Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing!
A/N: Sorry this took so long. ::hugs to everyone who reviewed::
Note to Luna (whoever you are), and to anyone like her: What Fanfiction.Net stands for is freedom of speech, but there is such a thing as abusing a privilege. Now, unusual pairings, I have found, such as Hermione/Draco, or Draco/Ginny, or Harry/McGonagall, etc., are a matter of taste. Most of them are acquired. And the thing that makes them compelling is the challenge. Whenever I click into one of these fics, I think, "How is the author going to justify *this* one?" So, quite frankly, if you find one of these pairings to be a blasphemy in the Church of Harry Potter, you don't read it. And you *certainly* don't diss my little sister when she's writing her first fanfiction.
I apologize for the above, but, hey, sisterly pride and all that. On with the show!
*********
As soon as he got out of the classroom, Draco collapsed against the wall and took a few deep, calming breaths. If he hadn't been unpopular before, he certainly would be now. Wondering if he would be able to trace the rumors about him spreading around the school, he unfolded the note McGonagall had handed him.
~Mr. Malfoy,
You should not be reading a note a teacher handed you.~
Draco chuckled despite himself.
~I will be expecting your homework a day late. I hope you will soon feel well enough to comport yourself properly in class.~ The note went on to detail directions to the Headmaster's office, and how to get in, and was signed with a dignified "M.M."
Walking through the halls between classes was extremely odd. Draco could hear the voices of his teachers, and of other people in the school, reverberating around in the hallways, but he couldn't usually see the source of the noise.
"You!" called an angry voice just as Draco reached the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Whirling around, he slumped when he saw that it was Argus Filch, the school's head disciplinarian. "What do you think you're doin' out here between classes?" Filch squinted at Draco's chest. "And you're Head Boy, too! Think you can get away with things just 'cause you've got a shiny badge? Think again, you little tr--"
"I've got a note," managed Draco, pulling it out of his pocket. Much to his surprise and relief, the back of the note read 'Hall Pass.' Filch inspected it closely, then stalked away grumbling, followed closely by his annoyed cat, Mrs. Norris.
Looking to the statue in front of him, Draco said, embarrassed, "Licorice twist," and was allowed passage into the office.
Staring around the room in wonder, as he'd never been in here before, Draco didn't notice that Professor Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk. That was why he startled when Dumbledore said, "You have business?"
"Oh," said Draco, blushing mildly. "Yes."
"Have a seat, then." Draco complied. There was a quiet moment between the two of them. Then--
"Well, out with it then, I'm not omniscient, you know," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling.
_'Omniscient'...From the Latin...'omnis' means all, and...'scientia' means knowledge...all knowledge? All...knowing? Oh..._ thought Draco, understanding slowly dawning on him. "Professor McGonagall sent me, sir," he said slowly.
"For what reason?" prompted Dumbledore, not impatient.
"I...uh...collapsedinclasssir," mumbled Draco, looking at the floor.
"What was that?"
He cleared his throat, looking up again. "Had a bit of a...an episode...in Transfiguration, sir."
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "I...see. Does this have anything to do with your experiences last year?"
*********
Thoughts of Malfoy's reserve nagged at Hermione all day. Why hadn't he insulted her first chance he got? Why had he helped her remember the code for her keypad? And what was with that note? Why did he hate his own name so much? _Well, it isn't the most desirable name in the world...but he ought to be used to it by now._ But as she passed from class to class, thoughts of Malfoy seemed to dwindle in importance.
No one would look at her. No one had made an attempt to speak to her. Why?
Hermione knew she was bookish, and sometimes distant, but this was a bit ridiculous. Neville was the only one who had said a word to her all day, and that was only because she asked to borrow his red ink. Her classmates' avoidance seemed to be contagious. She'd gone all the way through Arithmancy, where she was usually looked to for assistance, without one question from the other students in class. And not one word had been spoken to her during lunch.
Now she walked through the grounds to Hagrid's hut, certain--in a huffy sort of way--that if he wouldn't talk to her, she was destined to be mute for the rest of the year.
*********
Draco was determined to remain mute, until, unfortunately, he was prompted with his name. "Yes," he said darkly, glaring at the floor. "It does." The man behind the desk said nothing, merely waiting for Draco to speak. Draco, meanwhile, was searching desperately for a way to change the subject. "Sir? Do the Head Boy and Head Girl always share dormitories?"
"Yes, actually. You're old enough to be trusted, and you'll need to be working on the holiday festivities together. It only makes sense for you to be in close quarters," Dumbledore said, then continued with a tiny smile. "How are you and Hermione doing on planning our Halloween celebration?"
"We haven't started yet."
"Well, the staff expects great things from you two, of course, in addition to your top scores in N.E.W.T. classes. In fact," the old man leaned forward conspiratorially, "I wouldn't object if you wanted to visit Hogsmeade a time or two to get supplies. I have a feeling you'll need to."
"Sir," said Draco, raising his head, now ready to talk. "I want to be a good person," he asserted firmly. To any other person besides Dumbledore, this may not have made sense, coming out of the blue as it was, but the old man seemed instantly focused on what Draco had to say. "I can't tiptoe around my parents' reputations for my whole life: it's like tiptoeing around a giant--you can pretend it's not in the room, but eventually you're going to have to admit to the problem's existence." Draco didn't pause to reflect about making sense; he paused to collect his wits for what he was about to say. "My parents supported V-Voldemort." He took a deep breath. "I don't. I've never wanted him to win. I can't--I can't go around feeling sorry for myself anymore," he finished lamely. "I'm not very good at saying things, am I?"
"You're right, Draco, you can't go around feeling sorry for yourself all the time," said Dumbledore, disregarding the last statement. "But I'm afraid these are problems I can't really help solve: you have to deal with them on your own. I can, however, tell you this: You've come this far. You have survived the worst of it." Draco cleared his throat, feeling a lump beginning to form there. "And from what I've seen you are a level-headed, intelligent individual, who has had the bravery to stand up for ideals he believes in."
Yup, it was a definite lump, thought Draco, as a few tears slid down his cheeks. He gulped, and stared down at his hand, twisting uncomfortably on the armrest of his chair.
"Draco," said Dumbledore softly. "You did a very good thing last summer, and this year. You have proven that you are, indeed, quite capable of acting selflessly. But now, I think," he said, and his voice dropped until it was barely a whisper, "it's time to turn inward."
Then Draco got the sense it was time to go, and swiped the back of his hand across his face. "Can I--do I have to--?"
"You can stay in the hospital wing for now if you'd like some privacy. I'll have a word with Madame Pomfrey if you'd like to go down there."
Standing up, and trying to keep himself together, Draco nodded mutely.
*********
"Hermione!" boomed Hagrid. _Well, I suppose I won't be mute this year,_ thought Hermione. "Come on in!" Ushering her inside of his hut, he closed the door behind them. "How was yer first day?"
Situating herself in a chair twice her size, Hermione said glumly, "Awful."
"Awful? Why's tha'? Here, let me getcha some tea." Hermione would have thought Hagrid would be too large to bustle, but, apparently, you can bustle at any size. Cupboard doors were opened and closed, water was put on the fire.
"No one's said a thing to me all day!"
"Well, I have, that should count fer somethin'," said Hagrid, gruffly amused. He patted Fang the boarhound heavily on the head while turning to look for cups.
"Well, I mean, *besides* you," said Hermione. "Why isn't anyone *talking* to me, Hagrid?"
Hagrid busied himself with a drawer, shifting things around. "Hagrid?" said Hermione after a few moments' silence.
"What kinda tea d'ye want, Hermione?"
"The regular kind, Hagrid," said Hermione, perplexed.
"Right. Right, o'course." Hagrid selected the tea and began preparing the cups for the water.
"Hagrid, what--?"
Just then, the kettle started whistling. Hagrid picked it up in one gigantic hand and poured the hot water into the cups.
"Hagrid, are you--?"
Cupboards were opened and closed, a tray was set out and loaded with a sugar bowl, tongs, and a couple of spoons. The two cups were then placed delicately in the center, and Hagrid picked up the tray and carefully carried it over to a (relatively) small end table near where Hermione was sitting. The smaller cup and spoon were placed delicately in Hermione's hands. "There yeh go," said Hagrid.
"Hagrid," she said firmly, putting the spoon in the cup and setting the cup on her lap. "What is the problem?"
"I..."
"I asked you a simple question, and you're running all over like mad! What are you keeping from me?"
"Well..." said Hagrid awkwardly. "Yeh do know about the article, right?"
"Article? What *article*?"
"I kept a copy," said Hagrid, shuffling over to a shelf and pulling off a mildly yellowing _Daily Prophet._ "I thought, y'know, what with...Harry," Hagrid looked very sad for a moment, and sniffed very deeply, before looking warily to see if Hermione was doing the same, "and all, yeh might've unsubscribed...here..." Hermione took the paper carefully and unfolded it. "Third page..."
~Hogwarts student takes inheritance,~ read the heading.
~Hermione Granger, former two-timing girlfriend of the
late Harry Potter, has tampered with the will of the
Boy-Who-Lived-And-Then-Didn't. While the funds of Mr.
Potter were originally to be distributed to charity,
Granger, 16, somehow managed to transfer the funds to
her own account at Gringotts.
Granger, after being involved with Mr. Potter and
another boy romantically at the same time during her
fourth year at Hogwarts,...~
"But none of that's *true,* Hagrid!" protested Hermione, taken aback at the article. "This is *awful*!"
"I know. But it might account fer the rest o' yer class givin' ye the evil eye."
"But--Hagrid--what about Howlers? After that other story was published in the _Daily Prophet_ in fourth year, people sent me all sorts of awful mail!"
"They couldn' find ya, I don' think," said Hagrid, settling down into a chair. "Muggles' addresses are rarely listed--no offense, Hermione."
"None taken."
"I reckon all o' the nastier stuff that people really wanted to send ended up at the _Daily Prophet_ headquarters."
"I can't believe this," said Hermione, staring at the newspaper. "Who wrote this?" she said suddenly, scanning down the page. "Who would--" she found it.
~penned by Narcissa Malfoy~
"Who--Malfoy's mother?! Why would she--?! Ugh! That's it--I'm going to talk to that boy right now!" raged Hermione, slamming her tea down on the table and heading for the door. "Thanks for the tea, Hagrid!" she added almost angrily as an afterthought, and shut the door loudly behind her.
After a quick visit to the portrait of the woman in white, to check to see if Malfoy was back in their common room (which he wasn't), Hermione stopped at Professor McGonagall's room, which was on the way, to see if she knew where he was. That was where she was informed that McGonagall had just received a note saying he was in the hospital wing.
Madame Pomfrey was going to have an enraged Hermione Granger on her hands in a very short time.
*********
A/N: Jeepers, do I torture these characters. Well, things are really heating up now, I must say. I think I'll find the next chapter much easier to write, as it contains:
THE TURNING POINT
in the main relationship in this ficcie.
I am so excited.
A/N: Sorry this took so long. ::hugs to everyone who reviewed::
Note to Luna (whoever you are), and to anyone like her: What Fanfiction.Net stands for is freedom of speech, but there is such a thing as abusing a privilege. Now, unusual pairings, I have found, such as Hermione/Draco, or Draco/Ginny, or Harry/McGonagall, etc., are a matter of taste. Most of them are acquired. And the thing that makes them compelling is the challenge. Whenever I click into one of these fics, I think, "How is the author going to justify *this* one?" So, quite frankly, if you find one of these pairings to be a blasphemy in the Church of Harry Potter, you don't read it. And you *certainly* don't diss my little sister when she's writing her first fanfiction.
I apologize for the above, but, hey, sisterly pride and all that. On with the show!
*********
As soon as he got out of the classroom, Draco collapsed against the wall and took a few deep, calming breaths. If he hadn't been unpopular before, he certainly would be now. Wondering if he would be able to trace the rumors about him spreading around the school, he unfolded the note McGonagall had handed him.
~Mr. Malfoy,
You should not be reading a note a teacher handed you.~
Draco chuckled despite himself.
~I will be expecting your homework a day late. I hope you will soon feel well enough to comport yourself properly in class.~ The note went on to detail directions to the Headmaster's office, and how to get in, and was signed with a dignified "M.M."
Walking through the halls between classes was extremely odd. Draco could hear the voices of his teachers, and of other people in the school, reverberating around in the hallways, but he couldn't usually see the source of the noise.
"You!" called an angry voice just as Draco reached the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Whirling around, he slumped when he saw that it was Argus Filch, the school's head disciplinarian. "What do you think you're doin' out here between classes?" Filch squinted at Draco's chest. "And you're Head Boy, too! Think you can get away with things just 'cause you've got a shiny badge? Think again, you little tr--"
"I've got a note," managed Draco, pulling it out of his pocket. Much to his surprise and relief, the back of the note read 'Hall Pass.' Filch inspected it closely, then stalked away grumbling, followed closely by his annoyed cat, Mrs. Norris.
Looking to the statue in front of him, Draco said, embarrassed, "Licorice twist," and was allowed passage into the office.
Staring around the room in wonder, as he'd never been in here before, Draco didn't notice that Professor Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk. That was why he startled when Dumbledore said, "You have business?"
"Oh," said Draco, blushing mildly. "Yes."
"Have a seat, then." Draco complied. There was a quiet moment between the two of them. Then--
"Well, out with it then, I'm not omniscient, you know," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling.
_'Omniscient'...From the Latin...'omnis' means all, and...'scientia' means knowledge...all knowledge? All...knowing? Oh..._ thought Draco, understanding slowly dawning on him. "Professor McGonagall sent me, sir," he said slowly.
"For what reason?" prompted Dumbledore, not impatient.
"I...uh...collapsedinclasssir," mumbled Draco, looking at the floor.
"What was that?"
He cleared his throat, looking up again. "Had a bit of a...an episode...in Transfiguration, sir."
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "I...see. Does this have anything to do with your experiences last year?"
*********
Thoughts of Malfoy's reserve nagged at Hermione all day. Why hadn't he insulted her first chance he got? Why had he helped her remember the code for her keypad? And what was with that note? Why did he hate his own name so much? _Well, it isn't the most desirable name in the world...but he ought to be used to it by now._ But as she passed from class to class, thoughts of Malfoy seemed to dwindle in importance.
No one would look at her. No one had made an attempt to speak to her. Why?
Hermione knew she was bookish, and sometimes distant, but this was a bit ridiculous. Neville was the only one who had said a word to her all day, and that was only because she asked to borrow his red ink. Her classmates' avoidance seemed to be contagious. She'd gone all the way through Arithmancy, where she was usually looked to for assistance, without one question from the other students in class. And not one word had been spoken to her during lunch.
Now she walked through the grounds to Hagrid's hut, certain--in a huffy sort of way--that if he wouldn't talk to her, she was destined to be mute for the rest of the year.
*********
Draco was determined to remain mute, until, unfortunately, he was prompted with his name. "Yes," he said darkly, glaring at the floor. "It does." The man behind the desk said nothing, merely waiting for Draco to speak. Draco, meanwhile, was searching desperately for a way to change the subject. "Sir? Do the Head Boy and Head Girl always share dormitories?"
"Yes, actually. You're old enough to be trusted, and you'll need to be working on the holiday festivities together. It only makes sense for you to be in close quarters," Dumbledore said, then continued with a tiny smile. "How are you and Hermione doing on planning our Halloween celebration?"
"We haven't started yet."
"Well, the staff expects great things from you two, of course, in addition to your top scores in N.E.W.T. classes. In fact," the old man leaned forward conspiratorially, "I wouldn't object if you wanted to visit Hogsmeade a time or two to get supplies. I have a feeling you'll need to."
"Sir," said Draco, raising his head, now ready to talk. "I want to be a good person," he asserted firmly. To any other person besides Dumbledore, this may not have made sense, coming out of the blue as it was, but the old man seemed instantly focused on what Draco had to say. "I can't tiptoe around my parents' reputations for my whole life: it's like tiptoeing around a giant--you can pretend it's not in the room, but eventually you're going to have to admit to the problem's existence." Draco didn't pause to reflect about making sense; he paused to collect his wits for what he was about to say. "My parents supported V-Voldemort." He took a deep breath. "I don't. I've never wanted him to win. I can't--I can't go around feeling sorry for myself anymore," he finished lamely. "I'm not very good at saying things, am I?"
"You're right, Draco, you can't go around feeling sorry for yourself all the time," said Dumbledore, disregarding the last statement. "But I'm afraid these are problems I can't really help solve: you have to deal with them on your own. I can, however, tell you this: You've come this far. You have survived the worst of it." Draco cleared his throat, feeling a lump beginning to form there. "And from what I've seen you are a level-headed, intelligent individual, who has had the bravery to stand up for ideals he believes in."
Yup, it was a definite lump, thought Draco, as a few tears slid down his cheeks. He gulped, and stared down at his hand, twisting uncomfortably on the armrest of his chair.
"Draco," said Dumbledore softly. "You did a very good thing last summer, and this year. You have proven that you are, indeed, quite capable of acting selflessly. But now, I think," he said, and his voice dropped until it was barely a whisper, "it's time to turn inward."
Then Draco got the sense it was time to go, and swiped the back of his hand across his face. "Can I--do I have to--?"
"You can stay in the hospital wing for now if you'd like some privacy. I'll have a word with Madame Pomfrey if you'd like to go down there."
Standing up, and trying to keep himself together, Draco nodded mutely.
*********
"Hermione!" boomed Hagrid. _Well, I suppose I won't be mute this year,_ thought Hermione. "Come on in!" Ushering her inside of his hut, he closed the door behind them. "How was yer first day?"
Situating herself in a chair twice her size, Hermione said glumly, "Awful."
"Awful? Why's tha'? Here, let me getcha some tea." Hermione would have thought Hagrid would be too large to bustle, but, apparently, you can bustle at any size. Cupboard doors were opened and closed, water was put on the fire.
"No one's said a thing to me all day!"
"Well, I have, that should count fer somethin'," said Hagrid, gruffly amused. He patted Fang the boarhound heavily on the head while turning to look for cups.
"Well, I mean, *besides* you," said Hermione. "Why isn't anyone *talking* to me, Hagrid?"
Hagrid busied himself with a drawer, shifting things around. "Hagrid?" said Hermione after a few moments' silence.
"What kinda tea d'ye want, Hermione?"
"The regular kind, Hagrid," said Hermione, perplexed.
"Right. Right, o'course." Hagrid selected the tea and began preparing the cups for the water.
"Hagrid, what--?"
Just then, the kettle started whistling. Hagrid picked it up in one gigantic hand and poured the hot water into the cups.
"Hagrid, are you--?"
Cupboards were opened and closed, a tray was set out and loaded with a sugar bowl, tongs, and a couple of spoons. The two cups were then placed delicately in the center, and Hagrid picked up the tray and carefully carried it over to a (relatively) small end table near where Hermione was sitting. The smaller cup and spoon were placed delicately in Hermione's hands. "There yeh go," said Hagrid.
"Hagrid," she said firmly, putting the spoon in the cup and setting the cup on her lap. "What is the problem?"
"I..."
"I asked you a simple question, and you're running all over like mad! What are you keeping from me?"
"Well..." said Hagrid awkwardly. "Yeh do know about the article, right?"
"Article? What *article*?"
"I kept a copy," said Hagrid, shuffling over to a shelf and pulling off a mildly yellowing _Daily Prophet._ "I thought, y'know, what with...Harry," Hagrid looked very sad for a moment, and sniffed very deeply, before looking warily to see if Hermione was doing the same, "and all, yeh might've unsubscribed...here..." Hermione took the paper carefully and unfolded it. "Third page..."
~Hogwarts student takes inheritance,~ read the heading.
~Hermione Granger, former two-timing girlfriend of the
late Harry Potter, has tampered with the will of the
Boy-Who-Lived-And-Then-Didn't. While the funds of Mr.
Potter were originally to be distributed to charity,
Granger, 16, somehow managed to transfer the funds to
her own account at Gringotts.
Granger, after being involved with Mr. Potter and
another boy romantically at the same time during her
fourth year at Hogwarts,...~
"But none of that's *true,* Hagrid!" protested Hermione, taken aback at the article. "This is *awful*!"
"I know. But it might account fer the rest o' yer class givin' ye the evil eye."
"But--Hagrid--what about Howlers? After that other story was published in the _Daily Prophet_ in fourth year, people sent me all sorts of awful mail!"
"They couldn' find ya, I don' think," said Hagrid, settling down into a chair. "Muggles' addresses are rarely listed--no offense, Hermione."
"None taken."
"I reckon all o' the nastier stuff that people really wanted to send ended up at the _Daily Prophet_ headquarters."
"I can't believe this," said Hermione, staring at the newspaper. "Who wrote this?" she said suddenly, scanning down the page. "Who would--" she found it.
~penned by Narcissa Malfoy~
"Who--Malfoy's mother?! Why would she--?! Ugh! That's it--I'm going to talk to that boy right now!" raged Hermione, slamming her tea down on the table and heading for the door. "Thanks for the tea, Hagrid!" she added almost angrily as an afterthought, and shut the door loudly behind her.
After a quick visit to the portrait of the woman in white, to check to see if Malfoy was back in their common room (which he wasn't), Hermione stopped at Professor McGonagall's room, which was on the way, to see if she knew where he was. That was where she was informed that McGonagall had just received a note saying he was in the hospital wing.
Madame Pomfrey was going to have an enraged Hermione Granger on her hands in a very short time.
*********
A/N: Jeepers, do I torture these characters. Well, things are really heating up now, I must say. I think I'll find the next chapter much easier to write, as it contains:
THE TURNING POINT
in the main relationship in this ficcie.
I am so excited.