CIRCLES, by CheckerBoard
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A/N: This is a Draco/Hermione fic, my first HP fic in fact. I'm pretty obsessed but I'm not as hard-core as some, so if I miss a few details yell at me and I'll do my best to fix them. Take care to remember that Draco and Hermione are on opposite sides of the scale – I can't put them together just out of the blue and still be true to HP. I'm also focusing on like, the 'inner turmoil' of the characters, so if it goes a little slow at times… go read a different fic until you grow up a little. Other then that, please enjoy, flame me if you don't, and praise me if you do.
DISCLAIMER: Smart-ass blondes and living chess, things of mind I don't possess. (I don't own HP, and neither do you. Ha, ha. I own you, though. o.O;;)
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CHAPTER 1,
First Rotation Around
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It was late at night and Hermione Granger was attempting to traverse the dark halls of Hogwarts. She had been… studying in the library, and had lost track of the time, and now she was, as stealthily as possible, making her way to the Gryffindor common room, where she would be free from Filch's prying eyes. The corridors were unlit and she kept fumbling with her borrowed "A Few Simple Charms That Everyone Should Know, But Don't, Volume 3", a heavy tome that had caught her eye. Thankfully, she, at long last, reached the portrait of the Fat Lady; the inhabitant of the painting snored softly while her canvas sagged in its brackets.
"Um, excuse me," Hermione whispered, tapping lightly on the border of the picture. The Fat Lady snored on. "Uh, please, excuse me," Hermione whispered a little louder, and the Fat Lady woke with a start and straightened her acrylic dress groggily.
"Why, hello dear. Uh, password?" The painting asked, and Hermione whispered it to her as softly as she could, and the Fat Lady swung the portrait open with not so much as a silent squeak and let the 5th year Gryffindor in.
Hermione visibly sighed with relief when she heard the portrait swing closed behind her, the soft gentle snores of the Fat Lady resonating through the wall. Another night out late, still not caught, still a prefect, she said to herself, plopping down on the couch with another sigh. She let the book fall down from her arms onto the cushion, followed by her bag and a quill she had held tightly in her hand during her march to the common room. She leaned back onto the arm of the chair, her eyes fluttering closed, her mind drifting between the fine lines of consciousnesses…
But Hermione couldn't stay down here, lest she be found the next morning by an early riser. She groaned softly, lifted herself to a sitting position, and stuffed her lone quill into her bag. She lifted her pack to her shoulder, its weight dragging her left side down, then picked up her Charms book, and silently made her way up into the dormitories. When she finally came upon her bed, she switched out into her pajamas, fell onto the soft covers, and drifted asleep even before she could cover herself with her blankets.
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"Morning, Hermione," Ron choked out between pancakes. Hermione sat down next to him, watching less than amusedly as her plate and utensils magically appeared, and then lifted her heavy Charms book onto the table with a vibrating thunk!
"Morning," she said professionally, filling her goblet with pumpkin juice and taking a sip before flipping open her book. Harry, sitting across from Ron, gave the book one quick glance and sighed.
"Nice bedtime story, there, Hermione." He said, eyeing the international dictionary sized volume that took up the space of another table setting beside Hermione. "What is it?"
"Book," she said distractedly, turning pages. She skimmed down the page and noted an important paragraph, reading it through carefully, committing it to memory.
"Hermione, you study practically day and night, don't you think you could put a little time aside for meals? Honestly," Ron said between mouthfuls. Hermione shook her head and turned the page again, a small fraction of dust churning into the air from the breeze.
"Unlike you two, I would like real grades, thank you," she said, turning to her book, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched in a rather unattractive sign of anger and concentration. Harry turned towards Ron, concerned, and then spoke to Hermione.
"Hermione, you quite all right?" he inquired, and at first Hermione looked up at him with a look of pure venom, but then her angry face melted away and she sighed.
"I'm sorry, guys, just a little tired, I was…" Hermione started, about to tell them of her late-night escapade, but Ron unknowingly covered for her, saying:
"Studying, I knew it, Hermione. Our little bookworm." Hermione smiled, nodding, and turned back to her book. Ron rolled his eyes, and Harry chuckled, and then all three went back to their breakfast, Ron and Harry with vigor, but Hermione with a concealed frown. While the two boys toyed with the idea of turning Professor Snape into a giant mitten, Hermione returned to herself, until she realized the time and shut her book loudly.
"Come on, class is going to start," she said, picking up her things while Harry and Ron groaned and mumbled. She waited patiently while they wolfed down their last bites of their meal.
"Oh, Hermione," Harry said, picking up his possessions from the seat beside him. "This came for you before you came down, sorry. I forgot about it." He handed her a rolled newspaper – the Daily Prophet.
"Thanks," she said, glancing absentmindedly at the front page, the headlines no more than blurred, uninteresting words. She stuffed the tabloid into her shoulder bag and led the two boys towards the grand double doors of the Great Hall.
She strode purposefully towards the exit, and in a rush, slammed upon it to force it open, enjoying the exhilarating feeling as she leaned against the flying door, until it connected with something on the other side with a nasty sound she could recognize as wood connecting with a head. She pulled on the handle, forcing it to stop mid-swing, and scurried around to the other side.
"Oh, oh, I am so sorry! I didn't mean to, I didn't see you – well, of course, no one can really see through doors, I'm so sorry," she said, rounding upon whomever she had attacked. She gasped quietly when she saw she'd barreled straight into Crabbe, the bulky Slytherin, who was now laying on the floor in a flabby heap, moaning. She then looked up to see none other than Crabbe's counterpart, Goyle, and the Slytherin ringleader himself – Draco Malfoy.
"What did you do, Mudblood?" Malfoy yelled, while Goyle poked and prodded at Crabbe to force the fallen Slytherin up from the floor. "Can't even open a door?" He snickered.
Hermione stuttered, half of her happy she'd hit the stupid boy, but the other half – the better half – sorry she'd hit him. After a moment or two, in which she gawked like a dying fish, she turned towards the grumbling Crabbe with a simple, "Sorry," and turned from the trio in an attempt to walk away. Ron and Harry, however, whom had both been struck with a silent stupor previously, found their voices and, outraged, intended to use them.
"Malfoy," Harry said, his eyes narrowed and his voice taking on a dangerous tone. Ron stepped in beside his friend, his feet spaced apart, as if taking a fighting stance.
"Oh joy, the famous Potter, and my favorite old chum, Weasley," Malfoy started sarcastically, Crabbe and Goyle behind him, glaring menacingly and grinding their teeth together. "I see that you –"
"Harry, Ron, let's go. He's not worth it," Hermione interjected, tugging on Ron's robe sleeves, unintentionally making the redhead stumble. Harry glanced over at Hermione, and then back at Malfoy.
"Maybe not, but it's still fun to beat him up," Harry said. Hermione tugged on Ron's robe again, dangerously tilting him, while Malfoy laughed.
"You can't touch me," Malfoy said, Crabbe and Goyle punching their palms with a sickening smack that made Ron tremble, if just a little bit.
"Let's go. Now." Hermione said, taking off down the corridor, dragging Ron's robe, as well as Ron, with her, leaving Harry alone. Aware of the odds, Harry gave a final glare at Malfoy and his friends before following Hermione down the hall to Professor Flitwick's classroom.
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The day progressed the same as any other day. Professor Snape rashly accused the Gryffindor's of everything, Professor Binns lulled every student into sleep, and Professor Umbridge gave murderous glares towards Harry at regular intervals. Hermione, the prized student that she was, even at times found herself bored with the whole process, but then again, she had barely slept the night before. At any rate, every student, including Hermione, was thankful when the last class ended.
Hermione traveled up to the Gryffindor common room after the days learning ended, and Harry and Ron left her to it, muttering to themselves something along the lines of, "Studying, I'm sure". Hermione, however, was not going upstairs to the plush red and gold bed for studying, but instead for a nice, well-deserved nap. After parting from her two friends in the common room where they had came to pick up their brooms, she sighed and climbed the seemingly unending stairs to the girls' dormitories.
When she finally reached her soft mattress, she sat down on it and felt immediately better. She twirled her wand in her fingers for a few seconds, and then slipped the wooden article under her pillow, laying her head on top of it. She smiled, closing her eyes, blocking out visions of the day, and letting her mind drift into sleep…
"Hermione!" Her doze was awakened by the familiar shriek of Lavender Brown, another Gryffindor girl whom Hermione rarely associated with. Confused and groggy, Hermione lifted her head from the soft fabric of her pillow and watched Lavender bound onto the bed, rocking it dangerously.
"Lavender? Is something wrong?" Hermione asked, reaching for her wand under her pillow, but Lavender shook her head vigorously. "Well, what then?"
"Last night, you didn't come to bed until after curfew, Hermione! That's what! I want to know where you were!" Hermione sighed, tugging at her bushy waves, watching Lavender giggle excitedly over what Hermione wanted to believe was nothing.
"Oh, well I was… I was…" Hermione started, her mind drifting to yesterday - empty drinks, loud music, dancing, drunken teenagers, mesmerizing cologne… "Oh, I was studying. You know. At the library. Lost track of time, and I just…" Hermione started, and saw Lavender's face fall with every word. When Hermione trailed off, her inquisitor plastered on a psuedo-smile and forced out a little laugh.
"Oh, Hermione, always studying," Lavender said, slipping off the bed and leaving the dormitories for the common room below. Hermione sighed, watching Lavender leave; then fell back onto the pillow and wished for a silent, dreamless sleep, but was left awake with her - what Hermione deemed irrational and childish - thoughts. Sighing for what seemed like the millionth time since last night, she picked herself up and made her way over to her homework.
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Hermione stood in front of the mirror, her hair swept back in a ponytail, her clothes muggle and rather fashionable. She turned from side to side, admiring herself, and then made a face of disgust and slipped her robe on top. "You're just going to the library," she said to the mirror, but she knew otherwise. Rubbing her eyes with her fingers, she picked up her bag and pulled her hair tie out, her wavy locks falling past her shoulders, and stepped downstairs into the common room and then out the portrait.
Everyone else was in the Great Hall, seeing as it was dinnertime, but Hermione convinced herself that she'd rather study than eat anyway. She traversed down hallways, first this one, than that one.
Library. Library. Library, she told herself, but she knew if she was going to the library, she was certainly taking a roundabout way. One time, she passed the library door, and was about to go in when suddenly she remembered she had left her favorite quill on her bed stand, and raced back to the Gryffindor dormitories only to realize it had been in her bag the whole time. She set out again, twice as slowly as before, until she halted in the middle of a hallway.
Stopping in front of a statue, she looked at it, expectantly, whispered something to the air, and walked into a secret corridor when the statue slid away. While she was walking, she slid her robes off and charmed them until they were small enough to fit into the palm of her hand, then set them deep within her bag slung over her shoulder. She walked and walked, until finally she came out into the twilight view of her destination…
Hogsmede.
Hermione kept slightly to the deserted streets, walking purposefully with faked confidence, until she came in front of a familiar door. She paused at it, looked around, and slid herself silently into it.
For the first few moments, it was simply deafening silence, accompanied with sight of a hundred mingling bodies on a dance floor, laser-like lights cascading from the ceiling, and then in a second's time, the sound of a nightclub blasted into her ears and encompassed her. She made her way over to the bar and settled herself on a stool.
"Can I get ya something?" The greasy man behind the counter asked, and Hermione looked up at him.
"Yeah. Something that will make me feel better," she said, and the bartender grinned, nodding, picking up a menacing looking bottle from behind the counter and handing it to Hermione. She accepted it, pulled the top off, and let the acid liquid burn her throat. When she'd had enough for one gulp, she set the bottle down, staring for a second as the alcohol did its job, and all of a sudden she felt light and airy, smiling like a fool, and the bartender grinned again. Two more sips and she was out on the dance floor – another bottle and she didn't know, and didn't care, who she was.
Out on the dance floor she was constantly surrounded by the press of bodies, and she danced the same with everyone – boy, girl, older, younger, shorter, taller, and all of them people she didn't know. She let everybody touch her, blinded by the contents of a bottle, and switched partners over and over and over again…
At one point, in the midst of switching dancers, she noticed a familiar smell; recognizable cologne… and then she felt strong arms surround her and succumbed to the will of the familiar man. She looked up at his face and squinted – dark eyes, dark hair, a lopsided grin. She smiled, getting closer than she had with anyone before, letting him hold her. When one song was over, she danced another one, and then another one, all with him. His cologne wrapped around her, taking her away, soaring her up on the air like a broomstick.
Eventually, she felt her stomach churn and sleep surge up on her from behind; he kissed her hair and let go, melting away into the crowd. She gave up trying to look for him, and just grabbed her bag from where she had hid it, and slipped out of the club into the frosty Hogsmede night, dreading the return home to Hogwarts while the moon shone scoldingly from above.
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Hermione woke up the next morning, her head pounding. She reached under her pillow for her wand, pointed it at her head and muttered a few words, and her terrible headache eased into nothing. She lay back down; the insides of her eyelids dancing with light, until she finally opened her eyes to look at the clock beside her bed. The magical words spelled out 7:35.
Hermione groaned, mentally slapped herself up from sleep, and tumbled into the bathroom, turning the shower onto freezing cold and falling in. Her eyes shot open when the cold water hit her skin and she shivered, shampooing her hair, letting soap suds fall into her eyes and sting them. In less than five minutes, she was back out, drying herself and charming her clothes on. When she finally looked and smelled a smidge presentable, she grabbed her bag and fled the empty dorm room.
When she made it downstairs the Great Hall was practically filled to the brim, first years to seventh years stuffing themselves with last minute breakfast foods, late owls flinging packages to and fro, some accurately and some not. Hermione ran down to Ron and Harry, who had kindly reserved a seat for her, one that was being fought over by two seat-less Gryffindor 3rd years.
"Sorry," she said hurriedly, partially to Harry and Ron and partially to the two now disheartened underclassmen. She sat down, dropping her books underneath her spot on the bench, and gratefully poured herself a cup of juice. She drank it down in two gulps, and poured herself another, finishing that one off before turning to her two best friends and smiling weakly.
"Hermione! Late!" Ron cried, disbelief in his voice. Hermione just kept smiling her little smile. "Hermione! Have you… ever woken up late?" Ron asked.
"Sure I have." She said, racking her brain for evidence, but giving up, turning to her goblet and drowning herself in juice again. Ron just shook his head, turning back to the comfort of his food.
"Hermione, hope you don't mind, but I was looking at your Daily Prophet." Harry said, holding up the newspaper.
"Anything?" Hermione asked, taking the newspaper from Harry's outstretched hand.
"No." Harry said, turning back to his scrambled eggs and toast. Hermione skimmed over the meaningless titles and let out a sigh of relief.
"Good. I was worried," Hermione whispered, taking a few bites out of her toast and washing it down with another gulp from her goblet. "Come on, you two, we'll be late." She picked up her bag and watched as Harry and Ron did the same.
"Open the door the regular way this time, please, Hermione?" Ron asked with a smile, and Hermione returned it before turning to the Great Hall doors.
"Hermione?" Harry came up beside her, whispering a bit, and Hermione turned to him expectantly.
"Yes?"
"Are you okay?" Hermione caught the familiar sound of anxiety in Harry's voice, and she shook her head, smiling.
"Of course, Harry. I'm fine," she said, and turned back to the aisle, ignoring the nervous brunette beside her.
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That night, Hermione knew she couldn't keep herself away from the nightclub. Inconspicuously, she dressed out of her boring Hogwarts uniform and changed into a stylish pair of pants and top – easier to dance in. She pulled her robes over top of her, brushed her hair away from her face until it looked presentable, and then walked out of the Gryffindor rooms through to the hallways.
Seeing as it was just before dinner, Hermione wasn't sure whether she should expect to run into other kids or not in the corridors, so she attempted to look as library-bound as possible. The sparse students decorating the hallways barely noticed her and she was grateful, and she only had to wait a few minutes while she waited for Crabbe and Goyle, seemingly lost from their friend Malfoy, to regroup beside the statue blocking her Hogsmede path. On the prospect of food downstairs in the Great Hall, Crabbe and Goyle flipped a coin and decided to go in the westerly direction, leaving the statue alone and looming above Hermione in the unpopulated hallway.
She almost hesitated before tapping the stone gently and whispering into its cold ear. With a slight shudder, it moved away and she climbed in behind it, a quiver running through her body when it sealed the light and warmth away after her.
She noiselessly made her way down the dirty path, mentally reprimanding herself to no avail. What are you doing, Hermione? She inquired of herself, but her feet continued to walk as if on automatic, her hands feeling familiar walls for support, her robes swishing the floor and concealing her provocative clothing. When finally she stepped into softly crunching leaves and a dark, moonless landscape, she pulled her robes hurriedly from her clothing and made her way down to the place where her troubles melted away.
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The night was much the same as the last night – it began with the greasy bartender, asking Hermione a suggestive "Can I get ya something?" of which she simply replied to with, "Something to make me happy". After a bottle or so of the heavenly drink, she was out on the dance floor; surrounded by warmth and lights and things she'd never felt before.
All at once she recognized the hard feeling of her mysterious admirer pressing into her back. She turned around to face him, burying her face into his neck while he circled her waist with his arms. She stole a quick glance up, quickly taking in his deep brown eyes and soft brown hair. Then, she melted back into his embrace and forgot herself.