Disclaimer: I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone does know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.
Author's Note: This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy!
Chapter Eight:Non est ei similis (There is no one like him)
"To truly understand another human being, you must gain some insight into the condition which made him what he is."
–unknown
"Hermione! Over here!"
Hermione smiled, following the squealing voice of Parvati and Lavender who were eagerly waving her over to their seat in the bleachers. They were both huddled together already, pointing and giggling at the players on the pitch.
"Do you mind if I join you?" Hermione asked, more out of politeness than anything else. She knew that the girls would never turn her away, but she often felt the need to ask to be included in their twosome—especially after the whole "Won-Won" situation of the previous year. Hermione, who had always had an easier time reading books than girls, was never sure if she had been paramount in the whole break up and often wondered how her presence was received around Lavender. Thankfully though, Lavender and Parvati seemed to have forgotten any possible past transgressions and greeted her with open arms, scooting over to clear a space for her.
"Of course Hermione—we didn't know whether or not you would even be here!" Lavender squealed in a voice that prompted Hermione to cover her ears, an action that she thankfully caught before actually engaging in.
"Oh, well, there was so much hype around it that I figured I would check it out," Hermione explained lightly, taking the proffered seat next to Lavender who smiled widely.
"Yes, I suppose the entire school has come to see what will happen," she noted, glancing around at the burgeoning stands. Hermione had to agree—there didn't seem to be an empty seat in the entire stadium. It reminded her vaguely of the Quidditch World Cup where there had been so many people Hermione had constantly feared she would be separated forever from Ron and Harry.
"It's a little ridiculous though," Hermione began softly, "the whole Harry-versus-Malfoy thing. I mean, don't you two ever think it's gone a little too far?" To her dismay, Lavender and Parvati shook their heads in unison, their eyes growing simultaneously wider.
"Oh no Hermione—this is like the final fight," Parvati whispered, echoing the familiar sentiments that Hermione had been hearing all week. She wished suddenly she had sat with the Ravenclaws—or at least with someone a little less die-hard than her current seatmates seemed to be. She didn't even bother correcting this statement as she had with her friends, knowing all logic would be lost on the two stupid girls.
"It's like physical representations of good and evil fighting out there," Lavender added and Hermione had to force herself to check her surprise at the multiple-syllabled words coming out of her peer's mouth.
"Have things started yet?" Hermione asked aloud, hoping to defer the subject to something a bit more neutral. Lavender and Parvati gave her matching looks of skepticism.
"Hermione—the players are just starting to take the field," Parvati noted, pointing down towards the pitch where the two distinctly-colored teams were just beginning to swirl around, performing cockily for the crowd before rushing to their positions to signal the commencement of the game. "Honestly, you act as though you've never been to a Quidditch match before."
"I guess the crowd is just confusing me a bit," Hermione offered by way of explanation, sitting back to try and avoid further conversation with the girls who seemed content to whisper amongst themselves.
Turning away from the two girls, Hermione focused her attention on the Quidditch pitch, where both teams had finally congregated and were urging the start of the game. Hermione watched as Harry and Malfoy, as captains, shook hands (rather fiercely, she noted) and then as Madame Hooch entered the pitch, her signature whistle in hand.
"Alright boys and girls—I want a good, clean fight. Don't think I haven't heard all the absurd buildup to this game, and don't think I won't eliminate you from the game if I see anything out of the rules of the game. There are seven hundred different fouls and I'm prepared to call every single one of them." Then, with a final pointed glare to each of the teams, she threw the ball and blew her whistle, signaling the beginning of the game.
If Hermione had ever harbored any doubts regarding the intensity of the game, she was quickly assured that all the buildup had not been merely talk. In the first twenty minutes two Slytherins and one Gryffindor had been replaced for foul play and the injuries pertaining to their fouls. The Slytherins it seemed were out for blood and beating ruthlessly on any of the Gryffindors that came near them. The Gryffindors however, not to be outdone, seemed to jump into the fighting with vigor, earning themselves numerous black eyes and sore ribs.
Hermione watched the play with such a deep fascination that it even led Lavender and Parvati to speculate her motives. It was no secret that Hermione was no fan of the game and her sudden interest was obviously more than just wanting to see whether or not "good" or "evil" would win.
"I'm just worried about Harry the others—I don't want anyone to get hurt over such a silly feud," Hermione explained quickly to Lavender's pointed questions.
"Harry won't get hurt," Parvati offered boldly, "it's the Slytherins you should worry about. The Gryffindor team is too good."
"I suppose," Hermione offered flippantly, more to quiet her seatmates than anything else. It worked though and the two girls went back to the burning topic at hand—which beater had the nicer…uh…form.
Despite all efforts to the contrary, Hermione found herself actively seeking out her clover-clad counterpart. Not entirely visible at first, Hermione was dismayed to find him making lazy circles near the lower part of the field. While Harry preferred to fly higher, looking down on the game for the tiny golden snitch, Malfoy seemed to take the opposite approach, craning his neck skyward for the elusive game piece. For two boys whose "showdown" had been the featured topic of conversation for the past week, they seemed to be doing a remarkable job of avoiding eachother altogether.
"What's Malfoy doing?" Mandy Brocklehurst, who had joined the group unbeknownst to Hermione, wondered aloud, pointing down at the infamous Slytherin. Hermione, who had been watching him the entire time, blinked suddenly, refocusing her eyes so that the tall boy was perfectly aligned in her vision.
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, too unfamiliar with the sport to correctly identify the alleged oddity that Malfoy was performing. Mandy leaned in, pointing to the green form who seemed to be flying lower and lower.
"He's acting funny—why's he flying so low?" Mandy half-explained, rather distractedly. As if to disprove Mandy's observation, Malfoy shot up into the air so rapidly that even Harry seemed startled by his sudden companion in the sky. Malfoy remained elevated for a few minutes before gradually making his awkward descent once more.
"Malfoy, what's going on with you?" Hermione whispered to herself, hoping in vain to catch his eye, if even for a moment. For a few minutes Malfoy continued his rise and fall routine, giving him the likeness of a buoy, floating up and down with the current, and prompting sudden conspiracy theories to crop up amongst the perplexed Gryffindors. Then, Malfoy rose up once more before finally sinking down to the level of action, fading in and out from behind various baffled players.
"Well whatever he's doing—he better watch out," Lavender pointed out loudly, gesturing towards his current position.
"Why?" Hermione asked nervously, trying to figure out the cause of Lavender's concern.
"Because he's about to be bludgered," she noted simply, seconds before the infamous ball came crashing into Draco's head, sending the boy careening down to the pitch below.
"Drink this and you'll be better in just a few days."
Draco looked at the glass of foggy liquid, made a wry face, and shook his head.
"Is it sweet or bitter?" He asked to Madame Pompfrey's chagrin. She sighed, staring at the pale boy lying weakly in the bed below her. Even in such a fragile state he was infuriating, and Madame Pompfrey was beginning to see the truth behind all the stories she had heard about him.
"It's bitter but it's good for you. Drink up," she ordered dryly, pushing the glass towards her latest patient. Draco struggled to sit up slightly, avoiding the glass at all costs.
"If it's bitter I don't want it," he decided, wincing as the latest shock of pain raced through him. Madame Pompfrey sighed, setting the glass firmly on the bedside table and turning to face the boy's latest visitor.
"I'll be back in a few minutes—do you think you could try and get him to drink the medicine?" She asked the bushy-haired Gryffindor, the one visitor who Madame Pompfrey deemed pleasant enough to administer instructions to. Hermione nodded wordlessly, glancing past the healerto Draco who seemed to be suddenly quite interested in his feet, poking out from the sterile white covers. Confident that Hermione would be able to complete what she had not; Madame Pompfrey cast one last contemptuous glance to Draco and walked promptly from the room.
"Drink this," Hermione said firmly, stepping up to Draco's bedside and pushing the ostracized elixir towards him. He ignored her efforts, staring instead to her face.
"Why are you here?" He wanted to know but his tone was not unkind, just questioning, and Hermione felt a blush creep to her cheeks.
"I wanted to see how you were doing—you had quite a nasty fall there," Hermione said finally, pulling up a chair so that she would have something to do other than stand over Draco awkwardly. To her surprise, he smirked and pushed himself upright in bed.
"I broke a lot of bones," he admitted almost boastfully and Hermione forced a smile, if only to amuse him. "But that doesn't explain why you're here."
"I told you—I wanted to see how you were doing."
"Don't be daft Granger—you could have asked someone—Pompfrey, Hooch, even McGonagall. You didn't have to come down here." Hermione shrugged awkwardly, fingering the now-sweating glass in her hands.
"I guess I wanted to see for myself—is that a problem?"She asked, raising an eyebrow as if challenging him to defy her. Draco seemed unfazed by the challenge however, merely smiling to himself and leaning back against the pillows. For a minute the duo lapsed into an awkward silence before Hermione remembered Pompfrey's instructions.
"Here—you need to drink this," she reminded him, pushing the glass towards him. He made a face, refusing the mixture.
"I told you—I don't like things that are bitter," he said in such a childish tone that Hermione had to bite back laughter.
"You'll feel much better if you drink it—it will help your bones grow back."
"My bones are absolutely fine Granger."
"Well your definition of fine is obviously not the same as mine," Hermione began with a half smile on her face. When Draco's face remained unchanged however, Hermione sighed, taking a more serious approach, "Malfoy—don't be ridiculous. You had a bludger smash into your face. Then you fell into the ground. There is no way that you are absolutely fine," Hermione reasoned, holding out the glass to him. He raised an eyebrow, a smile on his lips.
"You were watching me," he decided, taking the glass from Hermione but still not bringing it to his mouth. Hermione blushed.
"I was watching the game," she corrected, glancing to the door to make sure Madame Pompfrey wasn't coming back anytime soon.
"You were watching me while I played the game," Draco said, smiling devilishly. Hermione shook her head, motioning towards the glass in his hand.
"The longer you wait and make up ridiculous accusations, the worse it will be when you drink it," she reasoned, gesturing at the glass.
"Oh gods Granger, I'll drink the bloody medicine," he snapped impatiently, tipping back the cup and draining the liquid with one quick gulp. Hermione sat back in her chair, smiling in a self-satisfied way. "Happy?" He demanded. Hermione nodded.
"Quite."
"Good," Draco said, slamming the now-empty glass on the bedside table. He wiped his mouth and turned to look at Hermione. "Now, what were you saying about watching me play?"
"I wasn't saying anything about it. You however seemed quite enamored with the idea," Hermione clarified, fingering a loose strand of her hair. Draco shrugged.
"You have to admit that I looked pretty good out there though, right?" Hermione laughed out loud.
"Now, was that before or after you were bludgered to the ground?"
"Aw, come on Granger—I had a nice go there for a while."
"Yeah—bobbing up and down like a bunny on the pitch. Quite the strategy you had there." Draco blushed, shrugging as best he could while his bones struggled to re-grow.
"Was it really as bad as all that?" Hermione shrugged.
"You were looking pretty dippy out there."
"Pompfrey said it was due to the fever." Hermione sat up, surprised.
"You have a fever too? Gods Malfoy, why did you even go out there and play?" Draco paused, considering this, and shrugged finally as if he himself didn't rightly know.
"I guess I just didn't want people to think I had forfeited just to get out of it or something. Besides, I'm the captain of the bloody team—I didn't want everyone to think that I was weaseling out of my duties or something of the like."
"Malfoy—that's absolutely ridiculous. If you were ill you should have stayed in! No one would have thought you were shirking out of your duties," Hermione reprimanded lightly. For a minute Draco simply stared at her, his eyes exploring her own.
"Granger," he began softly, "I know I haven't—,"
"Draco!"
Both teens shot apart at the slightly-whining shriek coming from the doorway. Hermione jumped out of her chair, grabbing for the empty glass, if only to give herself something to do. Turning to the doorway, Hermione was surprised to face a shockingly beautiful woman. She was cloaked in beautiful emerald robes that perfectly accentuated her shock of blond hair and cool blue eyes. When she saw Hermione her petite nose crinkled slightly, but she quickly glanced past the girl to her poor convalesced son.
"Oh Darling—what happened?" She said in a soothingly melodic tone. Hermione was surprised by the witch's sudden appearance, but even more so from the physical appearance of the woman. She knew Narcissa Malfoy was rumored to be beautiful but she had always assumed it was the icy aristocratic beauty that was only pretty if you had enough money, and while Narcissa seemed to have plenty of that type of beauty, she had another kind as well. Hermione almost thought that if she hadn't spent so many years of her life shackled to Lucius (granted, that too was an assumption about the woman), she may have even been described as gorgeous. It was as if she had an underlying current of true beauty that was aching to break free of her patrician lineage.
"I'm fine Mother," Draco said slowly, keeping his eyes trained on Hermione who had yet to move since Narcissa's unexpected arrival. "It was just a Quidditch accident." Narcissa inhaled sharply as if this was the worst news she had heard in a long time (which may have been true had her husband not been so recently imprisoned).
"Oh Draco Darling—how on earth did this happen? The other boys weren't being too rough out there, were they? Oh, I told your father how I felt about you playing that silly sport! He said that no harm would come to you—but look at you! You look absolutely terrible," Narcissa whined, wringing her hands nervously. Hermione had to smile slightly at the picture of Draco's over-protective mother. Draco however looked positively stricken with embarrassment, his pale cheeks flaming a vibrant red.
"Mother, I can assure you that I am positively fine. You shouldn't have troubled yourself," he said lightly, glancing nervously back and forth from his mother to Hermione. He loved his mother but her timing was positively horrible.
"Oh Darling, it was no trouble at all. I was worried and I just had to see for myself that you were okay. Are they treating you right here? Giving you everything you want?" Narcissa asked sharply, looking around as if to uncover some hidden scheme to injure Draco. "Who are you? Has he been taking his medicine?" She demanded suddenly, turning to Hermione who blanched at the unexpected attention.
"Um, yes m'am," Hermione mumbled, slightly caught off guard. She had yet to become accustomed to Narcissa's apparent habit of asking several questions at once and rarely waiting for an answer. "He drank all of it." She added when she found Narcissa still staring sharply at her.
"Good," Narcissa said sternly, turning back to Draco. "I don't want to hear about you refusing any medicine—your father would have a fit. You're almost grown now Draco, you can't afford to be childish anymore." Draco nodded dolefully, gesturing towards the yet-to-be-recognized Hermione.
"Mother—this is Hermione Granger. She's Head Girl," Draco offered tonelessly, casting attention back to Hermione who moved to straighten out her robes in an attempt to make herself more presentable. For a minute Narcissa merely stared at her, wearing the same contemplative look that Draco sometimes bore when involved in a particularly interesting book or problem. Then, she extended her bejeweled hand in greeting.
"Granger," she said almost thoughtfully, "that name sounds familiar. Where do I know you from?" Behind the two women Draco sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly.
"She's friends with Potter and Weasley," Draco clarified dully, ignoring the way Narcissa suddenly extracted her hand from Hermione's.
"Oh," she said quietly, folding her hands across her chest. It was clear that she was unimpressed by her son's choice of visitor, but thankfully she said nothing about it. Well at least I know where Draco gets his prejudices, Hermione thought bitterly as Narcissa turned back to her. "Well then, has my Draco been staying in line this year? Not getting into too much trouble I hope," she said, casting a wry glance towards her son who looked as if he wanted to die.
"He's been the perfect scholar," Hermione said softly, to appease the proud mother more than anything else, although Draco's smirk of approval wasn't a terrible addition to the comment. Narcissa beamed.
"Well, good then." She patted Draco's arm gently, kissing him lightly on the forehead. "I suppose if you really don't need anything I can head back to the manor." She paused, giving Draco ample time to object. When he didn't, she smiled at him once more. "Bye then Darling. I'll see you at the holidays then?" Draco nodded as his mother disappeared as quickly as she had come, leaving the two teens alone once more.
"So," Draco began lightly, at a complete loss for what to say. Hermione smiled.
"So," she mimicked. "That was your mother."
Sources:
The whole medicine/Draco-refusing-to-drink-it scene was loosely based on a scene in Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi
"You definition of fine is obviously different from mine..." Is from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
