Friday, 13 September 1996
Hermione and Malfoy had finally met early yesterday morning. During one of their study breaks and coincidentally just before their Ancient Runes class.
Much to her surprise, they were almost getting along, reaching an understanding of sorts: their mutual interest in their grades. Of course, this didn't alleviate her feelings towards him; however, it did help to quell her consequent apprehension regarding her decision to choose him as a partner.
But he was better company than her current nonexistent relationship with her friends, the only ones with whom she actively spoke – more specifically, Harry and Ron. Although, the situation wasn't as overwhelming as it initially seemed. She, Harry, and Ron have had fallouts before. This was surely nothing new.
Hermione had never perceived Malfoy to be more than an idle nuisance.
Yet, the more she interacted with him, the more quickly she was coming to changing her mind.
"Okay, Granger." Draco set his book on the table, draping his satchel over the back of the chair as he took a seat across from Hermione. "I'm ready to get started."
"On your own terms, Malfoy?" Hermione scoffed, turning her attention back to her reading. "I'm already working on something else."
"On a book that happens to pertain to our project?"
"In which you have yet to put any effort."
"Listen, I'm not in the mood for you. We need-"
"And neither am I in the mood for you, Malfoy. But I'm still here," she motioned at the table. "Talking to you. Despite how much I want you gone."
"I've no need to explain myself to you," he muttered beneath his breath, not caring if she heard him or not. "We have two more months to get this done."
"It's nice to see that you have some sense of urgency."
"Granger, forgive me for trying to cooperate with you. If you have a problem, please tell me because it's too late to change your choice of partner," he replied snidely, reminding Hermione who chose whom.
"Well, we need to establish a regular time and place to meet. And hopefully I won't need a magical contract to ensure that you'll comply."
"As long as we don't need blood," he remarked, left hand resting on the table as he fingers tapped against the wood. "You see, my skin's already pale enough as it is."
"Really? I would have never been able to tell." Hermione smiled warmly through her derisive remark. "As much as I actually pay attention to you."
"Despite the fact that we share three classes together?"
"The fact that you even know that speaks much more about you, Malfoy."
There was a moment of silence before Draco coughed, opening a textbook in front of him. "So…what day is good for you?"
"After Arithmacy."
"I have Herbology, then."
"Potions?"
It was somewhat tense between them, and although the encounter was the most neutral Hermione has had with him, she still harboured former feelings. But these Hermione withheld as she was more eager to begin their project and hopefully gain insight into Malfoy's behaviour.
Yet, for all her practised patience, she gained little from her last encounter with him and his lack of reaction when she said the name of the runes aloud. Her disappointment in not being able to procure any information was only deferred by the knowledge Malfoy had probably unknowingly given.
"What exactly is it that you want to do?"
"Excuse me?"
"I don't actually care what we do, but I would like to know what it is."
"I told you," Hermione sighed irritably. "The Ljóðatal of the Hávamál."
"Don't treat me as if I'm daft, Granger. I know you told me what we're researching, but what about it?"
"You know that it's believed to be more of a charm than a rune, right, something more rudimentary?"
Draco nodded his head in agreement. "Because it's a list and a key to other sequenced runic charms."
"Right…but I think it has a deeper connection with magic that we think…maybe even divination."
Draco sat back in his seat, crossing his arms. "Well, obviously you know little about it."
"What are you talking about?" Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.
"It's a charm…have you even translated it, yet?"
"Translated it?" She gave him a strange look. "It's already translated into fifteen different-"
"But that's just one perspective."
"That the entire wizarding world agrees on."
Draco groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. "All right, forget that. What makes you think it's more than a simple charm?"
"I can tell you already agree with me, but I'm surprised you brought up the biased translation."
"So why all the fanfare?"
"I wanted to see how serious you were about it."
"This is getting too snug for me…especially with you." Draco looked as his watch, as if he was eager for something more important. "Can we hurry it up a bit?"
"Because we all have other places to be," she remarked, pleased it gained his attention when she saw the frown on his face. "What does the name "rune" essentially mean?"
"The actual word?"
"Yes."
"Secret, something hidden."
"Right, and of all the Poetic Edda, why does the Hávamál get the least recognition?"
"Because it's the most tedious?"
"Malfoy, be serious. Fourth years know this."
"It simply sets guidelines for wise living and survival," he replied, as if he was quoting from a text.
"And we learn little more than that. But what about the end, where it-"
"Talks about Odin's magical runes and consequent spells?"
But Hermione was going to remark that it was edited out of their books, condensed into repetitive tidbits about astute living that were already recited in earlier passages. She did agree with Malfoy concerning the translation issue and began her interpretation not too long ago, but if what he said was true – and she was loathe to admit that she did believe it – then she could be sure that Malfoy knew much more than he would divulge.
The only thing she could do – and could have done – in her situation was feign her familiarity with Odin's contribution to the Hávamál and hope Malfoy took the lie at face value. It was certainly something she had not been expecting and it did more than merely take her off guard.
In truth, she choose to study the Hávamál on a whim, not even imagining Malfoy could be connected with something that was seemingly mundane in the wizarding world and not thought much upon. Her Ancient Runes professor had actually tried to discourage Hermione from working on such a meager venture and attempted to direct her to more established and common runes like the Eldar Futhark or the Frisian and Anglo-Saxon Futhorc.
But she had stood firm by her decision when her professor relayed that there was actually very little concerning the Hávamál that tied it to the magical world. And if Malfoy seemed to apparently have an abundance of knowledge, of which their professor knew nothing, Hermione was convinced that this was going to become bigger than what she would be able to handle.
However, she still wasn't keen on releasing any of what she knew to other people.
Not until she knew what Malfoy had to do with the censored and possibly proscribed sections of an ostensibly marginal rune.
But she decided she would have to think more of it later, her musings interrupted by a gentle knock on her door. She hadn't really been expecting anyone, having been ostracised so quickly because of her spectacle with Harry, but it was somewhat comforting to have a visitor.
However, she was surprised when the door swayed open and a familiar figure nearly scurried into the room. "Neville?"
"Hi, Hermione." He waved to her as he walked into the room, closing the door behind him. "Are you okay?"
"You're not supposed to be in the girls' dormitory," Hermione accused, but did nothing to stop his entrance. She kept her eyes on his form, glancing at his feet dragging across the floor.
"I know, but everybody already left for lunch or class. And I wanted to make sure you were all right." He broke her gaze, his vision retreating downward. "So are you?"
"Of course I am." She shook her head, relating that she thought the question was obscure. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"You and Harry fought," Neville stated, quickly raising his head in surprise.
"Oh…" She unconsciously tilted her head, almost denying the truth in Neville's words. "That wasn't anything. It was nothing more than a disagreement."
"Well, then…" Neville, still unconvinced, moved closer to Hermione, not questioning the absence of any other girls in the room. For the past two days, more than a good bit of Gryffindors had simply begun to ignore Hermione, distancing themselves from her. It had even extended to other houses. Though, it wasn't quite as heavy as within Gryffindor, some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had snubbed her, as well. But it wasn't much different from the Slytherins at any rate.
They treated all outsiders with disdain.
"May I ask you a question?" Hermione saw that Neville's thoughts were wandering from his initial intent and she almost had the mind to retreat from her question. She was in no position to make any more adversaries – even if they were from within her own house – but she had become single-minded in her desire for answers about Malfoy. And Neville, outside of Slytherin, seemed to be the only person in her reach. However, in order to attain answers, Hermione would have to be brusque.
Because Neville didn't quite understand her idea of subtle.
"If I can take a seat." Neville smiled cautiously as he moved closer to Hermione. But as she nodded and made room for him on her bed, he settled for a chair pressed against the side of wall. He was almost wary of the sudden invitation. Hermione wasn't necessarily a closed-off person, but at the same time, she wasn't an exemplar for the most affable type of person. "I don't mind."
"Why do you call Malfoy, Draco?"
"Oh." Neville looked at Hermione's feet, scratching his head as lips turned into a frown. "I do?"
"You don't have to answer, although it does intrigue me." Hermione simply looked at Neville, hands draped in her lap as her eyes examined his form. She was pleased that the question hadn't upset him as much as she originally anticipated. The decision to pose the inquiry was more of an afterthought than anything, but at least he seemed more willing than defensive.
"Really, I don't know. I didn't even know I was doing it." And Neville wasn't being entirely untruthful. He was somewhat aware, but that stemmed from an urge that was involuntary; like a muscle spasm or some similar sort of reaction.
Neville knew it would have made more sense if he referred to all of his peers by their first names. Then, perhaps it wouldn't have sounded so chary. But honestly, Hermione has been the only one to confront him concerning his referral to Malfoy as Draco. He had actually begun the transition sometime around fourth year.
"Longbottom?"
Neville turned at the person entering the Charms classroom, nearly white, blonde hair falling into his eyes as he walked closer to Neville. "Malfoy?"
"How did you manage a detention from Flitwick…of all people?"
"I…I was-"
"I might as well have been expelled by Sprout."
He still had yet to discover the reasoning behind Draco's abrupt appearance but to see Draco was a revelation in the least. Neville had been trying to cast a simple Mobius charm, something of a review for the beginning of the new school year, when he had accidentally caused the chairs to chase the students. The professor had thought it a jinx and subsequently placed the responsibility on Neville. He gave Neville a detention that consisted of polishing all of the furniture in the class room.
Which apparently extended to the wooded floor, as well.
It wasn't his first detention and it certainly wasn't his last, but it was Neville's opportunity to interact with Draco outside the constraints of class or within the presence of their houses. Not to say that Draco had been more than his usual genial self because Neville anticipated the mocking and the ridicule and would have expected nothing less.
But it was at that moment, as Draco's callous laughter echoed in the empty classroom, that Neville had found himself growing an appeal for Draco; when he became more than Malfoy. And it wasn't a physical attraction as much as it was an uninspired fascination that Neville once thought he would be able to ignore. But it grew within him, twisting into something dark and malicious that was far beyond Neville's own understanding.
It was a burgeoning carnal lust that knew no bounds and consequently continued to fuel Neville's transition from an inept and gauche little boy into someone he knew would be of far more grandeur.
Yet, for now, Neville kept it contained, hidden away until he knew when the right moment would come.
"What can I say Hermione? It's his name?" Neville had small hopes that the explanation would be enough to placate his friend. Because no one really paid much heed to him that first day of classes when he received a detention from Flitwick and he doubted anyone still remembered. Since that was why no one really knew of it now.
But he could tell by the look on her face that Hermione didn't believe it.
"Are you ready to talk to us, now?" Pansy tried to convey her anger, her deep rooted disappointment in her friend through her voice. Anything to conceal the damage, even if unintentional, Draco had inflicted upon her because she wasn't sure if she could maintain the charade much longer.
It was quickly escalating into something she could no longer control, a liquid she was failing to contain in her palms.
Draco scrunched his face, taking a moment to think before he allowed himself to reply. He felt cornered, unable to relay the severity of the situation to his counterpart of something odd years. He knew her patience was wearing thin. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to admit that he needed help when he told himself long ago that he would confront his issues alone…even if it led him into a downward spiral. "Pansy, I-"
"That's a right shame because we don't wish to speak with you." Which was the truth, she convinced herself. Pansy wasn't conflicted because she honestly believed she and Blaise didn't want to speak to Draco. It was something they both agreed on before they decided to speak to Draco. They had already given Draco plenty of time to come to them. Two days was more than enough and Draco would eventually have to give in if she and Blaise were to take a more roundabout process.
Even if she had to keep telling herself that.
"Because I didn't tell you what happened last summer, is that it?" Draco asked; irritation at her inability to fully understand coating his words. It would have been easier if she would have just accepted that he was coming along fine and ignored whatever it was within her that urged her to try to help him. Regardless of his more recent fainting spells and the uncertainty with Granger, he'd have a hold on things, soon.
"No…" Pansy tightened her knuckles, sharp nails digging into the skin of her palms and she spoke through clenched teeth. She truthfully wished Blaise was beside her, but she would have to rely on her own resolve for now. "Because you haven't been telling us anything, at all."
"What does that have to do-"
"Blaise and I have been with you through every step of…whatever this is – never questioning and willing to settle for the most minimal of your excuses."
"And I don't see why-"
"But we can't – we're not – going to follow you blindly into something you obviously have no control over."
Draco stood from his seat on top of his desk, moving to stand in front of Pansy. "Look…Granger being suspicious is just a small hindrance. I'll deny everything and no one will believe her-"
"The fainting, Draco," Pansy reminded him, not entirely surprised at his attempts to skirt around the issue. "Only a handful of people know about you and the one who should know the most is riding our arses about it. You don't even tell your godfather-"
"Pansy…" Draco groaned in frustration, mentally willing for her to understand exactly why he chose not to let many know. It was because he was afraid. And it was a true fear that had manifested itself to the point where Draco was wary to even acknowledge it in his mind. He didn't know why he would collapse at various times and not be able to recall the events. He didn't know how he could exhaust another person through simple touch.
And he didn't know what would happen to him if his secret were to be revealed to those he did not trust
"We're lost Draco. Blaise and I want to help you but you're not giving us much to work with." She and Blaise had been there when Draco first displayed signs: the impromptu passing out, the lost of memory…the day Pansy almost died when Draco touched her – an experience that would forever haunt her. They were sworn not to relay how much he had actually affected Pansy's health and in turn belittle the event.
Who would want to tell a thirteen year old boy he had almost killed his friend?
But the more she dwelled on it, the more she began to agree with Goyle and his own simple reasoning. Perhaps Professor Snape had sheltered Draco too much, been uncannily overprotective.
And maybe that's why Draco couldn't grasp the extent of his abilities and how dangerous everything was quickly becoming. Because in the wrong hands…no, she didn't want her mind to dwell on the possibilities of such an open-ended thought.
So, she hoped Blaise's plan to compel Draco into desperation would work.
It was a risk she and Blaise thought it best to take.
"I've told you all I can. What more do you want to know, Pansy?"
"Don't worry about it Draco…because we don't think we can keep up with you anymore."
"It' already been two days, mate." Ron sat forward in the armchair, groaning as he ran his hands through his hair. He'd naively thought that the whole thing would have blown over by now, but he'd forgotten how alike Hermione and Harry were: both were ridiculously mulish. "What were you even arguing about?"
"Ron, I don't know how it started," Harry admitted as he sighed, sagging into his chair. "One minute, I was trying to get her to tell me about Malfoy-"
"Wait, Malfoy. Did he have something to do with it?"
"Not really…kind of…yeah."
"I've left you alone a bit. But Hermione's still my friend - even if I'm not talking to her right now – and she wouldn't have said something like that without a reason, right? I mean, you must have said something, too."
"Does it really matter, Ron?"
"Listen, I'm on your side, but Hermione doesn't just blow up like that for no apparent reason. She wouldn't just talk about him…especially with a room full of other people."
"Like I said, I just wanted her to tell me about Malfoy."
Ron simply stared at him sceptically. He would have to get Hermione's side because it didn't seem like Harry was going to reconcile any time soon. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he'd rather have the Harry and Hermione from the train…at least they were still talking to each other.
Harry was more than a bit disconcerted that Ron didn't believe him. He asked about Malfoy and he knew Hermione was telling him less than she actually knew. It was nothing more than that. "But she said that there was nothing going on with Malfoy."
"And…" Ron encouraged him to continue, knowing he would probably regret the decision later on. As far as he was concerned, anything regarding Malfoy was bad. It was as black and white as that and he didn't understand why Harry and Hermione needed to concern themselves with evil. Although, he could also admit that Malfoy hadn't done anything lately – that wasn't up to par with his usual self – that called for attention.
"And I know she's been hiding something from me."
Ron sighed again, rubbing the palm of his hand against his forehead. He didn't see how Harry could doubt Hermione at all…and over Malfoy, no less. "Why so much about Malfoy all of a sudden? What's so important about the twit that's been a pain in-"
"He's up to something," Harry contended, his face set and resolve determined. That was the only justification he could offer at this point. And in theory, he thought it would have sufficed because he had nothing to give credence other than that reasoning – something that made sense in his mind.
It wasn't some imprudent attempt to cling to the life he once had – not matter what Hermione had accused him of.
In spite of the change around Harry, Malfoy did not stand as some sort of stability. Harry could move on, as well; past the nightmares, restlessness and the sense of bleakness that seemed to darken his every thought. He didn't pay notice to the conflicts that hovered like an ominous cloud, waiting and anticipating the chance to completely shroud him.
Harry didn't need Ron to be his ever present shadow once more; something for which he used to hide his dislike. He didn't need Hermione prying into his personal matters, interfering in a manner that consequently has saved his life on more than one occasion.
He would deny that he had become resolute to overlook certain events and would proceed with his life as if they had never even occurred. He would refute the fact that for the first time in his life, he was taking the road more travelled and didn't want to face a reality for which he had no concern.
But he knew he'd be lying to himself.
And he'd lost the courage to concede to this long ago. "It's just…" Harry closed his eyes as he lowered his head, taking a slow breath. He would see if he could preserve the pretence and feign ignorance to the before and after.
"It's just what?"
"Nothing, Ron. Absolutely nothing."
I have little I can say about this with the exception that this has been a long time coming...and the fact that it's one thing to write ideas on paper, and it's another to actually type them. However, I can now get into the whole "runes" thing which I personally believe is interesting.
But I've have been going back and correcting mistakes that I've missed in prior chapters...been doing with many of my stories lately. I'm trying to edit on a single platfrom instead of three different ones. Hopefully, that will help me, somewhat and keep some semblance of consistancy.
And thanks for reviewing janinePSA...it's been a while, but I haven't abandonded this, yet.
