessly in the light and noted the way the yellow gleam reflected on the fine gold band he held.
What the ring meant and to whom it belonged were not yet facts he knew. He would though, he felt assured. He would discover the eavesdropper and would guarantee their silence. There was no other alternative.
His finger traced the fine lines of curved metal. It consisted of three very narrow bands of gold interwoven into one solid gold ring. At first he had assumed the culprit was a young boy, the most likely sort of person to be wandering the grounds at such a late hour. If it had been a teacher, they would have reacted immediately.
But no, it was neither of these possibilities. It was a girl, age unknown.
The delicacy and size of the ring suggested as much. And Draco was relieved by this fact. A girl he could work with, intimidate. Ultimately, though, Draco knew that it would serve no purpose to try and ascertain the girl's identity by process of elimination. Truth be told, it could be any one at Hogwarts, and that left the field wide open, far wider than he would have liked.
He lay supine with thoughts running through his mind in a whirl of colour and sound, elusive to his attempts to hold them firm. As the hours passed in slow succession, the weak morning light began to filter through the warbled window panes, eventually breaking into his reverie.
His muscles ached and his joints were stiff, but Draco ignored the discomfort, glad for the opportunity to escape the confines of his dormitory at long last. He finally lifted his lithe form from the bed and moved methodically about the room, changing his attire, smoothing his hair and schooling his features.
At long last he ventured toward the large gilt-framed mirror to gaze at his reflection. Piercing, cool grey eyes stared back at him as he lifted the fine gold chain over his head to let the ring fall gently against the folds of his robes. A thrum of energy reverberated through his being which seemed to emanate from the small metal band.
Glancing once more at his reflection, he quirked a brow, a mark of his piqued curiosity.
And then he left the room.
*
The day was passing slowly and in a whirl of introspection for the pale-haired boy. By the time lunch had arrived and signalled the end to his monotonous History of Magic class, Draco felt sure the day would never end. He was just reflecting on this most dismal thought as he wandered along the main hallway leading to the Great Hall when he spotted something that brought an instantaneous sneer to his smooth features. The sniggering from his fellow Slytherins which sounded from behind him was perfectly timed.
The subject of their amusement was one Hermione Granger, she of his early morning musings, who was headed precisely in his direction. She was, as always, surrounded by her ever present band of hopeless Gryffindors. However, there was one in particular who appeared to have taken a special interest in the newly instated Head Girl. Draco could not help but notice with derision the way the Irish boy, whose name he had never bothered to learn, had his hand pressed almost possessively against the small of her back.
Both appeared to be enjoying their cosy little moment until, with a jolt, the girl glanced suddenly in his direction, as though she had felt his presence.
She did not look directly into his eyes at first, though. Her gaze lingered a beat too long on the narrow band of intertwined gold that hung from the chain around his neck. When she raised her gaze to his it contained no emotion - no fear, no anger, no shock. She had a look about her face which seemed to suggest that she had deliberately wiped any and all revealing emotion. It was in actuality, far more indicative of her thoughts than had she not reacted at all. She held his gaze nonetheless.
As the wild-haired girl reached level with him, Draco felt the ring start to vibrate more significantly, felt a rush of giddy warmth imbue his body. His eyes darkened in realisation and as he stared back, the ghost of a smirk haunted the curve of his lips. He could almost feel the breath leave her body with an audible and delicious hiss.
Though he could not see her expression any longer, Draco felt most assured that it reflected the horror she was undoubtedly feeling. He soaked in the feeling of triumph that came with the knowledge and enjoyed it for a flash.
It was in the moment which followed that Draco truly processed the ramifications of the previous night. That Granger, very much in Potter's pocket as she was, had discovered his secret was very bad indeed.