Chapter 7—The Rook
Halloween dawned with a foreboding red sunrise. Hermione knew because she had seen it happen. She hadn't slept much the night before because she was too busy worrying about the conversation that she had overheard in the library between Blaise Zabini and Morag MacDougal, and had ended up sitting in the window seat in her room watching the sun rise over A Study of Wizarding Genealogies of Great Britain.
Finally, it was time for breakfast so she wandered off to the Great Hall with the book tucked underneath her arm. Once she was situated at the foot of the Slytherin table (she had naturally beaten Draco to breakfast—it was even earlier than usual so he was most likely still grumbling his way out of bed), she propped the large book up in front of her and continued to read as she cracked open one of her soft-boiled eggs.
Just then, she heard a derisive laugh float over the top of the book. She looked up to see Blaise Zabini staring down at her incredulously. "Granger, what in the blazes are you reading?"
Hermione blinked at him in surprise. "Just some research," she answered vaguely. She'd never really had a conversation with Blaise before; she wasn't exactly sure how to take him.
"A Study of Wizarding Genealogies of Great Britain?" he mocked, reading the title aloud, "I hope this doesn't mean that you've changed your mind about going to the Manor, little Gryffindor."
Hermione felt her temper start to rise. She was becoming tired of being patronized. "So what if I have?" she asked testily.
"Granger, the Malfoys would chew you up and spit you out even more easily than that gooshy little egg you've got there."
At that, Hermione slowly stood up and looked Blaise directly in the eye. "Blaise Zabini," she said in her best Head Girl voice, "I have been through a War and have seen things that would send not only you, but probably about nine-tenths of the wizarding world into hysterics. I could have handled myself just fine at the Manor, believe me!"
Blaise didn't answer her right away; he merely gave her an appraising look, then finally smirked and said, "Maybe you're right, Granger…in fact, I'm almost sorry you're not going. It could have been entertaining to hear about how you tried to save Malfoy from being roasted on a spit."
Hermione's brow creased with worry. "Is it truly going to be that bad for him?"
Blaise shrugged. "It might."
"I really should be there, but I promised him that I wouldn't go. Merlin's beard!" she exclaimed in frustration.
Blaise looked at her conspiratorially and drawled, "Promised him, eh? Well, you Gryffindors are too stupidly honorable to go there, but there's always a loophole in promises, you know. You've just got to find it…that is, if you really need to." And with that, he strolled away, whistling, with his hands in his pockets.
A loophole? Hermione wondered. I don't know…I can't break a promise, but if there was a way to help Draco out without going back on my word…hmmm…
Just then, Draco sauntered up to the table, frowning grumpily due to the fact that he was awake, but not happy about it. As he moved to lower himself into the seat next to hers, he pushed her book over (it landed on her toast with a thump) and brushed his lips across her neck as he settled into place.
Hermione looked at him and couldn't help smiling at his rumpled appearance. He had leaned forward and propped his head onto his folded arms and was practically nodding right back off to sleep. Hermione reached forward and gave a little tug on his earlobe to rouse him, but couldn't resist running her hand through his silky white-blonde locks. He grunted in appreciation.
"Happy Halloween," she said softly.
"Buggeration," he mumbled, turning his head back into his arms.
"Come on, Mr. Malfoy," she teased, gently shaking his shoulder, "sit up or you'll fall asleep."
"Nnnguh," he pushed himself up slowly with a groan.
"Draco! Where's your tie?"
Draco looked down at his chest. His shirt collar was open, but his tie, which was usually dangling haphazardly around his neck, was nowhere to be found. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "I must've left it on my bed."
"Shouldn't you go get it?"
"Ahhhhh…" he grumbled, shrugging. He once again lowered his head onto his folded arms.
"Draco…" He was even more out of it than usual this morning, Hermione realized. She could see that he had dark circles underneath his eyes—he had obviously been up all night worrying about something, and she wanted to get to the bottom of it. "Are you all right?" she asked. "Has something been troubling you?" Just tell me…confide in me…please.
His head was still buried in his arms. "Granger," his muffled voice stated, "I'm fine. I just didn't sleep that well, okay?"
You don't fool me for a second, Mr. Malfoy. I know that you're upset about going home, and you shouldn't be going alone! "Why not?" she pressed.
Irritated, he sat up. "I don't know; if I did, I probably would have managed to fall asleep!" he burst out.
He really was in a tear about this whole thing. "Fine," Hermione bristled. "Excuse me for being concerned for your welfare."
"Stubborn Gryffindor," he smirked, snaking up a hand to entwine in her wild curls. "Come here, O Concerned One," he drawled, pulling her in for a passionate kiss.
For a moment she melted into the kiss, then, realizing where she was, blushed and pulled away. Draco gave her a malevolent leer, then plucked a strawberry from her plate and popped it into his mouth.
"So…" she made one last-ditch effort, "you're sure you'll be all right by yourself this weekend?"
"Granger," he admonished, raking a hand through his hair, "you promised you wouldn't go with me to the Manor, right?"
She sighed. "Right."
"Then that's all that needs to be said about the issue, okay?"
She nodded glumly.
"Okay, then," he said in a manner of dismissal, giving her knee a quick squeeze as he reached for some toast. Hermione sat back and watched him as he began to pile food onto his plate. Loophole, she recalled, thinking of her earlier conversation with Blaise. I can't possibly find a loophole in a promise like that…I flat-out said that I wouldn't go with him to the Manor…
That I wouldn't go…WITH HIM…to the Manor.
That's it, she realized with a start. She looked over at Draco, who was occupied with concocting a makeshift soft-boiled egg, sausage and toast sandwich (Great Merlin, that's a huge sandwich he's putting together) and completely oblivious to her train of thought. I will keep my promise to you, Draco, she thought excitedly. You won't be on your own this weekend, but I will definitely not be going WITH YOU to Malfoy Manor…
