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To Love You More
Chapter 3
Hermione was ecstatic when her tutelage of Malfoy was over and she could do what she wanted to do. However, every day of the rest of the Christmas holiday, Draco still came to Hermione's home. EVERY DAY. She tried to get rid of him by just shutting the door in his face (or not opening the door at all); she had underestimated how annoying he could be, however—so annoying that she was afraid of her neighbors calling the police. Telling him that she wasn't allowed to have boys in the house when her parents weren't home (which was true) did not work either; Draco then suggested they 'hang out' (using the Muggle verbiage she had taught him, MUCH to her surprise) outside. Thus, Hermione was forced to 'hang out.'
Hanging out with Malfoy along the streets of Hampstead, Hermione was on the lookout for unique and also Muggle-specific stores. She thought this would help Draco understand Muggle culture even more (report complete or not, Malfoy could stand to know more about Muggles, after all). Drao made not one positive comment about any of the places and items Hermione thought would be interesting to him, though, to her annoyance. He just seemed unenthused in general, but when verbalized her observation, he waved her off.
After that, she took him only to her favorite places—the music store and bookstore—where they could each peruse what they wanted to and Hermione didn't have to hear Draco complain. Hermione was enjoying the quiet time! Gryffindor Tower was always so noisy, and she found that her visits home were much-needed breaks.
While in the music store, Hermione listened to more Celine Dion (as did Draco, she noticed, even though he was being secretive about his selections) plus more of her favorites: new band Savage Garden and a long-time favorite, Mariah Carey (Hermione hoped that someday her own wild hair could be tamed and as beautiful as Mariah's and Celine's).
On one of their treks to the bookstore, Draco appeared to be genuinely intrigued with the Muggles around him (Probably trying to chat up slags, Hermione thought with a roll of her eyes), so Hermione left him to wander for a bit, thinking it wouldn't be terrible if she lost him for the rest of the day. A smile graced her lips at the thought as she nonchalantly searched for Pregnancy books. Knowing that she'd have to come back later (as she couldn't risk having them in her possession while in Malfoy's presence), she just found the Pregnancy section and moved on. That's when she remembered that she needed a new journal.
Ha! Do I ever need a new journal, now that I will be dealing with a secret pregnancy!
She bought the cheapest journal in the bookstore, happy with her purchase and eager to start using it.
You could definitely use the stress outlet, Hermione! she said to herself.
Yes, I sure cou—OH, do belt up! she responded…to herself.
Maybe too much quiet time—her alone with her own thoughts—was not actually a good thing, she mused.
xxxx
On the last Friday night of the Holiday, Hermione and her parents cooked her favorite foods (it had become a tradition for each time Hermione went back to Hogwarts). The night's dinner was baked cheesy pasta, bacon crumbles and asparagus, fruit salad, and Boston Cream pie. They were sitting down to dinner when the doorbell rang. Hermione groaned into her hands as she walked slowly to answer the door, knowing that it must be Malfoy, as she hadn't yet seen him that day.
I should have known that a day without Malfoy was just too good to be true.
"Good evening, Granger," he said jovially—in a manner he knew would irritate Hermione—and with a huge smirk on his face. "Hello, Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger!" he then called out in a booming voice before she had a chance to do or say anything. She knew immediately that he was ensuring her parents would know of his presence in case Hermione shut the door in his face (which, incidentally, is exactly what she'd had in mind).
"Ah, Draco, is that you? Come on in, mate, we are just sitting down for dinner," bellowed Mr. Granger, and Draco wasted no time in doing just that, stomping his winter boots on the foyer rug and shedding his coat and thrusting it at Hermione before sauntering toward the dining room.
"Coming, Granger?" he said over his shoulder before sending her a smirk and a wink. Hermione had to count to ten and recite the ingredients of Polyjuice Potion (the first one that came to mind) before she hexed the sneaky, annoying blond right there in her parents' foyer.
Draco stayed for dinner—and dessert, to Hermione's vexation! He called Hermione 'Granger' so much that her parents insisted he call her by her given name….so he did!
After making Draco help her clear the table, load the dishwasher (sooo not going to hand wash tonight!), and put away the leftovers, Hermione suggested to Draco that he go home straight away.
"I'm sure you have packing to do before we return to Hogwarts in two days," she suggested, trying to conceal her irritation with him.
"Oh, no. You see, HERMIONE," he said emphatically (and emphasizing her name), "I have servants—you know, HOUSE ELVES—who will take care of that for me. I have nothing but time tonight," he smirked.
Why always with the smirking?
Hermione's parents came into the kitchen just then and invited Draco to stay and watch a movie with them all. "Draco, we are going to watch Hermione's favorite—it's about witches," her mother excitedly informed him.
"Mum!" Hermione scolded. "Those aren't like real witches at all!"
But Jean ignored Hermione's censure, and Draco strode over to Jean and said, "That sounds first-rate, Mrs. Granger, much like tonight's meal. Thank you for the delicious food and the invitation to stay." He turned back and gave Hermione a huge smirk.
"Yes, just first-rate," she growled back to him quietly and made a face with narrowed eyes, which only made his smirk larger.
Hermione loved The Wizard of Oz, and it was a tradition, since she'd been a little girl, that her family would watch it every Christmas holiday. And he's ruined it, she thought, watching him watch the movie attentively with a small upturn to his lips—not quite a smirk, but not, of course, a smile. Embarrassment also plagued her because, well, her favorite movie is kind of a kids' movie. Draco would use any ammunition he could find to antagonize her, and she knew that he would definitely have more than enough ammo with the movie. A sigh of aggravation left her throat as her gaze full on him. His long legs were stretched out on the Chesterfield sofa—he was hogging the whole thing! Hermione had been forced to sit with her body folded up uncomfortably in a small chair, as her parents were sitting together on the loveseat-sized settee. Draco also held the bowl of popcorn far longer than the rest did before passing it along.
He's hogging the whole sofa—and the popcorn, too!
"Oh, Mione," Jean said excitedly at the end of The Wizard of Oz, "Why don't we watch Mary Poppins with Draco, too?" Then, turning to Draco she said, "You have not seen that movie, I presume, Draco?"
He shook his head with a small smile at Mrs. Granger. Draco had never before seen ANY movie.
"It's about a witch who nannies for a busy family in London," Jean quickly supplied, "but the parents don't know that she's a witch."
Hermione started to utter an excuse, but Draco interrupted, saying, "That sounds great. Brilliant idea, Mrs. Granger—and I'm sure it would be a brilliant addition to our report for Muggle Studies, don't you, HERMIONE?" He looked at her pointedly, his head turned far enough away from the elder Grangers that they were oblivious to the look of immense satisfaction at being able to torture her that was on his face. Hermione could only agree, as her parents had raised her to be a polite young lady (all of the intentional and forceful smacking–boys-on-the-cheek aside) and they were sitting right there.
"Brilliant!" Jean agreed. "Mione, it looks like we could use some more popcorn, please dear?"
"Yes, it does. Sure, Mum," Hermione said with barely-concealed restraint and a fake smile on her face. She took the popcorn bowl (from Draco, naturally) and walked to the kitchen to make more of the treat. He's got them eating out of his long-fingered, pale, ferrety hands and getting them to make me wait on him! Ugh, what a snake!
When the movie about the pretty magical nanny concluded, the elder Grangers hinted that it was bedtime—aka 'time for Hermione to see her friend off and then to come up to bed,' too. Hermione jumped at the opportunity and was halfway through her goodbye, leading Draco by his elbow toward the door, when Jean exclaimed, "Oh, crikey! Charles—it's nearly 11pm! We can't allow Draco to walk to the station at this time of night. Draco, Mr. Granger will drive you."
Hermione could tell by the fast-as-the-speed-of-light look appearing and then disappearing on Draco's face that he was not thrilled with that suggestion. Now it was Hermione's turn to smirk.
Though before Draco could say anything, Charles yawned and said, "Jean, it is late, dear, and if it's all the same to you, Draco, and if your parents won't mind, would you allow us to instead put you up in the guest room tonight, and I will drive you to the station—or Hermione could accompany you there—tomorrow?"
Hermione gasped….loudly. Three sets of eyes fell on hers; Draco's widened somewhat before he plastered on his usual fake pleasant mask.
"I completely agree, Sir, and I thank you for your offer. I am right knackered tonight. My parents won't mind, but I'll send them an owl nonetheless," Draco finished, looking to Hermione to show him to her owl.
"I don't have an owl, Malfoy," Hermione informed him. "Maybe you can send a message with your Patronus?" she suggested flippantly.
Draco's expression hardened for a second before he said, "Did you forget that I cannot use magic near Muggles, Granger? Or, are you offering to your Patronus with a message to my parents so that they will not have to worry about me?" The gleam in his eyes told Hermione that he felt like he'd outsmarted her, and she was further annoyed with the snake.
Hermione sighed; she had already had to explain to the Ministry on Draco's behalf that she had used his wand last week when they babysat together, and her name was on a 'watch' list for performing magic with another's wand. Draco's name, too, was on a 'watch' list for allowing magic to be performed with his wand in the presence of Muggles.
"Fine I will send a Patronus to your mother. What shall I say?"
Jean and Charles stood eyeing the teens' exchange and were excited to see Hermione perform magic (although they had no idea what a Patronus was). Draco was relieved for the first time that his magic was being watched; he could not perform the Patronus Charm, and that was definitely not something that he wanted Hermione to know.
"Mother, I am spending the night at the home of a schoolmate tonight. I will be home tomorrow. Regards to Hunter. Your son, Draco," he said.
Regards to Hunter? Hermione thought, but shook her head quickly to clear her thoughts of the mysterious 'Hunter' to properly Perform the Charm.
Jean and Charles gasped as the silver otter sprang from Hermione's wand and floated (looking to be happily swimming) through the room. Hermione repeated Draco's message to the otter as her parents stood in awe; to Hermione's surprise, Draco, too, looked to be in awe. Unbeknownst to her, Draco had never seen the Patronus Charm performed (and he actually was in awe).
With the message sent, Hermione went straight to her bathroom, quickly readied herself for bed, and then opened Draco's door a crack and hissed through it, "You'd better be on your best—no, MY best—behavior, Malfoy, or I'll hex your bollocks!"
All she heard in response was, "Goodnight, HERMIONE," in a mocking tone and an arrogant chuckle as she shut the door. She stomped her foot and crossed her arms as she crossed the hall to her own room.
Locking the door, she vowed to give Malfoy the scolding of his lifetime (and really, probably the ONLY scolding he will have ever had, she thought) in the morning.
That night, Hermione had less-than-chaste dreams about Malfoy, and woke in the morning feeling elated and disgusted at the same time.
The next morning, Hermione slept until nine, which was quite late for her. Draco, however, slept until noon. When he finally awoke, he decided he needed to 'experience a Muggle shower,' so he did. He also ate lunch with the Grangers, at the elders' request.
"We can't send you back home on an empty stomach, now, could we? What would your parents think of us?" they had said. In response, Hermione had snorted and choked on her food while Draco had just smiled at his hosts (and then smirked at Hermione when her parents weren't looking).
Draco finally finished his meal and helped clear the table. Such a suck up. Slimy, Slytherin git, Hermione thought. At the door, he shook hands with and thanked the elder Grangers with graciousness the likes of which she had never seen. Ever. She almost believed that his sentiments were sincere.
Where on earth has the real Draco Malfoy gone? Is this another Polyjuice-Malfoy? she wondered (only half serious, for a Polyjuice-Malfoy is no laughing matter).
Hermione's mum shocked the pants off of her when she gave Draco a quick hug—and then Hermione almost peed her pants in shock when Draco hugged her back! Draco appeared surprised, too, though, as if he were unfamiliar with the gesture, before his face tinged pink. Hermione's breath caught in her throat at the sight; she thought he was going to go 'Draco Malfoy' on her mother, but he instead held himself together well.
Quite the actor, he is.
Although her resolve had dwindled—slightly—after witnessing Draco's astounding display, Hermione walked Draco down the front steps and through the front garden gate, and down the street, ready to scold him. When she looked up at him, ready to begin her inquisition, she was puzzled to see that he seemed to be expecting it.
"Malfoy, I don't know what you've been getting at by being here every day or by schmoozing my parents and annoying me to death, but—"
She was cut off by him saying, "What happened to you that night, Granger?"
She paused at his question. "What?" she then asked. "What night?" she said, nonchalantly, feigning ignorance.
"You know what night, Granger," Draco spat, in a tone full of disdain. "When you ending up in the Hospital Wing, when you were supposed to be helping me in the Library."
Hermione took another pause. Think, Hermione!
"Is that what this was? You paying me back for standing you up—for not being at your beck and call?" she asked incredulously.
"Of course not, Granger," he replied, clearly aggravated at her pretense.
She was so surprised he even remembered it and wondered why he hadn't asked her before today; he'd had almost a fortnight. "Answer my question first, Malfoy," she said stubbornly after a silent pause between them.
Draco knew that stubborn look and just how stubborn she could be, so he gave in to her demand to save himself time and to spare himself a headache. "I need to pass Muggle Studies, Granger, and so spending time in a mundane Muggle household like yours has allowed me to gather enough information for my report. I can now consider it complete and submit it on Monday. That's it. Now, my questions," he commanded, folding his arms over his expensive cashmere Havelock coat. His desire to satisfy his curiosity was besting him, and he knew better, but he had waited so long that he couldn't help it. "What did you do to Potter in the train compartment to make him look so wretched? Did you go to the party and the Ball with him and then break his heart?" he simpered sarcastically.
Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You're so obsessed with Harry, Malfoy—did you know?"
Though Draco looked to be angry at her statement, he calmly said, through clenched teeth, "What happened, Granger?"
"Why do you want to know so badly, Malfoy?" she screeched. "So you can attempt it, too?" she replied with a bitter laugh. "Sorry to rain on your parade, but that will NOT be happening again."
He raised his eyebrows; he didn't understand the term 'rain on your parade,' and he certainly did not understand her phrase, "so you can attempt it, too.' Sighing, Draco closed his eyes for a moment while he summoned all of the patience he could before he began again. "What happened that night, Granger?" he asked in a serious tone.
Hermione realized that he was not going to give up. Okay….what to say, how to say it, how much to tell…
He tapped is foot impatiently, though his hands were now in the pockets of his coat, lending nonchalance to his air. "Well?"
"Well…" she started, then faltered, and tears welled up. He sighed.
"Granger, do you want to walk to that park we saw the other day? While we're at it, you can gather up that bloody annoying—yes, yes, I swore, Granger, the world isn't coming to a bloody end—Gryffindor courage and tell me. I'll pester you all day if you don't tell me," he threatened.
She believed that threat based on the past week, so she nodded and they started walking to the park. If he had been any other classmate, she wouldn't even consider giving him even an inkling of the truth. As she walked and ruminated, though, she felt that he should know a part of it because he was involved—or at least a strand of his hair had been. And that's when it hit her; what if Malfoy had WILLINGLY given the rapist his hair? What if he WERE complicit? She hadn't even considered it because….because why? She didn't want to think about that now—she couldn't now. She was so angry and indignant with herself—and afraid. Now, all she could do was give into her fear and RUN.
"I trust you remember the way back to the station, the one by the music store? Bye, then," she said quickly, nodding before she turned and ran back toward home as fast as her legs could take her there.
"Damnit, Granger!" he hollered at her, unable to rein-in his anger at her total avoidance of his question (he had, after all, been keeping up a very successful patient façade for almost a whole day now). He didn't go after her; Malfoys don't give chase. He sneered back at a couple of mothers who looked at him disapprovingly for swearing in front of their children as he started toward the train station—and his close to three-hour trip home.
-January 1997
The second term started, and right away Harry was proving to be Hermione's rock AND a source of her frustration. In the first Potions class of the new term, Harry had infuriated her and most everyone else—Draco included, Hermione noticed—when he used a Bezoar to earn perfect marks instead of making a potion. In addition, Harry was still insistent about Malfoy being a Death Eater, and so, as Harry was sticking like glue to Hermione (for which she was completely grateful), she was forced to endure his ramblings on the subject many, many times over.
Harry never left her out of his sight while in their shared classes, and in the corridors and the Great Hall; he even joined her on her Patrols. Because they did not know who the rapist was (it could be another prefect, or a friend of a prefect), Hermione and Harry felt that they couldn't be too careful. When Harry was unable to keep his eyes on Hermione, another Gryffindor or Luna was there in his place. Harry had spoken to his and Hermione's trusted friends and Housemates about this without giving them any information about the rape. All involved believed the lie: that it was because of Hermione's Muggleborn status and her being the best friend of Harry Potter that she needed protection from Pureblood Supremacists and Voldemort's followers. Ron was not part of the 'Protection Detail'; Hermione still was so hurt over Ron and Lavender's relationship that she just couldn't be around him.
Hermione and Harry also talked about her theories about Draco. Harry agreed (shocking!) that Draco could have been complicit in the brewing and/or using of the Polyjuice Potion. They didn't trust Draco enough, of course, to directly ask him if he knew anything about it, so Harry suggested they give him Veritaserum. Harry was salivating over the thought of asking Draco about being a Death Eater as well as about her rape, and while Hermione realized that it would be a good thing to be able to know for sure (if for nothing else but being able to silence Harry on the subject!), she knew that this idea presented too many problems.
Hermione was avoiding Draco like the plague, but that was proving difficult considering all of the classes they shared. She could tell he was looking for ways in which to catch her alone, and so she was thankful for her 'Protection Detail.' The Detail was working rather well until Draco changed his tactic; he started sending her owls.
'Granger, what happened that night?'
'You know how persistent I am, Granger.'
'What is with your pathetic Gryffindor friends treating you like you're a child, Granger?'
She ignored his every letter, which were now being delivered by a beautiful Eagle Owl, and not a school owl like before holiday. Must have been a Christmas gift from his snooty Mother and his nasty, incarcerated Father, she thought.
She had purchased The Pregnancy Guidebook for the First-time Mother before returning to school, and from that, she knew she had very little time in which she could avoid it, but she was sure trying! She was taking her vitamins (which Madam Pomfrey had instructed she buy during holiday), and so she was quite content to ignore everything else for the time being. She'd resigned herself to the fact that she was going to have a baby; all three of her Muggle pregnancy tests that she used upon her return to Hogwarts had turned up positive. Resigned to the fact that she had a role to play in the fall of Voldemort, she decided that she was not going to be a coward about it. The Prophecy stated that she had to birth a child to help vanquish the Dark, but nowhere in the Prophecy did it state that she had to be its mother—its caregiver. She still thought she'd be a horrible mother—at least to this baby because of her age—but there was no way she'd harm the child or jeopardize the chance to win the war. She was hoping that Dumbledore and the Order would help her find a loving home for her child.
Heaven knows it's not going to fare well with a mum like me who hasn't finished school and with no dad to care for it.
Dumbledore sent her a letter, delivered by the beautiful owl he had used before holiday, regarding the Prophecy upon the start of the term. In it he expressed his anger over her rape and apologized for her having been treated so abhorrently in his school. He informed her that he was doing what he could to find her attacker. He thanked her for her 'willingness to combat the Dark Lord.' His letter did nothing but leave a bad taste in her mouth, so to speak, and so it was after receiving that letter that she had decided to forget about the Prophecy. She had been quite pleased with that idea; to her it felt akin to getting even with the Prophecy—well, as much as a non-entity can be 'got even with.'
Her avoidance of the Prophecy had been successful until the third week into January, when she was compelled to visit the Hospital Wing. After awaking her roommates one morning with the sounds of her retching and vomiting on the floor, she hastily told them she had likely caught the flu, and she fled (while still in her pajamas AND having forgotten to clean up her mess) to the Wing. She passed a few students on their way to breakfast, but she didn't care if they saw her in her current state.
When Hermione arrived to the Wing, Madam Pomfrey did not appear to be surprised at all by Hermione's presence or by her symptoms; they both had known this was inevitable, after all. Madam Pomfrey gave Hermione a Stomach-Stilling Potion, and tucked her into a bed, the privacy curtains drawn around her once more. Hermione was feeling the potion's effects, but she was not feeling any better mentally. She knew that her time of avoiding the Prophecy was over. It was time for reality….time to face the facts….time to grow up; but before that, she was going to cry, long and hard. And she did, with Madam Pomfrey by her side.
Madam Pomfrey insisted that Hermione remain in the hospital bed all day (not due to her physical condition, but her mental one) and wrote excuses to Hermione's professors, ensuring Hermione would not be given detention for her truancy. She and Hermione set up appointments that fit around Hermione's already busy schedule for checking in on her health and the baby's. She gave Hermione a huge bottle of Stomach-Stilling Potion and instructed her on how much she could take each day.
Madam Pomfrey also gave Hermione something that, under any other circumstances, Hermione would have loved: a book, of course. As it was, Hermione was not thrilled, but still thankful. The book was entitled The Witch With Child and related to magical issues in pregnancy. Hermione soon learned from the book that Apparition in pregnancy was considered safe; and good thing, too, as Apparition instruction would begin soon. She read that flying on a broom was ill-advised even for the most confident flyer (absolutely non-applicable to me, she thought), and that ingesting Polyjuice Potion was contraindicated as well, due to the 'temporary change in physical features,' which could harm the developing fetus. There were also some ingredients in other potions that she must avoid ingesting, as well as handling or even smelling them. Potions class just got easier, she thought sarcastically.
The best find in the book was a list of charms she could use on her body during pregnancy. The most useful one, in her opinion, could conceal her pregnant belly from view, although it could not prevent it from being discovered if it were touched (possibly problematic) or while she was naked (no problem there!).
No hugging, then! she resolved—before realizing that the only person at Hogwarts who would hug her was Harry, and he already knew about the baby! Needless to say, she felt much better—elated, in fact—after resting and reading in the Wing that day.
That evening, however, she was not feeling well. Her nausea had returned, as had a certain beautiful owl with a message tied to its leg. Hermione groaned at the sight of it and took her dose of potion for nausea before dealing with the unwanted avian visitor.
'Granger,
You're sick? What are your symptoms? Did you get Muggle germs from those brats we watched? Is this serious? Should I visit Madam Pomfrey? Advise post haste; my owl was instructed to wait for your reply, and trust me when I say this owl is as persistent as I am.'
Hermione was fuming. What an egocentric dolt! And as much as she tried to ignore the owl and not send a reply to Malfoy, the owl was indeed just as persistent and annoying as its owner (not to mention violent)!
'Malfoy,
I assure you that what ails me is not communicable—that is, it is not catchable. You have no reason to be worried for your health, but do check with Madam Pomfrey if you feel narcissistic enough (which I'm sure you do) to seek out undue attention. I'm sure it's been far too long since someone fawned all over you for no good reason.
Also, stop owling me! Although your owl is beautiful, I do not appreciate her bites!'
Hermione was quite happy with her reply and sent it off with the beautiful-but-vicious Eagle owl post haste.
Leave it to Malfoy to own a sadistic pet.
Quite knackered from the stress-that-is-Malfoy and from the task of growing a person, Hermione fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
xxxx
The first Apparition lesson for all of the Sixth Years arrived, and as excited as Hermione was to learn something new, she groaned whined to herself when she dragged herself out of bed that Saturday morning. She was constantly tired nowadays, and wanted a lie in….maybe I can get in a kip before dinner, she thought hopefully as she readied for the day.
Upon entering the Great Hall, with Harry as her escort, of course, she was filled with excitement. Unsurprisingly, Harry was too distracted by Malfoy, and he moved to the back of the group of Sixth Years to stand behind Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who looked to Hermione to be arguing. Hermione just shook her head and rolled her eyes, focusing on the lesson once more.
Suddenly, she heard McGonagall's voice boom, "Mister Malfoy! Do stop talking and pay attention!"
Hermione turned (as did most everyone) to face Malfoy. His face was red with embarrassment. That's a good look on him, she thought smugly. Then out of nowhere, she thought, He is adorable when he's embarrassed….and he's so fit…
After that, thoughts of her time with Malfoy's doppelganger (the term she preferred to use to refer to her rapist) came crashing into her mind. She couldn't help but close her eyes and enjoy. She knew the feelings weren't real—hadn't been real, even—but the memory of being in love (or lust, rather, she corrected herself) was still a sweet one for her. Focusing on Apparition was difficult, at best, after that point.
When the lesson was over (Hermione vowing to study the Apparition pamphlets diligently and to pay close attention next lesson), she helped the professors magically return the tables and benches to the Great Hall for lunch and eagerly ate what appeared in front of her before retiring to her dorm. She was about ready to lay down to enjoy a good, long kip, when she heard a tap, tap, tap.
Blast it all.
A plain, brown owl clutched a large package in its talons. Hermione easily saw her name written upon the wrapping. It must be from Mum and Dad. When she opened her parcel, the scent of new parchment and leather wafted around her, and she inhaled with pleasure. The item she'd received was a journal, leather-bound and filled with thick parchment paper. The cover was burgundy, and 'H.G.'—her initials—were embossed onto the front cover. It looked expensive.
Hermione looked for a note from the sender, but there was none. She couldn't think of anyone who'd send this to her except her parents, but they always sent a letter with any package they had sent in the past. Well, who ever sent it will make their identity known eventually.
She had already started to write in the journal she had purchased on holiday, so she stashed this new, beautiful one away for now. Grabbing her other journal before plopping down onto her bed, she wrote in it for all of two minutes before falling fast asleep.
xxxx
February arrived, cold and blustery, which suited Hermione fine; It's the perfect weather for napping! But, alas, she found that she did not have as much time for kips as she would have liked. She and the other Prefects, along with the Head Girl, Cho Chang, and the Head Boy, Cormac McLaggen, were preparing for the Valentine's Day Dance, which was only three days away now. The theme of the dance was going to be a Masquerade Ball, which, surprisingly to Hermione, had been suggested by Malfoy; not surprisingly—to anyone—Malfoy had not shown up for the meetings to plan it in weeks.
Typical.
Hermione was looking forward to the Ball—although McLaggen kept looking at her with his smoulder, and she had a feeling he was going to ask her to be his date again. She still found him attractive, but she was not going to touch him with a ten meter pole. The only person she'd wanted to go with was Ron, but as he was taken, and so was the girl Harry wanted to take, Harry and Hermione had decided to go together. They realized that they should have gone with this course of action for Slughorn's Christmas Party and were committed to better date selection from now on. Besides, neither of them felt comfortable without Hermione having a bodyguard, so it just made sense.
When the day of the Masquerade arrived, Hermione was surprised at how excited she felt. Perhaps because I know this may be the last chance I have to enjoy a Ball, she thought morosely. It was upon her return from breakfast that she heard a familiar tapping at the dormitory window.
Oh, for heaven's sake! Again, Malfoy? Please be for Lavender or Parvati, please, Hermione silently begged, as if the owl could comply with her wishes.
"Oh," squealed Lavender as she ran to the window. "Which one of us is getting owled, I wonder!" Lavender simpered looking around at Parvati and Hermione. As Lavender and Parvati were from Wizarding families, they were used to getting owls, and they got them from their families quite often. They both also received a fair amount of messages from students from other Houses at Hogwarts who used the school owls for delivery. Lavender knew perfectly well that Hermione never got any (that Lavender was aware of) messages from other students and that her parents rarely sent anything by owl through the Muggle-Magical Post Office in Diagon Alley. Hermione noted the smug look on 'Lav-Lav's' face and counted to ten to cool her temper with the blonde.
Lavender let the plain brown owl inside and took off its delivery. A tiny frown formed on her pretty, fair face. "It's yours, Hermione," she said in a fake pleased voice with a fake smile on her face. Hermione couldn't believe it; never in her life had she received as many owls as she had in just the past 3 months! She returned the fake smile and said thank you as she took her letter from Lavender's hand.
The fact that this owl was obviously a school owl made her nervous; she knew that whomever it was who had sent her the note directing her to go to the Room of Requirement instead of the Library had used a school owl. She retreated to her four-poster to read her letter.
'Hermione,
Please do me the honor of dancing with me tonight. I'll be wearing a navy blue suit with a red rose boutonniere. My mask is the Venetian Bauta style in silver.'
Hermione did not recognize the handwriting, but she fled her room with the letter to show Harry. She found him alone in his dorm, perusing his Marauder's Map. She thrust the note into Harry's hand. After he read it, he smiled and said to a smiling Hermione, "I think we may be able to catch a rapist tonight."
"My thoughts exactly," Hermione replied mischievously.
xxxx
At six 'o clock, Hermione began readying herself for the Masquerade Ball. At ten weeks pregnant and her baby being roughly the size of the average strawberry (her womb only slightly bigger), she was not showing her pregnancy at all. She had decided, therefore, that a more form-fitting dress was in order tonight.
Not one to wear the traditional red or pink on Valentine's Day, she chose to wear the silver dress she had worn to Slughorn's Christmas party. It was a v-neckline empire-waist dress with two layers: the first layer was a silky material and the layer covering the entire first layer was sheer. The silky layer was almost-knee length and the sheer layer extended beyond the knee just slightly and was slightly ruffled and had slightly ruffled capped sleeves.
She buckled her silver two-inch platform heels and clasped her black choker necklace she'd gotten for Christmas around her neck. She piled her wild hair into a chic bun at her crown, leaving a few tendrils down around her temples. She even put on full makeup tonight. Live a little—while you can, she told herself with a glance down at her lower abdomen where soon she would see a small bump.
She added her obligatory mask (a silver sparkly one in the Volto style, which she had transfigured from a washcloth) for the Masquerade Ball, and took a dose of the potion for morning sickness (anytime sickness, more like!), all set to meet Harry.
In the Common Room, Harry was waiting for her, looking dashing in his suit and dress robes. His hair, however, was its usual mess, but Hermione just smiled at his disheveled hair that she adored so much.
As the two best friends slowly made their way to the Ball, they reviewed their plan to catch the criminal with a Muffliato Charm placed around them. The plan was simple; Harry would discreetly help Hermione find the sender of the letter, she would dance with him in close proximity to Harry who would Accio the mask from the boy's face, allowing Hermione to identify him. They realized that this was only a lead to solving the mystery, as Hermione's attacker and her masked dance partner may not be the same person, but it was the best plan they could concoct on short notice, and really, the only potential lead they'd had the whole time since Hermione's rape. Harry had suggested using the Felix Felicis that he had 'won' last term, but Hermione was adamant that he save that for a much more important task than this. Reluctantly, Harry had agreed.
They entered the Ball, both sets of eyes peeled in search of the silver-masked boy in blue with a red flower boutonniere. They had both researched types of masks weeks ago in preparation for the Ball, and so they knew that the mystery man's selection was a full-face mask. "How appropriate for someone who has something to hide—besides just his face," Harry had declared when he and Hermione were going over the details the letter had revealed.
They eventually spotted a young man wearing the silver Bauta mask was also wearing a navy blue suit with a red rose in the pocket buttonhole. Harry kept his eyes on the potential perpetrator of Hermione's attack while Hermione continued searching for any other possible suspects.
"That seems to be our only option, Harry," she said covertly. "Are you ready?" Harry nodded, but as they made their way over to the mystery man, he started dancing with someone. Harry and Hermione latched onto each other, nonchalantly, keeping the suspect in their sights while they danced. 'Mystery man' seemed very attached to his current dancing partner, so Hermione and Harry fell into a comfortable conversation while they waited for an opportune moment in which to make their move.
"Hermione, you look really smashing tonight. Everything about you is just….blimey, cracking," Harry gushed sincerely, blushing.
Hermione blushed too, and replied, "Thanks, Harry. You look quite smart, yourself—even more so than you did at the Yule Ball fourth year."
He really did look handsome. His suit was stylish though not lavish; even though Harry had inherited plenty of money from his parents, he didn't flaunt it and wasn't materialistic at all. She already knew he was fit, but she saw tonight how good his clothes looked on him. She hadn't thought of him being so handsome since she'd had a massive crush on him in third year. She realized after a few minutes that he was looking at her curiously—she must have been staring at him! She quickly broke her stare and cleared her throat.
Oi, his eyes are mesmerizing, she thought.
"Your mask turned out well," she said instead. "You even fit it around your glasses."
"Yeah, well, it looks handmade, but its good enough," he chuckled. "You transfigured yours, didn't you? It's brilliant."
She blushed again, starting to thank him, when she saw the mystery man alone in a corner. "Harry, let's move," she said with a nod of her head in the right direction. Holding hands so as not to lose each other in the crowd, they made their way to the corner. Almost to their target, a crying blur of red rushed by, and Harry was instantly diverted. Hermione had seen Ginny, too, so she waved at Harry, encouraging him to go after her. "I'll be alright—it's so crowded here. I'll wait by the punch, over there," she hollered over the music. Harry nodded hastily and then chased after his dream girl.
Hermione made her way to the refreshments and stood watching the crowd for no more than ten seconds before she was suddenly (but gently) spun around, squawking in surprise, on her slippery shoes and pulled away from the punch table to a darkened spot; the charmed floating lanterns were not shinning as much in this spot as in the rest of the Hall. Now face to face with her abductor, she saw that it was the Bauta-masked, navy-suited mystery man. She gave a tight smile to him and tried to temper her nervousness and trepidation, all the while praying that Harry would hurry back.
She sniffed cautiously, in case her nose was being assaulted with a love potion. Smelling no potion and seeing none on his person, and realizing that he was barely touching her and that they were still in sight of other couples, her fear diminished. The masked mystery man had her right hand gently in his left and his right arm on her middle back; automatically, she placed her left hand on his right upper arm near his elbow.
His silver, gilded full-face mask was remarkably handsome, and if he had transfigured it, he must be a skilled wizard, Hermione thought. The only facial features she could see were his eyes, which were blue. He was tall but not exceptionally so. He was lean, his arms not bulging with muscles like Ron's and Cormac's. His hair was brown, about the same color as hers.
"H-hello," she whispered nervously, wearing a shy smile. She was still nervous, but it was more of an excited nervous, stemming from him surprising her and from her being impatient to discover his identity. He only nodded in a polite, reverent way.
She giggled, raising her eyebrow. "I suppose it's difficult to speak with that mask, then?" she teased. He nodded again.
Hmm, so talking while dancing is not going to be an option. No clues to be found there, then.
He's smart.
Hermione tightened her grip on his hand that was holding hers with a bit more purpose. He looked at their joined hands momentarily, and then back at her face before decreasing the distance between them by just a smidge.
Timid, she mused with another shy smile. She felt even more at ease with him now; timidity wasn't a trait of aggressors and rapists (or pervs like Cormac McLaggen). She adjusted her left arm so that it was slightly higher up on his right arm and absently ran her thumb over his upper bicep. He then pulled her toward him minimally again, his right hand maintaining an intentional, but not possessive, grip on an appropriate spot on her back.
Timid and proper, she thought, approvingly.
They danced together thusly for just a short time before a new song began. Hermione recognized it and smiled.
Dancin' in the dark, middle of the night,
Takin' your heart and holding it tight,
Emotional touch, touchin' my skin,
And asking you to do what you've been doin' all over again—
Being a Prefect, she had known that a mixture of Muggle and Wizard music would be played tonight, but she had not been involved in deciding the playlist. She began mouthing the words to this song, as it was one that she loved and she just couldn't help herself. After only a few lines of her mouthing the words she was softly singing them.
Oh, it's a beautiful thing,
Don't think I can keep it all in.
I just gotta let you know
What it is that won't let me go.
It's your love.
It just does somethin' to me.
It sends a shock right through me.
I can't get enough.
And if you wonder about the spell I'm under,
Oh, it's your love.
Hermione found that she was enjoying herself immensely—the music, the lyrics, the lighting, her dance partner's respectful behavior and physical attributes, they way he held her….it was all quite good—and, in response to it all, she, feeling uncharacteristically dreamy, leaned into him.
Better than I was, more than I am,
And all of this happened by taking your hand.
And who I am now is who I wanted to be,
And now that we're together, I'm stronger than ever.
I'm happy and free.
Dancing so close to him now, Hermione smelled his cologne. It was very light—not overpowering like most boys' colognes—scented like mint with a subtle hint of freshly mown grass. She approved. Heartily.
Oh, it's a beautiful thing,
Don't think I can keep it all in.
And if you ask me why I've changed,
All I gotta do is say your sweet name.
It's your love.
It just does somethin' to me.
It sends a shock right through me.
I can't get enough.
And if you wonder about the spell I'm under,
Oh, it's your love.
'Mystery man' had noticed her inching closer, and he immediately mimicked the action, to Hermione's relief. She grinned to herself at the fact that he wasn't turned off by her movement, and she couldn't think of a single thing wrong with his reciprocation.
Ohh, baby,
Oh, oh, oh,
Oh, it's a beautiful thing,
Don't think I can keep it all in.
I just gotta let you know
What it is that won't let me go.
It's your love.
It just does somethin' to me.
It sends a shock right through me.
I can't get enough.
And if you wonder about the spell I'm under,
Oh, it's your love.
Though she couldn't see his face or know what he was doing for sure without pulling back (which she was loathe to do!) and looking up at him, she had the distinct feeling that he was smelling her hair. The image that she conjured of him doing that made her warm, inside and out.
It's your love.
It's your love.
The song ended and the moments without song brought Hermione out of her reverie. She glanced up at the man in the mask, who looked at her in return but did not show any desire to relinquish his hold on her in favor of another partner—in fact, he shook his head curtly and squeezed her ever so slightly where his hands touched her body. Hermione then released the tiny breath she'd held in and smiled to herself.
Goodness, but isn't this lovely? I haven't enjoyed myself at a dance since going with Viktor….
Remembering Viktor Krum and the Yule Ball in fourth year led her to think of Ron, and she felt a stitch of guilt in her chest—but only momentarily—and the instinct she'd had to look around for him lasted a only a second as well. She opted instead to enjoy the time she was having, with whom ever it was that she was having it. Not wanting to bother with that unknown at the present, she decided that she wouldn't, and so she didn't.
My fierce stubbornness really is quite a strength of mine, she mused, letting out a tiny giggle.
Another song had begun and she quickly left her thoughts to listen. She easily realized that it, too, was a Muggle song—and it was another one she knew. It was a newly-released American R&B song, but also a remake of an old British rock song her mum has liked for ages. Letting herself fall back into a dreamlike state, she again softly sang the words to the song, her slightly above-average voice adding a nice harmony to the song's melody.
Sometimes I wonder how I'd ever make it through,
Through this world without having you.
I just wouldn't have a clue.
And sometimes it seems that this world's closin' in on me,
And there's no way of breaking free,
Then I see you reach out for me.
Oh, sometimes I wanna give up, wanna give in, wanna quit the fight.
Then one look at you, Baby, can make everything alright,
Make everything alright.
When I see you smile, I can face the world.
Oh, you know that I can do anything.
When I see you smile, I see a ray of light.
Oh, I see it shining right through the rain,
When I see you smile, Baby when I see you smile at me.
Gently and slowly, the Masked Man brought Hermione's right hand, enclosed in his own, to his chest near his heart where he held it and caressed her knuckles with his thumb. Hermione let out a tiny gasp of surprise, as the movement pulled her into him far enough that her head could rest upon his shoulder, if she let it. She decided to not rest her head but sighed contentedly.
Baby, there's nothin' in this world that could ever do
What the touch of your hand can do.
It's like nothing I ever knew.
And when the rain is fallin,' I don't feel it 'cause you're here with me.
And one look at you, Baby, is all that I'll ever need,
Is all that I'll ever need, Oh.
Caught up in the moment, Hermione let her head fall to the boy's shoulder, and in response, the boy pulled her in a miniscule amount closer with the hand that rested on her lower back. Now Hermione knew that her dance partner was indeed smelling her hair; his head was gently resting on hers and she could feel his warm breath in her curly locks.
When I see you smile, I can face the world.
Oh, you know that I can do anything.
When I see you smile, I see a ray of light,
Oh, I see it shining right through the rain
When I see you smile, Baby when I see you smile at me.
Sometimes I wanna give up, wanna give in, wanna quit the fight.
Then one look at you, Baby, can make everything alright,
Make everything all—'
Hermione was torn out of the trance that the dance had put her in when her partner abruptly wrenched his hand out of her grip and off of her lower back. Startled, and a little frightened, she looked up into his face. He'd placed both of his hands onto his mask, as if attempting to remove it….or keep it on. Hermione quickly realized what was happening and frantically looked around for Harry to signal him to stop it; her intuition told her that this boy was not capable of being her attacker.
However, her time with the man in the mask was already over; he seemed to have realized that his mask was being magically summoned off of his person, and so holding it tightly, his knuckles white, he looked at Hermione and very quickly and smoothly leaned down and spoke in her ear before dashing away. Hermione tried to stop him, but he moved through the crowd too quickly and stealthily.
'Right me, H.G.'? or 'Write me, H.G.'? Was that what he said? What did that mean?
Confused and disappointed, Hermione, turned around to find Harry (whose wand was at the ready as he searched for the mystery man in the crowd) and to give him a glare that of which Molly Weasley would be proud.
Unfazed by her glare, Harry made his way over to her and yelled at her for dancing with a stranger without him being present. He enumerated on all of the 'what ifs,' and Hermione, ever thankful for her best friend-protector, listened politely. She then told him how bleak things had been for her up until the Ball and how much she had been enjoying herself for the first time in a while—and for maybe the LAST time in a long while. Harry also listened politely, out of respect for Hermione's 'condition,' she knew; but he held firm to his displeasure.
He's also upset because he was hoping that it would be Malfoy behind the mask and that his theories about his nemesis would be partially proven, thought Hermione, and he's mad at me for ruining that.
Hermione (with Harry by her side, of course), searched around the Great Hall for the blue-suited, silver-masked mystery man, but that proved futile, as they couldn't find him anywhere. Hermione asked Harry to escort her back to Gryffindor Tower, where left him with a curt 'good night' at the stairs leading to the Girls' Dormitory.
She removed her makeup and readied herself for bed, not even bothering with a book tonight. Despite all of the excitement that had thrilled her body and mind just minutes earlier, the pregnancy hormones were leaving her quite knackered, and so she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Her dreams that night were of a handsome, blue-eyed, masked man, who smelled deliciously like mint and grass and who swept her off her feet—literally. Her dream-man kissed her with a passion she'd only ever dreamed of—although not even her previous dreams about any boy had been as steamy as the one she had that night. Even her memories of her time with Malfoy's doppelganger weren't as enjoyable as the dream she had that night after the Masquerade.
When she woke the next morning and remembered her dream, she blushed furiously, and thought, Was that my pregnancy hormones that caused that outrageous dream? Or was it just the Masked Man?
She happily remained in bed much longer than she usually did in the mornings while mentally summoning up every detail she could recall about the Masked Man of her dream and the Masked Man of the Ball.
It was an unusually pleasant morning for Hermione Granger.
xxxx
Author's note: the first set of lyrics are taken from the song "it's your love," by tim mcgraw (featuring faith hill) and written by stephony smith.
the second set of lyrics are taken from the song "when i see you smile," by Uncle Sam and written by Diane warren.
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