(Author's Note - Chapter four! Sorry it took me so long to post it... I've been swamped. I'm moving back to school at the end of this week... hurray! I'm going to try to keep updating fairly regularly during the school year, so keep reading!)
Hermione sighed contentedly as she sunk into her seat in Advanced Transfiguration.
"Oi! You can do better than that!"
"Three points! Eat that, Ron!"
"You're going to eat your words, mate! Just you wait!"
She quickly shifted to the right edge of her chair in an attempt to give Harry and Ron ample space – they had, for some reason, bewitched their Transfiguration textbooks (which were quite large and heavy, by the way) into whacking the other person repeatedly. While trying to shield their heads with their arms, they egged on their books with enthusiasm. The rest of the class watched with amusement, and a few students rooted for their chosen favorite.
Hermione rolled her eyes, then pursed her lips into her signature stern look.
"Honestly. Could you two be any more barbaric? This is a classroom, not a boxing ring!"
Harry and Ron suddenly paused their game in order to stare at her in disbelief. Ron spoke first.
"Barbaric? Hermione, you obviously don't know what you're talking about. We have a point system! Besides, what makes you qualified to be a judge? Did one of your little books tell you that a bit of fun is 'barbaric'?"
Harry looked a bit uncomfortable. He was hardly in the mood for another Ron vs. Hermione epic squabble. Keeping his gaze to Hermione's face in fear of her reaction, he gave Ron a quick elbow to the ribs. Ron hissed in pain and looked at Harry with questioning eyes. Harry's deep emerald eyes flashed him a warning, before he turned back to Hermione.
Thankfully, she was feeling gracious that morning. Instead of scowling, she actually chuckled.
"I hardly think that a point system makes your little game into a sophisticated sports event. And if you were a spectator, I think you would have to agree that this is a little barbaric, although I'm sure it is done with the best intentions of... erm... nobility."
The class tittered in agreement. Hermione continued.
"But. I suppose it wouldn't do any harm for you to continue until McGonagall comes. Just try not to hurt each other, okay?"
Harry and Ron looked at each other and shrugged, then brandished their wand fiercely so that the books continued to bash the other soundly on any body part they could get to.
Suddenly, prim voice floated in from the doorway.
"Wouldn't that be Professor McGonagall, Miss Granger?"
Hermione's face blanched, and the boys immediately grabbed their books from the air.
"Yes, Professor! I'm sorry, Professor!" Hermione managed to squeak out, after a few seconds pause.
McGonagall appraised her expression with a stern eye, then flashed her a small smile.
"That's quite alright, Miss Granger. Just make sure it doesn't happen again."
Hermione nodded frantically.
"Yes, Professor!"
McGonagall's gaze shifted from her anxious face to a few Slytherins in the back of the class, who were mocking Hermione mercilessly. Shooting them a stern glare, her voice raised a few notches in volume.
"As for you three, that will be quite enough."
The boys froze, and she nodded with satisfaction. Picking up her long robes, she breezed to the front of the classroom and began that day's lesson.
--
Draco slumped further down in his chair, and scowled lazily at Slughorn.
"Mister Malfoy. Do you realize that the boy you so inexpertly hexed was a first year, and that his father happens to be on the Board of Governors?"
Draco rolled eyes his toward the dark ceiling of the potions dungeon, and shrugged impatiently.
"You could have seriously injured the boy! He's in the hospital wing, getting sorted out by Madame Pomfrey. And for Merlin's sake, Malfoy! If you insist on hexing a first year, make sure you pay attention to what you are doing!"
Slughorn's face was getting redder by the minute.
Malfoy pursed his lips and twitched an eyebrow.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."
Slughorn's watery eyes widened, and he began to pace through the dungeon agitatedly.
"Why did you hex him in the first place? Or do you need a reason? In my day, Slytherins had a sense of honor! We would never attack a fellow student unless we were provoked!"
Draco sighed.
"I had a reason, okay? That little brat was polluting the atmosphere of the common room. I was trying to study, but he kept asking me questions about the Quidditch team. I had to do something to shut him up, didn't I?
He looked at the professor with mock seriousness, and his voice became laced with a sweetness that was dripping was scathing sarcasm.
"Our N.E.W.T.S are coming up, after all. You wouldn't want me to forfeit my future. If I don't score well, I might not land a well paying job, and then I might not be able to keep my beloved head of house fat and happy with pounds and pounds of crystallized pineapple."
He smirked as Slughorn swelled with outrage.
"OUT! Detention until further notice, Mister Malfoy!!"
His chubby finger shook as it pointed to the stone doorway.
Draco stood up, and bowed mockingly.
"Gladly, Horace."
He swept his heavy cloak behind him, and sauntered out into the hallway.
--
Hermione sank down onto her bed and lay completely still for several minutes, trying to keep her breathing slow and steady. The rich maroon down comforter on her bed formed to the shape of her body, and she decided to never get up. She should definitely just finish out the year on her bed. There was plenty of room to study. And to sleep. Oh, sweet sleep. Just now she was beginning to realize how much sleep she had lost in the past few weeks. Her eyelids felt weighted, as did her legs and head. She stretched her arms out further behind her head and yawned. She couldn't keep doing this. Yes, schoolwork was important; one of the most important things in her life, actually – but now her late nights and early mornings were starting to take a toll on her health. Her body constantly felt worn; like she would start to tear apart if she made any sudden movements. There were great dark circles under her eyes, and she felt ready to go to sleep as early as 3:00 in the afternoon.
She didn't have any more classes today, so Hermione decided to treat herself to a well-needed nap. She could study later tonight, but she promised herself that she would go to bed at a decent time. She was a smart witch, after all... she was sure that she would still be able to score well on her exams, even if she didn't stay up all night every night studying. Actually, she might score better if she was rested and alert. Her reflexes tended to be slower when she was tired.
Her thoughts drifted to the lake. She hadn't risked going there since the encounter with Malfoy. She couldn't bear the thought of being alone with him again, after their heated exchange. Well, he was heated. She just felt awkward, embarrassed, and a little frightened.
It would probably be okay to study there tonight, though. Before dark. It wasn't as though Malfoy had a claim on the lake. It was public property!
Hermione was starting to feel a little indignant.
Maybe Malfoy doesn't even go to the lake regularly. She had never seen him there, actually, and she had taken to studying there almost every night. Maybe he was just looking for a quiet, secluded spot that night.
Hermione snorted to herself. If wanted secluded, then why would he go on the grounds, where anyone could wander up and see him crying?
Hermione furrowed her eyebrows a bit, admonishing herself. That was rather insensitive. An image of Draco, curled up in pain, flashed through her mind. It wasn't right to make light of someone else's pain. Hermione had cried enough tears to recognize that.
She vaguely wondered what had caused someone as hard as Malfoy to break down so bitterly.
The warm rays of sunshine streaming through her round window soothed away her thoughts, and carried her into dreams.
Hermione stirred as a hand gently shook her shoulder.
"Miss Granger?"
The voice was urgent, and Hermione struggled to open her eyes.
"Whaa...?"
The slightly blurry face of Professor McGonagall peered down at her.
"Miss Granger. You need to come to the hospital wing... Mr. Potter has been hurt."
The lines around her eyes were hard with worry, and she didn't bother to push her glasses up as they slid down her nose.
Hermione promptly fell out of the bed in her hurry to get up. She pushed away McGonagall's hands, and scrambled to her feet, still feeling a bit disoriented.
"Harry? What happened? Is he going to be alright?"
McGonagall hesitated, then nodded slowly.
"Yes, he should recover fairly quickly. But he's in for a rough night. He asked for you, so I'd get going."
Hermione, still a bit dazed, felt herself being pushed toward the door by her Head of House.
"Right. Thank-you for waking me up, Professor."
She ran down the stairs and flung herself through the portrait hole, grateful for the fact that she hadn't changed into pajamas for her nap. Not that she would have paused to change clothes if she had, but still. As she flew down the hall, she tried to look out the windows and determine what time it was. The sky was dim, but not completely dark. Maybe around eight? Sweet Merlin! She had slept for almost five hours!
Hermione's thoughts were interrupted as she crashed into something tall, firm, and warm. She let out a small gasp, and waited for the hard impact of the cold stone floor, but it never came. She realized that a pair of strong hands were holding her waist, steadying her. She looked up, and a pair of glistening silver eyes bore into her own. He quickly dropped his hands from her waist.
"Thanks, Draco," she breathed, lightly sliding past him. After taking a second to regain her composure, she continued her dash toward the hospital wing, trying desperately to ignore the warmth emanating from the spots where Draco Malfoy's hands had been just moments before.
"Mione!"
Ron rushed toward her, and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. After he pulled back and held her at arms length, she studied his face. He was as pale as a sheet; the freckles splayed over his nose and cheeks stood out more distinctly than ever. There was worry etched in his brow, and his eyes swum with regret.
"Where's Harry? Is he alright?"
Ron nodded gravely, and taking her hand, led her through the entrance to the hospital wing and towards a bed surrounded by white curtains. He pulled back the curtain on the end, and Hermione slipped in, taking in a quick breath when she saw Harry.
His entire face was swollen and cut – he didn't even look like himself. His broken glasses lay on the small table beside his bed, along with his wand.
She looked at Ron, who gazed numbly at his friend.
"Is he...?"
"Just sleeping," Ron assured.
As if on cue, Harry stirred, and groaned. His eyes opened a sliver, and he tried to smile as he saw Hermione standing at the side of his bed.
"Mione," he croaked, "I'm... glad you're here."
His head shifted a bit to the side, and he closed his eyes again.
"Ow."
Ron grinned in spite of himself.
"That was a close one, mate."
He went forward a few paces, and placed his large hand on Harry's shoulder.
Hermione locked eyes with Ron, feeling lost and worried.
"But... what happened?"
He looked older. She hadn't noticed it before, but she saw it now. Something about the eyes...
"We were looking. For the, uh..."
Hermione's hand flew over her mouth. She barely dared to whisper.
"For a horcrux?"
(Author's Note - I hope you liked this chapter! And it would be really, really great if you reviewed!)
