Chapter 10 -No Pickled Toads-
"That's none of your bloody business anymore, Potter!!" Draco spat with venom. He was so mad that he found himself only barely able to control his rage.
"Just go and screw that little tart of yours!"
"Heh, take that back, you jackass!" Weasley snapped furiously, stepping forward.
Gasps of annoyance rose amongst the other Gryffindors, who had stopped on their way towards the stairs and now listened to their argument.
So far no one made an attempt to interfere, but Draco could easily imagine that matters might get out of hand.
With a quick glance over his shoulder he made sure that Crabbe and Goyle hadn't left the dungeons yet. He might be furious, but he certainly wasn't a fool. He wasn't extraordinary fond of the idea to be hexed by an infuriated witness. The incident when he had ended up as a ferret in his fourth year had left him rather cautions about these matters and he had no desire to repeat the embarrassing experience.
So he was quite satisfied to see his companions close by, watching the scene with interest.
Even Pansy had joined the two boys. Her arms folded in front of her chest she was giving Potter and Weasley the evil eye – and if someone knew how to do that, Pansy did.
It was good to know that his friends could back him up, should Potter or one of his fellows try anything.
Reassured by his observation, Draco cast an arrogant frown at his opponents. With a sneer he fixed Weasley's outraged appearance. The doofus was so flushed with anger that the burning redness of his cheeks seemed eager to compete his hair. That whole family's temper was so pathetically predictable.
"I don't – dream – of it!" Draco gave back in his most cocky manner. Strangely enough he had no trouble controlling his own temper as far as the red-head was concerned, just with Potter he almost lost it.
Nasty rotter that he was. How dare he fake any concern for Granger after turning her down like that?! How dare he play everyone's Goody-goody Wonder-boy, if he was such a selfish, insensitive git?!
As soon as Draco looked his direction he once again felt the almost overwhelming urge to fling himself upon the Gryffindor.
Nonetheless Draco forced himself to resist that impulse and remain icy calm on the outside.
It was never good to allow first impulses to lead ones actions. A well-planed revenge would be double satisfying and would catch the adversary off guard when he least expected it.
He might be beside himself with anger, but he still remembered his tactics. And – in a way – it was good that he did, because just then the door to the Potions classroom shattered open and a very infuriated Professor Snape approached them.
"What's going on here?" he demanded to know.
"Malfoy was insulting my sister!" Weasley started accusingly, "and he took Hermione's bag!"
Snape's dark eyes turned towards Draco, fixing his gaze, questionably.
"She asked me to bring it along for her, Sir. She had to leave rather em – unexpectedly – because of the task at hand," he explained.
"But Potter," he cast the other boy a look of pure hatred, "and Weasley here, tried to take her bag away from me. I kept hold of it of course – since Granger has parchments in there, concerning her Head Girl business, that aren't supposed to get into the hands of just – anyone."
As he'd expected this comment was tend to infuriate the two Gryffindors even further.
"You're a freaking liar, Malfoy!" Weasley yelled, but the Professor's snide voice cut him short.
"Enough of that!" he snapped. "Potter, Weasley, it's ten points off Gryffindor, each! For mixing into matters that don't concern you and for pulling up a fight."
He turned to face Draco again and added more calmly, "Take that bag back to Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy. But please bear in mind that it doesn't go well with your position to yell in the corridors and become entangled into a fight."
¥
Hermione awoke at the sound of the door creaking open.
Startled by the unexpected noise she sat bolt upright and blinked when she recognised Malfoy on the threshold of her quarters.
"Shht, it's me. Don't worry," he stated, stepping fully into the room.
A few days ago she would have laughed at the irony of this. Now whatsoever she leaned back, surprisingly relieved. The realisation that it was him actually had a calming effect on her.
"Oh, it's you, I thought … never mind," she trailed off as he cast her an odd look.
She was sure that he knew whom she'd expected to see and her startled reaction made perfectly clear that she wouldn't have appreciated this person's presence in the slightest.
For a few seconds they simply stared at each other, but while Hermione was very well aware of her own uncertainty, she couldn't tell what kind of thoughts crossed Malfoy's mind, nor did she know what intentions had led him up here. She vaguely remembered that he had said he would come back after the lesson. But why?
He had been uncharacteristically compassionate earlier, but that was no guarantee that he wouldn't fall back into his old way of behaviour, now that she was not a quivering wreck of emotional stress anymore. It was quite unlikely that he would continue to treat her as nicely as he had done it today.
With a feeling of dubiety she glanced up at the blond Slytherin, who still stood motionless in mid of the room, studying her features and became even more aware of the position she was in. Suddenly the room was uncomfortably quiet and Hermione felt somewhat awkward lying on the couch with Malfoy around.
After a couple of seconds she threw the blanket back and sat up – slowly enough that it wouldn't cause a new fit of dizziness this time.
Right then her eyes fell on her bag that still hung across Malfoy's shoulder and with a mixture of surprise and shock she realised that he had actually brought it along from McGonagall's classroom. Seeking his gaze, she noticed him looking straight at her and swallowed. "Oh, thank you for getting it," she hesitated, "and – for helping me earlier."
Much to her dismay, she remembered the embarrassing situation in all its ignominious details.
Surprisingly enough Malfoy didn't give any comment in the matter. She could have been mistaken, but he seemed to be rather chagrined himself.
"Oh that – it was no big deal, ewm, I mean that's OK," he responded rather hastily.
Hermione threw another tentative look at him. He was actually kind of cute when he was uncomfortable.
"Yes it was – and I'm glad that you did," she objected, a very faint smile playing around her lips.
Malfoy didn't respond to this. Instead he put her bag down at the end of the couch and took a seat in the other.
He just sat there, looking at her and Hermione started to feel truly nervous under his stare. When she thought she couldn't stand the tension any longer, she cleared her throat. "How did it go? I mean, did anyone ask where I was?"
After some seconds of consideration Malfoy nodded, "Yes, of course, but I told them that you had to take care of some girl in your position as Head Girl," he paused and added with an odd undertone in his voice, "McGonagall said you should turn to her, or Madam Pomfrey for help, if you couldn't handle the situation on your own."
Hermione flinched at this news. So he hadn't kept her secret. Well, it was hardly a surprise. She should have expected as much. Nonetheless it had been very tempting to imagine that she could trust him – if only for a while – and it hurt to see that she'd been mistaken. "So you've told her, too?!" she gasped with a feeling of disappointment.
Malfoy cast her a strange look at that and repeated, "No! Like I said, I told – everyone – your absence was for reasons of Head Girl business."
Clearly relieved, Hermione released the breath she'd been holding. She was glad that Malfoy didn't press the matter, but bent down and started to rummage through his own bag instead.
When he came up again, he placed a piece of parchment on the table between them.
"Here. These are today's Potions notes. We brewed a sleeping essence. Not the Dreamless Sleep Potion, but some other – I don't remember its name right now – but you'll find everything important in there."
"Ohh –" Hermione was more than a little surprised by this. Not only did he offer her his notes, he also admitted that he had been kind of unobservant in class today. And not in just any class, but Potions where no one ever dared to not pay attention.
She briefly wondered what might have kept his mind preoccupied. He hadn't been thinking of her, had he? Stunned she realised that she was rather flattered by the idea, but didn't dare to follow that thought to its conclusion. It was too odd, too stupid, too…
She hesitated, watching him closely she finally asked: "And did – anyone else – ask about me?"
His head snapped up at that question and his grey eyes fixed her with a calculating glance. "Well, yes. Potter tried to get you bag and he and Weasley pulled up a fight, when I refused to give it to them."
Hermione exhaled sharply at those news. "Oh, really?"
She tried her best to appear unaffected and nonchalant, but couldn't avoid the traitorous quivering in her voice. If Malfoy noticed it he didn't press the matter, but just nodded.
"He asked me where you were, but I told him the same as anyone else. And I didn't give him your bag as I – Well, I thought you wouldn't want that," he added calmly.
Hermione stared down to her hands. She couldn't help that her fingers were slightly shaking and hurried to hide it from Malfoy's view. "No," she muttered, "you're right about that."
She didn't fool herself about Harry's motives. He had probably just acted that way, because he still believed that she was sleeping around with Malfoy. He had been beside himself with anger and hurt pride, when he had found him at her rooms and hadn't believed a thing of her explanations. No wonder he was pissed to see Malfoy with her bag now. It only seemed to prove his theories.
And what other involvement could he suppose her to have with the Slytherin? It was easily understandable that the idea she might have cheated on him drove Harry crazy.
A sudden, completely unexpected, idea crossed Hermione's mind. The image of her and Malfoy in the nook at the Arithmancy corridor. The firm grip of his hands around her arms, the way he had pressed her against the wall when she'd tried to break free and all of a sudden she wondered what the situation might have been like if Malfoy's intentions had been –different. She imagined him to grind his hips against hers for a different purpose and was stunned at the nervousness she felt at that idea.
So far she hadn't even envisaged to get involved with anyone else than Harry. Not that she intended to… especially not now… and certainly not with Malfoy of all people … it was just… that… she couldn't keep her thoughts from figuring what Harry had accused her of…
She remembered a very similar situation with Harry, behind a pillar by the entrance to the Great Hall, when they had got it on beneath the Invisibility Cloak. All the – quite short time it had lasted – she had been afraid to be caught, unable to relax.
Ginny didn't seem to have had such difficulties when Hermione had walked in on her and Harry by the stairs.
It still pained Hermione to think of the ardent way the other girl had wrapped her legs around Harry's hips and had moaned his name.
The pictures and feelings of all those encounters blurred into a wave of emotions and left her in an peculiar state of sorrow, confusion and curiosity.
So what if she'd done what Harry accused her of? What would it be like to make out with Malfoy like that, she wondered. Would he be just as unobservant of her needs and wishes as Harry had been? Would she feel just as lonely and – out of place, or would he…make her feel different? Could he possibly cause her to respond in the way Ginny had reacted to Harry? Was it because of Harry that she hadn't ever enjoyed sex that thoroughly? Or was it her fault that Harry had turned to Ginny, because his girlfriend was so cold and unfeeling? It could hardly be his fault, if Ginny liked those activities so much, could it?
And Malfoy – would he – just as Harry – enjoy the risk to be caught in an unlikely place, or would he rather prefer…
Hermione suddenly flinched at the disturbing track her thoughts turned and immediately shook her head in denial. What on earth was she thinking?! Malfoy and his likings were not hers to think about. He had made perfectly clear that he didn't intend to 'do' her ever and she certainly didn't want him to try anything like that. So where were these absurd ideas coming from? This was completely weird. It was stupid…ridiculous…
All the time, she could feel Malfoy's eyes resting on her as if he wanted to invade her mind and read her very thoughts. A disturbing idea – Hermione shuddered – she would die of shame if he could.
When she became too uncomfortable about the situation she looked up to meet his gaze.
Like earlier that day, when he'd placed her onto the couch, she felt a strange sensation at the intensity of his grey orbs. She swallowed, nervously wondering what he might think of her.
"You look much better," he remarked calmly and she risked a timid smile at him. "Yes, I'm …feeling lots better, indeed."
Much to her surprise, he returned the smile and she was stunned at the change this simple gesture did to his usually cold and arrogant appearance. This was not the nasty, smug smirk she was used to, but a real, yet very faint smile that didn't miss its effect.
Hermione swallowed once again and frantically searched for something to say, but couldn't come up with a single suitable comment. While she was still sorting her confused thoughts out Malfoy got up from his seat. "Shall we return to our classes, then?" he asked and she nodded.
¥
A scintillation of sparks sprayed up as Hermione shifted the logs in the hearth into another position to push the fire. Watching the red and orange spots dizzying down, she drew the thick material of her robes tighter around her shoulders before she returned to her working desk. She hadn't changed yet and still wore her school uniform with its long, black Hogwarts Robes above, but it was to no use. Despite the fire's warmth that unfolded across the room, Hermione was freezing.
She felt quite tired and worn out, though better than in the morning. She should have probably gone down to the Great Hall for dinner she assumed, but once again she had stayed at her rooms and buried herself in her studies. It was the best – the only – way to distract her mind from unbidden thoughts and the dreadful fear that was pressuring her.
Besides that she was determined to catch up on today's Potions lesson.
So she once again picked up her feather quill and continued to copy Malfoy's notes.
It wasn't much, just a list of ingredients and advices Snape had written to the board and a few short comments Malfoy had added in between. Nonetheless, Hermione was relieved that the narrow, but sharp-angled flourishes were easily to decipher.
In fact he had a pleasant handwriting. The letters were slightly shifting to the right. Clear elegant swirls, neatly set in jet-black ink.
It was no trouble copping his notes - quite in contrast to her friends' scribbles when they had brought assignments and important notes from class to the Hospital Wing during her cat-alike time in their second year.
She had to admit that Harry's script was much more neat and readable than Ron's sloppy, haphazard scrawls, but it yet lacked Malfoy's quality.
Malfoy…
Once more she wondered what might have kept him so preoccupied in class today. Had he truly thought of her?
It wasn't that unlikely, after the detection he'd made shortly before. Her thoughts once again drifted towards the ignominious scene at the boys' bathroom that morning, when Malfoy had acted so completely against her expectations.
Back then, she had been so grateful for his help and for the unexpected support he had offered her. He had been there when she'd been too depressed to care about anything, but her misery. He'd just refused to leave and had snatched her out of her lethargy. He had actually comforted her… He…
Half muttered words echoed through her mind. 'There, there, Granger… It's OK … Don't cry.'
Even now she was stunned how different his usually cold, snide and emotionless voice had sounded. He had almost seemed worried, contrite and, yes – affectionate.
She nearly snorted at the oddity of the idea, but hesitated. It might be a completely weird imagination, but it was simply the way his actions appeared to her – even now.
She leaned back in her seat and recalled the memory of what had happened in the morning, how it had felt to see her secret detected all of a sudden – detected by no other than Malfoy – She remembered her surprise when he hadn't used this new and delicate information against her – remembered very clearly how cautiously he had carried her back to her rooms – how warm his skin had felt when she'd leaned her forehead against his neck.
He had caused her to feel very – odd. Despite all her sorrow and distress she'd felt comforted and – sheltered when he'd steadied her at the sink.
A sudden shudder ran down her spine when she thought of the moment his fingertips had brushed across her cheek, smoothing her hair back. It had been a gesture that almost bordered at gentleness.
And – she was only too well aware of the irrational urge to just turn around and snuggle herself into his embrace. How fortunate that she had withstood that impulse.
She didn't even dare to imagine the mockery and repulsion with which he would have reacted to such a slip.
But then, he had been very kind and understanding, so maybe he would have tolerated even that.
A sudden noise from the corridor alerted her. It was suppertime. Everyone was supposed to be at the Great Hall. So – who might be up here this late?
She just hoped it wouldn't he a student who wanted to talk to her about some problem. She had few enthusiasm to put up with anything like that at the moment. As matters were, she was certainly fed up with problems in her life right now.
Tensely she waited for the knock that would prove her suspicions. Surprisingly enough it didn't come and she already hoped the visitor, whoever they were, had changed their mind.
But when, only a moment later, the door swung open Hermione froze in her seat.
There were only two persons who knew the password to her rooms. This could either be Harry, or…
Anxiously, she turned her head to glance over her shoulder with a frown, but felt a stab of relief at the sight of her visitor. Of course Harry wouldn't bother to check on her. Why should he?
It was Malfoy – but he didn't wear his trademark smirk. In fact he looked quite – well, she didn't know what to make of the odd expression on his face. If it hadn't been him she might have thought he looked worried, sympathetic and – cautious. Back this morning, at the bathroom, he had looked at her like that, but there was no reason why he should do so now, or was there?
When she just stared at him without any sign of welcome or rejection, he cast her a calculating look, obviously not sure whether he should enter. "May I come in?" he asked and Hermione nodded. Putting her quill down she got up from her seat.
"Well, yes," she told him, "do come in."
It felt more than odd to be on such friendly terms with him all of a sudden. Hesitatingly Hermione took a few steps in Malfoy's direction, but stopped and nervously tugged some of her hair behind her ear.
"You've come to collect your notes, I suppose? Wait a second, I'm nearly done. I'll get them." With that she turned back to her working desk to grab the parchment.
"Yes, I mean .. No. That's not – exactly what I've come for. Not really…"
His uncharacteristically diffident reaction caught her off guard and alerted her at the same time.
Curiously, she moved over towards one of the sofas, took a seat and gestured at the opposite couch where he had sat earlier this morning. "Take a seat, will you?"
He did, still not speaking. He – just looked at her. Hermione really didn't know what to make of this. "So, what is it?" she finally asked, tensely.
"I – didn't see you at dinner and I – well, I just wanted to check on you," Malfoy exclaimed, noticeably uncomfortable.
She couldn't tell why, but the words caused her to feel odd, pleasantly surprised and – excited at the same time.
She barely suppressed the disbelieving 'Really?' that wanted to pass her lips. A little awkwardly, she cleared her throat, "That's – emm, nice of you, Malfoy."
"And? How do you feel?"
"Oh, quite well at the moment. It's not so much of a problem in the evenings," she explained then blushed, suddenly realising the intimacy of what they were talking about. "I mean, of course it's a problem, but I mean, I …"
"I get the point," he declared calmly and Hermione noticed his eyes flickering across her belly. She blushed even more at that. Instead of a comment Malfoy looked back at her face again. "Have you seen Pomfrey about it yet?"
She swallowed, merely shaking her head.
"You really should, you know?" he stated softly.
Hermione drew in a sharp breath and gazed down at her hands that nervously played with the hem of her sleeves. "I know, but – I – I don't want them to know, I…"
She lifted her gaze back to Malfoy's face. "I'm so glad that you didn't tell anyone," she finally muttered.
He didn't respond to this, just looked at her and she watched how the fire shine brought reflexes of gold to his hair. It was so very blond that it was almost white, but depending on the light there was a golden glow to it.
Hermione was so deeply confused by all of this. Everything seemed to have shifted out of place. Nothing felt familiar anymore. She didn't know whom to trust any longer. Friends had turned traitor on her, had hurt or abandoned her in the past few weeks, whereas Malfoy… She wasn't sure if she could ever see an enemy in him anymore. Not after the way he had treated her back this morning. As he treated her – now…
How could it be that she sat here with him and that he was so nice and understanding, while Harry –
Another stab of pain and fear clutched her heart at that thought. She was so worried, so very afraid, whenever she allowed herself to truly think about the matter. And she was confused…
"Why are you doing this, Malfoy?" she suddenly blurted out. "I mean, being so – nice – and all? Why didn't you just tell – anyone?"
His head snapped up at that and she flinched at the anger that flashed up in his grey eyes. "Do you think I can't be?" he snapped, "Don't say you wanted me to tell them, Granger?! Shall I go back down to the Great Hall and tell people that you managed to get your life screwed up by everyone's precious Wonder-boy?! You see, I left earlier, I think dinner might not be over yet and I'm sure this would make just spectacular news!"
"What?" she gasped, startled at his unexpected display of well familiar, Malfoy-ism. "No! Of course not!!"
"But that's what you expect from me, isn't it?!" he snapped with a bitter note in his voice. "I'm just Malfoy the Slytherin Scrum, right?! You don't think I'm capable to care about – anything, do you?!"
Hermione just stared at him, too shocked to respond at all. After everything this day had held for her Malfoy's outburst was the final blow.
She flinched at his harsh words and bit her lip in a furious attempt not to cry.
At the sight of her distress Malfoy's eyes softened and she thought there was a note of regret in them before he drew his gaze away and stared to his hands.
"I'm sorry, Granger," he then muttered, "I didn't mean to snap at you like that, but – I'm so confounded by all of this – I…"
A few silvery-blond strands had slipped from his neatly set hair at his outburst. Raising one shaking hand, he brushed them out of his forehead. A gesture which very much reminded Hermione of Harry.
That did it.
Slowly, but unstoppable Hermione felt tears welling up in her eyes and quickly pinched the lids shut to keep them back.
The pain about Harry's betrayal became almost overwhelming. He'd done so much more than just broken up with her. He'd misused her trusts, he – and Ginny…
When she opened her eyes again Malfoy was looking at her, his grey eyes mirroring his confusion. "I can very well see, why you must expect the worst of me. Really, I can."
He drew in a deep breath.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to tell anyone. I promise. But you should, Granger, for your own good. You're not able to put up with this on your own – that's very obvious. That whole mess is not likely to solve by itself," he stated, but trailed off at her startled sob and added more carefully, "I'm sorry Granger, but that's a fact. Everyone will find out quite soon. You'd better get prepared for it."
"I know, but – I –I just don't know – what to do – and I - I…"
"Yes, of course," he interrupted her stammering, "but – no matter what you decide, you'll need help with this, Granger. At least see Pomfrey about it. I mean… don't try anything… on your own, will you?"
"No, I won't. I don't even know how, but – even if I knew – I – don't know if I would want to …I mean…" she trailed off, convinced that her frantic stuttering made no sense to him at all.
"That's quite all right, Granger. There's certainly more than one option to your – problem," he murmured much to her surprise. "You – just mustn't overreact and do something stupid. You… Just see Pomfrey about it. She'll know what to do."
As there wasn't much to say they both fell silent for a while and Hermione suddenly realised that the hanky she had fished from her pocket and which she so tightly clutched in her fingers, was the one Malfoy had given her in the morning. She started to cry even harder at that. She couldn't even tell why.
If Malfoy noticed, he didn't comment on it. Unable of anything to say, Hermione turned her gaze away and stared sulkily into the fire. The logs' soft cracking was the only noise around.
"And Potter, does he know?" Malfoy asked after a while. Hermione's throat felt too tight to speak. She just managed to shake her head again.
¥
Draco didn't know how to handle the situation. He felt quite helpless around Granger when she was in a state like this.
It was rather stressful. He pitied her, but yet, he wasn't sure it was just that.
Ever since she had started to cry again he had felt the urge to move over and sit down beside her to console her. It had felt good to comfort her in the morning and he wondered if she would struggle if he tried to hold her like this, now.
Or would she possibly lean in to him like she had when he had picked her up? It had felt so strange when she had nestled against him. He – had felt strange at that. He had felt – protective – about her and he had very much liked that feeling.
"When are you planning on telling him?" he asked softly.
She just shrugged, dew in another quivering breath and covered her eyes with her hand. It couldn't be easy for her if he watched her crying like this.
Since he didn't know what else he could do at the moment, but wasn't willing to leave either, he got up from his seat and wordlessly walked towards her kitchenette.
His mother said that a cup of tea could help people to cope with emotional stress since it gave them something to do and to hold on to – something that distracted from their worries – and that the taste of sugar would enfold its own magic. And she must know, his mother had a extensive collection of teas.
Obviously Granger had a liking for it as well. Several boxes were placed on the little shelf above the oven. Without further consideration Draco just grabbed the first at hand. The easy task would win him some time to think – and maybe, Granger calmed down in the meantime.
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The soft clattering sound of china made Hermione look up in surprise.
Confused she stared at the steaming cup of tea that was placed in front of her. She hadn't even realised that Malfoy had got up from his seat and she certainly hadn't expected that he would fix tea for her.
Not questioning the matter any further she rubbed her eyes clean and picked up the cup to sip at the amber liquid. The very next second, though she coughed in surprise and replaced the cup rather roughly, before she broke into a fit of almost hysteric laughter.
She was sure Malfoy must think she'd lost it, but this was truly ironic – it was – the last thing she'd expected to taste. Willing herself to calm down she bit her lip. When she looked up she saw Malfoy raising his brows at her over the rim of his own cup. "What's so funny?" he asked sneeringly.
"The tea," Hermione panted, still laughing. She then turned more serious again, but nonetheless found her mood lightening at striking speeds. "See, it's a special recipe from a book. It's – well, never mind," she stated, but Malfoy's head had already snapped up at her words. With a look of horror he put the cup down. "It's one of those recipes?!" he gasped, clearly repulsed.
This caused Hermione to frown at him. "What?!"
"Well, you're talking of – that – book? The one I saw you at the library with. 'A Witches Weeds', isn't it?"
This really caught Hermione off guard. "What would you know about that book?" she asked suspiciously.
"I umm… say I checked it out in the evening, OK?" he explained reluctantly.
"You did what?" Hermione asked, her voice sounding a little shrilly to her own ears.
Malfoy cast her an irritated look and nodded into the direction of the cup. "What's in there?
You'd better tell me the full truth, I can handle it. I'm going to lose the hairs on my chest now, aren't I?"
Hermione rose her eyebrows in mock surprise. "Do you have any?" she shot back, rather amused by his sarcasm.
He actually opened his mouth to reply, but clapped it shut again. "You're surprising me, Granger. I had no idea this was of interest to you," he then smirked, raising his brows in a very Malfoy-alike way.
This time Hermione didn't know what to respond.
"I errr… It's some kind of um pregnancy test," she finally declared.
Malfoy pulled a disgusted face at that news. "Ugh," he coughed, shoving the cup further away. "I can't believe I just drank that!"
Hermione cast him an almost mischievous smile at that. "You'll survive it," she remarked dryly. "And don't worry, if your pee turns purple." She tilted her head aside, suddenly frowning. "OK, maybe you should worry then!"
Malfoy quitted this remark with an irritated snort.
"You're acting weirdly, you know that, Granger?"
"So do you," Hermione shot back, curious of what he might say to this, but instead of a statement Malfoy just cast her a calculating look. Suddenly stretching his posture he leaned back in his seat. "Have you eaten at all today?" he asked in quite an arrogant manner.
"Not since breakfast, no," Hermione replied, taken by surprise at the unexpected change of topic.
"Well, that hardly counts," he sneered and she blushed, remembering the embarrassing encounter at the bathroom.
When Malfoy got up she looked at him, questionably. "Where are you going?"
Immediately she bit her lip. This was certainly none of her business. He was probably just tired of her crying. Against her expectations he smiled, though. "I don't know how you are feeling, but I could finally use some food."
Hermione frowned at that. "Oh, but I thought you had already been down at the Great Hall earlier?"
"Well, yes," Malfoy admitted, apparently uncomfortable. "But I also told you that I left earlier, when I couldn't spot you anywhere. I didn't manage to eat much so far."
It might be the fire shine, which added a reddish glow to everything, but Hermione could have sworn Malfoy's cheeks held a faint shade of pink all of a sudden.
Briskly he turned around to walk out of the room. "I'll go and fetch a tray from the kitchens," he declared.
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The sconces' switching light flickered across the old still life painting by the kitchens, illuminating the small yellowish-green pear that actually twisted and wrinkled itself like a piece of dried fruit, before it rolled behind the heavy sliver bowl with the rest of its companions.
Draco contemplated the picture with amusement. Just as Crabbe and Goyle had told him he had tickled the funny little fruit and an entry had appeared in the wall right beside the painting.
So far he had never been to the kitchens himself, but had just sent his friends to pick food or sweets for them.
It was a vast room, with many stone archways that allowed a view into the next area. Countless House Elves were hustling and bustling about, preparing food, or doing the dishes.
The little creature that appeared at his entry almost got a nervous fit at the sight of him. "M-M-Master Mm-alfoy," it stammered backing away, "i-is that you, Sir?"
Draco cast it a closer look. He was pretty much sure to have seen it before.
It wore a long, blue-white night-gown with a tiny floral pattern and a caramel-coloured pointed hat and Draco could also recognise the pair of dark-red woollen socks covering the creature's feet.
The clothes marked the little fellow as a free House Elf, but given his reaction he apparently happened to remember Draco as well.
For a moment they stared at each other, then the tiny creature stretched his posture and asked in a businesslike tone, "What does Draco Malfoy want?"
"Well, you see," Draco began, still taken aback, "I've come to pick some food."
He was shocked to see the Elf's lip curl into a gesture that looked strikingly like a sneer. "Does Draco Malfoy do so?" he asked challengingly, "Well, me is afraid. That's none of mine responsibility. My advises Draco Malfoy to turn to the Great Hall. Dinner isn't over yet. He should find everything he needs up there. If Draco Malfoy would excuse my now."
With that the annoying little thing gave a mockery of a bow and turned to leave.
Draco couldn't believe what was happening. Never in his life had he seen any Elf acting like that. But then, he'd never faced a free Elf before.
After Draco had recovered from first shock he took a step into the kitchens and called. "Hey, you, come back immediately!! I didn't say you could leave!"
At that the Elf whirled around, his ridiculously big green orbs glowing with anger. "No Malfoy and his likes is to give Dobby any more orders – no more!"
And now Draco knew, why the Elf looked familiar. He now recognised him as the erstwhile servant of his father, who had warned Potter back in their second year. He was astonished how different Dobby looked now. His face and clothes were clean and no plasters or bandages were wrapped around his fingers and ears.
Suddenly a second Elf appeared. Like the impertinent little twit, she was dressed in clothes. A bright yellow blouse and dark-blue shirt marked her as another free Hob. But in contrast to Dobby this Elf showed a very different behaviour. Her huge brown eyes widened with shock at her fellow's words. "How can Dobby speak like this?!" she gasped flashing him an angry glare.
She then turned around to face Draco and her face's expression changed completely. "What does you demand, Sir?"
Draco couldn't help but grin at the oddity of the situation. "And you are?" he asked with amusement.
The creature's wrinkled little face cracked into a happy smile at that. "It's Winky, Sir," she told him proudly. "What can we do for you?"
Draco repeated his request and Winky sprung into action. She picked up a large tray and started to place several plates and dishes onto it. "You heard the wizard, Dobby," she called, "now go and get some of the roasted chicken, will you?"
"But Winky," the little fellow complained, "that's Draco Malfoy. Dobby isn't serving him!"
The female Elf whirled around to face him again. "But then – Really Dobby!" she frowned, "How can Dobby not be glad to do his erstwhile Master's son a favour? Now, be a dear and help mine, will you, Dobby, do?"
Winky started to cut some pieces of bread. "It's brand fresh, Sir. Just out of the oven," she explained with a glance at Draco, who couldn't help but smile at the little creature's eagerness and the sight of Dobby, who actually shuffled away to do as his companion had asked of him. With an unwilling look on his face, the erstwhile Elf of his father placed several more dishes on the tray.
Draco contemplated the mixture of food. Some cold, roasted chicken, a salad of tomatoes, mozzarella and basil, some sardines, a couple of still warm puff pasties with spinach, salmon, or liver pate, a jug of pumpkin juice, a flan of caramel cream, some straw-, blue- and cranberries…
He really hoped that something of this assortment would find Granger's approval. As a matter of fact he had no idea what she preferred. Especially now that she and her stomach were in such a delicate state.
Then an idea struck him – and if it was just to cheer her up... Following the sudden impulse, he asked, "Dobby, do you think you could possibly come up with some pickled gherkins?"
The House Elf's eyes seemed to grew even wider at that. "Gherkins?" he asked taken aback, "well, Dobby will try to…" He then folded his bony arms in front of his chest. "No," he sniffed. "We don't have any – and that's a fact!"
For once the annoying little twit seemed to have spoken the truth as even Winky shook her head. "Dobby is right there, Sir, Mar-Mr. Malfoy, Winky is afraid," she stated, "we really ran out of them and don't have any – no more gherkins at the mo –"
Then her round brown eyes lit up all of a sudden. "Oh yes, we do have," she exclaimed happily. "Wait a moment, Sir, Winky will get them – just!"
A few minutes later she returned, carrying a big glass of pickled gherkins along. "Winky forgot about the glass she had at her chamber," she told Draco. "It's almost full - still, Winky only ate a couple of them, yet."
Dobby cast the other Elf a very odd look all of a sudden and Draco noticed that Winky nervously avoided her companion's gaze.
"Oh Merlin, the other pasties!" she exclaimed, "Winky has to keep an eye on them!" With that she turned on her heel and hastily disappeared from their view.
After that, Dobby was even more in a hurry to get rid of Draco. Practically shoving the tray in his arms he turned around. "W-i-nky?!" he called, following her into the back of the kitchens.
¥
Hermione reached for the iron cooking vessel to fill it with water at the ancient stone sink. With a frown she realised that the pot was cold. How on earth did Malfoy prepare that tea before she wondered, but shrugged the thought off after a second. He'd probably conjured up hot water by a spell. It was surprise enough that Draco Pure-blooded-Malfoy, deigned himself to prepare tea for her at all. He certainly couldn't be bothered to do it the horrible, scandalising, primitive Muggle way. She giggled. Hell – no!
To prove her theories the oven was stone cold as well. She had to lit a fire and wait for the stove plate to heat up first.
In the meantime Hermione picked one of the boxes with tea from the shelf above. She chose Irish Cream, one of her favourite flavours. Black tea with cream and flakes of chocolate in it. She just hoped Malfoy would be fine with that, too. She had no idea what kind of mixture he favoured, but after the Wee-Wee tea, he'd probably appreciate any 'proper' tea, she mused. Another grin slipped across her face at the memory of his shocked expression as he'd realised what exactly he'd just tasted. If the whole situation weren't so damn serious, she could have cried out aloud.
And his ridiculous comment about losing his chest-hair… She'd never pictured him with some so far – which might be simply because of the fact that she'd never pictured him in anything else than his Hogwarts, or Quidditch Robes – let alone with any less than that. But now that she tried, she had to admit that it was difficult to imagine.
Malfoy – with chest-hair?
No.
It simply didn't seem to fit. No, he was much more likely to have a bare, smooth chest, its muscles slightly defined from Quidditch practice. Not a bad image at all… and … speaking of hair … she wondered if he would be just as blond in his more private places…
Once again she stopped her thoughts before they could run too far. She certainly had enough problems not to drool over a nude Malfoy – and be it just in her imagination. What on earth was up with her?! She was thinking the oddest of things lately.
Hermione still wore a subtle smile on her face when she picked two plates and new cups and carried them to the sitting area. It was a strange idea to lay the table, knowing that Malfoy would be the one she'd share her meal with.
But she couldn't deny she was glad about his presence as weird as this might be. She actually felt better – less panicked – and more well – distracted - when he was around.
Besides that it did her really well to finally have someone to talk to, even if it was just Malfoy…
If she was honest she didn't know how she would have made it through the day without his help. He been really civil towards her recently, especially today, almost – nice – as far as nice and Malfoy could be used in one sentence.
After he had left, Hermione had turned straight for the bathroom to tidy up her flustered expression as good as possible. She's splashed her cheeks with cool water and had brushed her hair to become halfway smooth. Not that it really was to much use. A few strands of her stubborn masses of hair already curled around her face again.
Just when she returned from the kitchenette, taking two sets of cutlery and the fresh infused tea along, Malfoy appeared in the doorway, levitating a large tray beside him.
'Of course,' she mentally noted with a grin. 'Does that dimwit even know how to do anything without magic?'
But then she noticed his eyebrows rose in surprise at the sight of the neatly lain table and blushed furiously all of a sudden. What if he hadn't planned on staying to eat with her? He'd probably just meant to bring some food along for her – for a cause that was still above her reasoning – and leave to finish his own dinner at the Great Hall. How stupid of her to think he would stay.
"I.. umm … didn't know if you .. um wanted to eat as well… So I picked two plates and eww well," she stammered, cursing herself for her unlucky premise.
Much to her surprise, Malfoy just looked at her without a nasty remark about her embarrassment, or the fact that she had assumed he would stay.
Nonetheless she felt horrible under his gaze and just sat on the edge of her couch.
"That's nice of you, Granger," he told her. "I didn't expect you would want me around for dinner, but, I think Dobby certainly loaded the tray with enough food for both of us."
At that Hermione's head snapped up in surprise. "Dobby? she asked, "Did you see him? How is he?"
Malfoy just shrugged, "Well, he was quite snotty, first, if you ask me. But after that Winky figure showed up, he became a little more civil."
"Winky," Hermione frowned, "You've seen her, too? How does she cope with being a free Elf now? Does she get along?"
Malfoy cast her an odd look a that. "Do you know each and every one of those fellows down there? For all it appeared to me she gets along quite well. She pretty much bossed Dobby around, but all in all she acted like a good Elf should. You know, being eager to fulfil one's every wish and such. You should have seen that Dobby. No sign of respect for a wizard. He even refused to hand me any food at all, first."
Hermione frowned at the tone in his voice. "You can hardly blame him for that. After the way your father treated him."
The sudden anger that flashed up in Malfoy's eyes came as a total shock to Hermione. "Don't judge my father," he snapped and she was once again reminded of whom she was having her cosy little supper with.
The odds of the situation once again struck her.
Malfoy seemed to have realised her disdain as he added in a much calmer voice. "No arguing, Granger, all right? I can't put up with any more tears from you today. You always crying is driving me crazy, honestly."
"What makes you think you could make me cry by anything you might say?" she glared, but he just cast her another subtle glance of his stormy grey eyes. "Experience," he stated, cocky. "Believe me, I could." With that he picked a piece of the still slightly warm bread and a small puff pasty and placed them onto his plate. "But – I don't want to," he added almost inaudible.
Hermione felt a funny lightness in her head that had nothing to do with dizziness, or the urge to cry. She didn't even know what to make of his comment and yet felt odd about it.
Once again an uncomfortable silence settled above them.
To distract from her confusion Hermione picked up the can, but noticed that Malfoy reached for the jug with pumpkin juice instead. 'Well, he's certainly had enough tea for one day,' she assumed, her lips switching at the memory.
Much to her surprise Malfoy suddenly picked a peculiar object from the pocked of his robes which looked surprisingly like a miniature of Snape's glasses with preserved toads and caecilians and for a moment she had the horrid expression that he had brought one of those up here to turn her stomach and have a good laugh at her.
But once he'd enlarged it to its normal size she realised her mistake and almost felt ashamed for thinking this badly of him.
"I'm not sure, but I thought you might have some use for these," Malfoy declared a little uncomfortably before he flashed her an almost mischievous grin.
Hermione was more than a little surprised. This wasn't at all what she had expected. Her whole face cracked into a grin when she recognized a glass of pickled gherkins that was placed on the desk in front of her.
¥
When Draco finally left for his rooms his mind was still centred around the messy Gryffindor. He couldn't really explain what had happened today, but somehow he hadn't had much of a choice.
It was too true what he'd said earlier. He was very well capable of driving her to tears. Today's discovery had given him the most glorious possibility to pick on her, ruin her reputation and embarrass her, but it was just as true that he didn't want that.
He didn't know why, but the idea of telling everyone that she had been knocked up had no appeal to him. He didn't want to add to her worries, he didn't even want to take reverence on her now that he could have it in the most thoroughly way imaginable. In fact, all he wanted was to – well – comfort her.
Once again he remembered the brief moments, when she had leaned into him in the boys' bathroom in the morning. She seemed to have fitted so perfectly into his embrace. An idea that truly troubled him.
She wasn't supposed to fit in there. She wasn't even supposed to fit in this bloody school. She was nothing but a stupid Gryffindor, a Mudblood even, unworthy to study magic. She shouldn't even be allowed to own a wand, let alone attend the same classes as he and his likes. It was what he'd been brought up to believe in. Some shameful Pureblood families like the Weasleys could be accepted, even a Halfblood might pass with a little good will – the Dark Lord himself was born a half blood after all – but a Muggle born, who didn't have any idea of the wizarding world until she'd received her Hogwarts letter - he really mustn't socialise with her.
Well, he didn't want to socialise with her. All he wanted to do was comfort her and…
It wasn't as if he planned on dating her, or something like that. He didn't even lust after her. How could he if she was pale and thin like this? She had hair like a mop and if all this wouldn't be enough, she was – pregnant – with Potter's spawn.
No, there was certainly nothing about her to be attracted to, yet, he couldn't deny that he felt something odd about her. Something he didn't want to question any further than necessary.
But he knew with a surprising clarity that whatever it was – nothing as simple as just – pity.
Another wave of rage at Potter captured him out of the blue again.
So he didn't know about her being pregnant! So he hadn't turned her down, like Draco had first expected it! So what?! It didn't really change anything about the rage he felt.
What on earth had that crank done to her that she didn't even dare to turn to him and tell him about her trouble now?! He must have treated her rather nastily, if she was afraid to even tell him. Or maybe – he'd dumped her for the Weasel, before she'd stood the chance …
Draco's head was spinning with confusion. Poor Granger…
She was so miserable and troubled. He just wanted to help her through this until she would be up to handle her life on her own again. Then he could happily return to hating and taunting her. But not now – it just felt – not right – wrong – horrid – to pick on her now, when she had no one but him to turn to.
A/N: Goodness – that has turned out to be a terrible long chapter. But somehow I didn't think it would be good to separate it into two sections. I hope you haven't fallen asleep by now. It's no real cliff-hanger for a change, but matters promise to become interesting enough, I suppose.
Lots of thanks for your nice reviews and/or e-mails! It's so good to know that you like this story. I was not quite sure if readers would accept the idea of her pregnancy.
I purposely included a lot of hesitation and awkwardness in this instalment. I think it's important for the development of their relationship, just as well as the countless curious, calculating and tentative gazes that are exchanged between them.
Dobby's use of pronouns still needs work. He tries to no longer refer to himself as Dobby, but he has difficulties to use I, mine, me... correctly. I meant to show that he's undergoing a change there. He's more successful than Winky, but it's still a long way to go.
*MistressDeDraco* Thanks for the extending review! It's so fun to read readers thoughts about the happenings. There'll be answers to all of your questions in the following chapters. I just don't want to give away too much right now.
*ria snape* Oh yes, dream on. I'll certainly join you there. But I dread JKR won't do us that special favour. I think it will be Hermione/Ron. Too bad.
OK, I considered that and since you say 'with magic anything is possible' – how about Voldemort? Mwaaa…
*Michelle* Oh no, don't worry. It's enough drama for my liking as well. It won't get any/much darker, but there'll be lots of Draco/Hermione interaction in future chapters. They have still a terribly wide gap to cross.
*Kou Shun'u* Oh dear, yes, I know and I'm totally sorry that I haven't managed to update ALOYT yet. My life is so busy at the moment, I could certainly use a Time-Turner. Tee hee… The other problem is that I'm very taken with WDIC and not so much in the Snape-mood right now. So whenever I had some free time for writing – no matter whether I started on ALOYT, or FTDO – I always ended up here. But I'll try, to get a new chapter of ALOYT out, soon.
*Campy Capybara* I suppose this story will have about 30 chapters, possibly a few more, depending on where I decide to end each instalment.
There are several reasons why I didn't go any deeper into the HB/HG Dumbledore/teacher interaction. The most important of them is that I think it would distract too much from the story if I did. I mentioned a few duties, where I considered it suitable for the progress of actions, but I didn't want to bore readers with endless details.
Another reason is the complicated political situation the characters are facing. I suppose that a Slytherin, especially Draco, would have great difficulties to get into such close contact with Dumbledore. I know that belonging to Slytherin doesn't necessarily mean that the student is a Death Eater, or supporter of Voldemort, but I think that he might be very cautious. The members of Slytherin House are very well aware of the bad reputation it has and should be deeply suspicious towards their Headmaster, who's undoubtedly favouring Gryffindor. So as Slytherin's Head Boy he might fake cooperation, but he wouldn't truly open up. He's more likely to turn to Snape.
Through Snape, Dumbledore can reach him and in a way 'mentor' him without his immediate awareness. As I imagine it, each of the four Heads of Houses names a male and female candidate for the HG and HB position. Afterwards the rest of staff takes the choice out of their number.
But as you say, it's fiction and everyone can make up their own concept of this.
*tnf* Very interesting thoughts... I can't tell you much about what's going to happen since I don't want to spoil the fun, but Ron, Ginny and Harry will have some more text in this story.
Happy to hear that you like my Time-Turner fics. Yes, I'll continue all of them. I just don't know when. Oops – I'm a poet… ;)
*BlueMoon* Thanks for your comments. I'll try to bear it in mind. But as I already said in an earlier author's note: English isn't my first language and my beta reader is unavailable at the moment. I check the chapters very carefully before I put anything up, but of course there'll still be a couple of mistakes. I'm sorry if it's confusing at times, but I hope it doesn't distract from the story.
About your other question: I don't think each and every mirror is supposed to be able to speak. Just special ones. The one at the bathroom might either be a silent-mirror, or – and I guess that's even more likely – it might have been speechless at what it saw. Who wouldn't be? *winks*
Serpentina