Chapter 4: Stupid, Worthless Muggle Thing
Disclaimer: Ever so sadly, no. I don't even have temporary custody of any of the actors *coughs and mutters something sounding oddly like 'Sean Biggerstaff'*
A/N: Okey day, people. Thanks for reviewing, I love you. Really. Bwahaha. You know, this is as I go, so when you guys suggest stuff, I'll use it if I like it. So…
Anyway, here's my replies to my pretty lil' reviewers!
Mistress Del Mare: I'm sorry. Hope the lecture ain't too long. Luckily for me, my bro got REALLY bad grades, so I'm off the hook! I'm sorry I made you wait, lol, but it has to be done, unless you have a wand for me to wave, and make the chapter appear. If it makes you happy, I started Chapter 5!
MistressDeDraco: I'm glad I put in some favorite characters. Heh, they were necessary. What's a story without them???? Hehe, you find out a little what Harry does, but I decided to explain the rest in the next chapter or two.
Demosa: Thank you! Here's the next one.
HarryPotterWanter: Snape gave Harry points b/c Hermione is his favorite, and he wanted Harry to bugger off on the questions. Which he did. Yesh…To tell the truth, I haven't decided on the candy bit…*ponders*
Trinity: Bwahahaha! Thank you, that was a great review. Sorry my 'hurrying up' took a couple days. But hey, it's better than some can say.
Enter the Red Age: You're welcome. I actually liked it, lol. So, like, is there anyway you can email me or something when you update? Cuz I just stay in the Draco/Hermione section. Call me narrow-minded. Yea, I don't know what that veritaserum word means…And yes, Ginny…I'll try to put her in more, since ya like her so much. I'll think of something.
Little Lost Girl: Heh, a frigid bitch, eh? Interesting. I'm glad you like it. And b/c I'm bored, here's a quote from Legally Blonde about frigid bitches. "Except, when I try to dress up as a frigid bitch, I try not to look so constipated." I'm pretty sure that was it exactly.
Stringzinger: I dunno about IM'ing you, but I can email.
BTW—Does anyone know how to do that thing, where when people press the button for them to be emailed when I update? I can't find out anywhere where to say I'll let people be emailed!! BAH!
Harry Potter sat cross-legged on his bed, staring ahead in thought.
The previous potions lesson had bothered him, and (bugger it all!) he felt sorry for Hermione.
He—Harry Potter—felt sorry for Hermione Granger, the evilest person in the world.
What was the world coming to now?
"Harry?" Ron asked, venturing forward, toward him.
"Yeah?"
"Whatcha doing?" Draco cut in, his head tilted in amusement.
"Just thinking. Would you guys…oh bugger…would you mind giving me some time to myself? No, forget it, it's your room, too. The library's probably better, anyhow," Harry muttered, stretching his legs.
"That's alright, Harry."
"No, it probably is better…" he insisted. Maybe some nice books could help.
Without another word, Harry grabbed his cloak, and jogged down the stairs.
Why in the Gods' name he bothered to even try to help her, he didn't know.
Maybe one day, Harry would let his friends in on the information, but decided for now that it was best to just keep it to himself.
Harry nodded politely at Madame Pince, and took a seat in the back of the library.
"Maybe there's some books that could help me…"
With that thought, Harry skimmed through a few shelves, not knowing what exactly he was looking for.
That was, until he found a light blue book. It was fairly tiny, and had a lock on it.
Must be a diary. I wonder who left it. I suppose…No, that's wrong. Bloody hell, Harry Potter, snooping in a girl's diary? he chided himself.
But there was this feeling Harry couldn't shake off, and curiosity got the better of him.
"Alohomora," he whispered, watching it pop open easily.
Something was wrong with this picture, that was very evident. Why couldn't Harry just leave it alone? In second year, nothing good came of that diary.
But you're Harry Potter. A boy prone to adventure, and who constantly does troublesome things. You're 'Saint Potter', as Granger so kindly puts it.
Just keep your nose out of other peoples' business. Is that so hard? his mind asked.
The answer was yes.
He opened the book gingerly, and gazed briefly at the loopy, cursive writing.
Oh Gods, what would people say if they knew the cold, evil wench, Hermione Granger had a diary? I'm the 'all-powerful' Slytherin. We just don't keep these worthless, muggle things.
But yet, here I am. With a diary.
Well, on with it, I suppose.
My father—Christian Granger—is absolutely terrible. What kind of man does this? Better question: what kind of daughter—magical, might I add—would let her father do this?
Harry gulped, not sure if he wanted to read on. He didn't really want to know what her father did.
But he still pushed on, shaking the stupid fear.
Well, he doesn't rape me or anything. But that's not saying much. I'm rather bloody surprised he hasn't tried yet, myself.
But anyway…
Bloody hell! What am I doing, writing in some retarded, worthless book?
Er, forget it. Maybe I'll write more later. Right now, I need to get over the fact that I'm spilling all my bloody secrets to a stupid, idiotic book.
Harry shut the book, stuffing it in his cloak.
It was 5, about time for dinner in the Hall.
Gods, I spent two hours in the library?
He shrugged, waved to Madam Pince, and made his way out of the library.
With quick, purposeful strides, Harry arrived at the Great Hall shortly, smiling at his friends.
~*~
Oh my Gods, oh my Gods, oh my Gods, Hermione chanted in her head over and over.
It had been her mantra for the past ten minutes, as she frantically searched the shelves.
"So stupid," she muttered, flipping through the books.
How could she have been witless enough to bring—and leave—her diary in the library?
Damn McGonagall to bloody hell. She was the whole reason Hermione had been in the library.
"Ohhhhhh," she moaned, placing her head in her hands.
Who knew who had it now? Anyone could have it, reading all her personal thoughts, and events.
Blackmail? Hermione had certainly pissed off a lot of people. It was probably safe to say more than half of the students had reasons for revenge.
But still…it wasn't some frivolous, girly diary. It was a dark, scary one. It certainly wouldn't do for a good blackmail.
Nevertheless, she searched her bag, looking for a scrap of paper that could have been slipped in. Something along the lines of 'I have your diary. If you want it back, meet me in the Astronomy Tower at midnight. We'll discuss the terms then.'
Hermione had dumped out all the contents in the bag, and there was still nothing.
Grr… she thought, clenching her fists.
Her diary! Bloody hell, the things a person could do with it!
She turned her head, scanning the library for anyone who looked suspicious.
Hermione slumped her shoulders.
Why hadn't she just charmed it, so that only she could read it? It was the obvious, smart thing to do.
She slammed her clenched fists on the table loudly, earning stares.
"Take a bloody picture, you gits. It lasts longer!" she hissed, scowling.
It was official. Someone had her diary, and it was lost to her forever. There was no hope, not even for the Slytherin Queen.
She couldn't very well ask around, trying to figure out who had her diary in their possession.
Hermione growled, and stood up, grabbing her bag. She stormed out of the library, and was scowling the entire way to her dorm.
~*~
Draco was sprawled on the sofa in the Gryffindor Common Room, looking around.
The fire was roaring as usual, and few Gryffindors were lingering around the room.
He, Ron, and Harry were three of them.
"What were you doing in the library that took you so long?" he asked Harry lazily, closing his eyes.
Harry fidgeted with his fingers, never letting his gaze fall on his friends. "I was just…researching a little for McGonagall's paper."
Ron looked suspiciously at Draco, both of them sharing a look.
"But Harry, that thing isn't due for weeks."
"Well, there isn't anything wrong with getting a head start, is there? Oh bugger, I sound like Draco now," Harry added, smiling forcefully.
"Ha, ha, ha. You're bloody funny, you are," he responded, scowling. "No, seriously."
This time Harry scowled, like he had just after potions. "Gods, why is that important? It's the sodding library, Draco! The…sodding…library," he said slowly, emphasizing each word. "I don't ask what you do. Maybe I was meeting a Ravenclaw to discuss our next secret date. Who knows, maybe I was secretly meeting with Voldemort—" (Ron flinched) "to plot your deaths for being nosy little prats."
"That's not funny, Harry," Ron said sternly, his face contorted with horror, and terror at the mention of 'his' name.
"I know it's not," Harry sighed, letting his raised arms collapse on his legs. "I'm just a little tired of the third degree. If it isn't you two, its other people who can't mind their bloody business. Like that horrendous Skeeter woman."
"We get that Harry, honestly. But sometimes, you act a little suspicious. So anyway…who's the lucky Ravenclaw?" Draco asked slyly.
Harry laughed, and tossed a pillow at him. "You're insufferable, Draco!"
Ron grinned, and laughed too. "That was excellent. So, Draco, have you decided what to do with those candies and stuff you got from my brothers?"
"No, not really. The only thing I know what to do with is Ginny's picture…have it framed. Your photographed selves are bloody idiotic, I'll tell you. Never seen more clueless stupid prats," Draco replied, blinking a few times.
"Whatever. I still say you should give it to Hermione. Stupid git has it coming to her…"
"Do you reckon we should add something to the word, so it sounds better when we call a girl a git? It just sounds like Hermione's a man."
"What's wrong with that?" Ron quipped.
Draco smirked, chuckling slightly.
"You guys, as much as I would like to see Hermione's payback—believe me, I'd be first in line…" Harry began.
"If you can beat me!" Ron exclaimed.
"Well, maybe we should cut her a break. I mean, it can't be easy having Christian Granger as your father."
"Yeah, and it can't be easy having Voldemort breathing down your neck, Harry, but does she hesitate to mock you? You're bloody hell right, Draco, she doesn't. Granger doesn't care a lick."
"But Ron, what if—"
"Harry, there's no 'but ifs'. Fact of the matter is, Hermione deserves whatever comes to her. She can kiss my arse if she has a problem with that."
That wasn't quite the picture Draco wanted embedded in his brain. "I wouldn't fancy seeing that, Ronald. It's rather disgusting."
Ron shrugged. "Yeah, well…"
"Maybe we should get to bed," Harry cut in, gesturing to the clock.
It was well past midnight.
"I 'spose you're right…" Draco sighed, rising. "Well, g'night.
~*~
Harry slipped into the Great Hall, looking at his friends.
He couldn't take it anymore. It hadn't even been a day, and there he was, fighting with his friends. They were right, Hermione did deserve a lot.
But then, she didn't exactly deserve the things her father made her do. No one deserved that.
Harry groaned in frustration.
He hated lying to his friends, and the inner turmoil it brought. Still, he couldn't tell them either.
It was none of Harry's business, so it certainly wasn't theirs.
How did I get myself into this mess? he asked himself, sitting down next to Ron.
The answer was obvious. The great Harry Potter had to save the day once more. What kind of year was it when he didn't?
"Earth to Harry!" Draco exclaimed, agitated.
"What?"
"I was saying, we have Transfiguration, and Potions. Ugh, bloody hell, we have Divination, too."
Harry scoffed. "Yeah, this year, I'm supposed to die an excruciatingly painful death by an unforeseen object."
Ron rolled his eyes. "More like, an unforeseen object she can't make up. That class is so soddin' worthless. I don't reckon that I'll ever use any of those classes."
"Well, we chose it, so we can't very well take it back."
~*~
Hermione rolled over, glancing at the wizarding clock.
She groaned, seeing the time: 9:00. They were 30 minutes into breakfast.
"Stupid prats," she murmured, looking at Pansy's and Millicent's unmade beds.
Rubbing her forehead thoughtfully, the events of the night before came flooding in, piece by piece.
***
"My diary!" Hermione gasped silently. She searched through her school bag frantically, finding nothing.
Hermione pushed books aside, looking for that familiar book. The one where she spilled all her dark secrets.
***
She groaned again, remembering how her diary was missing.
How stupid of her to keep a diary. Imagine, Hermione Granger.
Breaking into a run, Hermione reached the Great Hall in time to see the owls swooping down, a particularly familiar one circling around the Slytherin table.
Her heart rate sped up at both the sight of the bird, and the mere thought that someone in this very room had her diary, and had undoubtedly read it. Someone who was either pitying her, or mocking her with their piercing gaze.
Hermione wasn't sure which one was worse.
Exhaling forcefully, she grasped the letter her owl had dropped, and opened it with shaking fingers.
Remember…you wrote back an agreement. He can't find anything wrong with that. So this letter will be one of praise, she thought, trying to calm her nerves.
Hermione,
Excellent. I knew you would agree.
However, it took curiously long to owl me back. Why is that, my dear daughter?
Nevertheless, Voldemort was quite pleased with your response, and is eagerly waiting for Break.
Your father
Hermione sighed this time, crumpling up the parchment.
Did the old cod really think she was just going to give into Voldemort like that? Whatever happened to the Granger strength, and pride?
Pride certainly wasn't going to let her marry the most horrendous creature in existence.
Biting her lower lip, she looked up to the Teacher's Table.
Blast. Dumbledore still wasn't back! Where did that old coot go? To the Bahamas for a leisurely vacation?
As usual, breakfast passed without incident, as neither of her 'friends' bothered to talk to her, seeing the state Hermione was in.
She wasn't one to be bothered.
Hermione glanced down at the wrinkled letter, sneering at it in disgust.
Of course, there were classes today.
But whoever said she was going to go?
~*~
Draco walked out of the last class of the day, looking about curiously.
"Oh, sod off, Blaise!" exclaimed a voice.
He looked over at the direction of the yell, and froze.
There was Hermione, with fellow Slytherin Blaise Zambini. They were obviously arguing. It was also quite apparent that today wasn't Hermione's day.
She pushed the boy back, anger flashing in her eyes. "I'm not in the mood! So go to bloody hell, and sod off!"
He advanced again, his hair covering his eyes.
"No! What part of 'no' can't you understand?! For the Gods' sake, it was one bloody time! Do you honestly think it meant anything?" Hermione shrieked.
Draco forced back a snicker. He watched in slight horror when Blaise shoved her, obviously even more ticked than she was.
"Don't bloody touch me! I can't believe you had the nerve to push me! Honestly, if that's how you think you can woo a girl, you have a big problem."
Finally moving again, Draco strode over to Hermione, despite the screaming instinct telling him to leave it be, Hermione was a big girl.
She slammed her fists onto the floor, looking up at Blaise hatefully.
Finally reaching the two (who miraculously had no crowd gathered about), Draco extended his hand to Hermione.
She bit her lip, looking up at him hatefully. "I don't need your help, thanks," she hissed icily.
"Oh, stop being such a prat, and just take my hand."
Scowling, she accepted his hand, and dusted off her robes, looking back at Blaise.
"Sod off, Blaise. I'm not going to sleep with you."
He just stood there looking at Draco with a great hate in his eyes. "This isn't your business, Malfoy."
"No, it isn't. But when a girl tells you no, then you walk away."
Blaise's hand shot out, grabbing Draco's collar. "Look, mudblood. This is between Hermione and me."
"And I," Draco corrected, smirking.
"Who cares?"
Hermione took this opportunity to stalk away, her fists clenched.
Blaise let go of Draco, and rushed after Hermione.
"Blaise, do I look like a prostitute to you? No, I'm not. So go away, and bug Pansy or something," Hermione screeched again.
Shaking his head, Draco pulled back Blaise, and punched him.
It was, to his surprise, a good one, because the Slytherin was out cold.
"I said I could handle myself," Hermione whispered quietly, looking down at Blaise.
"Yeah, well bloody great job you did handling it. How about a 'thanks'?" Draco spat back.
Hermione raised her chocolate eyes up to his steel gray ones, scowling. "I never asked for help, Malfoy. I don't need your help, I don't need Harry's, I don't need anyone's!"
"Harry's?"
Her face tinged faintly, and she turned her head. "Never mind. Fine, if it'll make you go away, thank you."
Draco looked worriedly at her, as she whirled around, and walked briskly away.
"Hermione?"
She turned around, looking really impatient. "What?"
"You're welcome."
[Submitted: April 6, 2003]
A/N: I hope you guys liked that. I kinda threw them in last minute, because I realized I didn't have much Draco/Hermione. I've been focusing on the matters around them, so I'll try and change that, I promise!