Chapter 4: Coming to.
Thanks to my fabulous reviewer, I won't write down your name this time, but I will in future, I just can't remember how to spell it and I don't want to get it wrong… Personally, I thought that the climax was pretty good, I mean, suspense wise! Don't worry, she won't die – and that's a promise!!
In an attempt to be thrifty and save valuable typing time, this evening's disclaimer will be brought to you in mobile phone text message writing, or SMS as it is known to the masses.
Disclaimer: JKR is gr8, dn't u thnk? All Harry Blong 2 her, OK? Not me. ;-)
Draco and Oliver looked at each other, then down at the lifeless heap of scarlet silk on the floor. Hermione was turning blue, and neither of them had any idea of what they could do to help her.
'Draco, you go find Madame Pomfrey and I'll try to wake her up' Oliver began to look confident and in control of the situation. Draco had the strange urge not to leave her.
'I don't think either of us should leave her, and if anyone should be here it's me. I'm head boy, she's my responsibility. I'm not going.'
'Look, Draco, this is the worst possible time to argue. Just go and get help before it's too late. GO!' yelled Oliver, rushing down to where Hermione was lying. Draco felt that cold bitterness run over him again, but he did not argue and dashed out of the bathroom.
'Hermione, Hermione!' cried Oliver, sitting her up against one of the cubicle doors and shaking her gently. 'Please don't die; not you, not now, it is just not fair, after all you've been through, please keep on living!'
Oliver was crying now, crystal tears running down his cheeks. He pulled his wand from the inside pocket of his robes and whispered 'Crystalliarmus', waving the wand under her nose, hoping that the smelling salts charm might jolt her back. Malfoy was taking his sweet time. He probably wanted her to die, he thought bitterly. He had always had it in for her, calling her names, making fun of her until after the war when if he did he'd have his throat slit. It was up to him to save her. He waved the wand under her nose and murmured into her ear. 'Please Hermione, live. If for nothing else, live for me.' He pulled away and looked at her pale, cold face, and feared the worst. But then, the corners of her pale mouth twitched until it was in a weak smile, and the veined eyelids opened to reveal bloodshot eyes, and a small voice whispered…
'That's the most beautiful thing that I have ever heard.'
Draco reached the door of the hospital wing and knocked. When there was no answer he charged in, only to find a note on Pomfrey's desk that read 'Gone to London for extra supplies, back tomorrow morning. Now, even more worried about Hermione than ever, he charged back down the stairs, hoping that he would not be too late; because the last thing he wanted to see Hermione was dead. Far from it actually, he wanted her alive and well.
'Really?' asked Oliver, unable to keep in his excitement that she was alright, let alone what she had just said. He began to worry about her again. She looked pale. No, not just pale, she was white. 'Are you alright? What happened? Tell me, please.'
'Oh, Oliver it was awful! I started thinking about when Jamie…When Jamie…he- '
She let out a small cry, and then she broke down in to wracking sobs, flinging her arms around Oliver and crying on his shoulder. 'It was terrible, so terrible, I was so scared, and I was falling, falling with him! And all I could see was that green light, he was screaming-' She couldn't speak any more, it hurt so much.
Oliver had heard about how Jamie Granger died. He was captured and tortured to the edge of insanity, and yet his muggle body managed to live through what some of the strongest wizards couldn't endure. But the pain and torture did not stop, his spirit abused beyond repair. Hermione and her friends arrived at Voldemort's family manor, the dark Lord preparing to finish the job, Hermione flinging herself in front of him, Harry pulling her off just before the deed was committed, Voldemort crying the fatal spell a second after she was pulled from her brothers body, screaming at Harry, telling him she wanted to die too. Thankfully, Harry was able to pull it off, to defeat Voldemort before Hermione died from the pain, a pain that seared into every fibre of her being, so sure she was that her life was going to end, that she told Ron to remember her, to never forget. God she had been through a lot, he wasn't even sure that she had grieved yet; she hadn't had time to cry for crying's sake, to heal the wounds that remained inside long after external bruises had been cured.
Hermione was glad that there was someone with her, someone to hold her. The one thing that she really needed was a hug and someone to tell her that things were going to be alright. 'You're going to be fine, Hermione. Don't let the pain in. I'll look after you; I promise everything is going to be alright, you've got to fight.' He said, whispering through her hair. When he said that, it felt like the pain had started ebbing out, trapped inside the tears rolling down her cheeks and onto his shoulder.
'It's going!' said Hermione, gazing up into his eyes. 'You told me to fight the pain and I did and it's just floating away, I don't know what happened, it's just releasing' He had never been so relieved in his entire life; and at that moment he felt an elation that far surpassed winning any Quidditch cup.
'God I love you' he said, immediately regretting it. She was probably going out with Harry or some other prefect, and she wouldn't want some common Quidditch player anyway, she was too good for that, too good for him. Hell, she could have the world's number one seeker, Viktor Krum, if she wanted. He just wasn't her type; not famous like Krum or Harry, not funny like wrong, not dark like Draco. He looked down at her, expecting her to get up and run away like all the others. But she didn't. She was still there. And she was smiling at him.
'You are the first boy to say that to me. Ever' she beamed up at him.
'Then I guess I'll be the first boy to do this too' he said jokingly, leaning in and kissing her. Not sucking and slobbering like she'd seen muggle teenagers, but soft and gentle, more warmth than anything else. She felt a fluttering in her stomach which rose up inside her, till she had this uncontrollable urge to kiss him back, so she did. Gently reciprocating at first, and then becoming more passionate, until they were both on the cold floor, kissing so fiercely that they were oblivious to their surroundings.
Draco ran down the final section of wall before the toilets. The journey back had been a nightmare, a hundred worse case scenarios playing through his head over and over; Oliver crying over a blue Hermione telling him she didn't wake up, and never would, or Hermione waking up not knowing who she was and where she was, or her waking up and being empty, comatose, catatonic, without sight or speech, never knowing that he…well, lets not get carried away, Draco. He mentally slapped himself for thinking that way. Of everything he had considered, what he saw when he opened that door had not even crossed his mind. The two of them, together like that. Nothing too explicit, just snogging vigorously in their own little world with their eyes clamped shut. He went straight back out of the door he came in, and remembered how he had wondered who the lucky boy to possess Hermione Granger would be, and then he realised that the question had just answered itself. Draco stalked off to his room, knowing that no credit would be given to him, it would all be the "Good, honest Wood" saving "Poor, unconscious Hermione" all on his own. He could almost hear his own heart breaking as he slid under his duvet, ready for another sleepless night. Only this time it wouldn't be thoughts of her that made him evade sleep, it would be of the two of them, no doubt now at it like rabbits on the bathroom floor.
Hermione was still on cloud nine, still falling into Oliver, getting closer and closer but knowing where to stop. The moment came and she pulled away. 'I'm sorry, I'll have to stop, I couldn't, and I mean I can't, well, you know, Horizontal Celtic dancing.' Oliver let out a soft chuckle. 'I've never heard that name for it before! But yes, I understand, and this floor was getting colder by the minute anyway. Do you want some time alone in the bathroom to clean up, I mean, get back to your usual gorgeous self instead of the Chinese panda bear look.'
'Oh, right, thanks. Well, don't you have another set to play?'
'Yes, but first I think we'd better go for a little walk, just to make sure that you are alright. I don't want you collapsing on the dance floor' said Oliver, regaining his composure and smoothing his hair as he smiled to himself on his way out of the room.
Hermione looked in the mirror once more, but thankfully she now only saw herself, with messy hair and a black tear stained face, the Witch Weekly makeup spell unable to withstand the kind of tears she had just cried. She went into one of the cubicles and took a giant wad of paper off the loo roll, pointing her wand at it and muttering 'Maximalus Totalus' at which point the paper turned into what appeared to be a giant purple powder puff. She dabbed it across her face and hair, running down along her neck and cleavage. When she looked back into the mirror she looked just as she had at the beginning of the evening, fresh faced and without a puffy eye to be seen. She checked her hair, and left the bathroom looking the same (if not better than) she had before. Oliver was waiting for her outside the bathroom and took her arm. 'May I?' he asked, as charming as ever.
'Why thankyou, kind sir' said Hermione as he led her further down the hallway in the opposite direction of the hall.
After a while they reached the main door, and pushed it open, walking down towards the lake. 'She really is perfect' he thought to himself, looking into her eyes, which were illuminated by the light of the full moon. Her skin was translucent porcelain, creamy and clear, her lips soft and full, and her body slender and delicate; she was irresistible, and if he could have it his way, they would be far away, back in Scotland, living in a castle, and she could be his queen. But it was not to be, he could see that now, she was destined to do great things, and whether or not he was going to be standing by her was uncertain.
The light was reflecting of the seemingly jewelled lake and illuminating both of them, as if the light was shining out of them, not onto them. Hermione felt immortal, like she was going to stand here forever, forever with him. She looked up at him, and asked.
'What you said, did you mean it? I mean really, truly mean it? Not just a spur of the moment whim that you would say to anyone if they were hurting, but, deliberate?'
'Of all the things I've said, all the Quidditch speeches, the songs I've composed, I have never meant anything as much as I meant that. Nothing.' At that he kissed her again, took her into his arms and held onto her tightly, drowning in her, falling deeper.
Draco had not been able to sleep, as expected, and crawled out of his bed, and put on a rather garish emerald green satin night-robe that his mother had given him for his birthday last year. He felt like a drink, and approached the mug he kept on the sink and said 'Bloody Mary'. The cup filled instantaneously with red liquid. He went through his living room, to the double doors that lead onto a small balcony with a priceless view – The forbidden forest and the lake, its usually black surface glowing white, reflecting the moon light. Then he noticed two figures entwined; one tall with dirty blonde hair, and the other in a scarlet dress. 'What is this, let's torment Draco night? Shags around Britain with your hosts Oliver perfect Wood and Hermione perfect Granger, made for each other and practically perfect in every way?' Draco skulled the contents of the mug, and it refilled itself, the liquid pouring down his throat almost faster than the mug could replenish itself.
Oliver pulled away from her, as much as he hated to and said 'They'll be missing you. Plus, Fred and George will be as pissed as an Irish priest on Sunday for leaving them with instrumentals for so long.'
'Fred and George?!? They're in your band? I didn't even see them.'
'They still had their hoods down when we left; I broke a bit of a promise to talk to you, we were supposed to ignore all of the students while we played, and at the end of the evening unveil ourselves and become famous or something – another one of Fred's brilliant plans. But it's nothing, because I really wanted to talk to you, right?
'Right, and I was'- Oliver cut in. 'When is your next Hogsmeade weekend?'
'I'm Head Girl, Oliver; I can go into Hogsmeade whenever I want. Why?'
'Could you make it into the three broomsticks tomorrow night after you're finished at the school, just for a drink or something, I could buy you dinner, would you come?'
'Yes, of course I'll come. But we'd better get back to the ball, before people get suspicious. You know Hogwarts, you stub your toe and say 'Jiminy Cricket' or 'Crikey that hurt', tongues start wagging and within a week you're a foul mouthed death eater or something!' Oliver laughed to himself and said 'Well, if we don't get back soon they'll have us eloping to Gretna Green because you're pregnant with my child!' And at that, they both started giggling, and started to head back to the hall, both relived that the ordeal was over.
Draco stared down at the pair, laughing gaily and practically skipping back to the hall. Draco had to do something about it. He had only had three Bloody Marys, and surely he was good enough for her, all he had to do was ask, be kind, and how could she resist? Draco practically sprinted to the bathroom, showered, shaved and pulled on his favourite pair of black leather pants, boots, and pulled on a tight black tee shirt. He sprayed on deodorant and cologne, and combed his hair into a floppy part, sections falling onto his forehead like some devilishly handsome muggle actor. Anyway, he finished getting ready and charged down the stairs with one thing on his mind – he was going to win her over.
Ooohhhh – What do you think – should Draco win the day or will Hermione and Oliver have their romantic rendezvous at the pub – you decide! Yes, that's right, folks, whoever gets the most votes in my review section (The delightful Oliver or the delicious Draco) will win in the next chapter, and win Hermione's heart. Looks like Oliver is in the lead at the moment, but will Draco make up for lost time and win the day? It's up to you!!
Thanks to my fabulous reviewer, I won't write down your name this time, but I will in future, I just can't remember how to spell it and I don't want to get it wrong… Personally, I thought that the climax was pretty good, I mean, suspense wise! Don't worry, she won't die – and that's a promise!!
In an attempt to be thrifty and save valuable typing time, this evening's disclaimer will be brought to you in mobile phone text message writing, or SMS as it is known to the masses.
Disclaimer: JKR is gr8, dn't u thnk? All Harry Blong 2 her, OK? Not me. ;-)
Draco and Oliver looked at each other, then down at the lifeless heap of scarlet silk on the floor. Hermione was turning blue, and neither of them had any idea of what they could do to help her.
'Draco, you go find Madame Pomfrey and I'll try to wake her up' Oliver began to look confident and in control of the situation. Draco had the strange urge not to leave her.
'I don't think either of us should leave her, and if anyone should be here it's me. I'm head boy, she's my responsibility. I'm not going.'
'Look, Draco, this is the worst possible time to argue. Just go and get help before it's too late. GO!' yelled Oliver, rushing down to where Hermione was lying. Draco felt that cold bitterness run over him again, but he did not argue and dashed out of the bathroom.
'Hermione, Hermione!' cried Oliver, sitting her up against one of the cubicle doors and shaking her gently. 'Please don't die; not you, not now, it is just not fair, after all you've been through, please keep on living!'
Oliver was crying now, crystal tears running down his cheeks. He pulled his wand from the inside pocket of his robes and whispered 'Crystalliarmus', waving the wand under her nose, hoping that the smelling salts charm might jolt her back. Malfoy was taking his sweet time. He probably wanted her to die, he thought bitterly. He had always had it in for her, calling her names, making fun of her until after the war when if he did he'd have his throat slit. It was up to him to save her. He waved the wand under her nose and murmured into her ear. 'Please Hermione, live. If for nothing else, live for me.' He pulled away and looked at her pale, cold face, and feared the worst. But then, the corners of her pale mouth twitched until it was in a weak smile, and the veined eyelids opened to reveal bloodshot eyes, and a small voice whispered…
'That's the most beautiful thing that I have ever heard.'
Draco reached the door of the hospital wing and knocked. When there was no answer he charged in, only to find a note on Pomfrey's desk that read 'Gone to London for extra supplies, back tomorrow morning. Now, even more worried about Hermione than ever, he charged back down the stairs, hoping that he would not be too late; because the last thing he wanted to see Hermione was dead. Far from it actually, he wanted her alive and well.
'Really?' asked Oliver, unable to keep in his excitement that she was alright, let alone what she had just said. He began to worry about her again. She looked pale. No, not just pale, she was white. 'Are you alright? What happened? Tell me, please.'
'Oh, Oliver it was awful! I started thinking about when Jamie…When Jamie…he- '
She let out a small cry, and then she broke down in to wracking sobs, flinging her arms around Oliver and crying on his shoulder. 'It was terrible, so terrible, I was so scared, and I was falling, falling with him! And all I could see was that green light, he was screaming-' She couldn't speak any more, it hurt so much.
Oliver had heard about how Jamie Granger died. He was captured and tortured to the edge of insanity, and yet his muggle body managed to live through what some of the strongest wizards couldn't endure. But the pain and torture did not stop, his spirit abused beyond repair. Hermione and her friends arrived at Voldemort's family manor, the dark Lord preparing to finish the job, Hermione flinging herself in front of him, Harry pulling her off just before the deed was committed, Voldemort crying the fatal spell a second after she was pulled from her brothers body, screaming at Harry, telling him she wanted to die too. Thankfully, Harry was able to pull it off, to defeat Voldemort before Hermione died from the pain, a pain that seared into every fibre of her being, so sure she was that her life was going to end, that she told Ron to remember her, to never forget. God she had been through a lot, he wasn't even sure that she had grieved yet; she hadn't had time to cry for crying's sake, to heal the wounds that remained inside long after external bruises had been cured.
Hermione was glad that there was someone with her, someone to hold her. The one thing that she really needed was a hug and someone to tell her that things were going to be alright. 'You're going to be fine, Hermione. Don't let the pain in. I'll look after you; I promise everything is going to be alright, you've got to fight.' He said, whispering through her hair. When he said that, it felt like the pain had started ebbing out, trapped inside the tears rolling down her cheeks and onto his shoulder.
'It's going!' said Hermione, gazing up into his eyes. 'You told me to fight the pain and I did and it's just floating away, I don't know what happened, it's just releasing' He had never been so relieved in his entire life; and at that moment he felt an elation that far surpassed winning any Quidditch cup.
'God I love you' he said, immediately regretting it. She was probably going out with Harry or some other prefect, and she wouldn't want some common Quidditch player anyway, she was too good for that, too good for him. Hell, she could have the world's number one seeker, Viktor Krum, if she wanted. He just wasn't her type; not famous like Krum or Harry, not funny like wrong, not dark like Draco. He looked down at her, expecting her to get up and run away like all the others. But she didn't. She was still there. And she was smiling at him.
'You are the first boy to say that to me. Ever' she beamed up at him.
'Then I guess I'll be the first boy to do this too' he said jokingly, leaning in and kissing her. Not sucking and slobbering like she'd seen muggle teenagers, but soft and gentle, more warmth than anything else. She felt a fluttering in her stomach which rose up inside her, till she had this uncontrollable urge to kiss him back, so she did. Gently reciprocating at first, and then becoming more passionate, until they were both on the cold floor, kissing so fiercely that they were oblivious to their surroundings.
Draco ran down the final section of wall before the toilets. The journey back had been a nightmare, a hundred worse case scenarios playing through his head over and over; Oliver crying over a blue Hermione telling him she didn't wake up, and never would, or Hermione waking up not knowing who she was and where she was, or her waking up and being empty, comatose, catatonic, without sight or speech, never knowing that he…well, lets not get carried away, Draco. He mentally slapped himself for thinking that way. Of everything he had considered, what he saw when he opened that door had not even crossed his mind. The two of them, together like that. Nothing too explicit, just snogging vigorously in their own little world with their eyes clamped shut. He went straight back out of the door he came in, and remembered how he had wondered who the lucky boy to possess Hermione Granger would be, and then he realised that the question had just answered itself. Draco stalked off to his room, knowing that no credit would be given to him, it would all be the "Good, honest Wood" saving "Poor, unconscious Hermione" all on his own. He could almost hear his own heart breaking as he slid under his duvet, ready for another sleepless night. Only this time it wouldn't be thoughts of her that made him evade sleep, it would be of the two of them, no doubt now at it like rabbits on the bathroom floor.
Hermione was still on cloud nine, still falling into Oliver, getting closer and closer but knowing where to stop. The moment came and she pulled away. 'I'm sorry, I'll have to stop, I couldn't, and I mean I can't, well, you know, Horizontal Celtic dancing.' Oliver let out a soft chuckle. 'I've never heard that name for it before! But yes, I understand, and this floor was getting colder by the minute anyway. Do you want some time alone in the bathroom to clean up, I mean, get back to your usual gorgeous self instead of the Chinese panda bear look.'
'Oh, right, thanks. Well, don't you have another set to play?'
'Yes, but first I think we'd better go for a little walk, just to make sure that you are alright. I don't want you collapsing on the dance floor' said Oliver, regaining his composure and smoothing his hair as he smiled to himself on his way out of the room.
Hermione looked in the mirror once more, but thankfully she now only saw herself, with messy hair and a black tear stained face, the Witch Weekly makeup spell unable to withstand the kind of tears she had just cried. She went into one of the cubicles and took a giant wad of paper off the loo roll, pointing her wand at it and muttering 'Maximalus Totalus' at which point the paper turned into what appeared to be a giant purple powder puff. She dabbed it across her face and hair, running down along her neck and cleavage. When she looked back into the mirror she looked just as she had at the beginning of the evening, fresh faced and without a puffy eye to be seen. She checked her hair, and left the bathroom looking the same (if not better than) she had before. Oliver was waiting for her outside the bathroom and took her arm. 'May I?' he asked, as charming as ever.
'Why thankyou, kind sir' said Hermione as he led her further down the hallway in the opposite direction of the hall.
After a while they reached the main door, and pushed it open, walking down towards the lake. 'She really is perfect' he thought to himself, looking into her eyes, which were illuminated by the light of the full moon. Her skin was translucent porcelain, creamy and clear, her lips soft and full, and her body slender and delicate; she was irresistible, and if he could have it his way, they would be far away, back in Scotland, living in a castle, and she could be his queen. But it was not to be, he could see that now, she was destined to do great things, and whether or not he was going to be standing by her was uncertain.
The light was reflecting of the seemingly jewelled lake and illuminating both of them, as if the light was shining out of them, not onto them. Hermione felt immortal, like she was going to stand here forever, forever with him. She looked up at him, and asked.
'What you said, did you mean it? I mean really, truly mean it? Not just a spur of the moment whim that you would say to anyone if they were hurting, but, deliberate?'
'Of all the things I've said, all the Quidditch speeches, the songs I've composed, I have never meant anything as much as I meant that. Nothing.' At that he kissed her again, took her into his arms and held onto her tightly, drowning in her, falling deeper.
Draco had not been able to sleep, as expected, and crawled out of his bed, and put on a rather garish emerald green satin night-robe that his mother had given him for his birthday last year. He felt like a drink, and approached the mug he kept on the sink and said 'Bloody Mary'. The cup filled instantaneously with red liquid. He went through his living room, to the double doors that lead onto a small balcony with a priceless view – The forbidden forest and the lake, its usually black surface glowing white, reflecting the moon light. Then he noticed two figures entwined; one tall with dirty blonde hair, and the other in a scarlet dress. 'What is this, let's torment Draco night? Shags around Britain with your hosts Oliver perfect Wood and Hermione perfect Granger, made for each other and practically perfect in every way?' Draco skulled the contents of the mug, and it refilled itself, the liquid pouring down his throat almost faster than the mug could replenish itself.
Oliver pulled away from her, as much as he hated to and said 'They'll be missing you. Plus, Fred and George will be as pissed as an Irish priest on Sunday for leaving them with instrumentals for so long.'
'Fred and George?!? They're in your band? I didn't even see them.'
'They still had their hoods down when we left; I broke a bit of a promise to talk to you, we were supposed to ignore all of the students while we played, and at the end of the evening unveil ourselves and become famous or something – another one of Fred's brilliant plans. But it's nothing, because I really wanted to talk to you, right?
'Right, and I was'- Oliver cut in. 'When is your next Hogsmeade weekend?'
'I'm Head Girl, Oliver; I can go into Hogsmeade whenever I want. Why?'
'Could you make it into the three broomsticks tomorrow night after you're finished at the school, just for a drink or something, I could buy you dinner, would you come?'
'Yes, of course I'll come. But we'd better get back to the ball, before people get suspicious. You know Hogwarts, you stub your toe and say 'Jiminy Cricket' or 'Crikey that hurt', tongues start wagging and within a week you're a foul mouthed death eater or something!' Oliver laughed to himself and said 'Well, if we don't get back soon they'll have us eloping to Gretna Green because you're pregnant with my child!' And at that, they both started giggling, and started to head back to the hall, both relived that the ordeal was over.
Draco stared down at the pair, laughing gaily and practically skipping back to the hall. Draco had to do something about it. He had only had three Bloody Marys, and surely he was good enough for her, all he had to do was ask, be kind, and how could she resist? Draco practically sprinted to the bathroom, showered, shaved and pulled on his favourite pair of black leather pants, boots, and pulled on a tight black tee shirt. He sprayed on deodorant and cologne, and combed his hair into a floppy part, sections falling onto his forehead like some devilishly handsome muggle actor. Anyway, he finished getting ready and charged down the stairs with one thing on his mind – he was going to win her over.
Ooohhhh – What do you think – should Draco win the day or will Hermione and Oliver have their romantic rendezvous at the pub – you decide! Yes, that's right, folks, whoever gets the most votes in my review section (The delightful Oliver or the delicious Draco) will win in the next chapter, and win Hermione's heart. Looks like Oliver is in the lead at the moment, but will Draco make up for lost time and win the day? It's up to you!!
