Disclaimer: I don't own anything at all in the Harry Potter universe.
Courage to Find the Strength
Chapter 8
"Well, that explains why you didn't sit with us at lunch. I still can't believe Professor McGonagal is being so harsh. We'll be graduating soon enough, and then we can enter the forest whenever we bloody feel like it." Harry sounded angry except for the mischievous look on his face. He and Hermione were trying very hard not to be noticed by the other members of Hogwarts as they talked in a secluded doorway before their final class for the day began.
"I suppose I deserve it, Harry. Even as a full witch, the forest is a very dangerous place."
"Still, why did you skip class to follow Malfoy?"
"I thought I already told you. I wanted to get some information." Hermione looked away nervously. Harry wasn't fooled.
"And why did you later meet with him in the bathroom? Just to find out about his detention?" One eyebrow was arched, and he had a very skeptical look on his face.
"Harry, what are you implying?! That me and Malfoy.that we..that I did anything but try to get information from him?," Hermione protested, false indignation plastered on her face.
Harry laid a hand on her shoulder and looked her straight in the eye. With dead seriousness he said, "Well, did you?"
Hermione wanted to crawl into a dark hole and die. She told herself she only wanted to fill Harry in on her punishment and to explain how sorry she was that he and Ron would have to continue their investigation without her direct help, at least for the time-being. Yet, the embarrassed fire she felt in her face betrayed her. The reality was that she desperately wanted to talk to her best friend about what happened, and for reasons she couldn't explain, Hermione knew she couldn't go to Ron about this.
"Harry, Malfoy and I.," Hermione began, but Malfoy's voice echoed in her head before she could finish the sentence. ::The forest is home to a lot of things, Granger. Many of which are secret::
"'Mione, what happened? What are you refusing to tell me?" he asked in his most gently persuasive voice, but inside he was getting very frustrated. Harry had a sinking feeling that he was going to regret pushing her to tell him, but his friend was acting very strange lately. He felt duty-bound to help her through whatever it was, but he couldn't if she didn't talk to him first. He studied her face intently, searching it for any stray clues. He didn't suspect Malfoy attacked her in the forest, although he was almost positive something violent had transpired between them back at Malfoy Manor. Sadly, although he wasn't consciously aware of it, he agreed with Hermione that they couldn't involve Ron with this. Harry was well aware of his best male friend's powerful feelings for the young witch, and if he suspected that Draco had so much as laid a finger on Hermione, there was no telling what he would do to the pompous Slytherin.
Hermione could only look at Harry with a stricken look. She suddenly felt very alone. She had silently agreed with Malfoy not to broadcast what happened back in the forest, and she assumed that extended to the little whatever-it-was that almost happened in the lavatory. She knew she could trust Harry to keep quiet and to probably give her good objective advice, even if it was Malfoy they were talking about. Yet, a promise was a promise, and a Gryffindor didn't go back on promises, even when they were made with a Slytherin. With a heavy heart and sorrow in her eyes, she said, "Look, Harry, I'm not even supposed to associate with him until this semester is over. Whatever did or did not happen is past. I'm fine. Really, I am. Let's just go to class. At least Professor McGonagal can't keep us apart while we're in there."
The sorrow and regret in Hermione's eyes were mirrored in his own. He nodded sadly, and they made their way back to class but not before he gave her a swift hug to reinforce that he would always be there for her if she needed him.
Unfortunately for Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin would fast learn no one was going to be there for him. It was bad enough he had to scrape some disgusting gooey crap off the ceiling from a failed fourth-year's potion as part of his detention with Professor Snape, but it angered him to no end that his thoughts were centered around the Gryffindor girl when he had far larger problems to worry about like how he was going to win back his Slytherin housemates. God, he hated her! He didn't need any of this right now! Absent-mindedly cleaning, he again went back to their kiss in the forest and how her heart must have been beating as loudly and quickly as his had. He threw his trowel down on the table in disgust. Damn that fucking woman! Why had he felt such a magnetic, almost animalistic, pull towards her in that accursed bathroom! Because opposites attract, you bloody daft moron! He knew it wasn't allowed, but he couldn't take another moment of scraping the foul substance into the trash bin, so he picked up his wand and magically set the place tidy. Who would ever know? And it looked a hell of a lot better than if he had finished it by himself.
Draco left the basket to be emptied by the janitorial house-elves and went for a walk around the quiet school before heading back to his room in the Slytherin dungeons. Again he spelled himself so that only if someone were directly looking for him, he wouldn't be noticed. The halls were empty and utterly quiet, very much like he felt or wanted to feel most of the time. He would never admit it to anyone, but Draco loved this old pile of bricks. There was always some excitement when he needed it the most, especially at the expense of Potter, Weasley, or Granger. Or, he smiled to himself, it could be the most serene and peaceful place on the earth. It was the only spot, other than his secret glade that he felt really safe and secure. He certainly didn't feel that way back at Malfoy Manor where his father's mood swings could just as easily bring lavish attention and praise or a session in the dungeon. Suddenly, he heard a clanging sound coming from the next hallway and headed that way to investigate.
Malfoy approached Professor McGonagal's classroom and almost laughed at the girl inside's predicament. It looked like she was supposed to be mopping the animagus' classroom, but things had gotten out of hand. There were about fifty mops all carrying buckets of water or mopping, but they were multiplying out of control. Hermione was trying to stop them, but all of her magical words only seemed to be making things worse as they sped up their mopping and sped up their multiplying. She looked over at the doorway and suddenly broke out into a smile.
"Oh my god, Malfoy! You've got to help me!" she cried, a little embarrassed.
Draco was shocked she could see him. Hmm, I must have been on her mind, he thought. But, the thought didn't disgust him as much as he assumed it would have. Shrugging it off, he entered the very wet classroom. With a word and a wave of his wand, all of the copy mops disintegrated into dust and the sole remainder returned back to its original state.
"Thanks," she grinned.
"What the hell happened in here?" Malfoy leaned up against the head desk with an amused expression on his face and his arms crossed in front of him.
"Things, uh, got a little out of hand. I thought maybe the mouse was onto something, but I forgot until too late how that story ended." Hermione laughed a little at her embarrassment, but Draco was mesmerized by the simple act of her tucking a few stray locks of hair behind her ears. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.
"Mouse, huh?"
"Oh, I forgot, you probably don't watch muggle movies so you won't know what I'm talking about," she sighed. "Anyway, let's just say it was a bad idea, and I've got more of a mess on my hands than before."
"No, you don't," he replied. Before she could protest, he waved his wand, uttered a few words and the floor was dry and clean as a whistle.
"Malfoy! I can't use magic!" she cried in exasperation.
He only shrugged again, not seeming to care, but then he looked over at her and winked. Hermione drew a quick breath. "Did you just wink at me, Malfoy?"
"Glad to know you're not as blind as you are inept."
"Shut up." Her usual disgusted look reserved for him reappeared. She crossed her arms and glared at him. Malfoy didn't seem to mind. After all these years, such a posture had ceased to have any effect on him except give him amusement. Years ago, he secretly been a little apprehensive knowing her advanced abilities with magic. But now, after all the years defending himself during his father's 'lessons' and somewhat more violent pranks of older Slytherins, he was confident he could handle anything she did to him. Well, almost anything, he darkly corrected himself.
Malfoy started to walk out of the room as Hermione began to gather up the mop and bucket to return them to the janitorial closet. He noticed her keep one eye on him as he left, but he got her full attention when he stopped at the doorway and called back to her, "You know, you're actually kind of cute when you get mad like that."
He could only grin as he heard her sputtering oaths as he traveled out of earshot. He was almost feeling better about this horrible day until, that is, he got back to his room.
Courage to Find the Strength
Chapter 8
"Well, that explains why you didn't sit with us at lunch. I still can't believe Professor McGonagal is being so harsh. We'll be graduating soon enough, and then we can enter the forest whenever we bloody feel like it." Harry sounded angry except for the mischievous look on his face. He and Hermione were trying very hard not to be noticed by the other members of Hogwarts as they talked in a secluded doorway before their final class for the day began.
"I suppose I deserve it, Harry. Even as a full witch, the forest is a very dangerous place."
"Still, why did you skip class to follow Malfoy?"
"I thought I already told you. I wanted to get some information." Hermione looked away nervously. Harry wasn't fooled.
"And why did you later meet with him in the bathroom? Just to find out about his detention?" One eyebrow was arched, and he had a very skeptical look on his face.
"Harry, what are you implying?! That me and Malfoy.that we..that I did anything but try to get information from him?," Hermione protested, false indignation plastered on her face.
Harry laid a hand on her shoulder and looked her straight in the eye. With dead seriousness he said, "Well, did you?"
Hermione wanted to crawl into a dark hole and die. She told herself she only wanted to fill Harry in on her punishment and to explain how sorry she was that he and Ron would have to continue their investigation without her direct help, at least for the time-being. Yet, the embarrassed fire she felt in her face betrayed her. The reality was that she desperately wanted to talk to her best friend about what happened, and for reasons she couldn't explain, Hermione knew she couldn't go to Ron about this.
"Harry, Malfoy and I.," Hermione began, but Malfoy's voice echoed in her head before she could finish the sentence. ::The forest is home to a lot of things, Granger. Many of which are secret::
"'Mione, what happened? What are you refusing to tell me?" he asked in his most gently persuasive voice, but inside he was getting very frustrated. Harry had a sinking feeling that he was going to regret pushing her to tell him, but his friend was acting very strange lately. He felt duty-bound to help her through whatever it was, but he couldn't if she didn't talk to him first. He studied her face intently, searching it for any stray clues. He didn't suspect Malfoy attacked her in the forest, although he was almost positive something violent had transpired between them back at Malfoy Manor. Sadly, although he wasn't consciously aware of it, he agreed with Hermione that they couldn't involve Ron with this. Harry was well aware of his best male friend's powerful feelings for the young witch, and if he suspected that Draco had so much as laid a finger on Hermione, there was no telling what he would do to the pompous Slytherin.
Hermione could only look at Harry with a stricken look. She suddenly felt very alone. She had silently agreed with Malfoy not to broadcast what happened back in the forest, and she assumed that extended to the little whatever-it-was that almost happened in the lavatory. She knew she could trust Harry to keep quiet and to probably give her good objective advice, even if it was Malfoy they were talking about. Yet, a promise was a promise, and a Gryffindor didn't go back on promises, even when they were made with a Slytherin. With a heavy heart and sorrow in her eyes, she said, "Look, Harry, I'm not even supposed to associate with him until this semester is over. Whatever did or did not happen is past. I'm fine. Really, I am. Let's just go to class. At least Professor McGonagal can't keep us apart while we're in there."
The sorrow and regret in Hermione's eyes were mirrored in his own. He nodded sadly, and they made their way back to class but not before he gave her a swift hug to reinforce that he would always be there for her if she needed him.
Unfortunately for Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin would fast learn no one was going to be there for him. It was bad enough he had to scrape some disgusting gooey crap off the ceiling from a failed fourth-year's potion as part of his detention with Professor Snape, but it angered him to no end that his thoughts were centered around the Gryffindor girl when he had far larger problems to worry about like how he was going to win back his Slytherin housemates. God, he hated her! He didn't need any of this right now! Absent-mindedly cleaning, he again went back to their kiss in the forest and how her heart must have been beating as loudly and quickly as his had. He threw his trowel down on the table in disgust. Damn that fucking woman! Why had he felt such a magnetic, almost animalistic, pull towards her in that accursed bathroom! Because opposites attract, you bloody daft moron! He knew it wasn't allowed, but he couldn't take another moment of scraping the foul substance into the trash bin, so he picked up his wand and magically set the place tidy. Who would ever know? And it looked a hell of a lot better than if he had finished it by himself.
Draco left the basket to be emptied by the janitorial house-elves and went for a walk around the quiet school before heading back to his room in the Slytherin dungeons. Again he spelled himself so that only if someone were directly looking for him, he wouldn't be noticed. The halls were empty and utterly quiet, very much like he felt or wanted to feel most of the time. He would never admit it to anyone, but Draco loved this old pile of bricks. There was always some excitement when he needed it the most, especially at the expense of Potter, Weasley, or Granger. Or, he smiled to himself, it could be the most serene and peaceful place on the earth. It was the only spot, other than his secret glade that he felt really safe and secure. He certainly didn't feel that way back at Malfoy Manor where his father's mood swings could just as easily bring lavish attention and praise or a session in the dungeon. Suddenly, he heard a clanging sound coming from the next hallway and headed that way to investigate.
Malfoy approached Professor McGonagal's classroom and almost laughed at the girl inside's predicament. It looked like she was supposed to be mopping the animagus' classroom, but things had gotten out of hand. There were about fifty mops all carrying buckets of water or mopping, but they were multiplying out of control. Hermione was trying to stop them, but all of her magical words only seemed to be making things worse as they sped up their mopping and sped up their multiplying. She looked over at the doorway and suddenly broke out into a smile.
"Oh my god, Malfoy! You've got to help me!" she cried, a little embarrassed.
Draco was shocked she could see him. Hmm, I must have been on her mind, he thought. But, the thought didn't disgust him as much as he assumed it would have. Shrugging it off, he entered the very wet classroom. With a word and a wave of his wand, all of the copy mops disintegrated into dust and the sole remainder returned back to its original state.
"Thanks," she grinned.
"What the hell happened in here?" Malfoy leaned up against the head desk with an amused expression on his face and his arms crossed in front of him.
"Things, uh, got a little out of hand. I thought maybe the mouse was onto something, but I forgot until too late how that story ended." Hermione laughed a little at her embarrassment, but Draco was mesmerized by the simple act of her tucking a few stray locks of hair behind her ears. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.
"Mouse, huh?"
"Oh, I forgot, you probably don't watch muggle movies so you won't know what I'm talking about," she sighed. "Anyway, let's just say it was a bad idea, and I've got more of a mess on my hands than before."
"No, you don't," he replied. Before she could protest, he waved his wand, uttered a few words and the floor was dry and clean as a whistle.
"Malfoy! I can't use magic!" she cried in exasperation.
He only shrugged again, not seeming to care, but then he looked over at her and winked. Hermione drew a quick breath. "Did you just wink at me, Malfoy?"
"Glad to know you're not as blind as you are inept."
"Shut up." Her usual disgusted look reserved for him reappeared. She crossed her arms and glared at him. Malfoy didn't seem to mind. After all these years, such a posture had ceased to have any effect on him except give him amusement. Years ago, he secretly been a little apprehensive knowing her advanced abilities with magic. But now, after all the years defending himself during his father's 'lessons' and somewhat more violent pranks of older Slytherins, he was confident he could handle anything she did to him. Well, almost anything, he darkly corrected himself.
Malfoy started to walk out of the room as Hermione began to gather up the mop and bucket to return them to the janitorial closet. He noticed her keep one eye on him as he left, but he got her full attention when he stopped at the doorway and called back to her, "You know, you're actually kind of cute when you get mad like that."
He could only grin as he heard her sputtering oaths as he traveled out of earshot. He was almost feeling better about this horrible day until, that is, he got back to his room.
