"That was excellent!" Shirley giggled ridiculously as they, back in solid form, let the stone wall of the Slytherin Common Room close behind them.
"No, it wasn't!" Kyle said in an outraged voice. "You gave Draco away!"
Shirley stopped giggling and looked nervously at Malfoy, who wasn't looking at her. She cringed inwardly as she tried to say, 'I'm Sorry,' but nothing except a muffled whimper came out.
"It's fine," Draco said in an emotionless voice, reassuring her. "I don't care. She can't do anything to me."
"But-" Kyle started, surprised at this.
"No. I don't care," he finished.
The rest of the Slytherins watched as he made his way up to his common room. "Look what you did!" Kyle growled, nevertheless.
Hermione didn't move. It took her a second, and then her breath came back, in huge, outraged gasps. She looked at herself, covered in red.
"What happened!" voices shouted from above her, woken by the scream. Her head shot back at the stairs. Some kids were muttering in confusion, while others knew what had woken them.
'Oh, no!' she thought, desperately, whishing she could sneak off to the prefect's lavatory before anyone could see her.
"Oh my God!" she heard a girl yell as boys and girls came poking their heads into the room. "Hermione!"
It was only a moment before there was a crowd. "I'm fine!" Hermione shouted over the racket.
"Shut up!" shouted the girl who came to Hermione's aid. It was loud enough for the first row of people to quiet, sending a wave of calm through the entire crowd. "Hermione-"
"It's not blood," Hermione interrupted. "I'm not hurt. I'm going to wash this off."
"What happened?"
Hermione moved so the girl could see. There was a sharp intake of breath. Then soon everyone was trying to see it. 'Death to Mudbloods.'
It had been quite a while and Hermione was still red. The girl wouldn't let her leave, saying that it could be dangerous. Two purebloods were sent to find Professor McGonagall, one of them being Ron. Hermione felt all the eyes on her, causing her face to redden behind the paint, though no one noticed. So she was lead to the seventh year, girl's dormitory. She was alone in there with the girl, Miranda, and her best friend, Jane. They decided not to ask her any questions, knowing that the Professor would.
"What's going on here?" Professor McGonagall said sharply as she was ushered in by three excited girls who tried to come in. "No, no," McGonagall snapped as she denied them entrance. "You go back out there with the rest. Another crowd is not needed. Tell everyone to go to sleep, mind that the seventh year girl's dormitory is occupied." The girls dejectedly headed back as McGonagall shut the door, turning around. "An explanation."
Miranda decided she was talking to her. "Most of us, Gryffindors, were woken by a scream. We headed down to the common room and Hermione was covered in blood."
"Paint," Hermione amended hastily, annoyed with Miranda's account. It should be her job to inform the Professor what happened.
"What?" McGonagall asked, looking at the two of them as Jane stood silently, afraid to make a noise.
"Someone, who had some sort of invisibility enhancement, hit me with red paint."
"And then," Miranda cut back in. "They wrote 'Death to Mudbloods' on the wall."
"No," Hermione corrected again. "They had written that before I opened the back of the Fat Lady." Hermione cleared her throat, clearly telling Miranda to sod off, and retold the night's events from the time she heard noises to McGonagall.
"Miss Granger, follow me. You two, go back to bed," McGonagall ordered after a moment where she made up her mind. She lead Hermione back into the common room, barking, "Go back to bed, all of you!" at the crowd that had not chosen to leave. "Everything is perfectly safe; this is all a stupid, childish prank."
"Then, why are you taking Hermione with you?"
"You mind your business, Creevey," she said in a dangerous voice. As McGonagall and Hermione made their way out of the common room, the Gryffindors quickly dispersed, talking darkly with their friends.
Professor McGonagall paused at the Fat Ladyless portrait. She turned around and saw Dumbledore, his normal smile dormant though he did not look angry. "Dumbledore," McGonagall said as if she was not surprised. Hermione noticed that the hateful words had vanished from the wall. "What should we do?"
"Minerva," he said in a tired voice, "Go fetch Filtch and try to find the Fat Lady. She may have gone to her old hiding place. I'll take care of Miss Granger."
McGonagall headed off without a word, only nodding as she accepting her orders. Hermione gulped as the Headmaster turned to look at her with his eyes. She couldn't make out the way he felt about the incident.
"Miss Granger, you have undoubtedly told this story at least once, but I need you to be patient and tell it once more." Hermione didn't find that telling him was hard, only she felt embarrassed by the hatred at her kind. She paused, thinking why she thought of wizards and witches from non-wizards families to be a 'kind.' She looked back at Dumbledore, waiting for his response. He nodded like McGonagall had done, accepting something. He suddenly flicked his wand and Hermione felt as if someone took a sweater off her entire body. She looked down and all the red crust had vanished off her. "I'm sorry, I should have done that straight away."
"No, no, no," she mumbled, not feeling comfortable with an apology by the Headmaster.
"You must be awfully tired," he said, rather unexpectedly. She had been waiting for an explanation that would make it all better.
"Er," Hermione began, almost like she had forgotten what sleep was. Then it came back to her, and she felt a huge weight press on her as she remembered she was exhausted. Not to mention, she was still humiliated. "No," she answered, wishing she could be back in the early evening. Wishing she had stayed in bed.
He nodded again, and she wanted to know what he was thinking. "Miss Granger, on a personal note, I wouldn't let this bother me. It's hard, I know, but to be really strong you must remember to stronger than those who would do something like this." He said 'this' as if it was an annoying, mindless thing. Like a muggle would think of spamming. "Now come, you need your rest." He ushered her back into the common room. "I would see you to your dormitory," he said as if he was being impolite by staying by the portrait. "But I must help in the search for the Fat Lady. And I'm not quite keen to try to walk up those stairs again," he said, a small twinkle in his eye that made Hermione feel much lighter.
"Draco," someone cooed. "Wake up, Malfoy." Draco's eyes snapped open. He hadn't slept for hours until he passed into an uncomfortable plane of neither sleep nor consciousness. He looked over at who was waking him.
"Oh, God," he growled, trying to turn over.
Pansy rolled over him so she landed right next to Draco, staring eye to eye. "Everyone's heard. You're a hero."
"I didn't throw the paint at Granger, Kyle did."
"Oh, I know. I've heard James retell it a thousand times. Quite an impressing tale."
"What are you doing?" he asked as she took his hands into hers.
"Rubbing your hands with these stones Patrick gave me. Supposedly if you use some kinds of Invisibility potions your hands can smell like cabbage. It's a give-a-way to teachers. Someone tried to catch Steve, but he didn't go with you guys."
Draco stared suspiciously as she nonchalantly rubbed his hands with the tiny, multi-colored pebbles in her palms. "Why'd you come up here?"
"To make sure you don't get caught…So," she said, looking into his grey eyes. He felt a small jolt as he instinctively wanted to escape, knowing she was going to say what she came here to say. "Do you feel bad?"
"No," he shot out to quickly, pulling his hands away from hers.
She grinned, knowing she got a response out of him. "Soon, Draco, soon," she said as she sauntered out. He turned away, not knowing what she was talking about.
Hermione lay in bed, tears filling her eyes again. It was impossible to not think about it. The funny thing was the sound 'Dra' kept going through her mind. She couldn't forget it. And there was no way for her to convince herself it was someone else. She sat for a while, anger and confusion building up in one crescendo. "I hate him," she spit. The girls in the room didn't hear. She turned to the top of her four poster. Never before had she felt this kind of hate. It waved inside of her, like the air on a hot day. And she had been feeling all goofy and stupid…over him.