Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I am not taking credit for it. The plot is also base loosely on Warner Bro's A Cinderella Story. Also, in this chapter, there is a small scene that is based off of the movie The Notebook.
Update: January 11, 2009
Chapter Four (Unmasking)
It was halfway through Hermione's monitoring session and she could say one thing for sure: this seemed like a complete waste of her time. Not once in the entire half an hour she'd been making rounds had anything happened except a few dance partner requests, which she politely declined. She had circled the entire hall more than three times and this 'monitoring' was becoming very tedious. She stared at the clock, wishing it would jump ahead twenty minutes. She was so close to meeting him.
Fifteen minutes were left when a loud argument erupted a few feet away from her.
"Well maybe if you hadn't been flirting with her, she wouldn't have smacked you!" said a short boy to a much taller one.
"You stay out of this!" the taller boy yelled, turning back to the girl, ready to yell at her. Before he could even open his mouth Hermione had walked over.
"If you will please come with me and take this argument somewhere a bit less crowded…" She said calmly looking at the bickering teens rather than the staring bystanders.
"And who the bloody hell are you?" the tall boy asked rudely.
"I happen to be a prefect. Now if you would please follow me to the hall," Hermione answered sternly, sounding a bit like McGonagall. The tall boy stormed out, followed by the girl, the other boy, and finally Hermione. Once in the deserted entrance Hermione nearly forced them to settle the disagreement through discussion, which only ended with the shorter boy and the girl storming away from one another in opposite directions. The taller boy, however, walked back into the Great Hall with a smug look plastered on his face.
Once Hermione had gotten back into the Great Hall she was relieved and nervous to find that it was already 9:55 p.m. There was just five minutes before they were to meet up and Hermione was struggling to hide her anxiety. She headed over to the table where Ginny was sitting and settled herself into the chair beside her.
"Would you do me a favor and tell the boys that I'm going back up to the common room after rounds in five minutes?" Hermione lied to Ginny, feeling awful all the while.
"Oh, don't you want to stay any longer? The younger students finally left," Ginny looked disappointed at the news.
"No, I'm quite tired, actually… I, um, was hoping to get some sleep. I know my roommates won't be in until later, and I figured I could get some silent time without them squealing about their dates." The first pathetic story she could think of turned out to be awful. Ginny seemed to think that as well, because she gave Hermione a very strange look.
"Hm, if you insist, Hermione. I'll let them know. But don't blame me if they come to check up on you…" Ginny said slyly, giving Hermione a sideways glance. Nope, she hadn't bought a word of it. But, being Ginny, she didn't question Hermione's whereabouts.
"Thank you so much, Ginny. I owe you one," she said brightly, knowing full-well Ginny wouldn't tell the boys anything and that she wouldn't pressure Hermione into telling her anything.
"I don't know why you would…" She said with a knowing smile. Hermione only smiled gratefully once again and walked off to the entrance to the hall where she would finally meet Mr. Mysterious.
---
Her knees were weak as she waiting nervously by the doors. It was 10:01 – she had glanced at the clock again just second before – and she knew he had to be around her somewhere. So close… but she didn't know if he'd see her; know it was she he was looking for. There were a lot of girls around here… perhaps she should have mentioned what color her dress was. Just bloody brilliant!
A moment later a hand was on her shoulder. She froze, afraid to turn. She just stood there for a moment, realizing this was the make-or-break point. Without further hesitation, she turned around.
He was wearing a black set of dress robes and a mask that covered the upper half of his face. Somewhat like hers, but black and suited for a man. She studied him, her attention going first to his eyes. They were gray, almost light blue, and extremely familiar. She furrowed her brow in thought, eyes studying his features. She knew him – she knew she knew him… but she didn't know who he was.
"Hi," he said softly, "I was looking for someone, and it looked like you were a bit lost as well…" His eyes scanned her face, analyzing her features just as she was doing to him.
"It's me," Hermione smiled shyly, but could only think of one thing to say next: "I know you." He was so familiar… it was eerie. Her eyes were trying to tell her something, but her brain couldn't function the right way! She had to look away.
"It's the glamour. But… I think I know you, too." His eyes were on her face, and she felt herself blush.
"How about a dance?" he suggested nicely, offering his hand. His voice was suave – smooth. It was elegant and strong. He had confidence and followed through with basic chivalry.
"Okay." She accepted his hand, somewhat dazed by his very presence. It was like the Twilight Zone; she had never imagined she'd actually meet him.
As they danced slowly, and somewhat awkwardly, Hermione recognized the traditional composure he held and the grace with which he walked. She held onto his hand loosely, and did her best not to dance too close to him. She had only just met him.
After four songs had played, he leaned into her ear and spoke. "Would you be interested in taking a walk with me on the grounds?"
She bit her bottom lip nervously, contemplating. It was rather dark out, and she had just met him. But then again, she knew him. She was sure she did. In the end, she followed her instincts and agreed.
They made their way outside together, not quite touching one another but close enough for any bystander to realize they were together. When he shut the entrance door behind them Hermione felt the cool night air against her hot skin, contrasting pleasantly. He walked up beside her and offered a hand. This time, Hermione only looked down and smoothed out her dress, rejecting the gesture politely as possible.
"I've been looking forward to finally meeting you," he admitted shamelessly. He looked over at her curiously, wondering if she would reply.
"I have been too," she finally met his eyes, but looked away seconds later. "I have you to thank for making my summer much more tolerable than usual," she told him sincerely, knowing he understood. There was another moment of silence before he, once again, broke it.
"Let's play a game." He spoke suddenly, turning to her with a jump in his step and a small smile on his face.
"A game?" She looked at him incredulously
"How about twenty questions?"
"How about ten? Each."
"Fair enough," he agreed and continued, "What year are you in?"
"Sixth year. And you?" she asked the same question, having been curious of this herself.
"I'm also in sixth year," he replied, but looked troubled by the idea.
"Why do you look so bothered by that?"
"I… don't know. You're… I know you, I think. But you aren't familiar. It's vague… you sound sure of knowing that you know me. It's not the same for me, though. And now I've realized we're in the same year, so I do know you. Why is it different?"
"That would be my doing. I altered the glamour charm a bit," she said, trying her best not to sound too proud of her work. He looked at her suspiciously, though.
"Now that was familiar. I definitely know you…" he studied her face again, but finally shrugged it off. "We're both at two questions then."
Hermione silently cursed herself; she wanted to figure out who he was before he discovered who she was. It would do no good to give clues by acting so much like herself right now. Think mysterious! She ordered silently.
"What house are you in?" she figured it was her turn.
"You'll find out soon enough, I promise," he replied, avoiding the question. "How long have you lived with your step-family?"
"Nearly three years now," she answered the unexpected question. Jumping right into the family nonsense was not what she wanted to do. "When is your birthday?"
"June 5th. When is yours?"
"September 19th." She said matter-of-factly, "but you just stole my questions, so that doesn't count."
"Yes it does. Plus, you stole mine earlier!" he countered rightfully and she rolled her eyes in defeat.
"Fine then, what is your favorite color?" she asked the first question that came to mind, not knowing what else to ask.
He looked at her, highly amused. "Why?"
"No reason, just answer!" she said smiling, almost laughing.
"Navy blue," he answered, smiling.
Hermione looked at him strangely; did that mean he was in Ravenclaw? She remembered to keep the fact filed in the back of her mind, just in case. "So, what did you do your last week of summer? We didn't talk then," she asked.
"Is that your question, or just an off-hand small talk?" he… smirked. Hermione looked at him curiously. That was familiar. Very familiar. Hermione made a mental note of that as well.
"Something wrong?" he asked worriedly.
"No, nothing's wrong. I'm fine," she told him happily. "And consider it a question if you must."
"I took a short trip to Diagon Alley. I had to pick up some last minute items for school. Mainly I practice my flying techniques in the woods near home. I had to enjoy the freedom to practice before I got back here where there are restrictions on when and where we can fly. You know how much I like flying."
"Yes, it's your 'favorite pass time.'" She smiled, how could she forget? He had only reminded her every other letter.
"Mark my words: I will get you on a broom sometime," he said surely.
"You're head is too high in those clouds if you think that will ever happen, flying-boy-wonder!" she said playfully.
"Oh, clever," he grinned at her.
They continued their walk in comfortable silence. It was nice, having the company. It was similar to being with Harry and Ron, but much different… more precious. Knowing it will end soon made the moments almost breakable.
"It looks beautiful out here tonight." Her head tilted towards the sky.
"I guess." He merely shrugged.
"Look at the stars! They're stunning. Up there alone… free." She gazed up into to blackness littered with stars.
"I suppose they look beautiful right now." He walked up next to her and looked up as well.
"What do you mean 'right now'?" she gave him a sideways glance. "They've always looked beautiful. They always will."
"Only until it burns out," he countered.
"It has been said that when a star burns out and falls, it means there was an ending to something that needed closure."
"Vague. Who said that? And what type of something?"
"People," she smiled again. "And anything that needs closure. An argument, a feud, people. Just, anything."
"Sounds like rubbish to me," he turned his eyes on her again.
"Why? Isn't that what we all want? Closure to things? No one likes a book without an ending." She turned her eyes to meet his gray ones. They were cold, almost troubled, however he said no more on the subject.
There was silence once again, although both were sneaking glances at each other at times.
"We had better head in soon. The ball ends at midnight, it is nearly over." He sounded nervous.
"Yes, we should probably get back." She took a step forward towards the castle and he followed beside her. For the third time, he offered his hand. Smiling, she accepted this time. He looked pleased and gave her hand a small squeeze.
They were quiet until they reached the doors, still outside the school. He gripped her hand tightly, causing her to pause in her steps back towards the castle.
"Aren't you curious?" His voice was strained.
"Very. More nervous, though," she replied softly, avoiding his eyes again.
"I want to show you who I am," he said sternly – he wasn't going to change his mind. Hermione looked away, biting her bottom lip. Should she walk away now? Did she want to know? What if… what if it wasn't someone she was expecting?
"Is that alright?" he asked for confirmation. She didn't answer for a few moments.
"I… I suppose we should both… yes," she answered firmly, giving an assuring nod. No backing down now.
"When I take off the mask the glamour goes away," he told her. She nodded and watched as he slowly raised his hands to his mask-covered face.
It was the longest second of both of their lives.
Hermione was staring;
partly in surprise, partly in horror.
Draco Malfoy was staring at
her, trying to read her expression correctly. She looked like a
muggle in the center of Diagon Alley – confused and scared. That
was not a good sign in his eyes. Just bloody
brilliant.
"Malfoy," she said it so softly he wasn't sure it had been said. Using his last name: not a good sign.
Of course it was Malfoy. He had gray eyes; he had that familiar smirk she would have been able to recognize had she not been under the glamour. It was… awful. Of all the people she could have had the chance to be something with it had to been Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy: who she hated, who hated her – who had teased and taunted her for the last six years.
"This was a bad idea. I knew it… I had a feeling something would go wrong; something always goes wrong. Look, I've got to go, I can't deal with you right now, Malfoy." Hermione was bumbling around, not knowing what to say or how to act. She wasn't used to this shock! If there was something she had learned from being friend's with Harry and Ron all these years it was to not be surprised.
"Wait, just wait. I don't even know you, you're… who are you!" He was frustrated, she could tell.
"I'm your little mistake, Malfoy. Just forget about this – all of this. It's better this way, trust me," she said with a straight voice, finally calming herself.
"No, no! I don't want to forget. Just tell me, show me who you are!" His voice was rising, and he sounded almost desperate.
"I can't, I just-," she didn't finish and turned away from him pulling open the entrance door. She felt him place a hand on her shoulder to stop her and jerked away quickly. "I'm sorry, just stay away," she spoke harshly, so different than she had just been talking to him minutes before.
"I don't understand!"
"And you don't want to. Trust me," she tried to reassure him, but it wasn't working. She felt her eyes well up with tears suddenly and willed herself not to cry. Crying over Draco Malfoy, what a joke!
She continued to make her way through the castle up to the Gryffindor common room, calming herself on the way. There were only a few students still in the halls, most saying goodnight to their friends or dates (as she had the pleasure of seeing just a few seconds ago). She couldn't let Ron or Harry spot her looking upset if they happened to be in the common room. First of all, they thought she was already upstairs in her room! Secondly, they'd be suspicious and question her until she exploded and told them everything.
It was much too soon when she arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait, and she forced a smile saying, "Fairy Lights."
When she walked in she was glad to see that only a few people were still in the common room. Lavender and Parvati were chatting animatedly, both smiling with sparkling eyes. She also spotted Ginny talking to a friend of hers that was in her own year. Hermione deliberately avoided Ginny's wandering eyes.
She headed upstairs stiffly and when she finally made it to her dormitory she distracted herself by taking off her dress, removing the mask, and washing off the make-up. It was only until she was all settled that she sat up in her bed, covers surrounding her, and considered the revelation that had been made.
What had happened was something she didn't want to remember. She wanted it to be two weeks ago – when she had a private thrill of knowing someone might be interested in her. Two weeks ago, hell, yesterday, she was able to think about this boy and imagine Mr. Perfect. Now… now all she could see was Malfoy's smirking face.
She wasn't a whiner – that's just not who she was. But right now all she could think was, why does everything turn out bad for me? First her mom, then her dad, and her family in general; it was all gone! She finally had found a small spark of hope. Hope that something may turn out… not so bad for the first time in years. In the midst of the war and sadness she felt she deserved some happiness. Obviously the fates thought differently.
As her thoughts spun, she felt one tear fall from her watering eyes and wiped it away quickly, as if it wasn't even there to begin with.
---
As Draco made his way back to his own common room he tried to piece together what happened. He knew that trying to figure out who she was would be futile – she had done a good job on the glamour and unless he was able to narrow down his list of possible candidates and singled out the person whose personality fit, he would never figure out who she was. There was always writing a letter to her, but considering her reaction he doubted she would ever reply.
The most frustrating part was not knowing who she was. He could understand why someone might react to him in such a manner. Sure, he wasn't the nicest person in school. However, he had been surprised that even after talking to her for nearly three months she would still assume he was unkind.
One thing was for sure, though: he was not going to give up on her.
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