Title: Of Peaches and Blood
Author: Magical Me
Summary: Towards the end of her seventh year, Hermione Granger makes two unexpected discoveries – a vaccine for an unforgivable and love for a man who is as deep as he is dark.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is the property of the brilliant JK Rowling – everything else is mine
A/N: This chapter was difficult for me to write for more reasons than I care to explain. I had written about five full-length versions of it and had grown quite frustrated in doing so – they all just seemed wrong. But Craig stuck it out, cut them all up, and pieced them all together into some goulash that just happens to make sense. Therefore, this chapter is dedicated to Craig. I would also like to thank Sierra for her brilliance in feedback, and an extra special acknowledgment to my primary editor Missy – you've been here with me from the start…it's only fitting that we finish it together.
So to Craig, Sierra, and Missy – thank you for all your hard work and dedication. Without you, this story would not be able to progress.
**CAUTION**: For those of you who are wondering, Ginny's character is based on her portrayal in Order of the Phoenix. With that said, I'd suggest you read that before reading this story – I warn you: the end of this chapter can be viewed as either a major spoiler or a piece of rubbish, as it won't make sense.
~*~
Chapter 4
Ginny Weasley carelessly flipped through a copy of Witch Weekly. With a sigh, she clapped the covers together and tossed it onto the wooden coffee table in front of her. Across the Gryffindor common room, her brother sat in a high-backed chair as he subconsciously stared into the blazing fire.
Merlin…
"Ron!" she called.
He didn't stir.
Again, she sighed, though this time out of impatience. She rose from the couch and briskly strode over the Persian rugs, strategically stopping in such a way so as to obscure Ron's vision of the fireplace. Ginny put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot.
"Ron, you're sulking again."
His sky blue eyes started and cautiously slid upwards to meet another pair. "Yes?" he asked lazily.
"What is the matter with you?" Ginny fumed. She clasped her hands behind her back and began pacing.
"Dunno. What d'you reckon?"
"I wouldn't know if I were asking!" she said angrily.
All the other students who had been sitting around the common room looked up. Sensing the beginning of a sibling row, they exchanged sharp glances amongst themselves and scurried up the two staircases leading to their respective dormitories.
Ron shifted uncomfortably.
"It's Hermione, isn't it?"
No response.
"Isn't it?" Ginny snapped.
"Maybe, maybe not," he answered idly.
"For Merlin's sake! You're nearly an adult now and you don't know how to pull yourself out of lust," she said and kept up the pacing.
The glow of the fire kissed her long, red mane that was neatly plaited into a single braid. Ron watched as his sister's cheeks took on a tinge of pink.
"Well, I've got news for you, Ronald Weasley. Grow up! And once you have, tell Hermione in a mature fashion."
He shrugged. "She'll hate me."
Ginny pushed up her sleeves and dropped to the floor. She crossed her legs as she said softly, "It's just a little crush – just some little thing."
Ron turned his head downwards and caught her gaze. "No, it isn't," he whispered.
"Do you love her, then?"
"I-I-I dunno."
She smacked her lips and smiled fondly. "I remember the day you came home from your first year at Hogwarts. You looked so hurt – so lost. Then Fred and George ran around saying that you missed your girlfriend – remember that?"
"Yeah."
"Then remember when your ears turned red and you cursed at them?" She didn't wait for a response. "You'd never cursed before – and that's when I asked you and you told me all about her."
"So?"
"So? So! It's been nearly seven years and you haven't uttered a word to her about this – not a one!" she cried. Ginny stretched out her legs straight in front of her and balanced herself by flattening her palms against the carpet. "Bit childish, really. You're always getting so jealous. Especially about Krum!" She shook her head. "As though it weren't obvious enough!"
Ron turned red in the face. "And?"
"And you'd better consider yourself damned lucky that half the time she's not around, because everyone's noticed except her! And I'd suggest you tell her before someone else does."
He grunted by way of reply.
Ginny shook her head and pulled herself off the ground while dusting her hands on the back of her skirt. "Just be careful, Ron," she said quietly. In one fluid motion, she retreated to her dormitory.
~*~
Albus Dumbledore stared at Fawkes thoughtfully. The Phoenix was happily perched upon a levitating stick, scratching himself with his clawed foot. Dumbledore narrowed his eyes at the sight of his familiar's lethargy. "I do wish your Burning Day would come sooner. You're looking rather ill."
His eyes suddenly diverted to the entrance staircase that was revolving upwards at a rapid speed. Unmoved by the potential visitor, Dumbledore seated himself at his desk, picked up a quill, and began writing on a piece of parchment. He did not look up as he called, "Good afternoon, Severus."
Snape growled. Not bothering for an invitation, he seated himself in one of the chairs opposite the Headmaster. "I have interesting news."
Dumbledore dipped his quill in an inkbottle on his right-hand side. "Oh?" He nonchalantly waved his left hand over the empty surface area of his desk, conjuring a silver tea tray laden with biscuits, china, and two steaming pots.
Without hesitation, Snape's long fingers grasped the coffee pot handle and he gently tipped a portion of its contents into a mug.
"You were saying?" the Headmaster prompted.
"It seems as though Cass and Miss Granger have" – his eyes flickered – "had previous experiences with one another."
He looked up and set his quill down. "Have they?"
"Indeed. Infact, Miss Granger happens to be Cass's granddaughter." He sipped at the coffee with an amused expression.
Dumbledore reached for a biscuit. "Is that so?"
"Yes."
"Now, was Miss Granger appalled or thrilled?" he asked while pouring himself a mug of cocoa from the other pot.
Snape smirked. "Both. At first, she was quite bothered by it and accused Cass of lying to her. But as this was all a big misunderstanding and lack of communication, Miss Granger had no choice but to accept defeat."
"Ah, I thought so."
"If you ask me, that girl's behavior is far too predictable."
"Mmm – though she can be quite stubborn, yes?"
"Quite."
"I once had the misfortune of running into Miss Granger while she was studying for her N.E.W.Ts. She was in such a hurry that she accidentally ran into me and threatened to hex my eyes out." He chuckled. "She's quite committed to her studies."
Snape snorted. "Obsessive, really. Her face is constantly buried in a book. It's fairly irritating."
Dumbledore smiled. "I recall your student days to be rather similar – though you may correct me if I am mistaken."
"When have you have mistaken anything, Headmaster?" he asked acidly.
"Well, now that you mention it, I remember when I was in my second year…"
~*~
Hermione idly trailed her hand along the dusty bookshelf, running her fingers up and down the spines. At last, her hand rested upon the wanted book entitled, Unforgivable and Unforgettable: The History and Structure of the Illegal Three. She pulled it off the shelf and started violently; the wooden stool she was standing on was constantly wriggling beneath her. She grabbed hold of the middle shelf and balanced herself as she stepped down.
Book in hand, Hermione wandered over to the table she had left her bag at. As she seated herself, she drew in a deep breath, savoring the smell of old parchment, and looked up at the towering shelves surrounding her.
I love the way the shelves loom over your head – like the knowledge is waiting above you, almost as a challenge.
And to her it was.
Pushing those thoughts aside, she concentrated on the book she had placed in front of her. In one swift motion, she opened it and began to read.
"—All three of the Unforgivables are structured in such a way that no countercurse may be created. Many great wizards, including Franz Nielsen, attempted to develop charms and countercurses, but to no avail. As of yet, not potion has allowed a person to resist Imperius, stay strong in the presence of Cruciatus, or block Avada Kedavra. However--"
Hermione quickly shut the book.
For the first time, she realized that she was about to disprove all the history books.
It's about bloody time.
~*~
He shook his platinum blonde hair out of his eyes and swiftly ran a hand through it.
The Mudblood is sitting two tables away.
He eyed Granger with the utmost contempt. As usual, books surrounded her, though this time the one she had been reading lay forgotten in front of her on the table. How was it that she, a filthy slut with Muggles for parents, was in fact the top in their class?
Revolting.
No girl of such abhorred heritage deserved such a thing. His father wanted her dealt with…
…and wouldn't he be happy to see to it.
~*~
Hermione started – she was still sitting at her table in the library and dinner was about to start.
"Mudblood," a voice hissed in her ear.
Malfoy.
"What do you want?" she asked carelessly.
From behind her, he traced her jaw line with his forefinger.
She flushed. "Ten points from Slytherin for your inappropriate conduct."
Stay calm. Get Madame Pince.
Sadly, her table was far from the checkout desk.
"Get…away…from…me," she said through gritted teeth. "Now."
He laughed, and then stroked her hair. "Soft," he murmured. "Though you don't deserve something like that. You don't deserve anything, bitch."
Irritated and nervous, now, Hermione jumped up from her seat, hastily gathered her belongings, and began to exit the Library, when a strong hand firmly gripped her wrist.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Granger," he said quietly.
"Let go."
In the shadows, Hermione could not see his pale hand strike her across the face. "Don't you ever talk to your superiors like that again," he growled.
They heard footsteps.
He leaned closer. "I'm warning you now – you are just a piece of filth. Do not stray in my path, or else--" he tightened his grip "—you'll pay."
She closed her eyes.
He was gone.
~*~
Knock knock.
"Enter, Miss Granger," Snape said cagily.
He watched as the arched doorway flung open and the Head Girl stood there, shaken.
"Is something the matter?" he asked.
She stepped into the classroom. "No, sir. I just came to ask you…"
"Yes?" Suddenly, Snape started.
Someone's hit her.
"Will--"
"Miss Granger," he interjected sharply, "who did that?" He raised a bony finger and pointed at the red mark across her face.
Consciously, her right hand flew to her cheek. "Oh…it's nothing. Sir, I--"
He rose from his desk and walked around it to face her. "Miss Granger," he said dangerously, his prominent nostrils on his hooked-nose flaring, "it would not be wise to lie to me. Now tell me – who did this to you?"
Hermione whimpered. "Don't, Professor. It's just--"
"Do…not…lie," he hissed, every word laced with venom.
"M-M-Malfoy," she whispered. The tears instantly began to streak down her face.
She's crying.
Before he could say anything more, a great fire burst into the middle of the room. The sparkling orange and red flames subsided after thirty seconds or so, leaving behind a single red feather, a dirty spoon, and a scroll.
Shit.
Without a moment's hesitation, Snape pounced on the ground, aiming for the parchment first. Hurriedly, he unrolled the scroll and quickly read the message.
Severus –
Emergency. Come now. Bring Miss Granger.
- Albus
He looked up at Hermione who was looking more perplexed than ever. He hastily eyed her left hand that lay limply at her side and seized it immediately. "Don't ask questions," he hissed at the sight of her open mouth.
With his other hand, Snape grabbed hold of the dirty spoon and thrust it between their joined hands.
~*~
The familiar navel-pulling force had suddenly released her and Hermione felt slightly less nauseous.
Hesitantly, she took in her surroundings.
They had landed in a street of what was clearly Muggle London. The street lamps hung gloomily in their places, none of which were lit. The small manors occupying Hermione's vision appeared fairly intimidating with their Gothic structuring.
"Professor, where--?"
She was immediately silenced as the familiar, yet eerie shadowed street registered in her mind. She shut her mouth as she caught sight of the street sign at the end of the road bearing 'Grimmauld Place'.
With Snape, she slipped through the shabby wooden door of number twelve.
~*~
A/N: I had to do something interesting. I'm glad I left the chapter like this so I can continue into chapter five with a clue – quite nice, for a change. The assault scene between Hermione and Draco was rather difficult to write…more so than one would fathom. I therefore ask you to hold your flames on that particular portion of the chapter, but if you feel it that necessary or tempting, I cannot stop you. Thank you for reading and, as always, please review.