Disclaimer : I will never own Harry Potter, I won't even pretend I own Harry Potter.
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Although he didn't feel it at first, most likely because the excruciating pain was numbed by the roars from the crowd. Now that he tried to move, he realized he landed on his elbow, and broken it. No, not just broken it, shattered it. Blinding pain seared from the point of breakage as he tried to get up. He remembered getting a bludger in his stomach a few years back . . . but that pain was nothing compared to this. Draco got up on his knees and the pain must have shown on his face, since one of his green and silver clad teammates had helped him up and was helping him to the hospital wing. This was going to be a long night.
On the other hand though, Harry was cheering with the rest of the Griffindors that had run onto the pitch, in all their red and gold glory. He only caught a glimpse of the pain that flickered across his opponents face as he was helped off the pitch. Overall, this was an excellent start to the Quidditch season. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws seemed to agree as well. The Slytherins weren't as jolly a bunch though, especially Snape, who had shot a rather murderous look at Harry as he exited the pitch. Rightly so.
Hermione was torn between utter joy and worry though. She was the first Griffindor onto the pitch, and although the celebration was for Harry's sake, she did catch the look of utter pain etched across Malfoy's face, and out of the corner of her eye she watched him get up onto his knees, elbow clutched in his hand and be helped off the pitch by a fellow Slytherin and presumably to hospital wing. For a strange reason she felt a pain in her chest as she watched him go. The crowd of people around her were celebrating the victory over the opposing team, while Hermione, though happy Gryffindor won, was a little more concerned about a member of the opposing team.
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Dinner mirrored the attitudes expressed at the Quidditch pitch. Victory. Joy. Defeat. Hate. In Hermione case, slight anxiety. He hadn't shown up for dinner, and his teammates were shooting murderous glances at the Griffindor table. It wasn't only that though, Ron wasn't speaking to her. Well, more like she wasn't speaking to him. The argument that had taken place before her tumble down the stairs and kiss, was one of the most heated ones they had ever had. Now that was saying something, since they fought like cats and dogs on a regular basis. What he had said still stung. She had accused him of numerous things, but he had said the worst thing that she had ever heard from his lips. He had called her a Mudblood. It was something that she never expected to come out of his mouth. He hated that word. He cursed many a slytherin for even thinking that about her. So when it came out of his mouth though it had felt like a knife had been plunged into her heart and twisted. So she slapped him, and ran out the door, only to run into Malfoy, tumble down the stairs with him and received a rather confusing and yet pleasant kiss.
Needless to say the night before was rather confusing. She hadn't told Harry what Ron had said to her, he would be furious about it. All that would be left of Ron would fit into a matchbox. Wouldn't that be how it would go? Hermione didn't really know anymore. Was Ron's outburst reflective of both their opinions of her? A year ago she would had knocked herself silly for ever thinking such a thing. Now she wasn't sure . . .
Had Ron been the one to attack her or was it Malfoy. The purple bruise had now mostly faded from her pale forehead, but she still felt pain when she touched it. The thought of Ron hurting her in such a way made her sick to her stomach, she could imagine Malfoy doing such a thing. But her Ron? Never. Well, she thought to herself, maybe not never. Hermione excused herself from the festivities and only when she had traveled down the dark hallways, entered the girl's lavatories, locked the stall door behind her, she was sick at the thought. She was sick until she couldn't be sick anymore.
Things had become so confusing in the last 48 hours.
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Madam Pomfrey had tutted at the sight of him coming into the hospital wing. But had applied ointments and had given him a potion or two. He was told he had to stay in the hospital wing for the night. Which was fine by him. He probably didn't have the strength to face his teammates, house mates, and his rival team. Especially her. He couldn't face her. Which was strange for him, since nine times out of ten a female was the one's who cowered, gasped and flirted with him. This was a confusing situation for him. Very rarely, did a frizzy brown haired, cinnamon eyed, fair skinned mudblood, ever get under his skin. At least not like this. His greatest fear was Weasel though, though Draco wasn't scrawny by any means, but Weasel could turn him into pulp if the notion tickled his fancy. How else did he get the Quidditch position of Beater, while Draco was a slim, but fit Seeker.
He didn't give a damn what Weasley thought of him, just as long as Draco's head didn't end up crushed. Or dismembered from his body.
Hermione hadn't been so friendly with Weasley, the night before, By far she was more friendly with Draco than she was with Weasley. Which needless to say made him intrigued. And which intrigued him until the potions took full affect and sent him to sleep.
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Hermione didn't know what had come over her. Never before had she snuck into Harry's dorm and riffled through his things. Never before had she decided to "borrow" the invisibility cloak to go question an enemy. Damn curiosity. This was either going to get her answers or get her expelled. Her course of action though wasn't deterred when her fingers brushed across the silky material and pulled the cloak from it's hiding place. She quietly slipped it around her and closed Harry's trunk. Butterflies danced around in her stomach and she felt slightly lightheaded as she hurried down the stairs and out into the halls.
The hospital wing wasn't hard to find, but Hermione was uneasy about the whole endeavor though. Why was she doing this? Couldn't she just turn around and forget this whole idea? Sure, but she was already a standing beside his bed. He looked more peaceful during sleep than she had ever seen him during the hours he was awake. Yet he still possessed this devilishly handsome look that had become his trademark over the years. It was just a bit more subdued than usual. Which was a nice change. Hermione still remembered what she came here for though. So she let the cloak pool at her feet and attempted to shake him awake.
A small murmur escaped his lips before opening his eyes a sliver. The moon was the only illumination the room possessed at three in the morning. So when he turned his head around and finally took in the sight before him, he was a little surprised to say the least.
"Was it you?" she asked softly. It took a minute for him to register her words, but he answered her anyways.
"No," he lied just as softly.
"Why should I believe you?" she asked.
"No reason for you not to." he replied.
"There's no reason I should believe you either."
"No there isn't."
"Convince me."
"I won't be able to."
"How are you sure."
"Your a Griffindor, I'm a Slytherin. My words would always hold doubt in your mind," He said softly.
"Not true."
"Yes it is. You and I both know it. Is this all you came for? If so, get out."
"Why?"
"Because it's 3:00 am."
"True."
"Come here," he said softly. She stepped closer and made no objection when he kissed her again.
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Done. Yay. ummmmm......... what to say? Oh yeah, sorry for the appearance of not so nice Ron. Just for story purposes k?
See ya later.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Although he didn't feel it at first, most likely because the excruciating pain was numbed by the roars from the crowd. Now that he tried to move, he realized he landed on his elbow, and broken it. No, not just broken it, shattered it. Blinding pain seared from the point of breakage as he tried to get up. He remembered getting a bludger in his stomach a few years back . . . but that pain was nothing compared to this. Draco got up on his knees and the pain must have shown on his face, since one of his green and silver clad teammates had helped him up and was helping him to the hospital wing. This was going to be a long night.
On the other hand though, Harry was cheering with the rest of the Griffindors that had run onto the pitch, in all their red and gold glory. He only caught a glimpse of the pain that flickered across his opponents face as he was helped off the pitch. Overall, this was an excellent start to the Quidditch season. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws seemed to agree as well. The Slytherins weren't as jolly a bunch though, especially Snape, who had shot a rather murderous look at Harry as he exited the pitch. Rightly so.
Hermione was torn between utter joy and worry though. She was the first Griffindor onto the pitch, and although the celebration was for Harry's sake, she did catch the look of utter pain etched across Malfoy's face, and out of the corner of her eye she watched him get up onto his knees, elbow clutched in his hand and be helped off the pitch by a fellow Slytherin and presumably to hospital wing. For a strange reason she felt a pain in her chest as she watched him go. The crowd of people around her were celebrating the victory over the opposing team, while Hermione, though happy Gryffindor won, was a little more concerned about a member of the opposing team.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dinner mirrored the attitudes expressed at the Quidditch pitch. Victory. Joy. Defeat. Hate. In Hermione case, slight anxiety. He hadn't shown up for dinner, and his teammates were shooting murderous glances at the Griffindor table. It wasn't only that though, Ron wasn't speaking to her. Well, more like she wasn't speaking to him. The argument that had taken place before her tumble down the stairs and kiss, was one of the most heated ones they had ever had. Now that was saying something, since they fought like cats and dogs on a regular basis. What he had said still stung. She had accused him of numerous things, but he had said the worst thing that she had ever heard from his lips. He had called her a Mudblood. It was something that she never expected to come out of his mouth. He hated that word. He cursed many a slytherin for even thinking that about her. So when it came out of his mouth though it had felt like a knife had been plunged into her heart and twisted. So she slapped him, and ran out the door, only to run into Malfoy, tumble down the stairs with him and received a rather confusing and yet pleasant kiss.
Needless to say the night before was rather confusing. She hadn't told Harry what Ron had said to her, he would be furious about it. All that would be left of Ron would fit into a matchbox. Wouldn't that be how it would go? Hermione didn't really know anymore. Was Ron's outburst reflective of both their opinions of her? A year ago she would had knocked herself silly for ever thinking such a thing. Now she wasn't sure . . .
Had Ron been the one to attack her or was it Malfoy. The purple bruise had now mostly faded from her pale forehead, but she still felt pain when she touched it. The thought of Ron hurting her in such a way made her sick to her stomach, she could imagine Malfoy doing such a thing. But her Ron? Never. Well, she thought to herself, maybe not never. Hermione excused herself from the festivities and only when she had traveled down the dark hallways, entered the girl's lavatories, locked the stall door behind her, she was sick at the thought. She was sick until she couldn't be sick anymore.
Things had become so confusing in the last 48 hours.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Madam Pomfrey had tutted at the sight of him coming into the hospital wing. But had applied ointments and had given him a potion or two. He was told he had to stay in the hospital wing for the night. Which was fine by him. He probably didn't have the strength to face his teammates, house mates, and his rival team. Especially her. He couldn't face her. Which was strange for him, since nine times out of ten a female was the one's who cowered, gasped and flirted with him. This was a confusing situation for him. Very rarely, did a frizzy brown haired, cinnamon eyed, fair skinned mudblood, ever get under his skin. At least not like this. His greatest fear was Weasel though, though Draco wasn't scrawny by any means, but Weasel could turn him into pulp if the notion tickled his fancy. How else did he get the Quidditch position of Beater, while Draco was a slim, but fit Seeker.
He didn't give a damn what Weasley thought of him, just as long as Draco's head didn't end up crushed. Or dismembered from his body.
Hermione hadn't been so friendly with Weasley, the night before, By far she was more friendly with Draco than she was with Weasley. Which needless to say made him intrigued. And which intrigued him until the potions took full affect and sent him to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione didn't know what had come over her. Never before had she snuck into Harry's dorm and riffled through his things. Never before had she decided to "borrow" the invisibility cloak to go question an enemy. Damn curiosity. This was either going to get her answers or get her expelled. Her course of action though wasn't deterred when her fingers brushed across the silky material and pulled the cloak from it's hiding place. She quietly slipped it around her and closed Harry's trunk. Butterflies danced around in her stomach and she felt slightly lightheaded as she hurried down the stairs and out into the halls.
The hospital wing wasn't hard to find, but Hermione was uneasy about the whole endeavor though. Why was she doing this? Couldn't she just turn around and forget this whole idea? Sure, but she was already a standing beside his bed. He looked more peaceful during sleep than she had ever seen him during the hours he was awake. Yet he still possessed this devilishly handsome look that had become his trademark over the years. It was just a bit more subdued than usual. Which was a nice change. Hermione still remembered what she came here for though. So she let the cloak pool at her feet and attempted to shake him awake.
A small murmur escaped his lips before opening his eyes a sliver. The moon was the only illumination the room possessed at three in the morning. So when he turned his head around and finally took in the sight before him, he was a little surprised to say the least.
"Was it you?" she asked softly. It took a minute for him to register her words, but he answered her anyways.
"No," he lied just as softly.
"Why should I believe you?" she asked.
"No reason for you not to." he replied.
"There's no reason I should believe you either."
"No there isn't."
"Convince me."
"I won't be able to."
"How are you sure."
"Your a Griffindor, I'm a Slytherin. My words would always hold doubt in your mind," He said softly.
"Not true."
"Yes it is. You and I both know it. Is this all you came for? If so, get out."
"Why?"
"Because it's 3:00 am."
"True."
"Come here," he said softly. She stepped closer and made no objection when he kissed her again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Done. Yay. ummmmm......... what to say? Oh yeah, sorry for the appearance of not so nice Ron. Just for story purposes k?
See ya later.