~Chapter Five~
Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter.
To my readers: I would like to apologize for the length of time it's taken to get these chapters posted. Between my old computer biting the dust, my life turning to fecal matter, and a stubborn case of writer's block I haven't done very much writing. My Original Plan was to have this entire fic written and posted before Order of the Phoenix came out. Fat Chance. I was given OotP this morning as a surprise and I thought I would post these two chapters before I began reading it. Because I am planning on revising this whole thing so as not to contradict anything in the new book, and will probably have to scrap large portions of it, I thought I should at least share what I have done. In the next few weeks I plan to rewrite, revise and redo all of these chapters. At worse I will be forced to rethink my whole plot and storyline. At best I will only have to fix bits and pieces here and there. Either way, please tell me what you think.
Drowned in Tears
Chapter 5
Frustration
Hermione cringed as the switch cracked over the posterior end of Neville. Clenching her hands into fists, she stared resolutely at her lap, feeling so utterly useless sitting there as Neville was once again victimized by the sadistic professor. It took all the willpower she had not to rise against this newest injustice and shove that willow switch where it so rightfully belonged.
By the fifth stroke Neville was blubbering loudly. Most of the Slytherins and even a few Gryffindors were snickering openly at him, which infuriated Hermione all the more. The chubby young man may be a klutz and a near-Squib, but he'd never been anything but kind and friendly toward anyone. His Gryffindor comrades should have at least had the respect not to laugh at his misfortune. But what did she expect? The young woman crossed her arms over her chest and ground her teeth together. Had she been treated any better?
After casting her best Avada Kedavra glare at the amused Parvati, Hermione looked down to the row in front of her where Harry sat next to Ron. They'd been speaking quietly about something important (probably her) when the professor had flown into the room. Now they sat silent, watching. Harry's jaw was clenched and veins stuck out in his neck. Ron, on the other hand, looked vacantly flabbergasted as usual. It was odd to Hermione how she once found that vacuous gape to be so charmingly adorable and now she just found it purely irritating.
Movement to her right easily caught her attention and she turned her head. It was Draco easing himself into the chair beside her. Her heart skipped a beat and a half. His eyes were glassy and rimmed in pink, dark circles beneath contrasted against his paler-than-usual skin. He sneered at her and through his tangled eyelashes he peered down, his glassy eyes picking up the candlelight in an almost unholy way. Hermione looked away, suddenly more uncomfortable over that anomaly combined with his red-rimmed eyelids and the stark contrast of the dark circles beneath them. Draco looked positively forlorn, almost demonic… and undeniably beautiful. She crossed her left leg over her right and shivered. The classroom was more uncomfortably cold than usual.
Whap! The eighth stroke connected and pulled Hermione from her daze with a start. Draco's snort was lost in Neville's high-pitched yelp. "It seems this will be the year when Longbottom will become known as Sorebottom." Malfoy chuckled at his own humor.
"Neville doesn't deserve this, Malfoy," she hissed in retort, deliberately not looking up, and tossing her mane crossly. "He was set up." She tapped the desk as she said each of the last four words to emphasize her point.
"Seems there's a lot of that going around," he muttered, as he began to absently organize his potion supplies. His elbow brushed against a book and it slammed to the floor. Snape looked up with a glare, searching for whoever it was that dared to interrupt but then quickly returned to beating Neville as soon as he saw it was Draco.
Hermione raised her eyebrows and finally turned to watch Draco ease himself gently into the chair and immediately begin to shift around as if the seat were covered with splinters. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Draco bent down to retrieve the fallen book and as he did so his hair floated out to tickle her leg. He had the slippery, silky sort of hair that always feels cool to the touch. She jerked her knee away.
"Nothing." The young man heaved a sigh of relief as Neville's punishment came to an end. Saved, he thought watching Snape take his place behind the podium, arranging his notes. He'd already said too much to her as it was.
Neville tearfully stumbled back to his seat. His hair stood at all angles and he dragged his school robes behind him by the one sleeve that remained on his arm. Hermione watched with a sympathetic expression as he grasped the backrest of his chair and the edge of the desk, and then slowly lowered himself into his seat.
"Why don't you sit elsewhere?" Hermione asked. She did NOT want to spend the entire class next to Malfoy. Her upset stomach was already returning.
"Where would you like me to sit, Granger?" he asked, glancing about the room. "Every other seat is taken." He leaned forward and twisted a leg beneath him.
"That's what you get for being late." Turning her head to give him her blandest expression, she suggested, "How about the floor?" A smirk twitched at the corners of her moist lips.
Draco did not have the opportunity to respond as Professor Snape began to speak. "As this is your final year, you will be learning how to create your own potions." He looked up to the back row. "If that is alright with you, Miss Granger." They made eye contact and he glowered.
"Of course, Professor," said Hermione in her most pleasant voice. She grinned at him, he scowled even more deeply and went a shade paler as he suppressed his irritation. Over the years she'd learned that saccharine sweetness was the best way to torment her professor. It was a small triumph, but Hermione relished any annoyance she caused him.
Clearing his throat, Snape went on. "As you are all now familiar with the basic theories and ingredients in magic, I expect most of you to have no difficulties." The Potions Master droned on and Hermione scribbled at her notes, all too aware of Draco's presence at her side. The fact that he was constantly squirming about didn't help matters at all.
"… weeks assignment will be a simple one…"
"What is wrong with you?" she whispered, crossing a T and tilting her head slightly to look at him.
"Mind your own business." He turned his nose up at her and violently dipped his quill into the ink well, nearly tipping it over. His flush was not lost on Hermione, whose curiosity was now fully aroused. What could be wrong that the normally so controlled and aloof young man was fidgeting in such an… undignified way? She watched out of the corner of her eye as he raked a quivering hand through his hair and gave out a ragged sigh.
"Sleeping draughts are among the simplest, as you well know..."
Neville sniffled loudly and she turned part of her attention to him for the moment to watch him fiddle about in his spot. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and blotted the tears from his pudgy cheeks while shifting his position several times.
"…grade will be based not only upon the success…"
Neville twisted one leg beneath him in an attempt to take his body weight off his bottom. A realization began to dawn upon Hermione.
"…but also on originality of ingredient combinations…"
Her gaze shifted back and forth between Neville and Draco several times. She'd heard Draco had been called to the headmaster's office that morning, and then she finally understood why Draco was behaving so oddly.
"…of course will be testing these potions on yourselves, so be cautious…"
Putting her hand to her mouth, Hermione's laugh came out sounding more like a hiccup. She tried to keep a straight face, but found it impossible. Laughing as quietly as she could, a soft glow appeared on her cheeks, intensifying her peaches and cream complexion.
Snape looked up at Hermione sharply as he finished his lecture. "You may take the rest of the period to research your potions." The professor sat down at his desk, withdrew a quill and parchment and began to write, tuning out the class.
"What the hell are you laughing at?" Draco asked under his breath, now thoroughly annoyed for he had caught himself gawking at her for several moments before finally responding to her all-too-knowing laughter.
Hermione's only response was another torrent of giggles disguised as a coughing fit. Draco pressed his quill to the parchment so hard he bent the tip. With a shaking hand and a curse he withdrew a fresh one from a pocket and dipped it into the ink, this time splattering the black fluid across the desk. Smirking, Hermione opened her textbook and paged through to the chapter on sleeping potions.
Unable to keep her focus on her studies for more than a few minutes at a time, Hermione continuously peered at Draco through her curls. She chewed on the very tip of her quill. Glancing at his sublime profile, a smile came unbidden to her lips. What had he done to warrant a caning on the first day of school? She thought back to the Prefects Assembly, picturing Draco bent over the chair instead of Harry and then immediately shied away from the image. There was something terribly overwhelming about it.
The classroom had become disturbingly warm though Hermione had been frigid just moments before. Her throat was painfully dry. Hermione sat back in her chair; still watching Draco under her lowered eyelids, and loosened her tie. His forehead grew tenser. After undoing the top two buttons on her blouse, she unwrapped a sugarquill. Suckling the confection restlessly, she watched a deep frown meander across his face. A sheen of perspiration appeared on his furrowed brow. He finally looked up.
"Stop staring at me," he commanded. It was apparent from the expression on his face he had been fully aware of her perusal of him.
She licked the syrupiness from her lips and his eyes followed her tongue. "I'm not." This time she did not look away.
Professor Snape barked out, "Is there a problem, Miss Granger?" Both of them froze in mid-glare and turned slowly back to the front of the class, each thoroughly embarrassed to have been caught acknowledging the other's existence. Neither of them realized they had been speaking loud enough to attract the instructor's attention. Hermione slowly shook her head to the negative and opened her mouth to speak, but Snape cut her off. "Is she disturbing you, Draco?" His voice was undeniably gentler.
"No professor," replied Draco evenly, shooting a defiant look at Hermione. "She was just having trouble with the assignment and I was helping her."
"I see. How considerate of you. Ten points to Slytherin." The professor returned to his composition.
Her jaw went slack. Not only was she horrified at the thought that anyone would think she was having difficulties in potions, but that Draco had not seized the opportunity to have points taken from Gryffindor. Hermione cradled her chin in her hand and she tried to read. Draco had lied. For her. After she'd just spent the entire class period irritating him. Drumming her fingertips on the desk absently, she stared at the words in her book.
"Stop that," complained Draco. "It's annoying." He stared at her hand as if he meant to bite it off.
Hermione thumped louder. "Make me." She lifted her chin and stared him down insolently. Draco's hand snapped out and he grabbed her fingers. Tight. "Let go!" Her voice was somewhere between a hiss and a squeak in her attempt to be quiet enough not to attract any attention. She tried to jerk away but he held on with a crushing grip.
His lips formed a smile that was not reflected in his pewter eyes. "Make me."
Hiding her pain behind a blank mask, Hermione tried to stare him down while using her other hand to try and pry her fingers from Malfoy's grasp. Although the temperature of the classroom had risen to the point where Hermione felt faint, goose bumps had broken out all over her body. Draco's face was impassive, unreadable.
They stayed locked in their silent show-down until Professor Snape barked out, "Class dismissed." As if she'd caught fire Draco released Hermione's hand and jumped back. Muttering a string of expletives, Draco clumsily gathered his belongings. Hermione sat silent, staring into space and attempting to recover her poise.
One of his books fell to the floor and when he bent to pick it up several items fell from a pocket. "Fuck me," he grumbled, stuffing the things away as quickly as he could before leaving the room.
After a few long moments Hermione finally rose to leave the now abandoned classroom. Her thoughts were interrupted when the toe of her shoe hit something, sending it spinning across the floor. She stooped to retrieve the glowing green potion bottle, recognizing it as the same she'd seen Draco with on the Express.
Tucking it away in her robes, she quickly abandoned the classroom. Just as she mounted the stone staircase, an out of breath Draco came flying down, his robes carelessly hanging off his shoulders. Beneath the disheveled hair hanging over his face he wore an expression of disturbed perplexity. Nearly knocking into her, he breezed by, muttering something incomprehensible. Hermione turned and watched as he disappeared into the gloom of the dungeon.
Knowing Draco was not going to find what he was in search of, Hermione quickly but casually resumed her trek to the Great Hall. When she thought she was far enough away, she took out the potion bottle and examined it. What could this be? There was a strangeness to this potion that both repelled and attracted her, although she could not quite explain what made her feel that way.
The softly shimmering fluid had the viscosity of albumen and clung like algae to the sides of the bottle. She unscrewed the cap and wrinkled her nose at the odor… a combination of fermenting apples and swamp water. Hermione couldn't imagine that Draco would ever ingest something that smelled so badly. Hearing footsteps on the steps behind her, she quickly secreted the bottle back in her pocket.
Draco ran past her, stopped and then turned to approach her in trepidation. "Have you…?"
"Yes?" She turned to him stiffly, her face as blank as she could make it. "Have I what?" Her conscience nagged at her, telling her she should return the bottle to its rightful owner, but she just had to know what it was. Besides, this was Malfoy, the enemy, the antithesis of all that was pure and good in the world… Why should she feel badly? If the situation were reversed he wouldn't give the potion back.
"Er… nevermind," he finally murmured after a long moment of staring at her askance. I am sure you have it, his expression said, but I'm not stupid enough to admit it's mine. Her expression did not waver and she smiled coolly up at him, suddenly relaxed and feeling in control. Although Hermione was not a very skilled liar, she managed to leave Draco with a lingering doubt. Draco was gnawing at the inside of his cheek as he stalked off knowing he had no way out of this situation… except one, and it was something that he did not find as distasteful as he felt he should. It was pointless anyway, he resolved, doubting even he had the talent to break through her wall of purity.
Hermione stood watching after Draco long after he'd disappeared around a far corner.
When she arrived for lunch Harry was already at the table sitting with Parvati draped across his right shoulder. They were bent over Harry's potions textbook, studying. Well, Harry was attempting to study but Parvati was doing her best to make it difficult by tugging on his hair and blowing in his ear every so often.
Hermione sat down across from them, and tried not to take notice of the unseemly behavior going on in front of her. If it had been anyone but one of the Patil sisters, Hermione would have been happy for Harry. While dishing out a small helping of salad, the young woman opened her Trigomancy book, wanting to get a head start for her afternoon class.
Hermione became more irritable by the moment. It was bad enough Parvati was behaving so cheaply, but that it did not seem to be bothering anyone else was much, much worse. I'm not a prude, she reassured herself. She was by nature an honest girl, and so could not hide feelings from herself for very long. An ugly face began to form in her psyche. It wasn't jealousy. She realized it wasn't even disgust.
"Hermione…" Parvati purred. A self-satisfied grin spread itself across her exotic features as she mistook Hermione's look of envy for one of jealousy.
That was it. Envy. "Hello," said Hermione, forcing a smile over her lips. She was envious of Parvati not because she wanted Harry's attention but because she wanted to feel the way Parvati felt for him. Hermione wanted to desire the only person she knew had actually been in love with her. An inner voice constantly nagged Hermione that girls like her only got one or two chances for love, and she couldn't help but to believe it.
Harry finally looked up from his book. "Oh, hello, I didn't see you come in," he said. Parvati snuggled closer and wrapped her arms territorially around Harry's chest. Hermione felt they both were deserving of finding someone. But why did it have to be her?
"You're busy." Hermione was unable to keep an edge from her voice, but managed to smile. "I understand." Her chest tightened around the empty place at the very core of her spirit, she felt utterly alone even though she was in the center of a crowded room.
Harry, knitting his brow, looked down at her salad. "Is that all you're going to eat?" Parvati, who was busy nibbling on his ear paused and stared at Harry with a sour expression at his concern for Hermione.
She nodded. "I'm not really hu-."
Parvati interrupted. "She's got to watch her weight, you know." She over-emphasized the "T" at the end of "weight". Hermione said nothing, but her expression darkened. Parvati stood and tugged on Harry's sleeve. "Harry, love, let's finish studying outdoors… it's so stuffy in here."
"But-" Harry, clueless as always, had no idea of what was really going on in front of him.
The olive skinned girl all but dragged Harry to his feet. "Now!" she demanded.
"Fine," mumbled Harry, annoyed, yet apparently enjoying the attention he was receiving. "Talk to you later, Hermie?" He began to gather his belongings.
"Sure," she croaked out, sadly. Then in an attempt to cover up her disappointment, smiled as cheerfully as she could. Harry looked at her apologetically as he was herded away. Parvati glanced back over her shoulder at Hermione with a look of triumph.
Sighing, Hermione tossed down her fork, her appetite crumbling. Parvati was such a bitch. Who did she think she was? Cradling her books in her arms, Hermione stalked from the Hall. There was no point in staying, and she needed to go up to the owlery anyway for she needed to order a fresh supply of facial soap.
The hallway was nearly deserted and as she walked along, she realized she was being followed. Making an about face, Hermione came face to face with Ron, whose chin was bruised and slightly puffy, most likely from his encounter with Draco the previous evening. Serves him right, she thought.
"'Allo, 'Mione," drawled Ron playfully as if nothing negative had ever transpired between them. His freckled features spread into a wide, lopsided grin.
"What do you want?" she asked, looking with distaste at his expression. How could I have ever thought that was cute?
Disappointment flickered over his face, but he persisted. "How've you been?" He stopped directly before Hermione and leaned casually on the wall, blocking her path.
"Fine," she said curtly. Hermione edged away, trying to smile.
Mistaking the smile for a different type, Ron smiled back and straightened to his full height. "I hope you didn't make yourself over on my account." Brown eyes grazed over her body appreciatively.
Her eyebrows lifted, eyes widening in annoyance. "Excuse me?" She pulled her open robes closed.
Continuing as if he did not notice her irritation, he went on, "Because if you did, it worked. I'm taking you to Twelvehouses on Friday." He leaned in to kiss her.
Hermione took a step back, suppressing the urge to add another bruise to his face. "I don't think Lavender would appreciate that." Ron was a frightening stranger. He'd been acting oddly for a long time, but now he was unrecognizable. A spidery, freckled hand grabbed her elbow as she tried to walk by. Hermione froze in mid-movement and tilted her face down, slowly and robotically, to look at that offending hand.
Ron chuckled arrogantly. "Jealous are you?" He slid his bony arm over her shoulders and attempted to guide her down the corridor. "Don't you worry, though… I'm all yours!"
Shrugging his arm from her body, Hermione stopped and turned to face him. "I most certainly am not jealous!" She clutched her books tightly to her heaving chest, trying to control her temper. What was wrong with her old friend? She wanted to just walk away, but she could not. She wanted, no needed, to see that the real Ron still existed.
"It's pretty obvious you are… why else would you be flirting with Malfoy if you weren't trying to get my attention?" Not understanding the real reason she was gazing deep into his eyes, he approached her again.
"I'm not flirting with Malfoy!" she cried out defensively, backing away.
"I love it when you play hard to get," he purred. Grabbing her by the back of the head, he kissed her roughly.
Hermione squealed and pushed him away, feeling suddenly nauseated. "Don't touch me!" She reached into her pocket and took hold of her wand. What happened to the Ron I used to know?
He grabbed her arm, bruising her. "You can stop playing, 'Mione. I know you want me."
With a flourish, Hermione whipped her wand from her pocket. "Mutare bufo!" She growled.
Ron stumbled back several paces as a shimmering cloud of smoggy gray enveloped him. His skin darkened to a muddy green, his freckles rising up, wart-like. Hermione gasped as his blue eyes began to bulge from their sockets as his face flattened and elongated. She felt somewhat sickened yet strangely fascinated when the underneath of his chin swelled to enormous proportions. Then Ron Weasley began to shrink. He looked down at himself, his now enormous eyes bulging in horror at the sight of his fingers webbing themselves together.
"A toad," muttered Hermione when the transformation was complete. "Can I be any more cliché?" Before Ron could hop away, Hermione bent and snatched him up. She held the squirming amphibian eye-level with herself. "See what you get?" she asked, sounding all too much like Mrs. Weasley herself. Ron croaked in response and kicked his legs violently, trying to escape.
Loud footsteps caused them both to freeze for a moment. Thinking quickly, Hermione stuffed Ron into the empty breast pocket of her robes and ducked behind a nearby suit of armor. She peeked out from her hiding place to see Professor Snape striding toward her with something, probably a correspondence in his hands.
"Severus!" Professor McGonagall's sharp voice reverberated through the passage. Hermione jumped and sunk deeper into the shadows. Snape paused just inches from Hermione's hiding place and turned. Slipping the envelope into his pocket, he gave Hermione a clear view of the pink envelope wrapped with a shiny silver ribbon. Why would Snape be sending a Crooner? She wondered. And to whom?
"I've heard the most disturbing rumor," said the transfigurations teacher, crossing her arms and almost seeming to tower over Snape even though she was several inches shorter.
"And what would that be, Minerva?" asked Snape in a low voice, sliding the letter into his robes before McGonagall could notice.
"We need to speak in my office."
"Can it wait? I was just on my way to the owlery."
"It most certainly can not!" she snapped. "Allegations of abuse are highly important, Severus."
"Very well." He turned and followed Professor McGonagall the way he'd just come. When she was sure they'd gone, Hermione stepped out from the shadows with a pleased smile. Hopefully he would be reprimanded for his horrid treatment of Neville. Of course she knew he would not receive what he deserved, but it was better than nothing.
Hermione climbed the steps to the owlery. Above her the door opened and a masculine figure appeared, the sunlight creating a nimbus about him and illuminating his blond hair like an angel's halo. The door swung shut with a bang, and his face emerged from the shadows. Hermione's mouth went dry as Malfoy drifted nearly noiselessly down the steps toward her. Pressing herself against the wall, she gave him room to pass.
Draco stopped on the step immediately before her and looked down his nose, his eyelids hanging low as if he were sleepy. "What are you looking at?"
She looked away. "Nothing.".
"Nothing? Is that what I am now?" He moved closer.
Why can't he just leave me be? she thought, trying to duck past him.
Putting out an arm, he obstructed her path just as Weasley had done just moments ago. She looked up at him fearfully. Draco did not utter a word, but instead caught her face in his hand ran a finger along the scratch on her left cheek. She froze. His features softened and relaxed as though in a trance.
"Stop that," she whispered, but made no move to push him away. Her knees quaked, stomach lurching painfully. He cupped her chin and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. "What are you doing?" No response. The space around them faded into haze.
He bent forward, his lips parting. Oh God, he's going to kiss me. Her mind told her to flee, but her body rebelled by refusing to move. Her skin prickled and burned. As if by their own accord her eyes fluttered closed. She waited. The only sound was the hooting of the roosting owls; even her heart seemed to have gone silent.
Nothing.
He squeezed her jaw with a shaking hand. She could feel the heat of his lips so near all she had to do was flinch and their mouths would meet. His heavy breathing caressed her face.
"Waaaaaaaaaa…" screeched Ron, who had up until this point been content snuggling, forgotten, against her breast. The front of her school robes came to life and Draco jumped back. Ron propelled his little green body out of the pocket and into Malfoy's surprised face, kick-slapping with his webbed feet several times. Draco screamed out in pain and pressed his palms to his eyes. The toad landed with a plop on a lower step and hopped away without so much as a backward glance.
"Filthy mudblood, you would be infested with vermin," he muttered, glaring at her with red, watering eyes before storming away.
Hermione, shaky and breathless, retreated to the owlery. Ron would be okay; the spell should be wearing off any time now. She couldn't say the same for herself.
