Chapter Four
Draco, Hermione, and Pansy had agreed not to meet on Sunday, but to wait until Monday morning when Professor Nightshade had promised to give the fifth-years time during class to work on their projects. Hermione was nearly done with it already, anyway, having decided that it was better to do the entire thing herself this time and hope that she'd have better partners the next time.
Monday came and Draco made his way up from the dungeons where he'd just had his Potions class to Nightshade's classroom in one of the eastern towers. Hermione was already seated next to Pansy, who was absently doodling hearts all over her sheaf of parchment. He slunk down into the empty seat, next to Hermione. Pansy looked up. "Hi, Draco," she said with a smile. "Move your chair over here, by me." Pause. "Pleeeease?"
Draco cringed. Caught between the lesser of two evils- Pansy or Hermione. Pansyorhermione. Pansyhermionepansyhermionepansy- He set his jaw and stayed where he was. Hermione looked mildly surprised but said nothing. Pansy, meanwhile, pouted. "Draco-" she began, her voice painfully whining.
"Would you shut up?" hissed Hermione. "You heard what Professor Nightshade said. She has a headache and if she hears anyone talking above a whisper she'll-"
As if on cue, their teacher looked up from her desk, where she was resting her head in her hands. "That's it. Detention, Miss Granger! See me after class; we'll work out the details."
Draco watched Hermione's face flush bright red. She stared down at her hands, blinking rapidly. He scowled and raised his hand.
Nightshade lifted her head up once more, eyes narrowed. "What, Mr. Malfoy.?"
"You know, Professor. Hermione was only talking because she was trying to tell Pansy-" here he jerked his head in the Slytherin girl's direction "-to be quiet, as per your orders." Draco stopped, not sure why he'd just stood up for. for a Gryffindor, of all people! He should've been pleased that one of them was finally getting blamed for something unfairly. It happened to Slytherins all of the time, and none of them seemed to care. He glanced around the room and found that everyone was staring at him. Hermione had looked up, the bewildered look on her face mirroring exactly what Draco felt at the moment.
"Since you seem to feel so strongly for Miss Granger's well-being, Mr. Malfoy, I'll see to it that you can accompany her to detention this evening."
Draco's mouth fell open. "WHAT? Professor, I was only trying to help-" "Mr. Malfoy, tattling is something I wouldn't expect from a first-year. Sit down."
Draco hadn't even realized he'd been standing. He practically fell into his seat. So much for dignity.
He glanced from Pansy to Hermione. Both were positively seething with anger.
What does she have to be angry about? he wondered, watching Hermione. I just defended her!
Women.
Wait. He hadn't defended Hermione. He'd only tried to get Pansy punished. There was a big difference there.
Of course. Ha! That was it.
Chapter Five
Detention was to be served in the trophy room, cleaning the various statues and awards, as Professor Nightshade's headache had been too bad for her to come up with one of her normally creative punishments. Draco saw Hermione walking ahead of him as he turned a corner up from the dungeons on the way there. "Hey! Granger!"
Hermione turned around sharply. "What do you want? Haven't you done enough already?"
Draco blinked. "What? I tried to help you back there!"
"No, you didn't. I already had detention. You only made it worse by forcing me to serve it with you."
Wow. Feisty there, eh, Granger?
"What're you talking about? I wanted to help you get out of detention so Pansy would have to serve it instead!"
Granger rolled her eyes. "Right. You were trying to set me up for some sort of trick. I know you, Draco."
"Some sort of trick? What are you? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I thought you were supposed to be intelligent, Granger. How could I- "
Hermione sighed exasperatedly and stormed ahead.
"Granger!"
She ignored him again.
"Hey!"
Why did he even care what she thought of him? It had never been an issue before.
"What's the matter, Granger? Cat got your tongue?"
Hermione wheeled around a second time. "Look, Malfoy," she said pointedly, "if you're going to bother me like this you might do well to actually use my name. It's Hermione, you know."
Draco opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it again. "Fine- Hermione," he emphasized. Huh. He'd never bothered with her first name before. Why now?
A look of surprise passed over Hermione's face, and then faded as quickly as it had first come as she turned away, mumbling under her breath. Draco started to run after her, then stopped himself and continued at his usual sauntering pace. No need to seem too eager about-
About what?
Hermione turned a corner, bringing her profile into Draco's line of vision. In the silvery pool of moonlight pouring in from one of the elaborate picture windows, she looked almost pretty- no! He obviously wasn't thinking clearly. Shaking his head in disbelief at the strange way he'd been behaving lately, he followed her into the trophy room. Filtch was waiting there. He handed each of them a rag and a bottle of Muggle cleaning fluid.
"But can't we use magic?" asked Draco, not sure what to do.
Filtch sneered. "Cleanin' by hand makes the trophies nice 'n shiny," he explained. "Spoiled little wizards." he murmured, starting to leave. Hermione had already begun polishing a large golden statue in the corner. Draco stood there, glancing from the rag to the cleaning solution. Filtch saw him as he passed and stuck his head through the door. "You! Pretty boy! Get to work!"
Draco scowled and cautiously sprayed the air around a small plaque with cleaning fluid. He set the rag on top of the plaque and pulled out his wand. "Hygenium rin-"
Hermione glared at him out of the corner of her eye as Filtch burst through the doorway. "I SAID NO MAGIC!" he exclaimed, snatching Draco's wand out of his hand. Draco gaped. "Give that back!" he ordered. "You have no right-"
"You'll get it back when you've cleaned every trophy in this room, and by hand, this time, I might add."
"I'll be telling my father about this!" Draco shouted. "That's one of the finest wands ever made- cost more than you'll make all year- and if you so much as touch it-"
Filtch just shook his head and left, mumbling something about "stupid little nancy-boy wizards". Draco scowled.
"Did you see what that idiot did?!" He turned to Hermione, who, he suspected, was smiling. "The bastard- if he doesn't give me back my wand in perfect condition-"
Hermione shook her head. "Don't you know? Filtch hates all of us because we're learning magic and he's never been able to do it. He's a Squib. That's why he cleans everything the Muggle way-"
Draco sprayed the plaque he was supposed to be cleaning again and picked up the rag. He rubbed cautiously at the shiny metal surface. "Hey, Granger, am I doing this right?"
Hermione cleared her throat.
"I mean, Hermione-"
"Yes?"
"Am I doing this right?"
"How should I know?"
"Well, you're a mu-" Ah, that's good, insult her just before you need to ask for her help. "I mean," he corrected himself, "you're Muggle-born, aren't you?"
Hermione's hands fell to her sides and she turned around to stare at him. "AM I, Draco?" Am I? With all of the times you've called me a mudblood, I would imagine you'd be pretty sure."
He wasn't sure how to respond. One wrong word and she'd never help him. He'd be stuck here all night. "Look, Hermione, I've never cleaned anything the Muggle way before."
"Have you ever cleaned anything at all before? Or do your father's house elves take care of that?"
"Don't tell me you're still on a 'save-the-house-elves' kick-"
"It's cruel! Admit it, your house elves do all of the cleaning for you."
"Well, yeah, but that's their job."
"Do you pay them?" Hermione's eyes were narrowed. "What salary do they earn for this 'job'? Because I don't think it's a job, Draco. Seems more like slavery to me." She turned back to her trophy and cleaned furiously. Draco mimicked her actions. Soon, the plaque he'd been polishing was shining brightly. Oddly satisfied, he moved on to the next one. Hermione was quite well ahead of him, but he was catching up. However, he made sure there was a look of lofty superiority and disgust at the very lowness of this job written across his face. No need to actually look like he didn't mind it. Hermione hurried past him, completely finished with her side of the room. His arm tingled and burned where she'd brushed up against him and he felt his face flush slightly. He struggled to regain his composure, but there was no use. Hermione was already gone.
Draco, Hermione, and Pansy had agreed not to meet on Sunday, but to wait until Monday morning when Professor Nightshade had promised to give the fifth-years time during class to work on their projects. Hermione was nearly done with it already, anyway, having decided that it was better to do the entire thing herself this time and hope that she'd have better partners the next time.
Monday came and Draco made his way up from the dungeons where he'd just had his Potions class to Nightshade's classroom in one of the eastern towers. Hermione was already seated next to Pansy, who was absently doodling hearts all over her sheaf of parchment. He slunk down into the empty seat, next to Hermione. Pansy looked up. "Hi, Draco," she said with a smile. "Move your chair over here, by me." Pause. "Pleeeease?"
Draco cringed. Caught between the lesser of two evils- Pansy or Hermione. Pansyorhermione. Pansyhermionepansyhermionepansy- He set his jaw and stayed where he was. Hermione looked mildly surprised but said nothing. Pansy, meanwhile, pouted. "Draco-" she began, her voice painfully whining.
"Would you shut up?" hissed Hermione. "You heard what Professor Nightshade said. She has a headache and if she hears anyone talking above a whisper she'll-"
As if on cue, their teacher looked up from her desk, where she was resting her head in her hands. "That's it. Detention, Miss Granger! See me after class; we'll work out the details."
Draco watched Hermione's face flush bright red. She stared down at her hands, blinking rapidly. He scowled and raised his hand.
Nightshade lifted her head up once more, eyes narrowed. "What, Mr. Malfoy.?"
"You know, Professor. Hermione was only talking because she was trying to tell Pansy-" here he jerked his head in the Slytherin girl's direction "-to be quiet, as per your orders." Draco stopped, not sure why he'd just stood up for. for a Gryffindor, of all people! He should've been pleased that one of them was finally getting blamed for something unfairly. It happened to Slytherins all of the time, and none of them seemed to care. He glanced around the room and found that everyone was staring at him. Hermione had looked up, the bewildered look on her face mirroring exactly what Draco felt at the moment.
"Since you seem to feel so strongly for Miss Granger's well-being, Mr. Malfoy, I'll see to it that you can accompany her to detention this evening."
Draco's mouth fell open. "WHAT? Professor, I was only trying to help-" "Mr. Malfoy, tattling is something I wouldn't expect from a first-year. Sit down."
Draco hadn't even realized he'd been standing. He practically fell into his seat. So much for dignity.
He glanced from Pansy to Hermione. Both were positively seething with anger.
What does she have to be angry about? he wondered, watching Hermione. I just defended her!
Women.
Wait. He hadn't defended Hermione. He'd only tried to get Pansy punished. There was a big difference there.
Of course. Ha! That was it.
Chapter Five
Detention was to be served in the trophy room, cleaning the various statues and awards, as Professor Nightshade's headache had been too bad for her to come up with one of her normally creative punishments. Draco saw Hermione walking ahead of him as he turned a corner up from the dungeons on the way there. "Hey! Granger!"
Hermione turned around sharply. "What do you want? Haven't you done enough already?"
Draco blinked. "What? I tried to help you back there!"
"No, you didn't. I already had detention. You only made it worse by forcing me to serve it with you."
Wow. Feisty there, eh, Granger?
"What're you talking about? I wanted to help you get out of detention so Pansy would have to serve it instead!"
Granger rolled her eyes. "Right. You were trying to set me up for some sort of trick. I know you, Draco."
"Some sort of trick? What are you? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I thought you were supposed to be intelligent, Granger. How could I- "
Hermione sighed exasperatedly and stormed ahead.
"Granger!"
She ignored him again.
"Hey!"
Why did he even care what she thought of him? It had never been an issue before.
"What's the matter, Granger? Cat got your tongue?"
Hermione wheeled around a second time. "Look, Malfoy," she said pointedly, "if you're going to bother me like this you might do well to actually use my name. It's Hermione, you know."
Draco opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it again. "Fine- Hermione," he emphasized. Huh. He'd never bothered with her first name before. Why now?
A look of surprise passed over Hermione's face, and then faded as quickly as it had first come as she turned away, mumbling under her breath. Draco started to run after her, then stopped himself and continued at his usual sauntering pace. No need to seem too eager about-
About what?
Hermione turned a corner, bringing her profile into Draco's line of vision. In the silvery pool of moonlight pouring in from one of the elaborate picture windows, she looked almost pretty- no! He obviously wasn't thinking clearly. Shaking his head in disbelief at the strange way he'd been behaving lately, he followed her into the trophy room. Filtch was waiting there. He handed each of them a rag and a bottle of Muggle cleaning fluid.
"But can't we use magic?" asked Draco, not sure what to do.
Filtch sneered. "Cleanin' by hand makes the trophies nice 'n shiny," he explained. "Spoiled little wizards." he murmured, starting to leave. Hermione had already begun polishing a large golden statue in the corner. Draco stood there, glancing from the rag to the cleaning solution. Filtch saw him as he passed and stuck his head through the door. "You! Pretty boy! Get to work!"
Draco scowled and cautiously sprayed the air around a small plaque with cleaning fluid. He set the rag on top of the plaque and pulled out his wand. "Hygenium rin-"
Hermione glared at him out of the corner of her eye as Filtch burst through the doorway. "I SAID NO MAGIC!" he exclaimed, snatching Draco's wand out of his hand. Draco gaped. "Give that back!" he ordered. "You have no right-"
"You'll get it back when you've cleaned every trophy in this room, and by hand, this time, I might add."
"I'll be telling my father about this!" Draco shouted. "That's one of the finest wands ever made- cost more than you'll make all year- and if you so much as touch it-"
Filtch just shook his head and left, mumbling something about "stupid little nancy-boy wizards". Draco scowled.
"Did you see what that idiot did?!" He turned to Hermione, who, he suspected, was smiling. "The bastard- if he doesn't give me back my wand in perfect condition-"
Hermione shook her head. "Don't you know? Filtch hates all of us because we're learning magic and he's never been able to do it. He's a Squib. That's why he cleans everything the Muggle way-"
Draco sprayed the plaque he was supposed to be cleaning again and picked up the rag. He rubbed cautiously at the shiny metal surface. "Hey, Granger, am I doing this right?"
Hermione cleared her throat.
"I mean, Hermione-"
"Yes?"
"Am I doing this right?"
"How should I know?"
"Well, you're a mu-" Ah, that's good, insult her just before you need to ask for her help. "I mean," he corrected himself, "you're Muggle-born, aren't you?"
Hermione's hands fell to her sides and she turned around to stare at him. "AM I, Draco?" Am I? With all of the times you've called me a mudblood, I would imagine you'd be pretty sure."
He wasn't sure how to respond. One wrong word and she'd never help him. He'd be stuck here all night. "Look, Hermione, I've never cleaned anything the Muggle way before."
"Have you ever cleaned anything at all before? Or do your father's house elves take care of that?"
"Don't tell me you're still on a 'save-the-house-elves' kick-"
"It's cruel! Admit it, your house elves do all of the cleaning for you."
"Well, yeah, but that's their job."
"Do you pay them?" Hermione's eyes were narrowed. "What salary do they earn for this 'job'? Because I don't think it's a job, Draco. Seems more like slavery to me." She turned back to her trophy and cleaned furiously. Draco mimicked her actions. Soon, the plaque he'd been polishing was shining brightly. Oddly satisfied, he moved on to the next one. Hermione was quite well ahead of him, but he was catching up. However, he made sure there was a look of lofty superiority and disgust at the very lowness of this job written across his face. No need to actually look like he didn't mind it. Hermione hurried past him, completely finished with her side of the room. His arm tingled and burned where she'd brushed up against him and he felt his face flush slightly. He struggled to regain his composure, but there was no use. Hermione was already gone.