Sorting Things Out
Chapter 11
Rewritten and reposted on December 29, 2013. It's almost 2014 kids. It's amazing how quickly time flies doesn't it? Anyway, I changed this one up a little. More Haylee/Draco in this. There are only two chapters left to fix, and I hope this new rewritten story meets more of your approval. Enjoy :)
Hermione had to stay in the infirmary for many weeks until she turned back to normal. It took some time, but she was almost back to normal. The fur on her face was no longer there and her eyes were turning back to their original brown hue.
"I take it you don't have any more ideas about who could be the heir do you?" she asked as we crowed around her bed.
"How could we? You were here," Ron answered. "I was so sure it was Malfoy!"
"Calm down, Ron," I said. "No, we don't have any more leads. I take it you have some ideas though. Looks like you were busy while you were stuck in this lovely establishment."
"If only," Hermione replied. "It's getting late, and I think that Madame Pomfrey is going to kick you out soon."
"Come on boys. We have things to talk about back up in the common room," I told them.
"We do?" Harry and Ron both asked.
"Yes, we do," I pulled them along. "Bye Hermione."
"Bye!" she waved.
"No, we don't have anything to do. I just wanted out of there before we got in trouble again," I let go of their shirts. "We've gotten into trouble the past three times we were in there. I don't think we need any more slips in our records do you?"
"You have a point," Harry said. "So what are we going to do? Dinner is long over, and I'm not tired yet."
"I don't know about you all, but I am going to walk around. Clear my head. I'll see all of you back in the common room. Don't get caught by Filtch on your way back."
"I think we are the ones who should be saying that to you," Ron chuckled. "You're the one who gets caught the most."
"Want to bet on that?" I asked, heading in the opposite direction from which we came. "Don't get into any more trouble."
I had been clearing out my head a lot lately. Whenever I could, I would wander around the castle, finding new places to relax and focus on my thoughts. There were a lot of empty classrooms in the castle that was for sure. My favorite place for last few days was one of the towers with a beautiful view of the grounds below, the stars twinkling brightly above me as I sat down on one of the ledges.
The Heir of Slytherin had been sneaking around the castle for months now and no one had any idea what to do about it. If the culprit wasn't caught what would happen to the school? Would they close it for good? How many more Muggle-borns would be hurt before the professors made that call? Why couldn't we just have a normal school year? Was that so hard?
"You are one hard person to find," I shook inwardly. What was he doing here? "I knew I would catch you eventually."
"Get out of here before I push you off the tower," I continued staring forward. "I'm very certain that no one would miss you when your body would be recovered."
"Someone's a little moody today," footsteps grew closer to my place. "Care to share why you're so mad?"
"Maybe it's because some blond asshole isn't taking the hint," I sneered. "What do you want? I thought I made it perfectly clear that I don't want to see you. Is that another Malfoy thing? They don't listen to others because that's what it seems like."
"All right, I deserved that one. I'll admit to it, but I really need to talk to you," Draco sat beside me. "Will you please listen?"
"Are you begging? It sounds like you're begging." I asked. "Fine. What do you need to talk to me about since it seems that it is the most important thing in the world to you?"
"I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I told you I wouldn't say that word again and I did. I have no idea how you know I did, but I'll come out with it. I did say it, and I'm sorry."
"This is really out of character for you, Malfoy," I said. "Why do you want to say you're sorry to me anyway? I'm below you aren't I? I may not be as low as all the Muggle-borns in the school, but a Half-blood. What would your father have to say if he knew you were conversing with me huh?" I asked. He looked a little green when I mentioned his father. Interesting. "How do I know you're not lying?"
"You know what. I tried," Draco got to his feet abruptly. "I tried to get you to listen to me. I tried to show you that I'm not that annoying person that you believe I am, but I guess I can't do that. Sorry for interrupting your time." Why was he doing this all of a sudden? Why did he care?
"Sit your ass back down here and talk," I ordered. "You owe me a lot of explanations then so start talking."
"Should I even try?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Will you even listen?"
"Well, you'll never know unless you give it a shot," I looked back up to the sky. "The stars are beautiful aren't they?"
"Um, I suppose. I never really looked much at the stars," he said. "I thought you said-"
"They are bright aren't they?"
"You are a really confusing person sometimes. Did you know that?" Draco asked.
"I've been told," I turned to face him. "All right, out with it, Blondie. Why are you trying so hard to get onto my good side?"
"Because it would be suicide trying to talk to your brother. I know that he wouldn't give me the time of day. I realize that he and the Weasel will hate me for years to come, but you-I had a feeling that I could talk to you somehow."
"Why the change all of the sudden? Last year you hated all of our guts," I pointed out. "Did you have a change of heart? Did three ghosts appear to you, telling you that you had to change your ways or you would die a horrible and lonely life?"
"Huh?" He asked, confused.
"Never mind. Look! A shooting star! Make a wish," I shut my eyes tightly together.
"Why?"
"You must have had the worst childhood ever," I said. "It's getting late. Filtch is probably out on the prowl by now. We have to get back before we get into trouble."
"Yeah, I guess," Draco rubbed the back of his neck. "And just to get the record straight; I never really hated you last year to begin with. Have a good night then."
I watched curiously as he faded down the staircase. He was such a mystery. He was like night and day. One day he was one way, and the next day he was completely opposite. Perhaps that's why I wasn't one hundred percent sure I could trust him.
Harry, when I got back from my little "meeting" told me what happened after a very interesting diary entry. It sounded far-fetched, but he was my brother. I had to believe him.
It wasn't that much later when the next Quidditch game approached. Oliver was hounding us with practices and drills, making sure that we would beat Hufflepuff when we played them. I was prepared, mentally and physically when we headed towards the pitch.
"I'm sorry, but this match has been cancelled." Professor McGonagall appeared in front of us.
"You can't cancel a game," Oliver exclaimed. "That's never happened in all my years being here."
"I'm sorry, Wood, but this match is not going to happen," she turned to us. "Go find Mr. Weasley please. There is something that the three of you need to see."
"What do you think she's talking about?" I asked Harry.
"I don't know, but the way she looked at us, it can't be good," he replied. "Let's get Ron."
We followed McGonagall to the hospital wing. I should have known something was bad when we were headed in that direction, but nothing clicked into my mind until we stepped into the room.
"This might come to a bit of a shock to you," she pulled back the curtain to reveal Hermione's petrified body. "She was found in the library along with this mirror. Does this mean anything to you?"
"No." we answered in shock.
"Very well then. I will leave you three alone then." McGonagall left us be.
"I never thought this would happen," I whispered. "What was she doing in the library alone in the first place?"
"Who knows?" Harry asked. This thing, whatever it was, just got personal.
