COUNTERFEIT
VIII
Theodore Nott sat back in his vine green armchair. His normally electric eyes were dull and dead, his hunched shoulders and hanged head was a posture of defeat. A red-bound book was in his lap.
His empty eyes drilled a hole into the book. He shook, with anger, pain and fear. He had risked more than his life to learn what he knew now. He thought it was worth it. It wasn't. He sat as a dead man. His mind was voluntarily shut down, and his spirit died along with his dim ray of hope. The Death Eaters would take him to a place unknown. He would be punished, tortured and die a horrible death.
His lips curved into a slight grin. The sweet release of death – that was his only ambition now.
But before that, he has one last task to do.
The tiniest of all sparks crept into his eyes. His relaxed muscles tightened. He groaned silently as the crushing weight of the physical world descended upon him again. He picked up the red book and got to his feet. He crossed the common room in quick strides. Dawn's warm lights rose from their dark nest and boldly sprinted across the grey sky outside. Theodore climbed out of the portrait hole.
---
"What is this?"
"Sammlung von Perioden, written by the wizard Faust."
Hermione gasped, "Faust? The father of all dark magic?"
Theodore Nott sneered. "Is that what they taught you? Alright then, I'll go with that."
"But…where did you get this?" Hermione shrieked, turning it over in her hands. She flipped open the front cover. Theodore shrugged, "My father's."
Hermione's hands froze. She looked up from the book, her glare icy. She smiled bitterly and showed Theodore the name written in book's the inside cover. "Was your father's name T.M. Riddle?" She asked airily.
Theodore's eyes locked onto hers. Oops. He clicked his tongue. "Does it matter who it belonged to?" He sighed impatiently. "The point is that you have your information and I'm off the hook. So abide your side of the contract and keep this to yourself. Good day."
Hermione stared as he strolled away. She looked down at the book, then up again.
"Wait!" She called, running after him, her book bag and cloak pounded against her legs. Theodore stopped and turned back to her. She arrived beside him, breathless and hunched over. "Don't…you…want to know…what happened…to…to…Malfoy…?" She managed to gasp between wheezes.
Theodore scrunched up his perfect nose. "I already know." His voice became a whisper, "He's burning in hell as we speak."
Hermione looked up, startled. "What?"
Theodore looked down at her young, vibrant face with its millions of expressions and her cherry lips, sprouting the aromas of intellect and clarity etched into her mind. It'd be a waste to watch her wither and die with the truth. He let out a deep breath. He was a dead man, might as well do something good and hope for a chance of redemption. He hated the thought of spending an eternity with the late Draco Malfoy in the deepest chasm of the furious lair of the root of all evil.
"This…new Malfoy loves you," Theodore's words came out strangled. He paused to gather his thoughts and tried again, "I think you two are meant to be. You're soul mates. Don't look so surprised, Granger. You're interested in him. And he's crazy for you. You have every right to be together. Give him a chance. He's nothing like the bastard you had known before. Admit it, you know he had changed – don't argue with me Granger, you know it. Here's my advice…be secret and subtle and if, God-forbid, it doesn't work out – which wont happen – you'll both be saved from the humiliation and can carry on where you left off. What have you got to loose? Give him a chance, give yourself a chance, and let him love you."
With that, the cinnamon haired angel disappeared out the door.
Hermione stood alone, silent and confused. But the five little words that echoed around her head spoke to her in a way she herself didn't know of. Give yourself a chance, the boy had said. The way Nott put it, it's more possible than she had ever imagined.
What will she do?
For the moment being, Hermione had decided to return to the Gryffindor Tower to think things through thoroughly, and maybe distract herself with a game of Exploding Snap or her Advanced Potions homework. She shouldered her bag and headed out the library doors.
Deep, deep, deep, deep down inside (so deep inside and hidden behind so many false illusions and conflicting emotions that she was not consciously aware of this belief), Hermione whole-heartedly believed that this Draco Malfoy before her is someone totally new: someone who could love her and maybe be loved by her in return…possibly. But unbeknownst to her, Hermione's overprotective subconscious had fiddled with her conscious mind. It decided – all by its lonesome – that it would shield Hermione's conscious mind from the truths of her own feelings. And because of this, Hermione found that she couldn't accept the fact that Draco Malfoy loved her. She couldn't put Malfoy's face on a boy who had a romantic interest in her. She couldn't see herself with him. She wouldn't see herself with him.
At that moment, Hermione felt as if she was tore into two. One was the Angry Hermione, still holding grudges against the little ferret prat who caused her so much pain and headache throughout her childhood, and the other was the Needy Hermione, craving forbidden romance and attention, representing all that Hermione had wanted and desired.
Angry Hermione was full of reason and logic. "You cannot love someone if you don't know who he is," she argued.
"Sure you can," Needy Hermione shot back, tossing her hair, "You can do anything you really want to."
"Wants come second to needs," Angry Hermione retorted, "this was the motto we've been living with for seventeen years!"
"Yes, sure," Needy Hermione replied casually, "That's why we need to switch it up a little. Variety is good. Change is good. And Malfoy is…well…too damn sexy to live."
Angry Hermione gasped in outrage. "You can't think that, Hermione!" She hissed. Needy Hermione shook her head slowly. "Don't listen to her, Hermione," she said, "You think that about him all the time. I know because I was there in your mind when you thought so. I was there when you got the butterflies by staring at his hair…his moonlight-silver hair: the hair you wanted to rake your fingers through so badly…"
Hermione shook her head. Holy shit. She was talking to herself…via two imagined little mini-hers on her shoulders whispering into her ears.
"Hermione had a stomach flu that day," she heard Angry Hermione explain, "Her butterflies were because of the flu, not Malfoy."
Hermione's heart skipped a beat.
"Ha!" Shouted Needy Hermione, "Hear that? You said his name and her heart picked up speed."
"She's climbing up stairs, obviously her heart rate is gaining speed," Angry Hermione pouted.
Hermione shook her head and took a deep breath. She was in front of the Fat Lady. Needy Hermione blew into Hermione's ear. "It's not too late, you know," she whispered playfully, "The last Hogsmeade weekend of this year is coming up before the Christmas break. He'll be there…"
Hermione's muscles tensed as she remembered his arms around her, his warm embrace. She shuddered as she entered the Gryffindor Common Room, and blamed it on the coldness of the Tower even though the Common Room was at least a degree warmer than the hallways. Angry Hermione scowled. She twirled in her spot on Hermione's shoulder and disappeared.
"Ron," Hermione suddenly heard herself say. "Do you want to grab a drink with me next Hogsmeade weekend?"
Both Ron and Harry looked up from where they sat by the fire, playing chess. Ron looked surprised and Harry's face split into a wide smile.
Hermione managed to turn her grimace into a smile back at Harry. It felt as if her words scraped had deep welts along her throat as they tumbled out. She stood there sweating bullets, willing him to say no.
"Of course!" Ron stood hastily, tipping the chessboard over and spilling the protesting chessmen onto the carpeted floor. "Um…Madam Puddifoot's at a quarter to one?"
Hermione nodded silently in return. She though she heard Angry Hermione reappear on her shoulder, grinning broadly. "See? Now there's no worry that you'd run into Malfoy. Or at least you'll be with Ron."
Needy Hermione twisted her face into a fierce scowl of fury. She sputtered but said nothing comprehensible. After a fit of screaming rage she, like Angry Hermione had done moments before, twirled and disappeared. Her counterpart followed, still grinning.
Hermione felt the weight of her decision crushing her shoulders. She trudged up the stairs to the Head Girl room. She collapsed onto her bed and fell asleep the moment her head touched her pillow. She had unintentionally waged war on herself. From here, she would fight: head versus heart, wants versus needs, and fantasy versus reality.
---
Hogsmeade! A happy and magical village nestled in the depth of blissful isolation from the rest of the world, in which now strolls many young sorcerers who will go on to perform the unimaginable in the near future – Draco Malfoy, among them. Only he wasn't strolling or blissful. He was pumped full of adrenaline and racing down the dirt pathways.
He saw them seconds ago. They were heading down this road…and they were holding hands. It's not like he's never seen them hold hands before. He had, and he also had interfered, polyjuiced as Neville Longbottom. But this time it was different. Her attitude was different.
There! He could see them now…heading into…Puddifoot's? Oh my God.
They're sitting down…they're ordered a drink…he's smiling at her…AND SHE'S SMILING BACK!
Draco's heart thundered, pounding against his ribs, threatening to tear out of his chest. He flipped up his cloak collars and entered the little cozy café. With his head down, Draco headed straight for the restrooms. In the narrow hallway where the doors to the facilities stood, his brain seemed to have regain control over his body. He leant against the wall and took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. They're friends, nothing more, he tried to tell himself. But he couldn't help but feel as if he needed to take that redheaded asshole by the ear, punch him to the ground, stab him a couple times, do the Cruciatus for an hour or two, then lock the moron up and laugh as he starves to death.
Draco shook his head. He'll just go out there and act as if he was so wonderfully surprised to see them, then join their little tea party and crash the whole thing. Okay. That'll work. Draco heaved off the wall and headed back to the café. He looked around the corner and froze. His head snapped back so fast that he was surprised that he didn't suffer a whiplash.
She's coming to the restrooms. Crap! Draco spun on his heels and entered the first door he saw. As the door slammed shut he sat down with a flop onto the tiled floor.
It was cold.
Draco looked up.
There aren't any urinals.
He's in the ladies restroom!
The door opened behind him. He sprang up and, without thinking, disappeared into the nearest stall. A familiar sigh reached Draco's ears, followed by waster splashing against the porcelain sinks. Draco lifted his feet from the floor onto the toilet seat, and allowed the stall door to open slightly. From outside, it would seem that the stall was empty.
The restroom door opened once again and another set of footsteps entered.
"Hermione!" the newcomer greeted. Draco's heart tightened. He extended his neck to see through the crack of the ajar door of his stall.
"Hello, Lavender," Hermione smiled back, reaching for a towel to dry her hands.
"You're here with Ron?" Lavender Brown asked casually as she pulled out her lipstick. Hermione nodded curtly, and Draco choked on air. "Yeah," Lavender continued, "he's a nice guy."
"He is," Hermione agreed. Draco told himself that she sounded forced.
"Not to be mean or anything," Lavender started, "but can I tell you something about when Ron and I were going out?"
Hermione shrugged, "Go ahead."
"He was an awesome boyfriend, even though he was a little intense. I think you two will be wonderful together, though I should have seen this coming. I mean, he's been crushing on you since forever," Lavender laughed. Hermione was caught off guard, "He has?"
"Didn't you know?"
"No…well now that I think about it…"
Lavender looked suspicious. "Then why did you go out with him if you didn't think he liked you?"
Hermione shrugged, "I …"
"What do you like about him anyways?" Lavender's tone was becoming more and more offensive, not that Draco noticed. He was straining his ears to catch Hermione's response.
Hermione put down her towel and turned to face Lavender, fire burning in her eyes. "Everything," she answered confidently. Draco suddenly felt clammy. It was difficult to breath. His head swam and his vision became blurry. His heart was pounding in his ears and blood was draining from his face. His hands were shaking.
Hermione raised one eyebrow at Lavender, "Why?"
Lavender replaced her lipstick with a tube of mascara. "I don't know. It just seems…do you have another purpose in mind?"
Draco barely heard her. He was seeing black spots and his chest hurt. He thought he might have hit something hard, but he couldn't remember what. He saw Hermione smile. It was sudden, and frankly, quite scary. "Another purpose for what?" she asked between her teeth.
"For dating Ron," Lavender smiled back, daggers hidden in her gaze.
"No," Hermione shook her head in affirmation. "It's just that…some recent events have got me thinking about Ron and I. I've discovered that we are very much in love."
Draco's knee gave out beneath him and he fell into a sitting position. His joints felt numb and he began to sweat. The black spots in his vision were getting bigger and bigger. He tried to move his hands to his aching chest, but they were leaden and heavy. His breath came in short gasps and anxiety washed over him.
"Are you really?" Lavender challenged. Hermione narrowed her eyes and headed for the door, "Yes," she answered over her shoulder, "I love Ron very much." And she was gone. Moments later, Lavender followed.
Draco reached for the stall's door handle and pulled himself up. His vision was still blotchy but his chest pains lessened. He felt numb as he staggered to the restroom door and stumbled out. He blinked in the glare of the café's lighting. His eyes focused on a chocolate haired girl leaning down. She was leaning down toward another guy.
The café suddenly became very quiet. The only sound Draco could hear was his own heartbeat.
Hermione's lips brushed Ron's. Draco felt light headed.
So this is rejection.
Ron's hand reached up to cup Hermione's face as he returned her kiss. Draco's eyes were locked onto their lips. There was a burn in his heart and his muscles knotted up as the chest pain returned.
So this is hurt.
She pulled back and beckoned the redhead to stand. She entwined her arm around his and they headed for the café's exit. Somewhere in the seated crowd Lavender said, "Congratulations, Ron." And the couple was gone.
The café buzzed into life with the aftermath gossip of the event. Draco's legs somehow managed to carry him to the door of the café. Ron and I are very much in love. He stared out the foggy glass at the silhouette of two figures disappearing into the quickly descending night. I love Ron. A sudden headache rocked his head, spreading from his forehead back. Congratulations. His hand went to his throat. It felt as if his throat closed. Their lips, touching, caressing. A wave of nausea hit him and he struggled just to breath. From somewhere outside of his vision, Draco thought he heard someone call his name in warning. But he paid no attention. Sweat was raining down on him and now it felt as if the weight of the entire Gryffindor tower was crushing his chest. Draco swayed on his feet. I love Ron. I love Ron. I don't love you. I love Ron. You will never be good enough for me. I love Ron. You are tainted. You are evil. I love Ron. I love Ron. I love Ron. I love Ron. I love Ron. I love Ron… Blood was rushing to everywhere but his brain. Draco's knees gave out one last time and he saw nothing but black.
---
That bitch, Lavender Brown. Hermione kicked the snow with her boots. Her arm strayed from Ron's. Hermione smiled bitterly. Wouldn't Malfoy laugh if he saw her today, she thought, getting so worked up over something some idiot said. She looked up at the golden clouds in the baby pink sky.
Wouldn't he laugh?
---
A/N:
Short chapter, I know. But I promise, it only gets better from here.
Sorry for the delay, by the way. I was getting off task and a bit preoccupied.
I'll promise to hurry with the next update if you review. Please and thank you.
