Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of it's wonderful characters.
-Hermione POV-
I creep toward my unconscious classmate and kneel down in front of him, my slightly concerned eyes scanning him over, checking for any life-threatening injuries. Something inside compels me to push his hair out of his face, for it is falling in front of his eyes. I reach out a tentative and somewhat shaking hand and brush the platinum-blond hair away from his eyes, to reveal long, dark eyelashes. They contrast strongly with his pale complexion and light hair, but in an enjoyable sort of way. My gaze travels from his eyes to his pointed nose and angular cheek bones. 'He really is quite pleasing to look at' My hand lingers on his forehead for a second and I feel the heat resonating from him, only now taking note of the slightly flushed cheeks.
"Remove your hand or I will rip it off your arm and beat you to death with it," He rasps out, coughing loudly. My hand snaps back at the sound of his voice, and I hold it close to my chest. "I-I thought you were sleeping," I stutter as way of explanation, my cheeks turning a bright red. He smirks without opening his eyes, something which irks me. "Taking advantage of me while I sleep, Mudblood?" He asks, his voice still sounding weak, which in turn weakens his jibe at me. I snort at his comment, old habits taking over at the taunting voice of Malfoy. "Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy. I was just making sure you weren't dead," I retort without the usual malice behind my words. It's kind of hard to kick a man when he's down.
He opens his stormy gray eyes and stares at me, doesn't say anything, just stares. "Not that I'd care," I say quickly. "If you died that is." I trail off, knowing the words aren't true but not having much else to say in response to his icy stare. After a second of silence, his eyes flick to the side and he furrows his brow, as if remembering something. Another beat of silence passes. "Why'd you help me?" He asks suddenly, his attention now directly on me. Real confusion is in his eyes, which causes me to answer without any jokes about him being saved by a Griffindor.
"You were in danger," I answer with an easy smile. "I would have done the same for anyone." He looks uncomfortable with my answer, avoiding eye contact, and muttering something under his breath that sounded like 'damn it' He then pulls his head up, making blond hair fall in his face, yet again. "Um, thank you, Granger," He says with a only a hint of the immense awkwardness he must be feeling. "No problem." We sit for a tense moment, neither of us knowing exactly what to say.
"So, why do you hide out in here?" I ask, breaking the tension with a question I have actually wondered about for a while now.
"Oh, here?" He asks with a quickly hidden smile. "I, uh, I don't know," He shrugs, his eyes doing a fast glance over the small room. "Always made me feel safe, I suppose," He mutters. "Once, in my first year, I was stressing about getting good grades, after all, we'd just gotten our first real results back. And, um, I wasn't top of all my classes." I smirk at that, knowing that was because of me, but frown slightly at the look of sadness in his eyes. "So, I started studying every spare second I had, which of course led to me losing sleep and skipping meals," He says, his voice distant and his mind completely submerged in the past.
"After about a month of this, me studying, taking the test and passing with flying colors, but still coming in second in my year, Severus came in late one night, interrupting my study time, and drug me off to this room," He says with a sort of fond smile quirking up the ends of his lips. I take notice of his slip in using Snape's first name, but don't mention it. "And he told me that I had to sit in this empty classroom until I relaxed. This proved difficult, for I couldn't properly relax knowing that my father would be disappointed in me for not being the best, because we Malfoy's are always the best at everything," He pauses to take a breath, and winces slightly at the motion.
"Anyway, I finally calmed down enough to eat a meal and get some sleep, and ever since, whenever I'm stressed or overwhelmed I come here." He finishes quickly. I send a look up to him and see that he has snapped back to reality and is probably berating himself for revealing that about him to his sworn enemy. I try to offer a smile, but am only met with a glare.
"Why did that oaf attack me?" He questions, effectively changing conversation topics. "It wasn't his fault," I answer, immediately jumping to the aid of Hagrid, but stop and revise my words. "Well, it was, but not really," I say, fully aware of how lame of an excuse it was. "How was that not his bloody fault? You saw what he did to me, right?" Draco growls, getting worked up quickly. "Thank Merlin that stupid silencing charm wore off," He continues. "And where did that barbarian learn how to do a charm like that, anyway?" I shrug, putting on my most innocent face. "Probably just picked it up somewhere," I offer. He scoffs, but accepts my explanation.
After another long minute of him fuming about what happened, he stops mid-rant, turning his eyes accusingly at me. "What did you mean it wasn't his fault?" He interrogates, his words cold. I merely shrug, knowing it will bother him. And it indeed does. He rolls his eyes and asks again, being more explicit than before. "Earlier, you said it was his fault but it wasn't, what did you mean?" I make a big show of remembering the conversation, even slapping my forehead for added effect.
"Well, you see, it was this disease called Fictus Morbo, it comes fro-" He cuts off the rest of my sentence with a raised hand. "I know what it is," He says in a condescending tone, harshly reminding me this is Malfoy I'm talking to. He seems to take note of my drastic shift in mood, and adds on to his words. "I am second in all of my classes, you know." My eyes flash up and I stare at him. It takes me a second to realize Draco Malfoy just made an inside joke with me, Hermione Granger.
A smile graces my lips as I get back to what we were talking about. "Um, that's actually why I'm here, you see, a lot of people... Don't enjoy your presence," I say, trying to be as nice as possible. "We should really get somewhere safe like... Erm, not here." He nods his head, but I can see that he is silently laughing at me. He then makes it unsteadily to his feet, swaying dangerously. I reach a hand out to steady him, but receive a glare. "I may not be one hundred percent, but I don't think I'll ever be low enough to willingly accept help from an 'Oh, so noble' Griffindor," He snarks while straightening his back to its usual perfect posture position. He then strides out the door, without so much as a look in my direction.
-Ron POV-
"Well, this day really went to the dogs," I grumble as Harry and I make our way to Dumbledore's office, which I'm secretly extremely excited about. I've never seen the headmasters office before. "We were supposed to just beat stupid Slytherin, which we did, started off good," I say, growing more irritated with each word. "Celebrate our victory, drink one too many Butterbeers, and then cram for our test's in the morning," I complain, knowing that it sounds like whining, but right now I need some whining.
I glance at Harry after he doesn't respond to my question, and take note of his locked jaw and his fists which are clenching and unclenching as we walk. I furrow my brow and give him a quizzical look. "You alright, Harry?" I ask, concern for my best mate lacing my words. "Fine, why do you ask?" He grits out, as if restraining from saying much more.
"You seem kinda upset," I note out loud, but it only seems to make him even more angry, his face turning a savage shade of red. "Well, now that you mention it, it is a bit annoying having to hear you complain every time you open your damn trap!" He snaps, now making eye contact with me, and boy do I wish he wouldn't have. His green eyes reflect pure, white-hot hatred.
At his look I physically flinch, having to constantly remind myself that he doesn't mean it, it's just the disease talking, not my best friend. "Harry, I think you should calm down, it's not the real you saying these things," I say, attempting to settle things before they get out of hand. A loud, mocking laugh erupts from his mouth. "The disease may be the reason I'm telling you, but it only makes me voice thoughts I already have," He says with another mirthless chuckle. Anger bubbles inside me, like fire. "That's enough," I state as I grab his bicep and drag him toward Dumbledore.
We are a few feet from our destination, when I hear a furious voice call out to us. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" I stop, cringing at the voice. I spin around am met with the steely gaze of none other than Argus Filch.
He marches toward us like he has a purpose, as we all know he doesn't. "Look, Filch, we have business to attend to here," Harry says with a smirk. "So, why don't you just do us all a favor and sod off." I facepalm at Harry's comment, aware that it won't land us anywhere good.
"HOW DARE YOU SPE-" "Is something the matter here?" Dumbledore's calming voice inquires, floating down the hall from where he stands in his office door. "These little devils been d-disrespectin' me," Filch says with a dirt ridden finger pointed at Harry and I. I frantically shake my head, not wanting to get in trouble before we can inform Dumbledore of the situation. "Me and Harry are here to tell you something very important, we really shouldn't be wasting our time like this," I plead, hoping beyond hope that he believes me.
The twinkling in his eyes gives me the feeling he already knows what we're here to say. "Argus, why don't you head back down to your room. I'll deal with these two," He says with a small wave of his hand, signaling for us to follow him. Harry turns to Filch, no doubt to say something stupid, so I pull him away before he can utter a sound. With me yet again dragging Harry around, we make our way inside. But Harry puts his foot out, causing me to trip and stumble in after Dumbledore.
Dumbledore opens the large, golden door to reveal Hagrid sitting in a comically small chair, looking apprehensive. I feel my heart speed up in my chest, and my stomach lurch violently to the side. "Um, Sir, do you know what he did?" I question uncertainly, my eyes darting between the two. "He-he hurt Malfoy, Hermione saw it. And-and-" I search for the words that seemed to have abandon me.
A smile and quiet chuckle come from the Headmaster, but neither look or sound like he's amused. "Yes, Mr. Weasley, I am aware of what has transpired," He says, again motioning with his old, frail looking hand, but this time it is directed to two wooden seats in front of his desk.
Suspicion fills me as I stare at the unsteady chairs, but Harry has already plopped down in his, and it seems to hold him. I delicately sit down, having a horrid thought of it breaking underneath me. The chair creaks as I adjust into a marginally comfortable position, but doesn't give out. I sigh in relief and relax a bit, turning my gaze to Dumbledore.
The Wizard sits behind his desk and clasps his hands together in a very diplomatic manner. "Now, to be honest, I do not know the entire story," He says. "But, I was hoping that you two can help there, in return I will tell you what I do know," he starts.
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