Chapter 5: Learning A Little More
To all my pretty little reviewers!!!
EnterTheRedAge: Yesh, I liked it mucho…You're welcome, twas my pleasure! As for Ron, well…sucks to be him. He'll be there in my dark little corner being ravished by my friend for a while (she likes Rupert Grint…I don't, so no offense to you fans…)
HarryPotterWanter: No, he hasn't. I want you all to be there to read the majority with him, heh. My mind works in mysterious ways, read to find out. Lol, not really, it just seemed like the right thing to put…Yay, I hoped you guys would like that random little scene!
Mab: It's funny? Cool, lol. I'm a humorous person (but I don't remember writing funny stuff, because I have a short attention span with what I've written when I'm done…)
MistressDeDraco: Those answers and more lie in the future! And of course, Harry's going to try to save her, little bugger. *sniffle* Our Harry's such a hero! As usual, I stall with Dumbledore, hopefully annoying some people along the way! Bwahah!
Kurapika-sama: I wanted it to be different, and I'm glad you liked it.
Wicca-gurl: First, the burning question: Are you a wiccan, or do you just like them? Anyways…yes, those little twists…
Mikkifaro: Don't you just love the way the good girl can always be different, but the bad boy as anyone else is just queer? Here's the update!
Demosa: Yes, I love writing their inner turmoil. I'm an evil little bugger. I like writing those ridiculous inner battles, where they sound schizophrenics! And yes, I had loads of fun writing the next chapter. Cheers to you as well!!!!
Disclaimer: Lemme spell it out for you: I want Sean, only Sean. Unfortunately, I don't have him, nor the characters. I do, however, have the plot!
Hermione huffed, slinking into her room.
The nerve of Draco, thinking she was some helpless maiden in distress! She was Hermione Granger, the Slytherin Ice Queen! She could more than take care of herself.
"Stupid Blaise," she muttered, flopping onto her bed.
She had to sneak into her own common room, because she knew Blaise would be sitting there, telling anyone who listened that Hermione Granger needed Draco Malfoy, a lowly mudblood Gryffindor, to help her.
Which, of course, he was. Luckily, the only people who would listen were impressionable first-years, who she could win back easily.
Hermione felt the strongest urge to pick up her diary. Which was of course, impossible. She didn't have it.
Hermione growled again, staring hatefully around the room.
Where exactly did her life go wrong? Probably somewhere around the time she picked up that cursed diary.
~*~
Draco roamed the hallways restlessly for the longest time, avoiding the Gryffindor Common Room.
Instead, he walked a full circle on all the floors, until he went back down to the first floor, and into his secret spot.
He wasn't exactly sure how he came across it, but it was great.
The room was one he had found in his second year, which was where he went half the time to think. Not the library like Ron and Harry thought.
Lately, Draco used it less and less, because Filch was becoming suspicious. At this point, Draco didn't care…he needed a spot to think in peace.
He entered the room cautiously, looking about it. Inside were a gold sofa, and a silver one. It had various nightstands, and other useless things. But still, the room was homely, despite its slightly slimy walls. The stone walls gave the room a medieval feel to it, a time period that fascinated Draco.
Plopping down on the gold couch, Draco replayed the scene from the afternoon, trying to read into Hermione's face.
Right when she had said, "I never asked for help, Malfoy. I don't need your help, I don't need Harry's, I don't need anyone's!" something happened.
But it was a something Draco couldn't put his finger on. What exactly had she meant? What did Harry try to do to help her?
Was that after that particular Potions lesson? The truth serum one? Was that why Harry refused to divulge any of the goods?
All these questions, and more, ran quickly through his mind, never resting long enough to let him pick out one to figure out.
Then Draco remembered what happened with Blaise. Select memory he had.
Blaise was bound to kill him. There was no question about this. Well…at least after he bothered Hermione about not being able to fend for herself.
Draco sighed, and wondered what part of his sanity had given up on him when he intruded on business that wasn't really his to begin with. Blaise was right.
The only thing that kept Draco sort of upbeat was the satisfaction of knowing that at this very moment, Blaise could have been forcing Hermione to do something she didn't want to do.
"Bloody hell, what's happening to me?" Draco whispered, staring intently at his hands as if they held the answer.
When exactly did Draco Malfoy start caring about the well being of Hermione Granger, the girl who had tormented him (for lack of a better word) for years?
Exhaling through his nose, the only thing he knew was Harry definitely had some questions to answer tonight.
~*~
Harry's green eyes widened in surprise.
How did Draco know? Hermione couldn't have possibly said anything…and she didn't even know he had her diary…a fact he was most likely going to die for.
"Well, Harry? Answer the question. It's really bloody simple. How are you helping Hermione?" Draco persisted.
Choosing his words carefully, Harry said, "What do you mean? I'm not helping her? How could I?"
"Bugger, I don't know, Harry! All I know is you're helping her somehow. She said it this afternoon!" he exclaimed, frustrated.
"This afternoon? Since when did you start conversing with Granger?"
"About the time you started helping her," Draco shot back.
Harry was struggling to answer. Was there anyway to tell Draco without revealing her secret?
Finally, coming up with a brilliant idea, Harry said, "Fine. I'll tell you. I've been tutoring her, and she still thinks she's just fine."
Draco looked doubtful. "In what class?"
"Er, Transfiguration."
"Well, why not come to me? I am, after all, one of the top students."
True. "Because, well, erm, she doesn't have the greatest liking for you…"
"Same with you!"
"Well, you're a…a…Gods, don't make me say it! You know I hate hearing her say it!" Harry exclaimed, on the verge of cracking.
It finally dawned on him what Harry meant. "Oh," Draco said quietly, looking down at the rug.
(A/N: In case you don't get it either, I'm talking about the term 'mudblood'. Rather reasonable excuse, don't ya think?)
He stood up abruptly. "Well, I think I'll take a quick nap before dinner, ok?"
Harry nodded.
Ron walked into the portrait, looking at Draco oddly. He had just brushed up against Ron.
"What in the Gods' name is his problem?" Ron asked bewildered at Draco's cold manner.
"Well, erm, I think he's starting to get feelings for Granger, and the fact that she still thinks of him as a…well, you know Ron…"
Ron's normally lively blue eyes darkened. "He has feelings for that git? Please, Harry, tell me this is some really random, evil joke!"
He sighed. It was so hard to keep his friends happy these days. "Yeah, Ron. Sorry, but here's my early April Fool's!"
"You're an evil little prat, you know that Harry Potter? I should get that revenge potion from Draco. Put you right in your place, that thing will," Ron promised.
Harry laughed. "You're too much sometimes, Ron. Just too much."
~*~
Harry settled into the Library again, in a dark corner.
It was time to find out a little more, and maybe discover a way to help.
Oh, bugger. If these people really knew how horrible my life truly was, they'd gag.
Father's training me to be a Death Eater. "One of the best," he says fondly. The first time he's ever been fond, or proud of me!
I refuse to become a Death Eater. Gods, for once in my life, I can't wait until Hogwarts rolls around. I'll be safe, and this whole issue—which I have been working very hard on burying—won't come back until summer.
Oh, what a fluff entry. I'm not some girl who paints their nails hot pink. I have bigger worries on my plate than if that dress makes me look fat, or if this boy likes me.
No, I reckon I'm the opposite. Father keeps hinting to something big. "It'll knock your socks off. And, girl, you better not argue this! I swear you'll regret the day you're born if you try to turn this down!" he warned me yesterday.
Bah! As if I don't already! Bugger, what I wouldn't give to be Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, or even that stupid prat, Draco. They're on the better side. The one where they don't have to worry about Dark Marks, or pissing off Voldemort. Scratch that. I suppose they do have to worry about pissing 'His Highness' off.
Who would be able to help me? Dumbledore? Not bloody likely. Worth a shot if it gets messy, I suppose. The Gods know I'd marry the foulest thing on the planet (That's Voldemort, hands down) before asking Saint Potter.
Harry slammed the book shut.
He probably should have been grateful that she had written that specific entry as 'fluff', as she so lightly called it.
But at this point, Harry couldn't bring himself to think that. His head was swimming.
Hermione, being forced? He had always thought that Hermione was groomed to be—and wanted to be—something evil.
Sure, he found out from that Potions lesson, but it had never fully sunk in.
Harry knew that he didn't want to read anymore for tonight. Plus, it was about time for dinner in the Great Hall.
He stuffed the sky blue (the only light-hearted about that diary) book into his bag, making sure to cover it with various papers, and shove it all the way to the bottom.
"Hey guys," he greeted cheerily, risking a glance over at the Slytherin table.
~*~
Oh Gods. There it is again, that infernal pitying look on Potter's face. All I did was say one little thing, and he's acting like the world would end, Hermione thought bitterly.
"Attention, attention!" Professor McGonagall yelled, clapping her hands.
Hermione looked up, glaring rudely.
Great, as if she didn't have enough problems…now she had to listen to that old stiff, McGonagall!
"Students, we have received an owl from Dumbledore, and he expects to be back by tomorrow's dinner. So in light of that, we are having a feast larger than normal. It will be followed by an informal dance. No need for dress robes," she announced, beaming.
Yeah. As if a dance was on top of Hermione's list of fun.
But the rest of the Great Hall buzzed with delight and excitement.
Please. Dumbledore's return calls for a celebration? The man isn't that great.
Hermione shook her head, licking her spoon, bored.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a select few Gryffindors focus in on that action. Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and even a few Slytherins.
She rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "Bugger off," she muttered beneath her breath, gazing down at her plate.
Hermione looked back up, and saw Draco Malfoy's stormy bone-chilling eyes focused on hers.
She stared at him, turning to Pansy, trying to get the image out of her mind
When she looked back in his direction, he was still gazing at her.
Hermione whirled around in all directions. There was no way he was looking at her! She began to feel insecure, despite her cold exterior.
Those stupid cold exteriors were part of the Slytherin image. Sometimes, she wanted to damn them to bloody hell.
~*~
(A/N: I'm going to put a few more of Hermione's diary entries in here to eat up space, and so I don't have to keep using Harry's POV. It makes you happy, imagine him sitting cross-legged on his bed or something, pretending to do homework while he reads.)
Oh, hurrah! First day back at Hogwarts, and it's as dreary as usual. But, I suppose, it's better that being shown the ways of a Death Eater, and being trained for it.
What in the bloody hell do they call themselves Death Eater for, anyway? I mean, do they eat death? I don't think so? They rape women, and such, but that doesn't really count.
How exactly does daddy dearest think I could ever join an organization that rapes women, me being one? They better not expect me to do that!
Anyway, on to more adult, mature things.
Father told me to expect an owl soon. I'm not too sure I like the sound of that.
Well, St. Potter and crew were here (Unfortunately. Blast, I can't wait until this war! Maybe he'll die…) today. Bloody load of fun, that was. As usual, it was the bickering, and their weak insults. Am I supposed to be offended?
Erm…Blaise approached me today. That was a bit of fun, I suppose. Not bad, really. I'll have to remember that when I need…stuff.
Bloody hell, there I go, turning this into a diary! I'll have to burn this blasted page later. Note to self…
Gods, I'm so bored. First day back, and that old bat, McGonagall gave us homework. Who in the bloody hell does she think she is? One of the Gods?
Argh, there I go again!
Let's see, what other angsty things are there in my life? Plenty. I suppose I could put down the history of it all. Perhaps I could do that tomorrow. Yes, that'll do for now.
***
Right, well…history.
I reckon (Gods, what am I, a hillbilly?) that I could start with my life history, so you (Good Gods, apparently my diary's alive now!) can understand where I'm coming from.
Well…as a child, I looked up to my mother. Never cared much for my father. An evil bastard he was! Beat me senseless—as a child, no less—for no apparent reason.
No, my mother was a right ray of sunshine. The only light in my life, to tell the truth.
Of course, Father found out just how fond of my mother I was, and discovered this was why I never cared much for the Dark Arts he always babbled about.
So, of course, he got rid of the problem. No, I'm not saying her killed her. Gods forbid, he be put in Azkaban.
It was probably much worse, in a sense. No, my father cursed her. Put her under a spell, changed her whole personality. She was no longer the angel of my dark life. She became an evil wench, a woman I despised.
To win back my trust, Father played nice. It seemed as if they had switched places, and I was quite impressionable. So, foolish child I was, I fell for it.
Within months, he had me under his charm, thinking he was the best thing in the world. Within months, he got me hating Mother.
So, after seeing I was behind him all the way, he began his plan.
I didn't really become aware of it until last summer. I admired him so much, and I loved the Dark Arts. Didn't see anything wrong in it.
Fast forward to now. If I had ever doubted my decision to sort of resist it, that one day he owled me showed that I was right to try and resist. Unfortunately, I was in too deep.
Just recently, Father owled me, and told me probably the worst news of my life…I'm to marry Lord Voldemort.
There's absolutely nothing enticing about that, except that I would rule my father. There's a pleasant thought. But no amount of power could ever get me to willingly marry that stupid, foul creature!
Huh. So says the girl too afraid to stand up to the almighty Christian Granger. Some Slytherin I am.
I've written him back, and should be getting his scorching reply in a matter of days.
~*~
(A/N: Alright, I lied. Couldn't help meself!)
Harry stared wordlessly the pages before him. He flipped through them, as if he had no idea what they said.
He had gotten through a majority of the diary, and only had a few entries to go before he was up to date, and had to sneak it back somehow to Hermione.
He was in unbelievably deep; he needed help.
Unfortunately, the only person leaping to mind was Dumbledore, which was obviously something Hermione must've been considering.
"Wait," he murmured, brushing back his jet-black hair.
There was someone else, who might help. Hell, he was suspicious enough.
And Harry couldn't handle this alone.
So he stepped out of the library, his new found home, and looked for that person.
When he saw him.
Draco.
A/N: Bum, bum, bum!
For those of you anxious little buggers, Dumbledore's back in chapter 6. It's been officially decided. Lol. Erm, hope you enjoyed it!
[Submitted: April 10, 2003]