AHHHHH I'm horrible! Once again, another half a year has passed T.T.. its cuz the end of the school year and summer has been so busy and all… okay I'll stop making excuses.
Ookay sooo…
Disclaimer: Characters – JK Rowling. Plot – Me, unless there are points where my plot crosses with Rowling's.
So for those of you who forgot what happened last chapter:
Hermione couldn't understand what happened. She was screaming, then she wasn't. She supposed that that was how they normally ended arguments, with Draco forcing his mouth onto hers and her melting into forgiveness.
It felt so wrong.
But his lips were soft and a bit chapped and locked with hers in a kiss that she was sure she had never experienced before. This was the boy that she supposedly dated, which meant that he was the one that she loved. In a twisted way, it made sense.
His mind reeked of desperation, and of need.
Draco thought himself a hell of a good actor.
Hermione pulled away to gasp, and to blush furiously.
Draco smirked, and hooked his fingers through hers. Surprisingly, she didn't object. His manipulation seemed to be working quite well.
Somehow, to Hermione, those calloused fingers in her small hand felt too right.
Ookay on with the chappie!
:is murdered by bystanders:
Chapter 10
The crowd dispersed slowly. Person by person, the halls emptied, until only Harry and Ron were left standing in the hall, both lost for words.
"Did you see what I saw?" Ron asked shakily, his skin paler than normal and his eyes abnormally bright.
Harry didn't reply. His fists were clenched at his sides, and he was shaking a bit. His mind seethed and postulated and seethed some more. Bastard, Bastard, bastard, rang in his head.
Ron stared at Harry. Judging by Harry's lack of expression (or rather, his concentration on fury), Harry had not heard Ron at all. "Hey. HEY!" Ron's nails were suddenly digging into Harry's wrist. "What's wrong?"
Still unseeing, Harry wrenched his arm free from Ron and smashed his fist into the wall. The stone emitted a muffled thud as his bones gave way to the force of the blow, and as the sandy edges of the wall scraped the skin off his knuckles, Harry's hand began to bleed. Barely wincing, Harry removed his fist from the bloodstains on the stone, and stalked away towards the Gryffindor common room.
Perplexed, Ron was left halfway to Charms and halfway back to the dormitories. After a slight hesitation and a sigh, Ron trailed Harry back up the stairs.
McGonagall had watched the entire scene from the shadows of the Teachers Lounge. Luckily, dinner was next, and she always had the period before dinner free. This was due to some sort of mishap when a child was attempting to transform a toad to a toadstool, and somehow managed to create a population of tiny, part mushroom, part treacle tart, and part frog mutants. These… creatures… were now living in a hollow pumpkin in Hagrid's pumpkin patch. Anyhow, Transfiguration before dinner had become taboo, and that particular period had been canceled indefinitely.
Now, McGonagall was pacing angrily up and down the lounge, dodging and kicking furniture and empty Every Flavor Beans packages with each stride.
"What is that boy thinking?" She muttered angrily. "Dumbledore did not assign him to be Granger's caretaker for him to corrupt her so!" McGonagall stomped on a bag of potato crisps. "And Potter! What an ingrate, to be damaging the body his parents died to keep healthy!" Her ominous mutters subsided.
Bending down to scoop up a card bearing Dumbledore's winking face, McGonagall smiled affectionately at Dumbledore's wizened grin.
"The boys must talk."
Harry wrenched the tapestry covering the hidden door open. Tonight would be no night to stand in his way! Behind him, the tapestry, along with the pole it rested on, clattered noisily to the floor. Harry did not bother to slow down. A house-elf would pick it up, eventually.
Rounding the corner to the Fat Lady's portrait, Harry was met with an unpleasant sight. McGonagall stood impatiently in front of the painting, tapping her polished shoes upon the even more polished stone floor. Her hands ruffled the cloak billowing around her shoulders, and the Fat Lady's surprised grimace showed that McGonagall had just arrived.
Reluctantly, Harry halted before the professor, and greeted her.
"I've been waiting for you." McGonagall growled, a terse… well, something, stretching her lips over her teeth.
"What for?" Harry spat acrimoniously. Dumbledore's favorite boy and all, he could get away with an attitude.
"You are cutting class." It was a statement rather than a question, and McGonagall's eyes were unsmiling, as was her mouth.
Harry searched frantically for excuses. Fixing on the most plausible one, he muttered, "Don't feel well, professor."
"Detention, Potter," McGonagall spat, "for skipping class. I'll see you tonight in my office, at eight sharp. Don't you dare be late, or it will be detention for a week. And get that fist of yours bandaged. Understood?"
"Understood." Harry forced himself to say, then walked past McGonagall. The Fat Lady swung open with a sympathetic groan.
As the Fat Lady swung shut, McGonagall turned around. "You know I had to," she addressed the portrait apologetically. "There was no other way."
The Fat Lady sighed. "You know you didn't have to be so harsh to him, Minerva. His feelings were hurt very badly today."
McGonagall shook her head sadly. "You've heard too. Well, there's no taking it back, so we'd better hope for the best."
"I'm sure you're doing the right thing." The Fat Lady smiled comfortingly. McGonagall nodded, a terse nod, and swept from the corridor.
During dinner, all eyes were on Hermione. Everyone was in disbelief. The realization that just days before, Hermione had been a bold-spirited, Slytherin-hating mudblood was rapidly fading. Seated at the center of Slytherin table and surrounded by a slew of underclassmen, Hermione was fastened to Malfoy and chatting animatedly, waving her hands in the air. There was a pause in the conversation and a peal of laughter from the onlookers, and Hermione's face blushed lightly.
The members of every other table recoiled and their eyes widened when Malfoy snaked his arm around Hermione and kissed her on the lips. Hermione's blush deepened to a dark peach.
Something was very, very, wrong.
It was like people were already forgetting, Ron realized. They replaced their memories of the old Hermione, the one that belonged on the Good side, with the Queen of Slytherin, Girlfriend-Of-Malfoy. Slowly, people were getting over the fact that Hermione was no longer herself, and that the world, tossed off axis for a brief moment, had righted itself, in a completely wrong manner. But it wasn't right.
Ron had lost his best friend, and Harry had lost the love of his life.
It should have been raining. Maelstroms should have been pulling people, screaming, from their seats at the carefully aligned benches, and sucking them to a watery death. Hell, house-elves should have declared themselves death eaters and stormed the basements in search for the odd radish to punish.
But everything was normal. People were engaging in cheerful conversation every meter or two along the tables, and house-elves had sent up the meal, seemingly more resplendent than usual, in a timely manner.
To everyone else, Hermione was just another girl, devoured by the seductions of Slytherin and Malfoy. But to Ron… God, he couldn't even explain what he felt.
It was like a hole had been ripped somewhere between his heart and his gut, and his bodily fluids were dripping out. Not even that, it was like a part of him had gone missing, and he knew… knew that no matter what he did, he would never be able to find it nor replace it. He felt a hollow, pounding longing, one that he knew was insatiable.
Ron felt the anger and the pain and the frustration welling up behind his eyes. He brought his hand up to rub away the tears before they could come. He would not cry. It was an insult to Harry, because no matter what Ron was feeling, he knew Harry would be feeling a thousand times worse.
Suddenly, the Great Hall hushed itself. Two thousand pairs of eyes followed McGonagall as she strode across the floor, directly aimed at Malfoy and Hermione. Her anger was almost visible, and Ron imagined puffs of smoke curling out of the tip of McGonagall's hat.
McGonagall came to a dead stop in front of Malfoy, who was now ducking behind Hermione as if she were a shield. The whole hall held its breath. Sensing the tension, Hermione spoke, and her voice cut through the silence like a dart and rang clearly throughout the hall. "Good evening, Professor."
"Good evening, Miss Granger." McGonagall's eyes left Malfoy for a second to offer a brief crinkle at Hermione. A split second later, they were glaring once again at Malfoy.
"Good evening, Professor McGonagall," Malfoy whispered hoarsely. He wasn't sure what he had done wrong yet, but whatever it was, it looked like it was pretty serious. McGonagall's eyes were like two obsidian coals, at once cold and menacing, and burning with anger.
"Malfoy, I want you to come with me." McGonagall ignored Malfoy's greeting. When he didn't move, she reached over and tugged his robes. "NOW."
Malfoy nearly fell out of his seat scrambling out, and sent a distressful look at Hermione. She smiled reassuringly at him, and shoved him towards McGonagall.
The rest of the hall suddenly felt like they were watching a badly scripted drama.
"Go," she mouthed, "You'll be okay."
Reluctantly, Malfoy staggered after McGonagall.
The whole hall strained to listen to their conversation. Ten seconds later, its wish was granted.
"HOW COULD YOU?" McGonagall screeched.
Malfoy snapped to attention. This was it. In two seconds she would have spoiled everything he'd planned. He flinched slightly as the next shriek pierced his ears.
"HOW COULD YOU SHOW SUCH LEWD DISPLAYS OF AFFECTION? YOU KNOW VERY WELL THAT HOGWARTS IS A SCHOOL OF INTEGRITY AND OF VALUE, AND I WILL NOT HAVE YOU CORRUPTING OUR IMAGE. WHATEVER YOU DO BEHIND BEDROOM DOORS IS NO BUSINESS OF THE REST OF THE STUDENT POPULATION, AND I WILL NOT HAVE YOU DISCUSSING IT IN PUBLIC. DETENTION, TONIGHT AT EIGHT IN MY OFFICE, DO YOU HEAR?"
Malfoy was shocked. She not only reacted completely differently from the way he had expected, but she also screamed at him, something she had not done often before. He could only manage a slight incline of the head.
McGonagall turned on her heel and stalked away. Malfoy, still reeling from her explosion, stumbled back to the hall.
Stifling her sniggers in her cloak, McGonagall bunched fabric against her thin lips. God, it felt nice to scream like that.
Later that Night
Harry had a problem with being in Detention. Not only was he missing Quidditch practice, he was also going to missing a precious amount of time that could have been spent on planning for Hermione's retrieval. Harry had a huge problem with being in Detention. Especially if he was with Malfoy.
At exactly 7:59, Harry arrived outside of McGonagall's office. He had timed his arrival exactly so that he would be nominally early, as who wanted to be early to detention? He'd also made sure he wouldn't be late either, as, judging from her earlier display of anger, McGonagall wasn't exactly in the best of moods. Harry hesitated at the door of McGonagall's office, and after waiting until 7:59:30 and then wondering idly how anyone at Hogwarts knew the time so precisely without a clock or wristwatch, he wrenched open the door and stepped into the office.
Surprisingly, Malfoy was already in the office, leaning sullenly against a desk. McGonagall was nowhere to be seen.
Harry's eyes briefly met Malfoys, and his mind welcomed anger, and then flitted away to other, more important things, like why he knew the time down to the second when there was not a clock in sight. In the back of his mind, he faintly registered that Malfoy was still staring at him.
Malfoy briefly registered Harry's glance, and recognized the malice that lurked behind the emerald eyes as one he saw often, when he looked in the mirror at himself. His gaze lingered on Harry, and then, as if snapping himself out of a reverie, he wrenched his eyes away and shook his head. Next thing you know, my mind will be telling me I have a crush on him too, Malfoy thought wryly, then shook his head at the connotations.
The minutes creaked by slowly, each second ticking like a grandfather clock in Harry's head. He wondered if thinking about time did that to everyone, or just him. Idly, he wondered what time it was, and digits popped into his mind. 8:13:32…33… McGonagall was almost 15 minutes late.
Malfoy had hunched himself up by the foot of the wall near the door. Half angry and half bored out of his mind, he wondered, where the FUCK is McGonagall? She told us to be here on TIME, and she's not even here herself! His mind seethed. Perhaps, he thought, the punishment was to be stuck here, with Potty? Malfoy considered it. No way, he decided, no teacher would be THAT sadistic.
Harry was getting impatient. It was 8:26:04… 05… 06 already and McGonagall was nowhere to be seen. Out of idle curiosity, he began to look over the portraits on the walls. Most of them were empty, or their contents were sleeping, so they, in general, were boring. Next, he moved on to the shelves mounted neatly in rows. On it were various artifacts and trinkets. Some dollhouse tables imprinted with patterns that made it look as if it had been transfigured from a turtle. Some rabbits that were partially transformed into jars. A tiny aquarium housing a part mushroom, part treacle tart, part toad mutant. Harry squinted at it through his glasses. It looked slightly like a pastry in the shape of a bumpy toad, with extremely bright, warning spots that screamed, "LOOK AT ME, I'M POISONOUS!" Strangely, it reminded Harry of the chocolate frogs that the lady on the Hogwarts Express sold. He wondered whether there was a card with a smiling wizard on it hidden somewhere in the tiny fishbowl. The toad seemed syrupy and slimy, and Harry suddenly had an overwhelming urge to poke it.
"I wouldn't poke it if I were you," Malfoy advised. He had somehow appeared right beside Harry without anyone (that includes the toad) noticing.
Harry glared at the toad and bit his cheek. Since Malfoy told him not to poke the toad, he'd have to poke it. Biting down on his cheek, his hand darted out, plunged into the aquarium, and prodded the little toad/tart/mushroom on its fleshy head.
It exploded.
Harry screamed and launched himself backwards, wrenching his hand from the bowl and knocking it and a few other things from the shelves. Glass shattered and scintillating shards arced across the room, embedding themselves in Harry and Malfoy's arms, the furniture, a fluffy cat, and other random things. Water and something that looked oddly like maple syrup spread slowly across the Persian rug lying on the floor.
"Ow," Harry whimpered, clutching his hand where the knuckles had been bandaged, but a stray blade of glass had stuck itself.
"I told you so…" Malfoy muttered, rubbing his stomach where Harry had jabbed his elbow while screaming and leaping back from the fishbowl.
At exactly 8:34:28, the glass shards disappeared and the tart/toad/mushroom appeared back in its aquarium, seemingly unaware that just seconds ago, it had exploded in an interesting display of gore and lights (the lights from the light reflecting off pieces of flying glass).
"If you didn't tell me, I wouldn't have touched it now, would I?" Harry yelled at Malfoy, half concentrating on bashing Malfoy to a tiny pulp, and half realizing that the wound on his fist was gone.
"What would I have told you fore, if not to get you to NOT TOUCH IT?" Malfoy screamed back.
"What do YOU have to be pissed about? You didn't get your BEST FRIEND taken away today."
"As if you give a shit. I didn't ASK to become Hermione's fucking babysitter."
"I would have GLADLY done it! If you don't want the job, why don't you just give her back to us? So she can be where she BELONGS?"
"How do you know where she belongs? She doesn't belong ANYWHERE as of now. She's a SLYTHERIN, and that's All she knows."
"NOT ANYMORE. AS soon as I get out of here, I'm going to FIND HER, and TELL HER THE TRUTH, like I should have from the beginning." Harry hadn't planned on divulging his covert operation to Malfoy, but it was done, and there was no taking it back.
Malfoy's eyes widened. "Don't." He cautioned. "Don't Do it. If you have any feelings about Hermione at ALL, you wouldn't' do it."
"Its not like you could ADVISE me about that. You two are MORTAL ENEMIES. Give me ONE GOOD reason why I shouldn't tell her?" Harry's body was shaking. This bastard who knew NOTHING about Hermione was now acting like she was his world, as if she was nothing to Harry. As if… as if… she had belonged to him, Malfoy, all along.
"It will kill her."
Harry's mouth opened in shock.
"She's very mentally unstable right now," Malfoy explained, "Any slight jolt to what she deems as reality could send her back into unconsciousness, and she would make use of her Shadowstalker abilities with no training whatsoever. I have heard of rare cases where the subject goes insane. So if you have any consciousness to what Hermione is dealing with, do NOT mess with her."
Harry gritted his teeth. "Why should I believe you?"
Malfoy smirked, color returning to his cheeks. "Because you have no choice."
Harry growled, narrowly restraining himself from strangling Malfoy. "Why should I let you do this to her? All you are doing is corrupting her."
Malfoy regained his seriousness. "Believe me, I don't want her. I don't want anything to do with her. All I'm asking for is one week. One week, she'll be back to normal consciousness, and you can have her back. I'll have briefed her on her abilities and how to control them, and she shouldn't be thrown into shock by the change in reality. One week, Potter."
"You better be fucking sure it's one week." Harry clenched his fists. He didn't want to relinquish control to Malfoy, but under the circumstances, he was powerless. "One week, and that's it before I spill it to her."
"Yeah, I'm sure." Malfoy offered the best he could do, a half-grimace that could, in some ways, be misinterpreted as a smile.
The door clicked and both boys swung around. McGonagall swept into the room with a stack of papers under her arm and a satisfied smirk gracing her normally stern features. "Detention is over. Go back to your Dormitories, no side trips."
Harry and Malfoy nodded tersely and headed out their respective ways.
Malfoy's mind was racing. He had promised to relinquish Hermione to the Gryffindors in a week. But a week wasn't enough. It took three years for him to learn how to be a competent Shadowstalker; how could she, only nominally more intelligent than he, learn three year's material within seven days?
Malfoy's mind went blank. He had promised a week, and a week it would be.
But what if Hermione didn't want to return to Potter?
Then what?
Yayyy finished with another chapter! This one took SUCHH a long time to write because I had the most horrible case of writers block.
And notice I was kind of insane while writing this. I couldn't stop making stupid jokes… AHH I'm sorry! (
Writing might slow down even more because now that I'm a high school junior, the work load is probably going to triple. ( but whenever I have time, I promise to work on this okay?
Thanks to: NorgePrincess Alexandra Noel, Terry Moon, Miss Spazz, Sugar'N'SpiceRin, and Radish Earrings for reviewing.
And thanks to: Abyssus abyssum invocat, Alice dra Tasuh Buad, Angelxofxthexnight, BetryedBitch, BloodJewel, Drakulya, HPChic, Hanhepi-Icamna, HauntedImmortal, HermionetheSlytherinPrincess, Inuyashaluva245, Kristen McNeely, Lady Wit, Listona, Malfoy-Jacky, Miss Spazz, NorgePrincess Alexandra Noel, NorthStar2005, Praxidice, Radish Earrings, Rainbow sunchild, Slayer's Angelus, The-Hidden-Me, Twisted Slytherin, Vic92091, Water-Daemon, XxFF-GoddessxX, bellgirl, blaiselover, dragonfly-tiger, hotpinkfreak, ilovehp15, ilovemitch08, jinnykins-31, leftarow, murasaki no sora, princessanndevil4eva31391, sekhet86, winesjunkie, and xKrazYx for faving the story thus far.
YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST:throws cookies to everyone:
Anyways, keep the reviews coming x3 and clickie the purple button, mkay?
x3, Princess of daemons