Chapter Six: Interrogation
For almost the entire next week, Draco completely avoided Hermione. He never looked up from his class work or chores, never uttered a word of complaint, and when he realized she hadn't reported him to the Headmaster, made himself almost invisible. He'd not give her any reason to have to tell Dumbledore about what had happened - and nothing would happen in future. He couldn't risk it. Though at times he desperately felt the need to go to her, to pour out his heart to her, he knew it was not possible. She couldn't understand - she'd think him dirty, tainted. She'd never want to touch him again.
Draco grappled with these thoughts during every waking moment and his sleep was fitful at best. He was haunted by dreams of his father coming to Hogwarts, his father finding his room, his father locking the door and approaching his bed. He added extra covers to the already warm and cozy bed and made sure to wear pajamas every night, but nothing made him feel safe. He missed the carefree feeling of sleeping nude, of not being afraid that his father would commit unspeakable acts with him.
Draco's stomach lurched and he ran to the loo just in time to be sick. Panting, he washed his face with cold water and brushed his teeth. He then cleaned up and changed his clothes and climbed back into bed. Sleep would not come; he felt so vulnerable, as if he were being watched. Pulling the covers up over his head, he hoped he wouldn't smother to death as he slept. This was now the only way he felt safe and unseen by the ever-present yet invisible gaze he felt was fixed on him. He drifted off many minutes later and when he woke, found that he'd twisted around so much in his sleep that he was tightly wound up in the sheets and blankets.
After extricating himself from his bed, Draco showered and dressed for the day. It was the weekend, finally, and the day was his to do with as he pleased. He decided to start the day by asking a few choice questions of a certain Ravenclaw he'd seen in the Great Hall, one Morag MacDougal, a girl in his year. He'd spied her talking to Hermione at lunch every day for the past four days and figured she might know something of this "personal experiment" that seemed to occupy so much of Hermione's time. He would talk to her once she was alone.
After breakfast, Draco went back up to his room and grabbed his Firebolt -- a gift from his father for services rendered - and headed for the Quidditch pitch. Even flying couldn't calm him like it used to, and he gave up after only a half hour in the air. He returned to his room, replaced the Firebolt and took another shower. The feel of the cool water running over his skin prompted fantasies of what it would be like to bring Hermione in with him, to soap her body, run his hands all over her. What was happening to him?
As for the Gryffindor who'd gotten under Draco's skin, he didn't know if she ever looked at him because he kept his head down whenever they were in the same room together. He shot a few glances at her over lunch, but was careful not to be seen doing so. After their tryst in the alcove, Draco had returned to the scene the next day to retrieve his cloak, but it was gone. She must have kept it as a souvenir. Draco smirked inwardly; amused that she'd want a piece of him. He had the perfect excuse to go up to her, to talk to her, but he never took it. He stayed far from Hermione Granger - guilt over what he'd done had decided it: he was lower than a Mudblood. He'd been raped, and boys just don't get raped -- especially wizard boys who could have cast a spell of protection, a charm, anything. Boys with the kind of power Draco had didn't fall victim to physical abuse, they delivered it. To be bred as a fuck toy for his father shamed Draco more than he could bear.
As much as he fought his own desires, he could not stop the thoughts from flooding his mind whenever he touched himself. A new fear took seed in his soul; what if he couldn't be with a girl - be with anyone, without thinking of what had happened? What if he became incapable of coming without such perverse and disgusting thoughts running through his head? And now, a new dilemma. He wanted to prove he didn't need Lucius and he wouldn't think of him while having sex. The problem was that the only girl he wanted, he couldn't have. He couldn't defile the only person he'd really started to like - the only person in Hogwarts who, perhaps, liked him as well.
Draco caught up with Morag in the library just before dinner. He'd overheard her tell Professor McGonagall that she'd be studying that evening, and what easier place to find a Ravenclaw than the library?
Morag sat, her face buried in a large textbook. Draco approached and sat down across from her at the wide mahogany table. It reminded him of his father's grand desk in the Malfoy study.
"Morag," he said quite plainly, jolting the girl from her reverie. The book she'd been holding fell down onto the table with a loud slam.
"Malfoy!" she nearly screamed.
"Now that we've got the pleasantries out of the way, Morag, I wanted to ask you something."
The girl picked up her book again, eyeing him with suspicion. "What is it?"
"It's about Granger," he started.
"Hermione?"
"Do we know another Granger?" he asked sarcastically. When Morag didn't reply, he continued. "I need to know what she's been working on. The experiment. Surely you know about it - I've seen you talking to her in the Great Hall all this week."
Morag hesitated. "She never told me about it," she said carefully.
"Come on, Morag, do you expect me to believe that?"
"You better believe it because it's the truth. That experiment is her big secret - think she'd tell just anybody? All I know is, it's a personal thing. That's all she says about it. 'It's personal'. She doesn't answer questions about it."
"I know; I've tried asking her myself."
"Then ask her again because I'm busy and I've told you everything I know." Morag stood up and dragged the heavy volume with her. Draco watched her struggle for a moment with a large bag of books and then she was gone.
He wasn't daft enough to go running to Hermione to ask what she was up to, but he also wasn't beyond spying on her. A plan formed in his mind: he'd wait until after dinner and then follow Hermione to see where she went. He wished he'd had a convenient invisibility cloak like Potter had, but he did not. He'd just have to rely on his skills in stealth and his intuition. And his intuition told him Hermione would be seeing one Professor in particular that night.
True to form and as predictable as Draco had thought, Hermione made her way straight to McGonagall's office. He stayed in the shadows along the corridor and creeped behind her, trying to remain unnoticed. He hadn't planned on McGonagall walking up the hallway and running into Hermione, but the near collision worked to his advantage because now Hermione and McGonagall headed urgently in the opposite direction and as he moved from pillar to alcove to statue to pillar he could hear everything they said.
"Did you have a problem with your work, Miss Granger?" asked McGonagall, her robes billowing as she walked purposefully down the long hall.
"Yes...my subject has been unavailable," Hermione answered.
"For how long?"
"Nearly a week now. I'm falling behind on my paperwork as well."
"Is he missing?"
"No, I think he's - hiding."
"He'll have to emerge sooner or later."
"I'm concerned about him, Professor," Hermione said.
"In what way?"
"He was behaving strangely before I lost sight of him and I'm worried that he's been hurt...or that he's lonely."
"If he's lonely he will turn up."
"I have to be able to observe him, though. Everything I'm doing depends on my evidence -"
McGonagall suddenly stopped walking and faced Hermione. "Miss Granger, you are a brilliant student. This is your project and you are not being graded on it. As I said before I'll help all I can but I, like you, can do nothing at this point except advise you to take some time studying texts. Perhaps he needed time to himself. The absence is part of your evidence."
Hermione looked displeased as she answered. "Yes, Professor. I'll study more."
"Just be careful. You know he can be dangerous, and I don't want to see you hurt." McGonagall said this in a very motherly fashion, prompting Draco to wonder just whom they were talking about and why McGonagall was interested in this 'experiment' in the first place.
"Thank you for agreeing to be my advisor, Professor. I value your wisdom," Hermione said, answering at least one of Draco's questions.
"Of course," McGonagall said with a sigh, "if your work is a success, I may be asking YOU for advice one day."
Hermione reddened and shook her head. "I doubt that, Professor McGonagall."
"Which part? Your work being successful or your wisdom?"
"Both," she replied.
"You have nothing to fear on either count. Good evening, Miss Granger. Good luck with your work on Monday." The professor moved off down the hall, then stopped and turned. "And don't work on the weekends. It's important that you are well rested." With that, McGonagall turned and disappeared around a corner.
Draco watched Hermione shuffle along the hallway, obviously deep in thought. Who was this person whom she'd been observing and what kind of reports was she writing? He stepped out from the alcove and followed Hermione slowly down the hall. She must have sensed his presence because she whirled around, wand drawn. Draco stopped in his tracks.
"Granger," he said in a monotone.
"Draco! What are you doing?"
He smirked and looked around him, gesturing to the hall. "Walking down the corridor, same as you."
"I didn't see you there," she said, sheathing her wand and pulling the books in her arms tightly to her chest.
"'Course you didn't. You were facing that direction," he said, pointing. "Unless you've got eyes in the back of your head, how would you have seen me?"
Hermione fidgeted. "Well...I've got to go," she began to walk away but Draco caught up with her and touched her arm.
"Wait," he said. "I'll walk with you."
"No, I'm perfectly fine to walk by myself, thanks."
He couldn't let her get away that easily. "D-do you have my robe?" he blurted.
This made Hermione stop and look at him. "Your robe?"
Now it was Draco's turn to fidget. "Yes, you know the one I was wearing when we...when I...in the alcove? A few days ago..."
"Maybe," she said carefully.
Maybe?
"What do you mean, 'maybe'?" he asked. If she didn't have it - who did?
"You shouldn't have left it in the first place," she said, her voice taking on a somewhat whiny tone.
"Oh, you mean YOU shouldn't have taken it off me?" he countered. Draco smiled smugly as Hermione's cheeks flushed. He expected her to become defensive, but oddly enough, she was in great form and volleyed digs right back at him.
"I should have taken your trousers - then you'd be wandering around Hogwarts in your boxers."
"How do you know if I wear boxers? I could be naked under here for all you know."
"Well Malfoy, you ARE naked underneath your clothing," she said, rolling her eyes for emphasis.
Rather than feel insulted, Draco was amused. He tried to hide the smile that tickled the corners of his mouth as he lobbed another remark back at her. "Now that we've established that, would you mind showing me to my robe? In your room, is it? Under your pillow?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Me? Sleep with your robe?"
Draco nodded and grazed his lower lip with his teeth. Arms akimbo, he waited expectantly. "Well?"
"What?"
"My. Robe."
"I. Don't. Have. It."
"I think you do," he said, his confidence wavering. Maybe she really didn't have it. It finally dawned upon him that his wand was tucked into his robe as well. His wand had been missing all week and he hadn't thought twice about it! "Shite!" he spat violently.
Hermione started. "What is it?"
"My wand is in my robe," he said, anger welling up inside him. Whoever had his robe had his wand. Draco swirled to the wall and punched it, hard.
"What are you doing? You're going to get hurt!" Hermione threw down her books and rushed over to where he stood, fuming. She grabbed his hand, now throbbing with pain, and gently inspected it.
"Who is it you're experimenting on?" he asked, causing her to look up into his eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"I heard you telling McGonagall about your little experiment - something to do with a bloke, is it then?"
"Malfoy, you don't know what you're talking about."
"Some bloke's not turned up in the past week and your plans are going to be ruined...what's it about, Granger?"
"Draco you're talking bollocks, you know that? It's a personal experiment; I'm studying someone, yes, but it's nothing to do with you so just piss off." She dropped his hand and he immediately regretted opening his mouth.
"Who're you studying, then?"
"Let's not start this again, Draco. That's MY business."
"Fine. Where's my robe and my wand?"
"I already told you a hundred times!"
Draco contained himself and with an air of calculated over-politeness asked, "Then can you at least tell me where I might begin looking for my missing items?"
"Did you go back to the alcove?"
"First place I checked. What did you do when I left?"
"I just...left. After you. And why DID you leave so suddenly?
He moved closer to her. "Did you want me to stay?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and was disappointed when she didn't blush or act embarrassed. Instead she raised her chin defiantly.
"Might have proven interesting. I'd have found out one thing for sure, though."
"What's that?"
"You're naked under your clothes."
This struck Draco so funny that he could not prevent the genuine smile that spread across his face. Hermione began to walk away, obviously believing the conversation to be over. "Hermione," he called, his voice echoing in the hall.
She stopped and looked back at him.
"Would you help me look for my robe...and my wand?"
Eyeing him up and down with a smirk of her own, Hermione answered, "Meet me outside the Gryffindor portrait hole in an hour. We'll find that wand of yours."
Somehow, Draco didn't think she meant the implement he used for spells and charms. He ran back to his room to prepare for the night's hunt. He had no doubt she'd find his wand.
For almost the entire next week, Draco completely avoided Hermione. He never looked up from his class work or chores, never uttered a word of complaint, and when he realized she hadn't reported him to the Headmaster, made himself almost invisible. He'd not give her any reason to have to tell Dumbledore about what had happened - and nothing would happen in future. He couldn't risk it. Though at times he desperately felt the need to go to her, to pour out his heart to her, he knew it was not possible. She couldn't understand - she'd think him dirty, tainted. She'd never want to touch him again.
Draco grappled with these thoughts during every waking moment and his sleep was fitful at best. He was haunted by dreams of his father coming to Hogwarts, his father finding his room, his father locking the door and approaching his bed. He added extra covers to the already warm and cozy bed and made sure to wear pajamas every night, but nothing made him feel safe. He missed the carefree feeling of sleeping nude, of not being afraid that his father would commit unspeakable acts with him.
Draco's stomach lurched and he ran to the loo just in time to be sick. Panting, he washed his face with cold water and brushed his teeth. He then cleaned up and changed his clothes and climbed back into bed. Sleep would not come; he felt so vulnerable, as if he were being watched. Pulling the covers up over his head, he hoped he wouldn't smother to death as he slept. This was now the only way he felt safe and unseen by the ever-present yet invisible gaze he felt was fixed on him. He drifted off many minutes later and when he woke, found that he'd twisted around so much in his sleep that he was tightly wound up in the sheets and blankets.
After extricating himself from his bed, Draco showered and dressed for the day. It was the weekend, finally, and the day was his to do with as he pleased. He decided to start the day by asking a few choice questions of a certain Ravenclaw he'd seen in the Great Hall, one Morag MacDougal, a girl in his year. He'd spied her talking to Hermione at lunch every day for the past four days and figured she might know something of this "personal experiment" that seemed to occupy so much of Hermione's time. He would talk to her once she was alone.
After breakfast, Draco went back up to his room and grabbed his Firebolt -- a gift from his father for services rendered - and headed for the Quidditch pitch. Even flying couldn't calm him like it used to, and he gave up after only a half hour in the air. He returned to his room, replaced the Firebolt and took another shower. The feel of the cool water running over his skin prompted fantasies of what it would be like to bring Hermione in with him, to soap her body, run his hands all over her. What was happening to him?
As for the Gryffindor who'd gotten under Draco's skin, he didn't know if she ever looked at him because he kept his head down whenever they were in the same room together. He shot a few glances at her over lunch, but was careful not to be seen doing so. After their tryst in the alcove, Draco had returned to the scene the next day to retrieve his cloak, but it was gone. She must have kept it as a souvenir. Draco smirked inwardly; amused that she'd want a piece of him. He had the perfect excuse to go up to her, to talk to her, but he never took it. He stayed far from Hermione Granger - guilt over what he'd done had decided it: he was lower than a Mudblood. He'd been raped, and boys just don't get raped -- especially wizard boys who could have cast a spell of protection, a charm, anything. Boys with the kind of power Draco had didn't fall victim to physical abuse, they delivered it. To be bred as a fuck toy for his father shamed Draco more than he could bear.
As much as he fought his own desires, he could not stop the thoughts from flooding his mind whenever he touched himself. A new fear took seed in his soul; what if he couldn't be with a girl - be with anyone, without thinking of what had happened? What if he became incapable of coming without such perverse and disgusting thoughts running through his head? And now, a new dilemma. He wanted to prove he didn't need Lucius and he wouldn't think of him while having sex. The problem was that the only girl he wanted, he couldn't have. He couldn't defile the only person he'd really started to like - the only person in Hogwarts who, perhaps, liked him as well.
Draco caught up with Morag in the library just before dinner. He'd overheard her tell Professor McGonagall that she'd be studying that evening, and what easier place to find a Ravenclaw than the library?
Morag sat, her face buried in a large textbook. Draco approached and sat down across from her at the wide mahogany table. It reminded him of his father's grand desk in the Malfoy study.
"Morag," he said quite plainly, jolting the girl from her reverie. The book she'd been holding fell down onto the table with a loud slam.
"Malfoy!" she nearly screamed.
"Now that we've got the pleasantries out of the way, Morag, I wanted to ask you something."
The girl picked up her book again, eyeing him with suspicion. "What is it?"
"It's about Granger," he started.
"Hermione?"
"Do we know another Granger?" he asked sarcastically. When Morag didn't reply, he continued. "I need to know what she's been working on. The experiment. Surely you know about it - I've seen you talking to her in the Great Hall all this week."
Morag hesitated. "She never told me about it," she said carefully.
"Come on, Morag, do you expect me to believe that?"
"You better believe it because it's the truth. That experiment is her big secret - think she'd tell just anybody? All I know is, it's a personal thing. That's all she says about it. 'It's personal'. She doesn't answer questions about it."
"I know; I've tried asking her myself."
"Then ask her again because I'm busy and I've told you everything I know." Morag stood up and dragged the heavy volume with her. Draco watched her struggle for a moment with a large bag of books and then she was gone.
He wasn't daft enough to go running to Hermione to ask what she was up to, but he also wasn't beyond spying on her. A plan formed in his mind: he'd wait until after dinner and then follow Hermione to see where she went. He wished he'd had a convenient invisibility cloak like Potter had, but he did not. He'd just have to rely on his skills in stealth and his intuition. And his intuition told him Hermione would be seeing one Professor in particular that night.
True to form and as predictable as Draco had thought, Hermione made her way straight to McGonagall's office. He stayed in the shadows along the corridor and creeped behind her, trying to remain unnoticed. He hadn't planned on McGonagall walking up the hallway and running into Hermione, but the near collision worked to his advantage because now Hermione and McGonagall headed urgently in the opposite direction and as he moved from pillar to alcove to statue to pillar he could hear everything they said.
"Did you have a problem with your work, Miss Granger?" asked McGonagall, her robes billowing as she walked purposefully down the long hall.
"Yes...my subject has been unavailable," Hermione answered.
"For how long?"
"Nearly a week now. I'm falling behind on my paperwork as well."
"Is he missing?"
"No, I think he's - hiding."
"He'll have to emerge sooner or later."
"I'm concerned about him, Professor," Hermione said.
"In what way?"
"He was behaving strangely before I lost sight of him and I'm worried that he's been hurt...or that he's lonely."
"If he's lonely he will turn up."
"I have to be able to observe him, though. Everything I'm doing depends on my evidence -"
McGonagall suddenly stopped walking and faced Hermione. "Miss Granger, you are a brilliant student. This is your project and you are not being graded on it. As I said before I'll help all I can but I, like you, can do nothing at this point except advise you to take some time studying texts. Perhaps he needed time to himself. The absence is part of your evidence."
Hermione looked displeased as she answered. "Yes, Professor. I'll study more."
"Just be careful. You know he can be dangerous, and I don't want to see you hurt." McGonagall said this in a very motherly fashion, prompting Draco to wonder just whom they were talking about and why McGonagall was interested in this 'experiment' in the first place.
"Thank you for agreeing to be my advisor, Professor. I value your wisdom," Hermione said, answering at least one of Draco's questions.
"Of course," McGonagall said with a sigh, "if your work is a success, I may be asking YOU for advice one day."
Hermione reddened and shook her head. "I doubt that, Professor McGonagall."
"Which part? Your work being successful or your wisdom?"
"Both," she replied.
"You have nothing to fear on either count. Good evening, Miss Granger. Good luck with your work on Monday." The professor moved off down the hall, then stopped and turned. "And don't work on the weekends. It's important that you are well rested." With that, McGonagall turned and disappeared around a corner.
Draco watched Hermione shuffle along the hallway, obviously deep in thought. Who was this person whom she'd been observing and what kind of reports was she writing? He stepped out from the alcove and followed Hermione slowly down the hall. She must have sensed his presence because she whirled around, wand drawn. Draco stopped in his tracks.
"Granger," he said in a monotone.
"Draco! What are you doing?"
He smirked and looked around him, gesturing to the hall. "Walking down the corridor, same as you."
"I didn't see you there," she said, sheathing her wand and pulling the books in her arms tightly to her chest.
"'Course you didn't. You were facing that direction," he said, pointing. "Unless you've got eyes in the back of your head, how would you have seen me?"
Hermione fidgeted. "Well...I've got to go," she began to walk away but Draco caught up with her and touched her arm.
"Wait," he said. "I'll walk with you."
"No, I'm perfectly fine to walk by myself, thanks."
He couldn't let her get away that easily. "D-do you have my robe?" he blurted.
This made Hermione stop and look at him. "Your robe?"
Now it was Draco's turn to fidget. "Yes, you know the one I was wearing when we...when I...in the alcove? A few days ago..."
"Maybe," she said carefully.
Maybe?
"What do you mean, 'maybe'?" he asked. If she didn't have it - who did?
"You shouldn't have left it in the first place," she said, her voice taking on a somewhat whiny tone.
"Oh, you mean YOU shouldn't have taken it off me?" he countered. Draco smiled smugly as Hermione's cheeks flushed. He expected her to become defensive, but oddly enough, she was in great form and volleyed digs right back at him.
"I should have taken your trousers - then you'd be wandering around Hogwarts in your boxers."
"How do you know if I wear boxers? I could be naked under here for all you know."
"Well Malfoy, you ARE naked underneath your clothing," she said, rolling her eyes for emphasis.
Rather than feel insulted, Draco was amused. He tried to hide the smile that tickled the corners of his mouth as he lobbed another remark back at her. "Now that we've established that, would you mind showing me to my robe? In your room, is it? Under your pillow?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Me? Sleep with your robe?"
Draco nodded and grazed his lower lip with his teeth. Arms akimbo, he waited expectantly. "Well?"
"What?"
"My. Robe."
"I. Don't. Have. It."
"I think you do," he said, his confidence wavering. Maybe she really didn't have it. It finally dawned upon him that his wand was tucked into his robe as well. His wand had been missing all week and he hadn't thought twice about it! "Shite!" he spat violently.
Hermione started. "What is it?"
"My wand is in my robe," he said, anger welling up inside him. Whoever had his robe had his wand. Draco swirled to the wall and punched it, hard.
"What are you doing? You're going to get hurt!" Hermione threw down her books and rushed over to where he stood, fuming. She grabbed his hand, now throbbing with pain, and gently inspected it.
"Who is it you're experimenting on?" he asked, causing her to look up into his eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"I heard you telling McGonagall about your little experiment - something to do with a bloke, is it then?"
"Malfoy, you don't know what you're talking about."
"Some bloke's not turned up in the past week and your plans are going to be ruined...what's it about, Granger?"
"Draco you're talking bollocks, you know that? It's a personal experiment; I'm studying someone, yes, but it's nothing to do with you so just piss off." She dropped his hand and he immediately regretted opening his mouth.
"Who're you studying, then?"
"Let's not start this again, Draco. That's MY business."
"Fine. Where's my robe and my wand?"
"I already told you a hundred times!"
Draco contained himself and with an air of calculated over-politeness asked, "Then can you at least tell me where I might begin looking for my missing items?"
"Did you go back to the alcove?"
"First place I checked. What did you do when I left?"
"I just...left. After you. And why DID you leave so suddenly?
He moved closer to her. "Did you want me to stay?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and was disappointed when she didn't blush or act embarrassed. Instead she raised her chin defiantly.
"Might have proven interesting. I'd have found out one thing for sure, though."
"What's that?"
"You're naked under your clothes."
This struck Draco so funny that he could not prevent the genuine smile that spread across his face. Hermione began to walk away, obviously believing the conversation to be over. "Hermione," he called, his voice echoing in the hall.
She stopped and looked back at him.
"Would you help me look for my robe...and my wand?"
Eyeing him up and down with a smirk of her own, Hermione answered, "Meet me outside the Gryffindor portrait hole in an hour. We'll find that wand of yours."
Somehow, Draco didn't think she meant the implement he used for spells and charms. He ran back to his room to prepare for the night's hunt. He had no doubt she'd find his wand.