A/N: This one is a long one, and kind of important. I think I like this chapter, there's a lot going on. I haven't really decided if I do or not.
Thank you to all of my reviewers for the last chapter. People liked it more than I thought they would, and it was a nice surprise. So, thanks and I hope that this chapter doesn't disappoint.
I am a little disheartened that no one caught my reference to Heath Ledger. No brownie points :(... In A Knight's Tale, William (Heath) follows Roselyn into a church on his horse in attempt to talk to her, and he doesn't realize it. When the Priest yells, "You desecrate the House of God!" he looks up and finally realizes that he's in a church and he says, "Oh. Oh." It's one of my favorite lines, just because of the way he says it. In the last chapter, Hermione said it--or narrated it, but whatever--when she realized class was over. Anyway.. now read my story.
Hermione:
Now, I am a clever girl, correct? Head Girl, highest grades in all of Hogwarts, brightest witch of my age, and all that gab. So why, in all that is sacred and holy, did I ever think that sitting with my brother would have been an effective way to go about spreading the word?
I could feel about fifty pairs of bloodthirsty eyes on me, mouths contorted into furious sneers or scowls, words pounding in my ears like the hammers of a thousand angry Christmas elves—only without all that jolliness and cheer, but that goes without saying.
Not only were half of the Slytherins standing and yelling at Blaise and me like madmen, but some of the other houses had representatives shouting their bids from across the hall. In all my years at Hogwarts I had never seen such outrage, and it was all directed at me. As if it was my fault. Bloody wankers.
That's when I felt the anger bubble up inside of me. Because, honestly, the nerve of these people. As if my life is any of their concern.
Blaise was obviously feeling this same anger as I was, and he was expressing it by throwing his own obscenities back at the furious students. It was all I could do to keep myself from rising to my feet with completely un-Hermione-like curses—but alas, the Gods have blessed me with impeccable self-control.
Meanwhile, Malfoy looked like his birthday had come early, and I was sorely tempted to strangle him. In all seriousness, it looked as if Malfoy wanted to laugh. Yes, laugh. And I don't mean his usual harsh, bitter, taunting laugh that he normally displays, but a full out, giddy, mirthful laugh. Normally, I would never associate the word, 'giddy,' with Malfoy, but looking at his face, I found that there was really no other way to describe it.
It was at that exact moment—of course, I had to distract myself by looking at Malfoy, where was my head these days?—that the same sixth year that had begun this madness drew his wand and pointed it straight at me. The other Slytherins seemed to think that since he had done it, then it was somehow acceptable that they do it as well, so in the next moment I was faced with about fifteen wooden shafts pointed directly at me or my twin. That was what did it for me.
I laughed—of the harsh, bitter, taunting variety—and rose to my feet. Really, you did not just go there. You poor, poor, imprudent Slytherins. I wondered if they realized exactly which bushy-haired Head Girl they had so foolishly risen their wands at, because if they had known, they certainly would not have done so to begin with.
Malfoy was nearly bouncing in his seat with excitement. He knew. He knew it was incredibly naïve of them to raise their wands at me, and he was going to enjoy what came next, if only for the fact that he wouldn't be the one to suffer from it.
I couldn't help myself any longer; it was just too much to bear. I chanced a glance toward the Head Table, where half of the professors were confused about what to do, and the other half were trying to keep their own amusement inside. Professor Dumbledore winked at me, and the urge to double over with laughter almost overtook me.
The situation was quite ridiculous.
"Leave this table, now," the sixth year said menacingly. "You're outnumbered here."
"In number, perhaps," I bit back. "In intelligence, hardly."
Before he could reply, I cast the Silencing Charm on the lot of them, which resulted in hands clutching their throats, and then wildly gesticulating their disdain for me. At least they were no longer yelling.
"Fifty points will be deducted from the Slytherin House for such a disgusting display of rage," I spoke sternly, reveling in the fact that I could sound an awful lot like Professor McGonagall when I wanted to. This led to even more hatred-driven gestures and small puffs of smoke emitting from the ends of a few wands, suggesting that they were all trying, despite the fact that they could no longer speak, to curse me. "Oho, did you all forget just exactly what position in this school that I hold? Did you not see this shiny badge that I have on my robes? Do you know what this badge means? No? Then I shall tell you. This badge," I pointed to it for extra emphasis, "means that none of you have any right to berate me, that none of you have the right to speak to me authoritatively, and most importantly, that none of you have the right to meddle in my affairs. I am Hermione Zabini, Head Girl of this school, and there is nothing that any of you can do to change this. So I suggest, with utmost sincerity, that you accept it for what it is, or face my wrath. Believe me, the latter is not the wisest path to follow. Enjoy your dinners."
Avoiding any gazes, I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and looked towards the Headmaster.
"I apologize for my outburst," I said politely, "though, I do hope you understand."
"I do," he replied, a twinkle of hilarity in his frighteningly bright blue eyes, "and all is forgiven. I must say, you handled that quite effectively. While I normally do not approve of casting spells over fellow classmates, I can clearly see that no harm was done and that you would not have otherwise been able to take control over the situation. Though, for the sake of my reputation as Headmaster, and to outlaw any chance of a precedence of circumstances in which doing so is acceptable, I must urge you never to use your wand on another student to give you an advantage in the future, unless such is absolutely necessary."
"I understand, sir," I said, smiling my gratitude. He returned it with a nod of dismissal.
I then proceeded to march out of the Great Hall with my chin proudly jutting outwards, only muttering the counter curse to the Silencing Charm as I walked through the heavy oak doors, a smug smile pulling on the corners of my lips as the other three tables erupted in victorious cheers.
Mess with Hermione Zabini. I dare you.
"Holy mother of Merlin, Mione, that was bloody brilliant!" Ron exclaimed about twenty minutes later outside the portrait of the Silver Lady. "I only wish you could have seen the looks on their faces. They were so dumbstruck it was almost pathetic."
"That's not really anything new, Ron," I said, though I couldn't help the smile that had arranged itself on my face.
"Seriously, Herms, I never knew you had it in you," Ginny said appreciatively. "Well, of course you had it in you, I just never thought you'd let it out."
"It definitely beat that time in third year when you slapped Malfoy," Harry chuckled.
"And when you lifted the Silencing Charm, it had absolutely no affect on them," Ron laughed. "They were still speechless. Honestly, I thought they'd all start leaking from their mouths."
"It was great, Hermione," Ginny nodded. "Though, I think you probably made them even angrier."
"Thanks, guys," I said, rolling my eyes. "And, Gin, I can handle whatever they throw at me."
I spoke the password to Silvia, who greeted me with a glower before swinging open. Harry, Ron, and Ginny followed me into the Common Room and gazed around in wonder.
"Miss Granger, quite a pleasant evening, is it not?" Lord Phillip asked, beaming.
"Quite," I replied. "Lord Phillip, these are my friends from Gryffindor."
"Pleased to meet all of you," he said, nodding at each one in turn.
After they had seen all that our tower had to offer, we sat on the couch in front of the fire, chatting about nonsensical things we would like to do to or witness happening to various Slytherins.
Ron was in the middle of a particularly hilarious scenario of a Slytherin male wearing a pink leotard complete with matching tutu and tights, prancing through the hallways on the arm of one Draco Malfoy, when a loud squeal sounded from the direction of the portrait.
Instinctively we all stood, drew our wands, and began to cautiously make our way towards the door.
"Sounded like the sort of sound a pig would make if Umbridge sat on it," Ron whispered.
"Hush, Ron," I reprimanded him. "We don't know what could be out there."
We continued to inch toward the door, Harry in the lead—as per usual, with his hero complex and all… not that I mind it, of course—straining our ears to hear any other unusual sounds. As we approached it we could hear muffled laughter, and what sounded like a female—a very angry female, from the sound of it—moaning and groaning and attempting to yell.
Harry pulled the door open, and all four of us instantly dropped our wands, and our jaws.
Pansy Parkinson was sprawled across the floor in an undignified heap, face contorted in pain and anger, and glaring up at four laughing males: Malfoy, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle. On her head was what appeared to be a Muggle dunce cap, and her two index fingers were caught in one of those tubular finger traps that was charmed so that no matter how hard she tried, she could not remove it.
"What in the world did you do to her?" I asked the boys, fighting hard to contain my own laughter.
"Don't be so quick to assume," Malfoy said. "We didn't do anything. Have you forgotten that McGonagall placed wards on our door so that no one but the eight of us can get in? Well, Pansy, here, decided that she wanted to see my room, without pausing to consider the fact that the entire human race is smarter than her. She had it coming."
Pansy scowled, and shot Malfoy a look of pure death.
"You bloody asshole; you could have told me that and spared me the shame!"
"Ah, but where's the fun in that?"
"Malfoy, you prick, you didn't tell her?" I asked, appalled. "This is ridiculous."
I pointed my wand at Pansy and rid her of the embarrassing accessories, then offered my hand to help her up.
Pansy looked as if she wanted to spit in it.
"I never asked for your help," she growled, pulling herself to her feet.
"Fine," I said, holding up my hands in surrender.
"Well if I can't get in there, let's go to the Slytherin common room, Drakie," Pansy said, dropping her anger towards him with a sweet, seductive smile. "You don't want to associate yourself with scum; it will do no good to my reputation."
"Your reputation?" Malfoy scoffed. "Honestly, is that all you ever think about?"
"What is your problem?" she yelled. "Has the Mudblood gotten to your brain and contaminated it?"
"Don't call her that, you fat cow!"
I gasped, not quite sure whether I was more shocked at what he had called Pansy or that he had defended me. Either way, it was shocking.
"Defending her, now, are we?" she asked, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he had referred to her as an overweight farm animal.
"Um, hello? We're all still here!" I interrupted. "If you two want to have some lover's spat, please take it somewhere private so we aren't forced to hear it."
"Shove off, you crazy bint," Pansy seethed at me.
"Lover's spat?" Malfoy asked. "Isn't love an essential element to a lover's spat? Because if is, than this," he pointed to Pansy, to himself, and back again, "is no such thing."
"Malfoy, either take it somewhere else or shut up," Harry snapped. "Mione's right, we don't want to hear the two of you arguing."
"Draco, mate, it really is getting old," Blaise amended. "Let's just go inside."
"In case I'm the only one who is aware of this," Pansy nearly screeched, "let me just point out the fact that this is none of your business. Let's go, Draco, I feel filthy just being around them."
"Why don't you go," Malfoy said nastily. "I'll stay here. Deal?"
Pansy let out an undignified growl of frustration, and the mental image of a bull steaming from its nostrils materialized in my mind's eye.
"This is not over," she spat, before sending me a pointed glare and storming off down the hall.
"Well, if that wasn't melodramatic," Ginny said, rolling her eyes and the retreating raven-haired figure.
"That was nothing," Blaise said, nudging Malfoy. "You should see her in the mornings. Or during her monthlies."
The four Slytherins all winced in painful remembrance. We all went back inside, sitting on the couch, or on the chairs, or in Goyle's case, on the floor. I ended up being squished between Ron and Malfoy on the couch.
"Well, that was a little too much information for my liking," I said. "Thank you for that, Blaise."
"No problem, sis," he laughed. "By the way, what you did back there in the Great Hall was monumental. They all loathe you now, though."
"Ah, but it was a beautiful sight," Malfoy said, his gaze wandering with the memory and his mouth twisting a stupid half-smile.
"I'm flattered," I said, looking at him with an eyebrow quirked. He seemed to realize that he looked like a fool and corrected himself with his famous smirk.
"They'll be out for blood, now," he sneered. "Best be prepared. We Slytherins are known for our cunning, scheming, vengeful natures, and you've made yourself quite a few enemies."
"And a few admirers," Blaise said, shooting Malfoy a look that I couldn't quite understand, but before I could try to assess it, it was gone and Blaise was laughing. "Theodore Nott and Adrian Pucey are Hell-bent on talking to you. They mentioned something about seeing you all worked up and how hot it was, can't exactly remember verbatim, but I punched them both anyway."
"They'll be getting more than punched if they even so much as look at her wrong," Ron said, glaring at no one in general. Harry nodded his agreement and I rolled my eyes at them.
"Yes, well those two are pansies," Malfoy said, with a bitter tone in his voice. I looked at him in curiosity. "Not worth caring about."
What's his problem? I asked Blaise, looking over at him. He just shrugged noncommittally.
Probably still has a stick up his ass from his row with Pansy, he said. It was clear that there was something more to it, from the way Blaise kept avoiding my gaze, but I wasn't in the mood to push it.
All too soon it was ten o'clock, and time for our friends to leave. It was strange, the eight of us actually having a civil conversation without jumping down each other's throats. Harry, Ron, and Malfoy even got into a heated debate about (must I even say it?) Quidditch, which concluded with the three of them in agreement that Krum was an overrated has-been, Harry and Malfoy in agreement that the Canons will never get to the World Cup, Malfoy and Ron in agreement that Roger Davies needs to get his head out of his arse, and Harry and Ron in agreement that Cormac McLaggen's head was his arse.
They all said goodnight, and left Malfoy and me sitting on the couch. Now that everyone was gone, there was an empty spot next to me, and another one on his other side. For some reason that I cannot even begin to explain, neither of us moved.
He leaned back against the cushion and turned his head to face me. I leaned back as well, my arm pressing against his and sending tingles throughout my body.
"May I call you Zabini, now?" he asked. "I mean, you just let the secret out to the entire school, so you must be okay with it."
"No, I prefer you to call me Granger," I said.
"Why, you're not ashamed are you?"
"No, not anymore," I replied, honestly. "I'm going to ask my professors to refer to me as Miss Zabini on Monday."
"Well, then why can't I call you Zabini?" he asked incredulously. Apparently he thought I was offending him.
"I don't know," I said quietly. "I kind of like it when you call me Granger."
Malfoy looked at me strangely, and I smiled a bit. Our faces were much too close, and I could almost feel his steady breath against my cheek. His lips parted and his tongue flicked out, as his eyes turned downward to gaze at my mouth. He slowly inched closer, and the heat radiated from his face as it neared mine.
That was when my senses finally caught up with me. Draco Malfoy was leaning in to kiss me, and I was going to let him. I stood up so suddenly that the blood rushed to my head, so I grabbed my forehead to steady myself and turned to look at him.
"Erm, g-goodnight, Malfoy," I stuttered, then bolted up the stairs and into my room, shutting my door with a tight snap and locking it with my wand. I sighed, my body slightly trembling from what had occurred on the couch, and paced back and forth in attempt to compose myself.
I should not be letting him do things like that. There was that whole arrogant, ferret-face, he-tormented-me-for-the-greater-part-of-my-Hogwarts-career thing that was, of course, a major set-back. And then there was Pansy, who would claw my eyes out of their sockets with a fork if she ever found out. But then there was that other thing. The thing that haunted me every night and wouldn't let me forget. That thing was why I should not be letting him get that close to kissing me. It was just nonsensical, and definitely not right.
Was I wrong in letting Malfoy get that close? No, it was simply a momentary lapse of my sanity caused by his natural pheromones that caused my overly sensitive nerves to react and take over any logical thought.
Yes, Hermione, blame it on the hormones. You're good at blame, it works for you.
I had just decided that I hate war.
Well, I had always hated war, but never had the experience to back my opinion. But that's changed now, and I can officially say that I hate war.
There was an explosion somewhere to my left, and I threw my hands over my head so as to protect it from any debris that might be thrown my way. I heard shouts from outside, some of them calling my name, but I paid them no heed. It was my duty to find this boy, that's why I was here. Yes, it was dangerous, but I didn't sign up to fall back because Harry and Ron were afraid for my safety. So I kept moving forward, coughing to clear my longs of the smoke.
This was the fourth time in the past three weeks that Voldemort's Death Eaters had invaded a Muggle orphanage. It made me sick. This particular one was mysteriously lit on fire. For us, there was no mystery.
I climbed over a broken bed, straining my ears for any sign of the boy who I was informed was trapped in the inferno. I searched the room for about twenty minutes and found nothing.
Once I exited the room, I heard it. Shouts were sounding from down the hall, and I saw flashes of light. Wizards. That was definitely magic. The odd thing was that I was the only Order member inside. This was my assignment, and it was decided that it was too risky to send any more people in. They had to be Death Eaters.
Trying hard not to make a sound, I moved towards the room. Sure enough I heard sneering voices. Only Death Eaters sneer.
"—dispicable, you are," one voice spat. "If your father knew that you were refusing to help me, you would be begging to die."
"Leave my father out of this," came a drawling voice that I recognized to be Draco Malfoy, who had recently offered his services as a spy to the Order.
"What can you do, boy?" the other one laughed. "Now be useful and help me destroy this place. Master said no survivors."
"He shouldn't be wasting his time with Muggle orphanages," Malfoy spat. "This is purposeless."
"It doesn't matter what you think," said the first voice, becoming angry. "And just where do you come off insulting the Dark Lord?"
"The same place that the Dark Lord comes off killing for fun."
"You are trekking in dangerous woods, boy," he growled. "People might start to think you've gone soft. Or worse, become a traitor."
"No treachery here," Malfoy said. "Mudblood scum doesn't even deserve to walk the earth, let alone have magic. The only reason I would ever trade sides is if I thought this side was weaker."
Ah, the truth comes out. Not that we didn't already know that he was only trading sides to save his own rear, this was just the first time he'd admitted it, and he didn't even know he had.
"All I am saying is that there are more important things than burning orphanages to the ground and you're a right fool if you don't see that."
"Do not call me a fool," the Death Eater growled. "Help me find the brat and kill him."
"No, I don't think I will," he said coolly.
"Fine, then you've left me no other choice."
There was another flash of light and a crash, my cue to run into the room. I yelled the Stunning Spell, and watched as the Death Eater fell to the floor.
The room was not yet in flames, but was filled with a thick layer of smoke, I peered through the black cloud and saw Malfoy laying on the ground, pooled in his own blood. At the same moment I saw a flicker of brown hair behind a large pillar. If I left Malfoy, then surely, he would die, but I had no idea when the Death Eater would come to, and if I didn't get the boy out now, I may never be able to.
After a moment's hesitation, I rushed to Malfoy's side and closed his wounds, praying that he hadn't already lost too much blood. Once I was positive he was no longer bleeding, I rushed over to the pillar and found the boy trembling and hiding his face in his hands.
I coaxed him into calming down and held out my hand for him to take. He looked at me with fear and I assured him that I was trying to help him. I pulled him from behind the pillar, only to look up to see the Death Eater, smirking at me.
There was a flash of green light and I felt the boy's grip on my hand loosen as he fell to the floor, dead.
"No!" I screamed. I raised my wand and sent the man flying into the wall behind him, so that he was instantly knocked unconscious. I felt the tears streaming down my cheeks as I grabbed Malfoy's arm and Apparated to the outside of the building.
Instantly, there was another explosion from the building that I had just vacated, and the entire structure fell to the ground before my eyes. The tears fell freely down my face as arms enveloped me. People, I was not quite sure who, were asking me what had happened, why Malfoy was there, and where the boy was.
"I found Malfoy unconscious inside, and I couldn't save the boy," that was all I said. It was all I could bear to say, because the truth was hard enough for me to swallow.
The truth was that for the first time, I had killed someone. No, I had killed two people, and it was all because I had made a decision, the wrong decision. It was all because of Draco Malfoy.
I woke up shivering, and drew my covers tighter around me as the tears begun. Tonight's dream was more vivid than it had ever been, and it scared me. I climbed out of my bed and retreated downstairs to the windowsill that I had taken to visiting. After only a few minutes gazing out at the night sky, I laid down in the fetal position and, for the first time, accidentally fell asleep.
The next morning I bolted upright when I realize where I was, and even though no one was there I blushed, and pulled the blanket up to cover myself.
Wait, blanket? Where in the world did this come from?
Blaise:
The next couple of days passed rather quietly, though I knew that my housemates were brewing something up. Minny and I had decided that it would be best not to anger them anymore, but ultimately agreed that we would not let their fury dictate our actions. Hermione said that by doing that she was letting them win, and she would make out with a hippogriff before she ever let them win.
So tonight—it was Wednesday—she boldly approached our table and sat down next to me. Once she did Richard Paleman, the sixth year from Friday, stiffened and glared at her. She glared back and told him to shove off. Adrian Pucey, who was sitting across from me, stuck out his hand in welcome. She took it with a small blush and he smiled.
"It is an honor to meet you," he said in his overly charming voice. It was true, Adrian was the ladies' man of Hogwarts. His charm won over more girls than Draco's looks did, probably because once the girl got to know Draco's personality, they were repelled by it. It was rather sad, actually. The thing is, though, that Adrian is a Slytherin. The charm, for the most part, is false; he only puts it on to get what he wants. It was making me sick that he was using it on my sister.
"Thanks," Hermione replied sheepishly. "Though, I rather thought you'd want to kill me, like most of your friends seem to be fancying."
"Don't worry about them," he grinned. "Besides, why would I want to kill something as lovely as you? I've heard it was a sin to slaughter a unicorn, and I have no desire to be a sinner tonight."
I rolled my eyes. Don't listen to him, Minny, I told her, he only wants to get in your pants.
Thanks, but you needn't tell me that, I'm no fool, she replied.
"You talk with poetic elegance, I'll give you that," she told him, laughing, "though I never did like Cyrano."
"Who?" Adrian asked, cocking his head to the side.
"You didn't like Cyrano?" I asked, appalled. "I would have thought he was a wet dream for a girl like you."
"You know who Cyrano is?" she asked me incredulously.
"Of course I know who Cyrano is," I answered as if hurt by the question, her eyes lit up and I knew she was remembering my bookshelf. "You don't have to be a Muggle to appreciate literature. Tell me, what didn't you like about him?"
"Only that he was probably the single most stubborn, selfish character that I have ever known," she said, as if it was obvious. Adrian looked lost.
"He was afraid of rejection, girls can be pretty intimidating, you know, and he thought his overly large nose would repel her," I said. "And how can you call him selfish when he helped Christian woo Roxanne? He was giving up his chance at love for him."
"He's selfish because if he had plucked up the courage to admit to Roxanne how he felt about her, the entire play might have ended on a happier note."
"Oh, and how so?"
"Well, for one thing Roxanne would never have fallen in love with someone who was pretending to be someone they were not, Christian might not have died, and Roxanne would never have joined a convent. All he had to do was tell her how he felt and they all would have lived happily ever after, with the exception, maybe, of Christian, but he deserves someone who would love him for who he truly was anyway."
I chuckled. "I have nothing to say to that, you have officially stumped me."
"Wait, so are you referring to me as a selfish, big-nosed, coward?" Adrian asked.
"No," Minny laughed. "Sorry if I gave you that impression, I was merely referring to the fact that I'm not the kind of girl who falls for a sweet-talker. Cheesy, romantic lines aren't all that attractive to me."
"Ouch, rejection," he laughed. "Well, at least I tried. We can still be friends, right?" He pouted and held her hand in both of hers.
She laughed. "Yes, we can be friends."
"Good," he said, and lowered his voice, "because I am definitely one of the very few here who wants to be."
A/N: alright, so for those of you who know who Cyrano is, those were my actual opinions of him, so if anyone wants to debate (as long as it is kept civil) go ahead, I look forward to it. Now, if you will, my review board awaits.