Chapter Three- Detention
Most of the castle awoke cheerfully Friday morning, but then, most of the castle hadn't been kept awake all night by miserable, self-pitying thoughts. Hermione was jerked rudely to consciousness by a loud knocking at her door.
"Hermione!" the voice was distinctly male, and it sounded very much like… Hermione jumped out of bed and ran hand sleepily through her hair.
"What?" she asked abruptly, opening the door. Malfoy leaned casually against the doorframe.
"We have class in two minutes, Granger. Are you coming, or what?"
"Oh my lord!" Hermione gasped. With a cry, she turned and raced into her bathroom, leaving Malfoy in the door. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and with a simple spell, her hair was devoid of any flyways. Casting another spell to change her clothing, Hermione rushed out into her bedroom, hurrying to collect her knapsack and quills from her desk.
"Took you long enough," Malfoy drawled, no crouching in the door, petting Ashes, who languished on the floor in ecstasy beneath his fingertips.
"You didn't have to wait," Hermione pointed out. Malfoy stood up and strode out into the common room, where he held the portrait open for Hermione, who brushed past him.
"Why are you being anything resembling nice to me?" she queried curiously. "Wouldn't you like to see the Mudblood in trouble?"
"I was being stupid and got you in trouble, as well as myself. I figured I should work on my attitude," Malfoy said, and unreadable expression on his face.
"Oh, so the ice-man feels remorse after all!" Hermione exclaimed in fake shock. Malfoy's deadpan expression melted quickly into an irritated scowl.
"I have to turn here," he said turning down another passageway. Hermione paused in her pilgrimage to Potions class to watch Malfoy stride away down the dark corridor. He moved with surprising grace, she noted. Glancing at her watch, Hermione grimaced: she'd have to run to make it to class on time.
Hermione slid into her seat just as the bell rang. Snape swept in moments later, robes billowing at his sides, to begin their lecture on aging draughts. Scribbling notes, furiously, Hermione focused on the lesson, not looking at anyone. By the end of the lesson, she'd filled up two entire rolls of parchment. Blowing gently on the ink, Hermione listened intently as Snape announced the homework.
"I want one roll of parchment on the uses of aging draughts, completed by Monday, when you will hand it in. Class dismissed," he gestured towards the door and as the class rushed off for their break, Snape sank tiredly into his chair. Hermione watched him for a moment.
"Did I miss something Granger? I said that class was dismissed," he hissed.
"Just packing my bag, Professor," Hermione answered looking away. She could tell something was wrong but didn't have the courage to ask about it. Forgetting about Snape, Hermione rushed from the dungeons to the Entrance Hall, and from there to the library where she planned to get a head start on her Potions essay.
She entered the library and was immediately immersed in the scent of old leather and paper as she made her way to the back of the library where she spread her materials over a section of a large wooden table. Hermione read over her notes, muttering to herself, before jumping up and moving quietly to a bookshelf near the back corner of the library. She ran her fingers over several gleaming leather covers before pausing on a crimson book with gold leaf lettering.
"Practical Potions, by Unita Caldrun," Hermione read to herself. She flicked the cover open and ran her finger down a table of contents. "Topical Potions, Potions for Appliances, Potions for your pet, Problem-Solving Potions, Potions for the Baby, Potions for the bedroom," Hermione laughed to herself, "Potions for Health, Potions for beauty! Here we are!" Hermione flipped to page 358 and found the section titled "Aging Potions."
These potions are useful in situations where one must either look older, or one wishes to appear to be aging gracefully. Waxwing flies, the yolk of a Zairian chicken, and a sprig of properly aged bubbleweed can be interchanged in varying amounts to achieve various stages of age. This mixture was first discovered… Hermione stood at the bookshelf, lost in the text of the book.
"I should have known," a figure approached Hermione. It was Malfoy. Hermione looked up at him scowling. Malfoy snatched the book from Hermione's gentle grasp. He looked at the chapter she was reading. "Only you, Granger. Do you ever quit?" he smirked.
"Give it back, Malfoy," Hermione demanded angrily, holding out a slender hand.
"Why should I?" I need to take a peek at some information…this book might be just what I need. Thanks Granger." He started to turn from her, making like he was going to walk away.
"I mean it! Give the book back or I'll-" Malfoy cut her off.
"You'll what?" he asked nastily.
"I know some pretty revolting curses, Malfoy," Hermione warned.
"And you'd actually use them on me?" Malfoy sneered. "The Mudblood breaks rules? How shocking. I'm scarred for life. I expect my father would have something to say about you cursing me…"
"I'm not scared of your high-and-mighty father!" Hermione shot back, "And I break more rules than you might think!"
"What kind of rules?" Malfoy advanced on her. Hermione backed away, straight into the corner. Malfoy pressed forward until his face was mere inches from hers. Hermione looked up into his steely eyes and saw something there she couldn't describe. Then-
"Get off her, Malfoy," challenged a voice. Hermione looked past Malfoy and saw Ron standing near the corner of the bookshelf she had backed into.
"We're only chatting, Weasley," Malfoy drawled. "Something wrong with that?" Ron looked ready to tear Malfoy into tiny pieces.
"Leave it, Ron," Hermione pleaded. "Please." Ron sighed but nodded and released his fists which had been curled at his sides. Hermione yanked the book back from Malfoy's grasp, ducked under his arm, and stalked past him, collecting her parchment and knapsack from the table. After checking the book out from the library, Hermione headed to transfiguration, accompanied by a very protective-looking Ron Weasley.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Even Neville managed to refrain from any significant mishaps. By dinnertime, Hermione had finished all of her homework. She ate a light dinner and headed off to bed, hoping to get a nap before her late-night detention.
Hermione waited anxiously at the door of Greenhouse One, also Professor Sprout's office. the night sky glittered with stars, and a cool, gentle breeze brushed past. Two people approached from Hermione's left, one tall and slim, one short and compact.
"Good evening, Miss Granger," Professor Sprout said cheerily.
"Hullo, Professor," Hermione answered quickly. Malfoy now stood next to her his arm brushing hers. It radiated slight warmth, a sensation Hermione wasn't sure if she liked or not. Very odd, she thought.
"Your task tonight is to gather five dozen Mulberry slugs…apiece. I will supply you with gloves and containers. If you will step into my office, please…" the professor tapped the gleaming metal doorknob with her wand, unlocking the door, and beckoned the two students inside.
After receiving a covered wooden pail and special anti-slime charmed gloves each, Hermione and Draco stepped out into the pleasant night air. The moon poured a bright light down onto the lush grass of the sweeping front lawn.
"How's the book, Granger?" Draco asked in a not-so-nice way.
"Informative," Hermione answered plainly.
"Hmm." Draco walked silently at the girl's side. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye as they neared the dark trees of the Forbidden Forest. Her hair was sleek and shiny in the pale light of the moon and stars. Her eyes were focused levelly ahead, her nose turned up ever so slightly in a very cute sort of manner. Her mouth was parted in a silent sigh. Was she enjoying the night? Was she looking forward to this assignment? It seemed like a very Hermione style of thing. Five dozen slugs each. Gods, this was going to be long night.
After a few minutes of noiseless treading of a narrow path, Hermione turned abruptly into a clearing a few yards from the visible course parting the immense trees. Draco stood in the center of the clearing, gazing around with an expression of polite-like distaste in his icy stare. He glanced at his watch. Only 10:37. He was stuck here until 7:30 the next morning. Hell, only seven hours and twenty-three minutes to go. How many seconds was that? Hermione's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Professor Sprout said the slugs eat wild ivy and mulberry, correct?" Hermione asked. Then, answering herself, "Yes. Well, I think I see a few bushes of ivy over there. I'm going to take a look." She moved smoothly away past the trees. Draco looked up to the sky. Only the very edge of the moon shone over the treetops. After a short reverie, Draco's trance-like state was halted by a series of loud crashing noises accompanied by a shrill cry.
"Help! Draco! Help!" Hermione's voice was laden with fear. An icy feeling came over the boy. He thrust himself through a hedge and his eyes met a terrible sight. Hermione dangled upside down, held in the unrelenting grasp of a giant spider. One foreleg was curled around Hermione's body, moving the girl closer and closer to its gleaming pincers. Hermione struggled to reach her wand, but was quickly losing strength. Draco yanked his own wand from his robe pocket and pointed the spider's leg.
"Incendio!" he cried. Immediately, golden flames rose at the top of the leg. The spider made a noise resembling one of pain and dropped Hermione, who landed in a heap on the forest floor.
"Immobilius!" Draco shouted. The spider barely flinched, but turned towards Draco and danced crazily around, eyeing him, and nearly embedding Hermione in the ground. Draco noticed this and picked up a rock, which he chucked at the spider, shouting insults and moving across the clearing, trying to draw the spider away from Hermione. The spider followed Draco angrily, readying itself to strike.
As the spider neared, Draco looked around, trying desperately to think of something that could help him. No tree branches were close enough to the ground for him to climb, no spells came to his mind. The spider was right in front of him now. Draco could see each of its beady, black eyes, the coarse dark hair that coated its body, the pincers, poised to give a fatal blow.
"Avada Kedavra!" came a faint voice. Hermione! thought Draco as a flash of green light hit the spider. The tremendous arachnid screamed once and collapsed. Draco barely had time to leap out of the way of one of its legs as the spider fell.
Draco hurried past the lifeless spider to Hermione, who lay limp on the ground, her eyes closed.
"Hermione!" Draco gasped, dropping to his knees. He tugged her robes away from her face and tousled hair, then stroked her face with a finger. Hermione's eyes opened slowly, a smile ghosting on her mouth.
"Did it work?" she queried weakly.
"Yeah, but Hermione! That was dark magic! How did-? Where did you…"
"Barty Junior, fourth year," Hermione explained softly.
"You'll be in deep shit for this, Hermione. You stupid Mudblood!" Draco groaned.
"I did it to save your life. You saved mine," she pointed out.
"That – That's not the point! I'm not worth it, Granger," Draco growled fiercely. Hermione sat up.
"I think you are," Hermione explained simply, and slid her arms around his neck.
"Thank you." Draco looked deep into her eyes, noticing for the first time the gold that flecked her the rich brown. "I was so scared when I heard…" he trailed off. Draco tensed as Hermione leaned against him, then relaxed and stroked her back gently. Hermione quivered slightly.
"Are you cold?" Draco asked, concerned.
"No, it's just…" Hermione looked up at him. Slowly, Draco lowered his face and brushed his lips softly against hers.
Hermione sighed with deep contentment as Draco pulled reluctantly away. Draco rested his head on Hermione's hair and breathed in the scent. She smelled of Jasmine and moonlight. Perfect.