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Draco awoke, several short hours later, in an aching body hunched against the stone wall in the exact position he had fallen in earlier that morning. What must have woken him was the rising sun as it was just becoming noticeable through a glass-less window in the castle walls at the end of the corridor, flooding the whole space with light.
Draco, realising that he was lying on the floor in an open corridor at a very early hour in the morning when he should be in bed, slowly started to make his mind tick once again. He pushed his weighty body slowly of the floor with his shaky arms, his whole figure throbbing painfully from the distorted position he had been in for the last few hours.
He then began to slowly stumble back, the journey that should have been made hours before, too the only place where he belonged at the moment; in bed.
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The rest of the castle then began to slowly murmur and awake from that time; teachers being first to wake as usual, followed by anxious fifth-years hoping to get some studying in before lessons started. Next to haul themselves of bed were the most unwilling of first-years who were still adjusting to the new routine, and last to rise were normally the seventh years who were so used to the Hogwarts way of life they didn't bother to rise early and would rush around gathering their belonging before trudging to their first lesson, most ignoring breakfast. This was the normally pattern that students and teachers usually followed, well, except for a certain two, of course.
The two that we are following in this most unusual of all stories awoke early, get ready quickly and then existed through the portrait hole, narrowly missing each other. Here their ways departed until they were reunited at around six that night for rounds, whilst other nights it was an evening of studying alone and late nights. Until they awoke early the next morning.
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And this pattern continued for the next couple of weeks; unsettled risings, dark diminished lessons that dragged on, this was followed by silent rounds and sleepless nights. And that was really all that the shortening days came to; not much of a childhood for both.
Draco had send a letter to the dark lord after his little expedition and had yet to receive a reply, but to be truthful he was glad of this; no news to him was the best sort of news.
However, this was not a mutual feeling shared with Hermione. She had, also, had no reply from any of her letters. Not hearing from Ginny was the worst feeling, it hung over her like a thunder cloud, and with each day that passed she was getting more and more worried. What if something had happened to her and she didn't know? She had absolutely no contact with the outside world, with her parent's minds being obliviated shortly into that summer holidays with Harry's true intentions coming to show and then all her friends going their separate ways her life literally consisted of Hogwarts.
And so this was why, when a letter arrived for her just over two weeks after she sent one to Ginny, before she even opened it to reveal the sender her heart was flying somewhere around her head, making her eyes sting but her soul soar.
She hurriedly broke the seal that kept the parchment private and in a neat roll and scanned through the script as fast as her pupils could go without causing her pain.
Dear Otter,
It's been too long, I know. I am sorry, what more can I say other than the word sorry. I hope that you are well in your place of residence as is turning out to be as good as it always has been. However, I can't help but wonder that everything would have changed; even in the weeks that I last heard from you I can almost guarantee that your response will be full of deterioration in standards.
I have been busy, doing what I cannot put in writing but I am sure you can make a pretty good yet educated guess. However, developments have been slow and it has come to the time when I ask for your help. I know you too well to know that you will be sure to accept and as our communication is slight I will tell you know what my job is that I ask of you.
It is simple really. Basically I need inspiration for a project I have been working on and I believe that within the walls that you are reading this right know hold the key to unlock what I have been searching for; like a missing puzzle piece.
I know this is extremely vague but I can only hope that when in doubt of what I ask that you once again turn to your most trusted source in hope that, if asked long enough it will finally make the answers clear.
How am I – I bet that's what you are really asking yourself right now. I am fine, not perfect, as nobody is now-a-days but quite adequate. Every night I wish that we could all be reunited again, that is all I really hope for now. I can't help but wonder whether that everybody that I care for is alright, I have no real connection and no way of knowing at the moment.
With love,
Stag
Coming to the end of the letter for the third time Hermione was pressing her lips together in a tight smile, but trying to keep the tearful noises from coming up from her throat just leaded to her making strange, wet and wheezy babbling sounds. Her eyes had misted over and the writing became fuzzy through them, and as she wiped them on her dark jumper she wondered as she saw the wet material turn a dark black colour. Through all the darkness one tiny peice from the heart could change the look of everything. Like Harry's short letter made that thunder cloud just a little bit brighter.
Was Harry's letter was cryptic? Yes. But did she know what he meant? Of course she did, this was Harry she was thinking about. Her best friend, even when he wrote in the vaguest of language she felt like he was whispering all the meanings behind the words in her ear.
And then the bell rang signalling the start of first lesson, so Harry's letter was discarded on the table, but definitely not put out of mind.
That chilly day that was tipping on the brink of the harsh winter that was so inevitable at Hogwarts; it came and went whether you were a fan or not. That particular Tuesday was so tightly packed that with each lesson Hermione had and with each piece of homework that was beginning to make a weighty pile in her bag; Harry's letter got pushed further and further from the front of her mind.
Lessons. Homework. Lonely Dinner. All of this was adding up meaning that she was in positively horrid and impulsive mood that night for one of the now four rounds that were conducted each week; McGonagall had come to the decision that now four times a week would be necessary due to this year's particularly cocky third-year students. All her problems were swimming in the front her mind as she was left waiting for Malfoy, once again, so that they could leave for their tour of the castle; her anger was latterly brimming and spilling over the top of its limit.
Eventually, fifteen minutes later, he confidently sauntered in with his Slytherin robe casually slung over one shoulder and a smile plastered on his face, his eyes shining.
'Finaly' she muttered as she stalked straight pass him, waiting for him to follow. This gesture meant that his cocky grin quickly disappeared from his once glowing face.
So the silence began as per the same as every time that had been forced in this situation, but that day it was tenser than usual due to Hermione's bad mood. This was constant until around an hour had passed and they had just shooed a bunch of chatting forth years from outside the Gryffindor common room back to bed when finally, after weeks of trepidation, a word was spoken or rather several.
'Oh for fucks sake Malfoy, is your mouth permanently stuck together or something?' She blurted out to him in an empty but echoing corridor, this made him stop with a start and look at her for the first time since that eventful meeting in McGonagall's office all those weeks ago.
'What did you just say to me you filthy mudblood?' His anger rising heatedly in his chest as his face suddenly turned harsh and cold.
'Wow, that's a new insult, very inventive. And, if you were capable of using your ears, I was just mentioning how frickin' childish you are being.' Her hands on her hips like she was telling off a bickering infant who had stole a quill of another.
'Oh, go find a mirror already' He retorted, his hot breath now steaming out of his nose in great puffs, whist his loud voice echoed through the deserted passages.
'You have problems, Malfoy. I am so fibbing fed up of you behaviour! We have spent hours together most nights for the past three weeks and you have not uttered a word. Do us all a favour and get your stuck-up head out of that huge arse of yours.'
He grabbed her shoulder and roughly pushed her against the walls so she could feel his sticky breath on her collarbone and their bodies were just inches away, her breath now beginning to show in the cold night, showing up like a told whisper. And in this moment that she should have felt feeble and threatened but suddenly this didn't seem to bother her at all; so she used this new found numbness and so continued as best as she could.
'We're going to have to talk eventually so stop being such a cow and let it start now. Or can your small brain not register what I am telling you? Hmmm?' she questioned him, pointing to her mouth with her free hand and exaggerating her movements, whilst keeping a surprisingly strong eye contact with him, and spoke loudly and slowly as if addressing a young, incoherent child.
'Lose your fibbing austerity and family dignity and do one decent thing and T.A.L.K' she said, slightly over exaggerating the 'k' in 'talk' so it left specks of spit on his pallor face.
He let out a grunt before piercing her with his eyes, colder than ice, and pushing her even further into the wall before turning around and stalking off in the opposite direction. Leaving a dumbfounded and slightly breathless Hermione, once again, amazed at what she had just done.
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'Ergghh! I hate that fucking Granger! Who the fuck does she think she is? Ergghh' He shouted to himself banging the wall with his fist, but too angry to notice it was beginning to bleed, whilst kicking the wall; splintering the wood and leaving gouges. If he had known that frickin girl was going to be Head Girl there wasn't a chance in hell that he would have agreed to be Head Boy, no matter what that fricking name meant to his family. He was really starting too loath that title with pure hatred; Head Boy.
So that's it I know it's another shortie and I'm sorry, but what more is there to write. I am going to try and change my plan of chapters to speed this story up so you don't get fed up by it. I do realise that this is chapter 14 and not a lot had happened so sorry – but i suppose if you like that relaxed way of life then your satisfied!
Of course any kind of feedback is always always always appreciated more than you can think of (unless you also write and you know exactly the feeling I am thinking off when you see a full inbox!)
Reviews = more action!