Author's Note – I know. This chapter took way, way too long to get out. School has started up again and my hectic life as a preschool teacher has returned…aka no more frequent summer updates. Don't worry though, the updates will come, if only less frequent.
Another Note – The title means "Truth," in Latin I believe.
Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter, Parry Hotter, Roonil Wazlib, or anything to do with our favorite wizards and witches…um…right…
Chapter Twenty Five
"Veritus"
"Hermione, no." Harry glared darkly at a hanging tapestry in the Gryffindor Common Room.
"Harry, please, just hear me out," Hermione pleaded, grabbing her friend's arm.
"There is nothing to say," he said. "I want nothing to do with him."
"But if you both work together…"
"No."
"Draco knows a lot about defense."
"I don't care."
"He's not all that bad of a person, Harry," she said.
He snorted. "Right, I forgot. He's Saint Malfoy now," he said mockingly.
Frowning disapprovingly, Hermione crossed her arms. "Give this a chance."
"Have you even asked him if he wants to work with me?" Harry asked.
Hermione faltered. "Well…no…"
Harry spread his arms wide. "Then why are you even asking me?" he shouted before stalking off.
"Granger, no," Draco said simply.
"Draco, please, be reasonable."
"Reasonable?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "You want me to be reasonable?"
"Well, yes," she said. "If both of you work together, then more can be accomplished."
Draco rolled his eyes. "It's bad enough that I have to see Potter every day in class. Do I have to see him outside class too?"
"Well, that's the general idea, yes."
"Then, no."
"Draco…"
"No."
"Please…"
"No."
"Why are you being difficult?"
"I'm not being difficult," he said.
"Yes you are."
"No," he said smirking. "I'm being the reasonable one here."
"Don't you go turning my words around on me!"
"Really, Granger," he said, pausing to glance at her. "Have you even thought this through?"
"Of course I have!"
"Then you realize putting me and Potter in the same room would have disastrous results, right?"
Hermione took her turn to roll her eyes. "Honestly, I think both of you are mature enough to cooperate for an hour or two."
"You are talking about me and Potter…right?" he asked skeptically.
Blowing a frustrated puff of air out of her mouth, Hermione stood up and stalked out of the room, mumbling about the audacity of immature prats as she slammed the door.
"Come on, Granger, don't be angry," Draco said the next day.
"I'm not angry," she said, sitting slouched in one of the desks in their classroom.
"Then why are you glowering at me?" he asked, studying her features, concluding that she looked rather cute when angered.
"Because you're being difficult," she said. "Both you and Harry."
Leaning forward, Draco rested his arms on the desktop. "We're being practical, really," he said. "Potter and I working together would never work out. All we'd do is fight."
"How do you know? You haven't even tried."
"Please, it's Potter. When we're not fighting, we're hexing each other," he said. "And I'd rather we kept it that way."
"Draco!"
"Granger, Potter and I are enemies…nothing but enemies."
"Have you even tried being friends?"
"Why would I want to try and do that?" he asked.
She shook her head back and forth and glared at the desk. "You are impossible."
"Yeah, I think we determined that a long time ago."
Fuming even more, Hermione looked away.
Draco sighed. "Look, Granger," he said, reaching out and grabbing her hand. "It'll just never work. Potter and I are just…we're just not of the friend sort."
"But what about all the good you could do?" she asked. "Have you ever thought about that?"
"What good could I do?" he asked before he could think.
Wrenching her hand from his, Hermione stood up. "Don't say things like that!" she screeched.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I hate when you say things like that," she said. "How can you still think so little of yourself?"
He shrugged, looking slightly sheepish. "I don't know," he said. Then, sighing, he leaned back in the chair and looked up at her. "Look, if it'll make you happy…or whatever…I'll meet with Potter."
"Really?"
He nodded.
"Oh, thank you!" Bending down, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him.
"You're welcome," he said, returning the affection.
Stepping back, Hermione brushed her hair out of her face and smiled, glancing at the clock on the wall. "I have prefect duties right now," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow."
And with one backwards last glance, she walked out of the room.
"Harry?" Hermione asked that night.
He sat across from Ron, a game of Exploding Snap underway. At his name, he glanced up. "What?"
"Please reconsider," she said.
"No," he said, placing a card hesitantly upon the pile already quivering on the table. When it didn't explode, he glanced up at her. "We've already discussed this."
"I've talked to him, Harry," she said. "He says he'll work with you if you'll work with him."
"And why do I find that hard to believe?"
Ron frowned, looking confused. "What are we all going on about?" He glanced at Harry. "Who're you gonna work with?"
"Nobody," Harry said darkly, shuffling the few cards in his hands idly.
"Harry, please," she said. "At least give it a go."
"Hermione," he spat, glaring up at her, "I thought I'd made myself clear. I don't want anything to do with him."
"Who?" Ron asked, looking between Hermione and Harry. "Who're we talking about?"
"Nobody, Ronald," Hermione clipped, giving Harry a hard stare. "Harry, don't be a prat."
"Don't be a prat?" he shouted, standing up so quickly the cards in his hands scattered to the floor. "Why don't you stop being an insufferable busy body?"
"Harry…" Hermione's chin quivered.
Glowering darkly, he angrily swiped his arm across the table, cards flying everywhere, several going off midair. "Shove off, Hermione!" With nothing but an enraged backwards glance, Harry stomped up the stairs.
Cards settled and smoke dissipated; the acrid scent of exploded cards wafted between Hermione and Ron. Tears glistened in Hermione's eyes, the skin of her face smudged with ashes. Ron eyed her warily, the tips of his hair singed and standing on end.
"Hermione…don't…um…" he trailed off, watching the tears sliding down her face with trepidation.
Shaking her head, Hermione covered her face and ran from the common room.
The next morning, Hermione arrived to breakfast later than her usual time, half of the Great Hall already filled as she sat down. Clouds filled the enchanted ceiling, the sun nowhere to be seen, the full effects of late September having finally influenced the weather. Gloomily, she grabbed a few piece of toast and halfheartedly slathered them with butter, grabbing the Daily Prophet as it dropped before her. Munching idly on her toast, she perused the headlines, nothing more exciting than an article about the new regulations concerning Gringotts.
Putting the paper down, Hermione glanced down the table. Harry and Ron sat further down the table as usual, deep within a verbal argument. Ginny, who sat beside Ron, rolled her eyes and turned, catching Hermione's eye, and smiled sympathetically. Hermione returned the gesture, knowing Harry and Ron were fighting over her. Sighing, Hermione grabbed her bag and headed for the doors to the Great Hall.
"Hermione, wait."
She stopped and turned, Harry jogging to catch up to her.
"Fine," he said, sighing with defeat. "I'll work with him."
"Really?" She smiled.
He sighed. "Yeah. Ron managed to knock some sense into me. How he managed…I don't know considering he doesn't even know what's really going on…" Harry trailed off, still rather perplexed at his best mate.
Still smiling, Hermione quickly hugged Harry. "I'm so happy," she said. "I promise you won't regret this, Harry."
"I better not," he mumbled into her hair.
Stepping back, she swatted his shoulder. "Oh, lighten up," she said. "He's not that bad."
"Right," he said, shaking his head, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Anyways, when's this all happening?"
"Saturday," she said.
Hermione and Harry strode through the hallways Saturday afternoon, past portraits chatting with other portraits, countless students snogging in every dark corner, and Peeves painting the wall directly outside Umbridge's office a violent shade of puke green. The corridor outside classroom number thirty-one was vacant of students, and Hermione quickly ushered Harry inside, closing the door softly behind them.
"Malfoy," Harry sneered the moment he spotted the blond Slytherin lounging in one of the desks.
Draco smirked. "Potter," he said almost mockingly, his eyes harboring a challenging glimmer.
Harry tensed, his fingers flicking to his wand, a hex already at his lips. However, Hermione intervened, placing a hand on Harry's chest. "Harry, quit it, alright?" Her eyes demanded his cooperation.
"Fine," he said, relaxing his shoulders.
"Honestly, can't we all just get along?' she said, weaving between the desks, dragging one over, and sitting down across from Draco.
Reluctantly, Harry plopped down in the chair directly beside Hermione, his eyes never leaving Draco.
Satisfied that her friends weren't going to hex each other, she retrieved a list from her book bag. "I've made a list of the things we need to cover," she said. "I think the first…"
Smirking, Draco gave a half-laugh, shaking his head. "Typical," he mumbled, glancing at the list in her hand.
"You want to say that again, Malfoy?" Harry, who'd stood up so quickly his chair toppled over, thrust the point of his wand into Draco's face, the glare on his face dark and angry.
Draco stared at Harry, his eyebrow raised in what appeared to be amusement. A laugh escaped his mouth. "What Potter? You gonna hex me?"
Harry pressed his lips together, his look hardening even further, the tip of his wand pressing further into Draco's cheek.
"Ok, let's just calm down," Hermione said. "There is no need to do anything rash."
Neither boy paid any mind to her.
"Come on, Potter, I dare you to hex me," Draco taunted, his wand appearing in his hand.
"Draco, no!"
"Stupif-"
"Petrific-"
"STOP!" Hermione grabbed both wands, forcing the spells to hit the far wall, bits of stone trickling to the ground. "What is the matter with the both of you? Can't you stand five minutes in a room without hexing each other?" she screeched.
Harry and Draco both put their wands away, mumbling apologies to Hermione as they averted their eyes from the raging girl, choosing instead to send each other covert looks of loathing.
Giving her friends firm looks, Hermione flicked her hair behind her shoulder and glanced at her parchment. "Ok, as I said, I've made a list of things we need to cover," she said, glancing at both boys with hesitancy. "First and foremost, is a place to hold these meetings." She looked up, expecting a reply of some sort. However, Harry was too wrapped up in glaring at Draco while Draco busied himself by returning Harry's stare with plenty of mocking humor. "Oh for crying out loud," she cried. "Will you two quit it?"
"He's the one who started it," Harry grumbled, never removing his eyes from Draco.
"Oh piss off, Potter," Draco replied, rolling his eyes and choosing a random spot in the classroom to examine.
"That the best you got, Malfoy?" Harry asked tauntingly.
"Better than what you have," Draco said.
Hardening his stare, Harry pointed his wand at Draco. "Want to bet on it? Come on, Malfoy," he said, getting out of his seat.
"Harry…" Hermione threatened, her eyes boring into him, pleading him to sit back down.
He ignored her. "Duel me."
Smirking, Draco slid out of his seat. "You won't last ten seconds, Potty," he sneered, readying his wand.
"Oh yeah, Ferret?" he asked. "Stupify."
"Protego!" Draco shouted, the spell veering off to the side. "Petrificus Totalus."
"STOP!" she screamed, shooting out of her seat, her hands held out frantically.
Harry dodged the beam of light and rolled his eyes in a demeaning manner. "Is that all you have, Malfoy?"
"Harry…Draco…stop," she said. "Please, this isn't worth it."
"Move out of the way, Granger," Draco demanded, his stance ready for a fight.
"No."
"Hermione, move," Harry said, his eyes on Draco.
"I will not…"
Draco reached out and grabbed her arm. "Granger…"
Growling, Harry darted forward. "Get your bloody, good for nothing hands off of her." He crashed into Draco, pinning him against the wall. Smoke drifted up from Draco, collecting among the rafters. Neither Harry nor Draco noticed.
Hermione shrieked. "No…"
Draco laughed. "You're pathetic, Potter."
"Better than what you are."
"Oh, and what would that be?" he asked.
"A Deatheater," Harry said simply.
Draco paled, his face soon flushing. "You don't know anythingPotter." He clenched his jaw.
"I don't?" Harry asked lightly, mockingly. "You're just like your father, Malfoy, worshiping at your knees. You're nothing, Malfoy." Pausing in horror, Hermione stared at Harry, her eyes as large as saucers and her mouth open in shock. Draco stood, still pinned against the wall, his eyes a wall of cold steel. He trembled, the anger rising off of him evident in the air, in the smell drifting throughout the classroom. "And you know what?" Harry continued. "That's all you'll ever be. You don't fool anybody, Malfoy. Least of all, me."
Silence, heavy rage-ridden silence. And then everything exploded.
Beside Hermione, the desk burst into flame, fire nearly licking the ceiling.
"I am NOT my father, and I am NOT a Deatheater." Draco's eyes flashed, shoving Harry away from him. Stalking forward, Draco forced Harry backwards, Harry stumbling through the desks. "Do not think you know me, Potter. I am not what everybody thinks I am." Giving Harry one last shove, Draco turned and stalked out of the room.
The flames died away with the slamming of the door, leaving the chair smoking and charred. She could not ignore this. Everything that had been revolving in her head for the past week and a half further cemented itself into existence. Hermione glanced at the door, the silence in the room throbbing with the resonance of the slamming door.
"Go, Hermione," Harry said quietly, almost in regretful defeat. "Just go. I know you want to."
She looked at him. "Harry…"
"Hermione," he snapped. "Just go!" Looking away, Harry hugged himself and glowered at the remains of the chair, not quite knowing what to make of it. Was it he who did that? Had his magic gotten that much out of control? It had before, memories of his Aunt Marge coming to mind.
Hermione sighed, gave Harry one last glance, and quickly made her way out of the room.
She found him two floors up, staring out a window, his arms wrapped around himself. Even before she saw his face, before she said anything, she knew he had closed himself off to anything and everything, her included. Strong memories from the previous year hit her, and she felt as if she were looking at that Draco instead.
"Draco?" she said softly, coming to stand beside him. Words fought to gain precedent; however, none came forth, each stuck in hesitation.
He stared out the window, his hands gripping his own arms, an act to quell the tremors wracking his body.
She gently grabbed his arm. "That wasn't accidental magic…was it?"
His eyes closed and his breathing shuddered. "What do you want me to say?" he asked.
"I don't think you have to say anything," she said.
Draco looked up at her, fear running through his eyes, fear that startled Hermione.
"I know, Draco," she said, stressing her words.
Sighing, he sunk to the ground, one leg bent while the other jutted out before him. He bowed his head, hair hanging in his face. "I knew you'd find out," he said.
Hermione sat beside him and picked up his hand, trails of smoke drifting up from each finger. "You're…you're…" she trailed off, the words getting caught in her throat.
"Not human?" he supplied, wanting to, but not able to bring himself to meet her eyes.
"I was going to say an Ignius," she said, meshing her fingers with his, her thumb running over his, "but yes."
Draco swallowed hard and nodded.
Hermione's mouth hung open. It was one thing to figure it out on her own, but a completely different thing to hear it directly from him.
His heart shivered in his chest, the blood in his veins running cold. "I'm different, Granger," he whispered. "More different than you could ever imagine."
Silence fell over the two, words not being sufficient to say everything that hung in the air. The knowledge between them, the knowledge of the truth, and its existence would forever change everything. Change that in this case would be inevitable, unavoidable, and incomprehensibly difficult.