Title: Firefly
Chapter 9: 99 Bottles
Author: Kitty Malfoy
A/N: This one is a fun one! OMG! Now you guys are getting really screwed 'cuz I was gonna be able to get a few more chapters out, but now I have yet ANOTHER debate tournament! *Bangs head on computer desk* WAH! I know! Pisses me off too. BUT. But I need to get these speeches written or else I'm rather screwed, plus I should be getting the rough draft of my project from school back tomorrow and then I need to finish that. Then we have my birthday on the 23 send e-cards! and then Christmas two days later! December just ain't a good month. I'll try my best though.
*********
Draco seemed so different around her lately. So much different than his normal self. It was more real. But why her? Hermione had no idea why he had chosen her, his enemy of all people, to reveal himself too. It was just too abnormal. But then again, that's what she had thought when she had received her letter of acceptance from Hogwarts. Hermione was glad Draco hadn't followed her. She wasn't sure if it was because he was simply confused or if he sensed she needed some time alone. Either way, she was grateful.
She reflected on her past words, and her eyebrows furrowed. It was true that Hermione didn't trust herself around. Didn't trust herself not to slap him silly every time that damn smirk appeared on his stupid, annoying, chiseled, handsome, kissable features. WOAH! Hermione's brain slammed on the brakes so fast it made her head reel. Chiseled? Handsome? KISSABLE? What the fuck was going on?
Hermione cursed Malfoy under her breath. Of course it was his fault in some crazy and twisted logic she reasoned with herself. It wasn't her. It couldn't be her.
Could it?
Ever since their meeting at Valmont Mansion Hermione had been feeling different towards the Slytherin. At first Hermione thought it had just been amiability, but now she wasn't so sure. Had it blossomed into something totally different? Something more? Was it l-? No! Hermione refused to believe it; that it was even a possibility,
Five Butterbeers later, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned groggily around. Harry looked at her in concern. Multi-colored strobe lights moved across his face; changing it to a rainbow of colors. She turned slightly on her barstool as he sat down next to her at the club's bar.
A sixth Butterbeer was cradled loosely in damp fingers and the condensation from the glass beaded on her flushed skin. Harry's eyes moved from the bottle in her hand to the pile of empty ones on the counter. Then he looked back at Hermione.
"I was looking for you." She insisted in a slurred lisp. Her lips moved as if speaking for the very first time.
Harry's lips pursed and he rested his elbow on the bar counter. "Did you find me at the bottom of the bottle?" he asked. Unlike Draco, whose tone would have been coy and slightly mocking, Harry spoke with a voice full of sympathy.
Hermione shook her head. To clear out the strange comparison and to deny Harry's mild accusation rather than answer it. "No, really, Harry!" She stood up and immediately her legs buckled beneath her. Harry caught her as she tumbled forward, and straightened her out. While Hermione brushed the curls out of her face Harry seized the opportunity and snatched the bottle out of her hand.
Hermione was surprised at herself as she squealed and reached for her stolen her drink. "Harry!" She whined. She stumbled for it and fell again. Harry dropped the bottle and grabbed for Hermione. He placed her back on her stool and held her there.
She looked in horror as the bottle fell to the concrete dance floor. It tipped onto it's side and spun slightly pouring it's contents all over the ground leaving a soon-to-be sticky mess that would likely stain the ground for years.
"You're drunk!" Harry insisted looking her in the eyes.
Hermione was outraged. "Drunk? Drunk?!" She sputtered. Tiny flecks of spit flew from her mouth in her rage and her face grew darker than its already rosy drunken hue. "I most certainly am not!"
"Hermione..."
"NO! I only had a few." She motioned towards the pile on the counter. To prove a point she picked one up and pointed to it. "See look, 'Lite' Butterbeer. No big."
"No big?" Ron exclaimed, picking up on Hermione's last comment, and walking up to the couple. " 'Mione. Not liking the drowning of the sorrows."
"Not drowning! Wading..." She insisted weakly.
Ron rolled her eyes. "I think you've had enough, Hermione." Ron declared, grabbing her coat, and wrapping it around her shoulders.
She glared at him. "No! I'm not done here! I've got issues. Real, legitimate issues that I need to sort out." Both Harry and Ron looked at her in surprised concern. For once, neither decided to try and pry out an answer. In a distant part of her mind, Hermione was grateful.
"So you're getting yourself pissing drunk!" Ron exclaimed guiding her towards the club exit.
"You would too if you were in l-." Hermione cut herself off, and she heard Harry's sharp intake of breath. She felt him looking at her through the corner of his eye, and she deliberately and shamefully avoided his gaze. "If you had any idea what's happening to me!"
"You're right. I don't have any idea what's happening to you. Neither of us do. Maybe it's 'cuz you won't talk to us." Ron pointed out.
The trio exited Hell's Gates and the rush of freezing wind helped to clear Hermione's mind and bring her crashing back into focus. She shook free of her friend's supporting grasps and turned to face them.
She didn't bother to hold her cloak and it whipped up around her neck and unfurled behind her. She held her hands, clasped, at her chest as she backed away from them. The spell on her hair seemed to be wearing off and luxurious fist sized curls at the ends of her hair blew across her face. With her white skin and attire she fit the part of a fallen angel perfectly.
"You just wouldn't understand this..." She whispered and apparated to the edge of Hogwarts; then ran up the path to the castle.
*********
Chapter 9: 99 Bottles
Author: Kitty Malfoy
A/N: This one is a fun one! OMG! Now you guys are getting really screwed 'cuz I was gonna be able to get a few more chapters out, but now I have yet ANOTHER debate tournament! *Bangs head on computer desk* WAH! I know! Pisses me off too. BUT. But I need to get these speeches written or else I'm rather screwed, plus I should be getting the rough draft of my project from school back tomorrow and then I need to finish that. Then we have my birthday on the 23 send e-cards! and then Christmas two days later! December just ain't a good month. I'll try my best though.
*********
Draco seemed so different around her lately. So much different than his normal self. It was more real. But why her? Hermione had no idea why he had chosen her, his enemy of all people, to reveal himself too. It was just too abnormal. But then again, that's what she had thought when she had received her letter of acceptance from Hogwarts. Hermione was glad Draco hadn't followed her. She wasn't sure if it was because he was simply confused or if he sensed she needed some time alone. Either way, she was grateful.
She reflected on her past words, and her eyebrows furrowed. It was true that Hermione didn't trust herself around. Didn't trust herself not to slap him silly every time that damn smirk appeared on his stupid, annoying, chiseled, handsome, kissable features. WOAH! Hermione's brain slammed on the brakes so fast it made her head reel. Chiseled? Handsome? KISSABLE? What the fuck was going on?
Hermione cursed Malfoy under her breath. Of course it was his fault in some crazy and twisted logic she reasoned with herself. It wasn't her. It couldn't be her.
Could it?
Ever since their meeting at Valmont Mansion Hermione had been feeling different towards the Slytherin. At first Hermione thought it had just been amiability, but now she wasn't so sure. Had it blossomed into something totally different? Something more? Was it l-? No! Hermione refused to believe it; that it was even a possibility,
Five Butterbeers later, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned groggily around. Harry looked at her in concern. Multi-colored strobe lights moved across his face; changing it to a rainbow of colors. She turned slightly on her barstool as he sat down next to her at the club's bar.
A sixth Butterbeer was cradled loosely in damp fingers and the condensation from the glass beaded on her flushed skin. Harry's eyes moved from the bottle in her hand to the pile of empty ones on the counter. Then he looked back at Hermione.
"I was looking for you." She insisted in a slurred lisp. Her lips moved as if speaking for the very first time.
Harry's lips pursed and he rested his elbow on the bar counter. "Did you find me at the bottom of the bottle?" he asked. Unlike Draco, whose tone would have been coy and slightly mocking, Harry spoke with a voice full of sympathy.
Hermione shook her head. To clear out the strange comparison and to deny Harry's mild accusation rather than answer it. "No, really, Harry!" She stood up and immediately her legs buckled beneath her. Harry caught her as she tumbled forward, and straightened her out. While Hermione brushed the curls out of her face Harry seized the opportunity and snatched the bottle out of her hand.
Hermione was surprised at herself as she squealed and reached for her stolen her drink. "Harry!" She whined. She stumbled for it and fell again. Harry dropped the bottle and grabbed for Hermione. He placed her back on her stool and held her there.
She looked in horror as the bottle fell to the concrete dance floor. It tipped onto it's side and spun slightly pouring it's contents all over the ground leaving a soon-to-be sticky mess that would likely stain the ground for years.
"You're drunk!" Harry insisted looking her in the eyes.
Hermione was outraged. "Drunk? Drunk?!" She sputtered. Tiny flecks of spit flew from her mouth in her rage and her face grew darker than its already rosy drunken hue. "I most certainly am not!"
"Hermione..."
"NO! I only had a few." She motioned towards the pile on the counter. To prove a point she picked one up and pointed to it. "See look, 'Lite' Butterbeer. No big."
"No big?" Ron exclaimed, picking up on Hermione's last comment, and walking up to the couple. " 'Mione. Not liking the drowning of the sorrows."
"Not drowning! Wading..." She insisted weakly.
Ron rolled her eyes. "I think you've had enough, Hermione." Ron declared, grabbing her coat, and wrapping it around her shoulders.
She glared at him. "No! I'm not done here! I've got issues. Real, legitimate issues that I need to sort out." Both Harry and Ron looked at her in surprised concern. For once, neither decided to try and pry out an answer. In a distant part of her mind, Hermione was grateful.
"So you're getting yourself pissing drunk!" Ron exclaimed guiding her towards the club exit.
"You would too if you were in l-." Hermione cut herself off, and she heard Harry's sharp intake of breath. She felt him looking at her through the corner of his eye, and she deliberately and shamefully avoided his gaze. "If you had any idea what's happening to me!"
"You're right. I don't have any idea what's happening to you. Neither of us do. Maybe it's 'cuz you won't talk to us." Ron pointed out.
The trio exited Hell's Gates and the rush of freezing wind helped to clear Hermione's mind and bring her crashing back into focus. She shook free of her friend's supporting grasps and turned to face them.
She didn't bother to hold her cloak and it whipped up around her neck and unfurled behind her. She held her hands, clasped, at her chest as she backed away from them. The spell on her hair seemed to be wearing off and luxurious fist sized curls at the ends of her hair blew across her face. With her white skin and attire she fit the part of a fallen angel perfectly.
"You just wouldn't understand this..." She whispered and apparated to the edge of Hogwarts; then ran up the path to the castle.
*********
