Author's Note: Hello lovelies, and Happy Easter to those who celebrate it. Here's a new chapter, partly as an Easter treat and partly because this story needs your help!!
"An Aversion to Change" has been nominated for a Dramione award on LiveJournal and needs (first) a second nomination and (then, if I get seconded) votes!! So, I think you should check out the link posted in my profile and 1) nominate me again and 2) read some of the other stories on there! The authors they've featured are really talented and totally deserve your love.
And now that the obscenely long author's note is finished, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!
Mending and Breaking
Draco felt murderous. Absolutely murderous. Channing Orman – that sleazy, no-good, suspicious, lecherous git – had gone too far. Way too far. It was different way back in October, when Channing had kissed her in the hospital wing. In fact, Draco had been pretty thoroughly convinced that it was Hermione who had initiated such affections (even though the thought of her lips on that undeserving prick's was enough to make him simultaneously livid with anger and sick to his stomach). At that point, though, Draco hadn't suspected foul play. What reason did he have?
But after seeing those bruises…Well, now Orman's intentions were unmistakable and Draco found himself wishing very evil things upon the conniving bastard. As much fun as it was to imagine the torture he would put Orman through next time Draco saw him, there were more pressing matters that needed attending; namely, Hermione. She had taken a seat on the couch and was bent forward, head nearly touching her knees and fingers absently rubbing the fresh and tender bruises.
Mouth in a grim line, Draco summoned a House Elf and requested a pot of tea. Thirty seconds later popped the same House Elf with a tea tray. Another one was close behind with a plate of butter cookies. They set them on the table, bowed, and blushed as Hermione woke from her reverie and thanked them.
Draco fixed her tea (cream with one sugar – the knowledge was somehow nearly instinctual) and handed it to the worn-looking girl, who sipped it slowly while staring into the fire.
The implications of what had happened in Hogsmeade hung heavily in the air. The silence was uncomfortable for a moment. Draco still knew no words of comfort or condolence, so he did the next best thing he could think of: changed the subject. "So, what missions were Orman talking about?"
This, predictably, was not the right course to take. Hermione looked up from her tea and regarded him with an icy stare. "You were eavesdropping. That was a private conversation, Malfoy."
"It was in a public place, Granger," he shot right back.
She ignored him. "It was none of your business," she said. "You're not part of the Order, nor will you ever be."
"So I'm going to be kept out of everything?" Draco asked, somewhat foolishly. "What if I can help you?"
"Unless you confess that you're actually working for Voldemort, you are of no help to me," Hermione said.
"That was one of your missions?" Draco inferred sharply. "To get information out of me?"
"Yes," she replied. "But I wasn't getting anywhere, so they assigned me a different task."
"What is it?" Draco asked quickly.
"None of your business," Hermione repeated sternly, taking another sip of tea.
"You still don't trust me?"
"You haven't done anything to earn my trust, Malfoy," she said, frustration evident in her voice. "What have you done since I've been here? Insulted me? Attacked me? Beat me? Yeah, you're right. I should definitely trust you after all that," she said sarcastically.
Each accusation struck Draco at his core. It was true. All of it was true. But then again, so were many other aspects of their cohabitation, aspects that could not be ignored. "We're obviously past all that, Granger," he blurted.
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are we now?" she said in surprise.
It took no more than a moment for Draco to answer. "Yes," he said, "definitely." To lie was so easy, but this was the truth – it surprised and pleased him.
Hermione leaned back onto the couch and sighed into her cup.
"So will you tell me?" Draco asked.
She regarded him evenly. "No."
Draco groaned in frustration. "Fine. But don't expect any help from me if you need it."
"I won't," she said flatly.
Their conversation ended for a full ten minutes. They sat in silence that was neither angry nor forgiving, each sipping tea and looking anywhere but each other. Despite the silence and the lack of activity, neither left the couch. Hermione sighed and broke the silence.
"Why do you think he did that?"
Draco arched a platinum eyebrow. "Why do you think he did that?"
"I'm not sure," Hermione said, jerking out of her reverie. She stared into the fire and answered quietly, more like she was talking to herself than to Draco. "He's an Order member, and nearly ten years older than I. He can't want a relationship. It doesn't make sense."
"He hurt you," Draco said sternly. "I don't think it's a relationship he's looking for."
Hermione looked at him blankly.
Draco scoffed. "Oh, don't kid yourself, Granger. You know just as much as I do what he really wants."
She shook her head, brown curls flying, either refusing to believe or acknowledge the possibility. "It doesn't make sense!" she held stubbornly.
"It makes perfect sense!" Draco said, throwing his hands into the air. Before he could stop himself, out popped, "You're young, you're beautiful, and you're naive! Who wouldn't want to have you?"
Realizing what he had said, Draco jumped up from the couch angrily and stalked up the stairs. Hermione's shocked silence was punctuated only by his door slamming and the soft crackle of the fire.
XOX
The Dark Lord sat before the fire, his long white fingers forming a steeple that rested upon his high forehead. His cunning ears heard the crackle and pop of the fire. He smiled evilly against his fingers.
"It has been far too long since your last report," he said in a voice smooth as honey and deadly as arsenic. "I assume you have some significant information to report."
"Progress has been made, my Lord," said the face in the fire.
"You have broken her?"
"No, my Lord."
Voldemort's collected demeanor shattered at the confession. He roared in fury and pummeled the arm of his chair.
"I will not wait forever, slave. If you are unable to give me the information I require, then it is not required that you be here!"
"I told you, my Lord, progress has been made. Today was very…influential."
Voldemort, who had turned away from the fire in disgust, stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "Influential, you say? Tell me."
The day's story was relayed and the Dark Lord's expression grew ever more cunning.
"At least you are not a total waste of my time," he said with a small smile playing on his pale lips, "but things are not moving fast enough. We need whatever information that filthy Mudblood may possess. But know this: you are the not only person who can retrieve it."
The figure in the fire picked up on the implied threat. "I will not fail you," he declared.
"You had better not," hissed Voldemort. "Now get out of my sight."
Without another word, the fire popped again and the figure was gone.
The Dark Lord chuckled to himself in the dull gray of the cave. 'She'll be his soon, he thought. And when she is, Potter will be mine!'
XOX
At first, she thought she had imagined Draco calling her beautiful, but when he could not look her in the eye for days after, she decided that she had heard him correctly.
'I almost wish I hadn't ever heard him,' she caught herself thinking in the middle of Potions. She furrowed her brow as she stared at the gently simmering cauldron. She glanced over to Draco, whose expression was quite similar to her own: a mixture of anger, confusion, and concentration. 'Life was a lot easier knowing he hated me,' she thought. 'And even not knowing where he stood was confusing, yet fine. But now…'
Hermione jumped as timers around the room buzzed angrily. She added leech skin to the potion and watched the color change from gray to bright red, just as the instructions said. She smiled at her success and, out of curiosity, glanced over to Draco again, who looked very much the same as he did before he added the leech skins. She was caught off-guard when Draco turned and regarded her with unreadable silver eyes. Her heart skipped a beat and the smile immediately disappeared from her face, replaced instead with a shade of red similar to that of the cauldron contents.
A few days later at breakfast, the Owl Post arrived in its usual flurry of feathers. Amaris, who had not been coming down lately, landed before her with a graceful thud right into her plate of fried tomatoes.
"Nice, Amaris," she said jokingly to the owl, who looked at her contritely. Hermione smiled and untied the letter from her leg. The owl crawled up onto Hermione's arm and seemed to read over her shoulder.
The letter was from Moody. It basically told her that she would be coming back to Grimmauld Place for Christmas break and to be careful of Draco's reaction to the news. Hermione set the parchment down on the table and heard Amaris hoot lowly in her ear. She offered the patient owl a piece of bacon, which she took happily in her short hooked beak. After gulping down a few sips of Hermione's water, Amaris climbed upon Hermione's arm once more, squeezed it affectionately with her talons, and was off with a breath of feathers. Hermione smiled as she watched her soar away.
She sighed and looked back towards the letter when something small suddenly crashed into the table, spattering people with yellow bits of egg and crispy pieces of toast.
"Pig!" Ron chided, reaching for the Snitch-sized owl who was trying to recover from his spill. His ears turned red with embarrassment and Hermione could not help but to let out a small giggle. Apparently, it was not small enough. After reading the letter that was attached to Pig's leg, Ron looked at her with an expression that was not one of pure annoyance. His blue eyes softened and he wore a pained expression. Hermione's smile died on her lips and her face became expressionless. She tore her eyes away from Ron and to her watch.
'I need to get to class,' she thought. Gathering her books, she made haste towards the Arithmacy classroom, then to Charms.
Later that day, when Hermione was walking down to the Great Hall, she heard someone shout her name. She stopped and turned to see who had called her. Ron was jogging up to her.
"Hermione," he said, a bit out of breath. "I've been looking everywhere for you."
His tone piqued Hermione's worry. "Why?" she asked in a controlled but urgent pitch. "Has something happened?"
"No," Ron said. His hands waved away the worry like a foul odor. "I just wanted to talk to you."
"Oh," she said indignantly, "now you want to talk to me? After almost two months of silence? You choose now to make amends?"
"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" he said, ignoring her irritation. "I was just angry is all, and I had every right to be." Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but Ron cut her off with a short wave of his hand. "But," he continued. "I shouldn't have held a grudge for that long. It wasn't fair. And I'm sorry."
Hermione's eyes shone: why was she such a pushover sometimes? "You're forgiven, Ron," she said and swept him into a tight hug. "Just please, don't ever do that to me again. I missed my friends."
He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back. "I won't," he said. "It was torture having to learn from Neville and Luna."
She chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Are they still mad at me too?" she asked tentatively.
"Quite honestly, I don't think they ever were," he said with a smile. "I think they were just afraid to face me on it." He grinned cockily and drew himself up proudly. Hermione laughed and playfully hit him in the stomach, deflating his ego.
"Well, that's good to know," Hermione said. "And Ginny?"
Ron's face darkened slightly. "She's more stubborn than me, if you can believe it," Ron said. "Although her anger's somewhat faded, she still can't let it go. She will eventually, though," Ron said upon noticing Hermione's small frown. "She always does."
Hermione nodded and silence hung between the two for a second. Then Ron said with a smile, "So, have you heard we're all going to Grimmauld Place for Christmas?"
Thus started a conversation that led all the way through dinner. As Hermione sat and chatted with her friends, it seemed as if she had never left. Neville still loved his plants, Luna was still as strange as ever, and Ron was his dorky, lovable self. Hermione did notice Ginny's unusual silence, but remembered Ron's words.
'She just needs time,' Hermione thought. She caught Ginny looking at her and smiled softly. Ginny, realizing she had been caught, immediately shot her a glare and went back to her mashed potatoes. 'Just time,' Hermione smiled.
XOX
Draco watched through the nook of the secret passageway, his arms folded across his chest and his blonde hair falling into his eyes. He glared at the Gryffindor table and sneered as he saw Hermione playfully shove Ron.
'So, the dream team is back together again…Whatever, good for them. It'll certainly take the Mudblood off my hands…It's been a royal pain in the arse having her about…' Draco scoffed as he recalled how nice life with her had been over the past few months.
'I won't have to put up with her infernal nagging anymore. And her stupid practice sessions…she'll finally leave me alone. I can spend the break completely alone in my room, practicing spells. Now that she's made good with them, it'll be the better for me.'
Despite his self-assurance, Draco still felt doubt worm and fester in his heart. He let his arms fall to his sides and he leaned his head back upon the cold black stone of the passage. A sigh racked his frame. Reluctantly, he turned his back on the whole of Hogwarts and walked back to his room.
