The summer passed quickly for all of the Hogwarts students.
Ron, still getting over the embarrassment he'd suffered at the beginning of the summer, spent his days playing Quidditch with his brothers (he hoped to try out for the house team the following year) or daydreaming in his room. Contrary to popular opinion, Ron was less of a straightforward, feet-on-the- ground type of person. Most of the time, his head resided up in the clouds. He liked it up there. His life was perfect up there: no embarrassing, bungled moves of attraction, no poverty, and no stupidity. He wished it were real.
---
Harry, though still living with the Dursleys, had a rather good time over the summer as well. This summer, he whiled away his days in his room by choice. He sent letters to Ron and Hermione by way of Hedwig, and received responses promptly. Both sent packages, knowing that Harry was in his room and generally underfed. He even received mail and packages from Hagrid. Though he appreciated the thought, Hagrid's cooking left much to be desired. The rock cakes he'd sent were in a box under Harry's bed should there be a sudden emergency and he couldn't eat anything else. He shuddered at the thought. How many rock cakes could one possibly eat and still live?
---
Hermione's summer was going better than she'd planned. The owl she'd found on the street had delivered her mail to Draco, and he'd responded with a short "Thanks. Will do." She'd also been receiving letters from Harry and Ron, telling her about their summers. She'd been replying, giving them basic information about her summer and trying to glean more blackmail information from them. She was beginning to worry, though. Her attachment to them was becoming stronger than she wanted it to be. She knew that if they became close, she wouldn't be able to derive such pleasure from blackmailing them. Even though she'd only started being "bad" this year, she rather enjoyed it. It had become her favorite pastime, second only to studying.
She sighed. Maybe she didn't want friends. Maybe being a loner was something she really liked; something she was cut out for. Maybe it was her destiny. She didn't like these periods of reflection. They always made her feel awkward and uncomfortable within her own thoughts. It was a bit scary at times.
But, her mind argued, reflection helps you sort out your priorities. Your thoughts are important, and you need to work through them. You really need to think about this. Do you want to be friends with them? Do you want to continue doing what you're doing with Draco?
She wasn't sure. She liked both of the options. She could be friends with Harry and Ron while still passing Gryffindor information to Draco. It didn't have to be about Harry and Ron; it could be about random Gryffindors.
But, her conscience nagged, eventually you'll have to decide where your loyalties lie. You can't do this forever.
She sighed, a deeper sigh this time, and went back to her new Defense Against the Dark Arts book.
---
Draco's summer was going amazingly well. He'd spent the majority of it practicing Quidditch: his father had purchased new Nimbus 2001 broomsticks to assure him a place as Seeker on the Slytherin team. He'd been taught by the best Quidditch players in the wizarding world, of course. His father wouldn't give his son anything less than the best. Draco was actually quite skilled at Quidditch, judging from what his instructor and father had said. He, of course, already knew it. He had always been the best at everything he did, and he made sure that everyone else knew it too.
He continued receiving owls from Hermione, nearly on a weekly basis. Some information was trivial, just petty facts, but the majority of it was very helpful. He filed all of the papers away in a school folder, to be looked at when he arrived at school again in the fall. He had begun to anxiously await each letter from Hermione. He couldn't wait to add to his arsenal.
He wanted to share his wicked excitement with his father, since Lucius hated Harry Potter and the disgraceful Weasleys more than anyone he knew, but he also knew that his father wouldn't take too well to the fact that Draco was collaborating with a filthy Mudblood. Even though Hermione's information was harmful to Potter and the Weasleys, his father would be outraged. Draco sighed. He could never win with his father.
However, Lucius had begun to suspect something when Draco began receiving post regularly from the same owl. Draco remembered the confrontation well.
(memory) "Draco, I've noticed you've been receiving quite a bit of mail from a brown barn owl lately. Dare I ask to whom it belongs?" asked Lucius icily.
Draco fumbled for an answer.
"It's Pansy Parkinson's. She and I became close over the course of last year through our desire to taunt Potter and his friends. She likes to send me updates on her summer, and I do vaguely the same thing. Sometimes she comes upon a bit of information regarding one or both of the groups, and we plan to use it against them once school starts up again. We also spend a lot of time teasing that filthy Mudblood Granger." Draco paused, momentarily growing a conscience and feeling a bit badly for what he was saying about the girl who furthered his evil mission and had actually become his friend.
Seeing the look on his face, Lucius asked coldly, "And?"
Draco lost the conscience and replied evenly, "And that's it. It's something we do for fun. Pansy is really good at it, too. Her taunts are short but scathing." He smiled evilly.
Lucius nodded. "Good. Keep in mind that we are better than those half- breeds and Mudbloods. It is your duty, as a Malfoy, to remind them of that fact constantly. If I hear differently, there will be severe consequences. The first thing to go will be Quidditch, and other things will continue disappearing until you shape up."
His threat did not go unheard by Draco. Not for the first time in his 12 years, he was afraid of his father. He didn't like to admit it, but his father scared him beyond belief. Lucius was the most powerful Dark wizard, and he expected Draco to follow in his footsteps. Draco had always planned on doing the same thing as his father, and still his plan was unwavering, but sometimes a bit of doubt nibbled at him. He always pushed it out with a bit of taunting. That always pulled him out of a funk.
Now, however, that could not work. At least not currently. School wasn't in session; henceforth, he couldn't get to Potter or Weasley. He shuddered at the memory of this exchange. He couldn't be found out. He wouldn't be able to do what he was doing if his father knew how he got his information. His intentions were every bit as wicked as his Lucius' were, but the way Draco received his information was contrary to every belief that his family held sacred. He would receive the worst beating of his life if Lucius found out.
---
When the day arrived, all of the students were glad to return, but especially Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco. While their summers had been very good, all wished to be back to further their separate interests.
Harry, Ron and Hermione all met at Platform 9 ¾, and the excitement ran high.
"Harry! Ron! So good to see you!" Hermione trilled in a high falsetto.
"It's great to see you too!" they chorused in unison.
"How was your summer?" Ron asked Hermione.
'You should bloody well know,' she thought irritably. 'I only owled you every week.'
She refrained from saying that, and instead pasted on her phony smile, saying, "It went very well! How were your summers?"
Harry and Ron nodded, signalling that they too had good summers. Nothing to complain about.
They settled comfortably in the same compartment, still talking rather excitedly.
"So, what courses are you two taking this term?" Hermione asked.
"Same things," they answered in unison.
"Are you really?" Hermione asked incredulously.
"Yeah, why?" Ron asked.
"I've added Arithmancy and Divination," she said proudly.
Harry and Ron looked at her, awed.
"WHY?" Ron asked.
"I need more of a challenge," she said simply. She didn't mention that Draco had added the same courses. It was better, she had decided, not to tell them. Being protective of her, they'd try to coerce her out of them; therefore, it was none of their business.
Harry and Ron were still amazed that she'd added even more courses. They knew she was an overachiever, but how would she fit it all in? They were absolutely baffled.
Momentarily, Draco was passing in the corridor. He gave Hermione a dirty look, the one they'd reserved to imply that they needed to meet. Hermione returned the look, and Draco continued down the hall.
Neither Harry nor Ron had noticed this exchange. They were too busy talking Quidditch to pay any attention to Hermione. She didn't care; in fact, she rather enjoyed it. It game here time to get sorted, which she badly needed to do.
She needed to decide which side she was going to support. Would she go the way of the noble Gryffindor, or the suspect Slytherin? She'd been wrestling with this question all summer. She couldn't keep riding the fence; sooner or later she'd have to decide.
She'd already made a mental list of the pros and cons of each option. There weren't a lot of pros for Gryffindor; in fact, there was just one. Silly though it was, she fancied Oliver Wood a bit. She enjoyed seeing him in the common room on a daily basis, and enjoyed talking to him quite a bit. It would be difficult, not to mention awkward, to continue this if she decided to support the Slytherin cause.
This was her only pro on the Gryffindor list. However, there were quite a few cons.
Firstly, she couldn't stand the self-righteousness of those people. They revered themselves as the highest beings in the school: in their minds, no one else was worth associating with. She couldn't stand that. She hated those kinds of people. They'd snubbed her all too much throughout her school career. Her conscience told her that the Slytherins were the same way, but she ignored that thought every time it surfaced.
Secondly, they were too pious. She'd been that way for much too long, and was long overdue for a change. Bad as it might be, she liked the person she was becoming. No one suspected it, and she liked that. She loved her wicked thoughts, and the evil grin that appeared whenever she was plotting something underhanded. The smile surfaced again. She suppressed it this time, remembering where she was and whom she was with. They were oblivious, though. Their were focused only on Quidditch, not even paying attention to her.
'Good,' she thought.
She sighed, continuing to mentally list the pros and cons of the two houses.
Gryffindor had heinous colours, too, she thought, wrinkling her nose. Red and gold? She much preferred the green and silver of Slytherin, which were much classier.
Finally, she thought, all of the people she knew, present company included, were incredibly stuck up. It went hand in hand with the self-righteousness and piety. It was truly torturous. She'd nearly lost her mind multiple times last school year trying not to fly off the handle and scream at them.
She wrinkled her nose again, pausing to look out the window. They were fast approaching the school. She let herself fall deep into her thoughts again.
On the other hand, however, she had multiple pros for Slytherin and few to no cons.
First, she'd developed a taste for evildoing. While blackmailing people wasn't exactly true evil, it was the gateway to worse things. Besides, it was the worst thing she'd ever done. She loved it.
Second, she felt a lot closer to Draco than she ever had been (or ever would be, she thought) to Harry or Ron. The friendship that she and Draco had was more than just the exchange of information; no, she thought, it was progressing to an honest friendship. The dirty looks had become sort of a sign of affection to her; she almost looked forward to them and the meetings they implied. A small smile crossed her face, neither evil nor ecstatic, but that gave her a bit of happiness.
She'd begun to prefer Professor Snape's classes to any of her others. His were the most challenging, and getting him to like her was the biggest challenge she'd ever faced. She accepted both willingly. Challenges were something she needed. 'It must be in my blood,' she thought.
She still couldn't decide, no matter the lists of pros and cons. She'd been sorted into Gryffindor, which had to mean something. 'Did the sorting hat ever make mistakes?' she mused.
Again she looked out the window and saw Hogwarts only a few kilometres in the distance. She snapped out of her reverie and notified Harry and Ron that they ought to change into their robes. They quickly did, and the group began their idle chatter once more. Hermione was trying to conceal the discomfort she felt when she was around them. This feeling had only grown over the past year, making it almost painful for her to be with them. However, until she made her decision, she at least needed to pretend that she was close with them. She sighed.
They exited the train and paraded into the Great Hall, anxiously awaiting the sorting ceremony. Hermione kept to herself, not looking at Harry or Ron. She was trying to avoid the seemingly concerned looks, not wanting to make her decision.
It was prolonged by the beginning of the sorting ceremony. The Gryffindors were anxiously waiting and watching to see who they would get. Everyone save for Hermione. She, for some reason, didn't are. Maybe that meant she'd made her decision. She wasn't sure. She closed her eyes, trying to clear her head of the mixed thoughts that had been plaguing her for what seemed like an eternity. This didn't help. The strong opposition of her thoughts only intensified. This was killing her. Her mind and body just couldn't handle the pressure she was under to make her decision. Suddenly, her world went black. She collapsed face first into her full plate.
No one noticed. No one save for Draco, who had been watching her for the past few minutes. However, he couldn't do anything: it was uncharacteristic of Slytherins, and, more importantly, of himself. He felt badly for Hermione; she was obviously the most tolerable of the Gryffindors, and no one seemed to care. He almost wanted to throw away his reputation to help her, but then he thought of what his father would do when he heard. Draco restrained himself, willing a Gryffindor to notice, any Gryffindor.
What seemed like an eternity passed, when, finally, Percy Weasley looked to the end of the table, searching out Fred and George, and he saw Hermione face down in her plate.
He rushed over to her and lifted her head from her plate. She still wasn't moving. He quickly wiped her face and almost flew to the hospital wing, carrying her.
The rest of the Gryffindors were in shock after seeing Percy rush off with Hermione, especially Harry and Ron. Why hadn't she told them that she was sick? What's wrong? They abruptly stood, knocking their bench over in the process, and followed Percy to the hospital wing.
Neither spoke on the way there. They didn't know what to say. It was only the first day; she couldn't be worrying or stressing over schoolwork yet. They were confused, but most of all, extremely worried. Hermione had always kept her composure, even in the most difficult of situations. This was very frightening.
Meanwhile in the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey had placed Hermione on a cot, with Percy sitting beside her, a concerned look adorning his face. Madam Pomfrey bustled about, getting a cold compress for Hermione's forehead, and smelling salts to bring her around.
Percy was sitting beside her, and he suddenly felt the uncontrollable urge to take her hand to comfort her (and himself as well), so he reached out to her. The hands he touched were clammy. His concern deepened to fear. Clammy hands couldn't be a good thing. He didn't want to call for Madam Pomfrey, though. He didn't want to appear too needy or obsessive. Plus, she would be back momentarily, he hoped.
As soon as that thought had crossed his mind, she came back into the room, hold a cool cloth and a clear jar of smelling salts. She opened the jar and put it underneath Hermione's nose. Hermione stirred, but didn't wake.
Madam Pomfrey tried again. This time, Hermione's eyes slowly fluttered open, as if she was waking from a very deep sleep. She tried to sit up, but Madam Pomfrey shook her head and pushed Hermione's shoulders back to the bed. Hermione didn't resist. Madam Pomfrey placed the cool cloth on Hermione's forehead, which was burning up, when Hermione asked confusedly, "What happened? Why is Percy here? Where are Harry and Ron?"
As if that was their cue, Harry and Ron burst through the doors of the hospital wing, both out of breath.
"Hermione!" Ron said, a note of concern in his voice. "What happened?"
Percy decided to field this question, since he'd been the one who saw her and took her here.
He stared his brother in the eyes, and said, "She collapsed into her dinner. I don't know why. Hermione, I'm here because I saw you face down in your plate and carried you up here." He paused, looking again at Harry and Ron. "As for you two, she was just asking after you. Hermione, how are you feeling?"
"Confused," she answered slowly, holding back her mild irritation with Harry and Ron for not noticing her. The fact that she was sitting away from them was inconsequential. They should have noticed, she thought, becoming more and more irritated.
"I don't know why this happened," she lied.
Madam Pomfrey looked at her with concerned eyes. "Have you been under any sort of stress lately?"
Hermione pondered telling the truth, but then thought better of it. "No," she fibbed. "Classes haven't started yet, so there's really no reason for me." she trailed off.
"Can I go back to Gryffindor now?" she asked.
Madam Pomfrey pondered this question and finally nodded.
"Percy, Harry and Ron, you help her back. You, missy, need to get a lot of rest before your classes begin. You'll only have this happen again if you don't."
Hermione nodded, slowly standing up with Percy's help. She noticed Harry and Ron standing a few feet away, avoiding her gaze in their direction. Her irritation quickly turned to anger, but she hid it well.
Percy put his arm around Hermione's shoulders, glaring at his brother and Harry for not helping.
Ron felt his brother's gaze and punched Harry in the shoulder, signalling that they, too, should help. Harry nodded, and they walked over to Percy and Hermione. Ron put his arm around Hermione's waist opposite to Percy, and Harry was walking behind them in case she fell.
The walk to Gryffindor was silent. Hermione's anger was coming to a boil, but she didn't want to ream Harry and Ron out in front of Percy, much less in the corridor. She'd wait.
***
Sorry it's been so long since I updated!!! I was on choir tour this past week, and then midterms came before that. Ugh. Anyway, hopefully it won't take this long in the future! --Lauren
Ron, still getting over the embarrassment he'd suffered at the beginning of the summer, spent his days playing Quidditch with his brothers (he hoped to try out for the house team the following year) or daydreaming in his room. Contrary to popular opinion, Ron was less of a straightforward, feet-on-the- ground type of person. Most of the time, his head resided up in the clouds. He liked it up there. His life was perfect up there: no embarrassing, bungled moves of attraction, no poverty, and no stupidity. He wished it were real.
---
Harry, though still living with the Dursleys, had a rather good time over the summer as well. This summer, he whiled away his days in his room by choice. He sent letters to Ron and Hermione by way of Hedwig, and received responses promptly. Both sent packages, knowing that Harry was in his room and generally underfed. He even received mail and packages from Hagrid. Though he appreciated the thought, Hagrid's cooking left much to be desired. The rock cakes he'd sent were in a box under Harry's bed should there be a sudden emergency and he couldn't eat anything else. He shuddered at the thought. How many rock cakes could one possibly eat and still live?
---
Hermione's summer was going better than she'd planned. The owl she'd found on the street had delivered her mail to Draco, and he'd responded with a short "Thanks. Will do." She'd also been receiving letters from Harry and Ron, telling her about their summers. She'd been replying, giving them basic information about her summer and trying to glean more blackmail information from them. She was beginning to worry, though. Her attachment to them was becoming stronger than she wanted it to be. She knew that if they became close, she wouldn't be able to derive such pleasure from blackmailing them. Even though she'd only started being "bad" this year, she rather enjoyed it. It had become her favorite pastime, second only to studying.
She sighed. Maybe she didn't want friends. Maybe being a loner was something she really liked; something she was cut out for. Maybe it was her destiny. She didn't like these periods of reflection. They always made her feel awkward and uncomfortable within her own thoughts. It was a bit scary at times.
But, her mind argued, reflection helps you sort out your priorities. Your thoughts are important, and you need to work through them. You really need to think about this. Do you want to be friends with them? Do you want to continue doing what you're doing with Draco?
She wasn't sure. She liked both of the options. She could be friends with Harry and Ron while still passing Gryffindor information to Draco. It didn't have to be about Harry and Ron; it could be about random Gryffindors.
But, her conscience nagged, eventually you'll have to decide where your loyalties lie. You can't do this forever.
She sighed, a deeper sigh this time, and went back to her new Defense Against the Dark Arts book.
---
Draco's summer was going amazingly well. He'd spent the majority of it practicing Quidditch: his father had purchased new Nimbus 2001 broomsticks to assure him a place as Seeker on the Slytherin team. He'd been taught by the best Quidditch players in the wizarding world, of course. His father wouldn't give his son anything less than the best. Draco was actually quite skilled at Quidditch, judging from what his instructor and father had said. He, of course, already knew it. He had always been the best at everything he did, and he made sure that everyone else knew it too.
He continued receiving owls from Hermione, nearly on a weekly basis. Some information was trivial, just petty facts, but the majority of it was very helpful. He filed all of the papers away in a school folder, to be looked at when he arrived at school again in the fall. He had begun to anxiously await each letter from Hermione. He couldn't wait to add to his arsenal.
He wanted to share his wicked excitement with his father, since Lucius hated Harry Potter and the disgraceful Weasleys more than anyone he knew, but he also knew that his father wouldn't take too well to the fact that Draco was collaborating with a filthy Mudblood. Even though Hermione's information was harmful to Potter and the Weasleys, his father would be outraged. Draco sighed. He could never win with his father.
However, Lucius had begun to suspect something when Draco began receiving post regularly from the same owl. Draco remembered the confrontation well.
(memory) "Draco, I've noticed you've been receiving quite a bit of mail from a brown barn owl lately. Dare I ask to whom it belongs?" asked Lucius icily.
Draco fumbled for an answer.
"It's Pansy Parkinson's. She and I became close over the course of last year through our desire to taunt Potter and his friends. She likes to send me updates on her summer, and I do vaguely the same thing. Sometimes she comes upon a bit of information regarding one or both of the groups, and we plan to use it against them once school starts up again. We also spend a lot of time teasing that filthy Mudblood Granger." Draco paused, momentarily growing a conscience and feeling a bit badly for what he was saying about the girl who furthered his evil mission and had actually become his friend.
Seeing the look on his face, Lucius asked coldly, "And?"
Draco lost the conscience and replied evenly, "And that's it. It's something we do for fun. Pansy is really good at it, too. Her taunts are short but scathing." He smiled evilly.
Lucius nodded. "Good. Keep in mind that we are better than those half- breeds and Mudbloods. It is your duty, as a Malfoy, to remind them of that fact constantly. If I hear differently, there will be severe consequences. The first thing to go will be Quidditch, and other things will continue disappearing until you shape up."
His threat did not go unheard by Draco. Not for the first time in his 12 years, he was afraid of his father. He didn't like to admit it, but his father scared him beyond belief. Lucius was the most powerful Dark wizard, and he expected Draco to follow in his footsteps. Draco had always planned on doing the same thing as his father, and still his plan was unwavering, but sometimes a bit of doubt nibbled at him. He always pushed it out with a bit of taunting. That always pulled him out of a funk.
Now, however, that could not work. At least not currently. School wasn't in session; henceforth, he couldn't get to Potter or Weasley. He shuddered at the memory of this exchange. He couldn't be found out. He wouldn't be able to do what he was doing if his father knew how he got his information. His intentions were every bit as wicked as his Lucius' were, but the way Draco received his information was contrary to every belief that his family held sacred. He would receive the worst beating of his life if Lucius found out.
---
When the day arrived, all of the students were glad to return, but especially Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco. While their summers had been very good, all wished to be back to further their separate interests.
Harry, Ron and Hermione all met at Platform 9 ¾, and the excitement ran high.
"Harry! Ron! So good to see you!" Hermione trilled in a high falsetto.
"It's great to see you too!" they chorused in unison.
"How was your summer?" Ron asked Hermione.
'You should bloody well know,' she thought irritably. 'I only owled you every week.'
She refrained from saying that, and instead pasted on her phony smile, saying, "It went very well! How were your summers?"
Harry and Ron nodded, signalling that they too had good summers. Nothing to complain about.
They settled comfortably in the same compartment, still talking rather excitedly.
"So, what courses are you two taking this term?" Hermione asked.
"Same things," they answered in unison.
"Are you really?" Hermione asked incredulously.
"Yeah, why?" Ron asked.
"I've added Arithmancy and Divination," she said proudly.
Harry and Ron looked at her, awed.
"WHY?" Ron asked.
"I need more of a challenge," she said simply. She didn't mention that Draco had added the same courses. It was better, she had decided, not to tell them. Being protective of her, they'd try to coerce her out of them; therefore, it was none of their business.
Harry and Ron were still amazed that she'd added even more courses. They knew she was an overachiever, but how would she fit it all in? They were absolutely baffled.
Momentarily, Draco was passing in the corridor. He gave Hermione a dirty look, the one they'd reserved to imply that they needed to meet. Hermione returned the look, and Draco continued down the hall.
Neither Harry nor Ron had noticed this exchange. They were too busy talking Quidditch to pay any attention to Hermione. She didn't care; in fact, she rather enjoyed it. It game here time to get sorted, which she badly needed to do.
She needed to decide which side she was going to support. Would she go the way of the noble Gryffindor, or the suspect Slytherin? She'd been wrestling with this question all summer. She couldn't keep riding the fence; sooner or later she'd have to decide.
She'd already made a mental list of the pros and cons of each option. There weren't a lot of pros for Gryffindor; in fact, there was just one. Silly though it was, she fancied Oliver Wood a bit. She enjoyed seeing him in the common room on a daily basis, and enjoyed talking to him quite a bit. It would be difficult, not to mention awkward, to continue this if she decided to support the Slytherin cause.
This was her only pro on the Gryffindor list. However, there were quite a few cons.
Firstly, she couldn't stand the self-righteousness of those people. They revered themselves as the highest beings in the school: in their minds, no one else was worth associating with. She couldn't stand that. She hated those kinds of people. They'd snubbed her all too much throughout her school career. Her conscience told her that the Slytherins were the same way, but she ignored that thought every time it surfaced.
Secondly, they were too pious. She'd been that way for much too long, and was long overdue for a change. Bad as it might be, she liked the person she was becoming. No one suspected it, and she liked that. She loved her wicked thoughts, and the evil grin that appeared whenever she was plotting something underhanded. The smile surfaced again. She suppressed it this time, remembering where she was and whom she was with. They were oblivious, though. Their were focused only on Quidditch, not even paying attention to her.
'Good,' she thought.
She sighed, continuing to mentally list the pros and cons of the two houses.
Gryffindor had heinous colours, too, she thought, wrinkling her nose. Red and gold? She much preferred the green and silver of Slytherin, which were much classier.
Finally, she thought, all of the people she knew, present company included, were incredibly stuck up. It went hand in hand with the self-righteousness and piety. It was truly torturous. She'd nearly lost her mind multiple times last school year trying not to fly off the handle and scream at them.
She wrinkled her nose again, pausing to look out the window. They were fast approaching the school. She let herself fall deep into her thoughts again.
On the other hand, however, she had multiple pros for Slytherin and few to no cons.
First, she'd developed a taste for evildoing. While blackmailing people wasn't exactly true evil, it was the gateway to worse things. Besides, it was the worst thing she'd ever done. She loved it.
Second, she felt a lot closer to Draco than she ever had been (or ever would be, she thought) to Harry or Ron. The friendship that she and Draco had was more than just the exchange of information; no, she thought, it was progressing to an honest friendship. The dirty looks had become sort of a sign of affection to her; she almost looked forward to them and the meetings they implied. A small smile crossed her face, neither evil nor ecstatic, but that gave her a bit of happiness.
She'd begun to prefer Professor Snape's classes to any of her others. His were the most challenging, and getting him to like her was the biggest challenge she'd ever faced. She accepted both willingly. Challenges were something she needed. 'It must be in my blood,' she thought.
She still couldn't decide, no matter the lists of pros and cons. She'd been sorted into Gryffindor, which had to mean something. 'Did the sorting hat ever make mistakes?' she mused.
Again she looked out the window and saw Hogwarts only a few kilometres in the distance. She snapped out of her reverie and notified Harry and Ron that they ought to change into their robes. They quickly did, and the group began their idle chatter once more. Hermione was trying to conceal the discomfort she felt when she was around them. This feeling had only grown over the past year, making it almost painful for her to be with them. However, until she made her decision, she at least needed to pretend that she was close with them. She sighed.
They exited the train and paraded into the Great Hall, anxiously awaiting the sorting ceremony. Hermione kept to herself, not looking at Harry or Ron. She was trying to avoid the seemingly concerned looks, not wanting to make her decision.
It was prolonged by the beginning of the sorting ceremony. The Gryffindors were anxiously waiting and watching to see who they would get. Everyone save for Hermione. She, for some reason, didn't are. Maybe that meant she'd made her decision. She wasn't sure. She closed her eyes, trying to clear her head of the mixed thoughts that had been plaguing her for what seemed like an eternity. This didn't help. The strong opposition of her thoughts only intensified. This was killing her. Her mind and body just couldn't handle the pressure she was under to make her decision. Suddenly, her world went black. She collapsed face first into her full plate.
No one noticed. No one save for Draco, who had been watching her for the past few minutes. However, he couldn't do anything: it was uncharacteristic of Slytherins, and, more importantly, of himself. He felt badly for Hermione; she was obviously the most tolerable of the Gryffindors, and no one seemed to care. He almost wanted to throw away his reputation to help her, but then he thought of what his father would do when he heard. Draco restrained himself, willing a Gryffindor to notice, any Gryffindor.
What seemed like an eternity passed, when, finally, Percy Weasley looked to the end of the table, searching out Fred and George, and he saw Hermione face down in her plate.
He rushed over to her and lifted her head from her plate. She still wasn't moving. He quickly wiped her face and almost flew to the hospital wing, carrying her.
The rest of the Gryffindors were in shock after seeing Percy rush off with Hermione, especially Harry and Ron. Why hadn't she told them that she was sick? What's wrong? They abruptly stood, knocking their bench over in the process, and followed Percy to the hospital wing.
Neither spoke on the way there. They didn't know what to say. It was only the first day; she couldn't be worrying or stressing over schoolwork yet. They were confused, but most of all, extremely worried. Hermione had always kept her composure, even in the most difficult of situations. This was very frightening.
Meanwhile in the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey had placed Hermione on a cot, with Percy sitting beside her, a concerned look adorning his face. Madam Pomfrey bustled about, getting a cold compress for Hermione's forehead, and smelling salts to bring her around.
Percy was sitting beside her, and he suddenly felt the uncontrollable urge to take her hand to comfort her (and himself as well), so he reached out to her. The hands he touched were clammy. His concern deepened to fear. Clammy hands couldn't be a good thing. He didn't want to call for Madam Pomfrey, though. He didn't want to appear too needy or obsessive. Plus, she would be back momentarily, he hoped.
As soon as that thought had crossed his mind, she came back into the room, hold a cool cloth and a clear jar of smelling salts. She opened the jar and put it underneath Hermione's nose. Hermione stirred, but didn't wake.
Madam Pomfrey tried again. This time, Hermione's eyes slowly fluttered open, as if she was waking from a very deep sleep. She tried to sit up, but Madam Pomfrey shook her head and pushed Hermione's shoulders back to the bed. Hermione didn't resist. Madam Pomfrey placed the cool cloth on Hermione's forehead, which was burning up, when Hermione asked confusedly, "What happened? Why is Percy here? Where are Harry and Ron?"
As if that was their cue, Harry and Ron burst through the doors of the hospital wing, both out of breath.
"Hermione!" Ron said, a note of concern in his voice. "What happened?"
Percy decided to field this question, since he'd been the one who saw her and took her here.
He stared his brother in the eyes, and said, "She collapsed into her dinner. I don't know why. Hermione, I'm here because I saw you face down in your plate and carried you up here." He paused, looking again at Harry and Ron. "As for you two, she was just asking after you. Hermione, how are you feeling?"
"Confused," she answered slowly, holding back her mild irritation with Harry and Ron for not noticing her. The fact that she was sitting away from them was inconsequential. They should have noticed, she thought, becoming more and more irritated.
"I don't know why this happened," she lied.
Madam Pomfrey looked at her with concerned eyes. "Have you been under any sort of stress lately?"
Hermione pondered telling the truth, but then thought better of it. "No," she fibbed. "Classes haven't started yet, so there's really no reason for me." she trailed off.
"Can I go back to Gryffindor now?" she asked.
Madam Pomfrey pondered this question and finally nodded.
"Percy, Harry and Ron, you help her back. You, missy, need to get a lot of rest before your classes begin. You'll only have this happen again if you don't."
Hermione nodded, slowly standing up with Percy's help. She noticed Harry and Ron standing a few feet away, avoiding her gaze in their direction. Her irritation quickly turned to anger, but she hid it well.
Percy put his arm around Hermione's shoulders, glaring at his brother and Harry for not helping.
Ron felt his brother's gaze and punched Harry in the shoulder, signalling that they, too, should help. Harry nodded, and they walked over to Percy and Hermione. Ron put his arm around Hermione's waist opposite to Percy, and Harry was walking behind them in case she fell.
The walk to Gryffindor was silent. Hermione's anger was coming to a boil, but she didn't want to ream Harry and Ron out in front of Percy, much less in the corridor. She'd wait.
***
Sorry it's been so long since I updated!!! I was on choir tour this past week, and then midterms came before that. Ugh. Anyway, hopefully it won't take this long in the future! --Lauren