Chapter Eighteen
Hermione pushed her scrambled eggs around on her plate, half-listening as Lavender mooned over Seamus. He was mooning right back, and it was enough to make anyone sick. She scanned the other tables. People were talking and eating, oblivious to the conflicts around them.
Her eyes stopped momentarily on the Slytherin table, for some reason, and she found herself looking right at Draco Malfoy, who looked about as happy as she was feeling. She frowned, remembering seeing him in Voldemort's castle. She couldn't see any of the bruises that had been so evident just yesterday, but there was a cut across his eyebrow. Then he looked up and was looking straight at her.
She jumped, and flicked her gaze away. The last thing she needed was for Malfoy to spread a bunch of rumors that she was cheating on Ron and now had the hots for him.
"So, I owled the Ministry about Harry and Ginny," Lavender was saying.
"What?" Hermione snapped out of her stupor and dropped a forkful of eggs. "I said I owled the Ministry," she repeated. "They need all the extra information they can get. You didn't expect me to go off looking for them all on my own, did you?"
"Huh? Oh- no." Hermione frowned and tried to gather her thoughts. "What was their reply?"
"Oh, the usual." Lavender rolled her eyes. "They'd looooove to go looking for them, but noooooooo, just tooooooo dangerous." She sighed and turned to talk to Parvati.
Hermione sat up and pushed her plate away. God, she couldn't take it anymore. She walked quickly out of the great hall and out into the snow. It must have stormed the night before, because the snow was waist-deep in places. The sky was dark and overcast, perfectly reflecting her mood. She walked over to a bench by the lake and flopped on it.
She felt as if her life were falling apart. First it had been the dance in fifth year, that had split them all into different directions and held them there for long months. Then it had been learning that Harry and Ginny were missing, and finding out that no one cared enough to look for them. And now Ron was ill and no end in sight. She hadn't heard anything about his condition since he had left.
Dear God, this was the very bench she and Ron had been sitting on when he first told her about his worry about the rumors. Until right before that moment, she had been happy. She had actually believed that everything might just turn out all right. But she didn't know about that anymore. It seemed like so long ago. But how long had it been? Two, three months, at most? How long would it be until everything did feel right?
Hermione felt tears burning in the corners of her eyes and she quickly closed them, willing herself to stop. It was no use. They came anyway, and she put her face in her hands and cried. Why not? No one would hear her, anyway…
"Who's there?"
She sat straight up, her gaze darting here and there to find the speaker. She hurriedly wiped her eyes, praying desperately that she wasn't blotchy. "What do you want?" she cried.
The person walked around from behind a tree, and she could finally see who it was. She might have rathered they had stayed hidden, though. It was Draco Malfoy.
"Hey, Granger," he muttered. "What the hell are you doing out here?"
Hermione glared at him. "Why do you care?"
Draco rolled his eyes, and, to her surprise and shock, sat down beside her on the bench. "I don't for the most part," he replied evenly. "Are you going to answer or what?"
She scowled. "Anything wrong with wanting a little solitude?"
He simply raised an eyebrow. "Did I say you were doing anything wrong?" he asked irritably. "I was just curious." He looked away from her and stared at the lake, his hands jammed into his pockets and face emotionless. She watched him for a moment, and he turned and looked at her again. "What?" he demanded.
She looked away. "Nothing." He raised an eyebrow again, but didn't say anything more.
There was an uncomfortable, awkward silence, and they both looked away and back at each other on intervals. Finally, Hermione lost her patience and demanded, "What were you doing?"
He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it quickly. "None of your business," he answered shortly. He got to his feet and glared at her for a moment, apparently arguing to himself about something, then reached into his back pocket, pulled something out and tossed it to her. It was a small book. "Read the section on curses," Draco instructed, then walked away.
Hermione looked the book over. It was bound in black leather, and the pages were old, crumbling yellow parchment, the writing black and loopy. The silver embossed title proclaimed it to be The Complete Grimoire of Curses and Hexes. Hermione frowned. Why on Earth would Draco want her to read that? But she put the book in her pocket, resolving to read it later.
It was after dinner when Hermione actually sat down on her bed and opened the book to the section of curses. She cringed. There were some extremely unpleasant spells in this volume. The Flame Body curse, that burned you alive from the inside out, a curse to make you dismember yourself, several possessions… he list went on and on. She scanned the descriptions, skimmed them, just to be dine and say she'd read it- then stopped.
She was near the end of the chapter, and the curses here were fabulously complex. It was getting to the point where it was almost interesting- but no, she didn't want interest in these things. But then a particular spell caught her eye.
The Malady curse. It was more than a few mumbled words and a wave of a wand. The completion of it required a blood of the victim, blood of the Dark Artist, blood of a Dementor, and dust from an old battlefield. Boil until formed into thick paste, she read. Anoint subject's eyes, ears and forehead with mixture. Point wand at back of subject's head and say "Malleus". The spell would result in intense pain, illness and gradual possession.
Hermione put the book down. There was at least another paragraph still on the topic, but she couldn't read it. It sounded too familiar.
Oh, God, she thought desperately. Ron!
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