Chapter 6: Dumbledore Returns
Disclaimer: How nice of you to think I own this! But no, I really don't. I own…the Internet…sorta.
A/N: To all my lovely, pretty-ful reviewers…I lurve you! I really, really do! You rock.
MistressDeDraco- Not to spoil it or anything, but she'll ask in the 7th chapter. Mind you, I'm only telling b/c I've been fairly evil, stalling. Draco is learning b/c it's only fair, and the only cliffie I could think of. Heh, Ron is just slow in this one.
Enter the Red Age- I'm sorry. Forgive me *bows* There's some Draco. If that doesn't satisfy you, there's my other ficcie…*stands up and shouts*
"ANY DANIEL RADCLIFFE FANS IN HERE? WE NEED ONE TO COMPLETE THE…THING…YEAH!" There.
I'm glad you liked the diary stuff…I was hard-pressed for those damn things! Slaved over the computer for hours, lol.
Erilyn- That's too bad…Role Reversals are fun. I can mold them…they're mine, all mine…
Nikkifaro- Liking a boy is never sick…well, unless…anyway…It's your life, I dun care, lol. There's plenty of Tom to go around (Ok, not really, but…)
Snapegirl- Thanks. I'll try…
Alex'z Death Chic- Oh, really? The first one? Oh stop, I'm blushing! Lol, jk. It's ok, I won't like…punish you, or anything…
Mistress Del Mare- Ah, you'll find out soon, young one. My wee reviewer…
Demosa- Hehe, here it is…sorry It took a bit…never wanted to finish, this chapter…evil demon monkey!
Empress-Dracelle08- Spanks. I should tell you if she does, but I'm sure you know the answer…
Exiledrose- I know, I know. In the next chapter, I'm trying to get her to be better…you know, all angry, plotting, and Slytherinny… Isn't his accent just…dreamy?? *wipes off drool*
Dark Charizard- Interesting face, lol. Well, erm, here's more…
Wicca-gurl- Oh, cool. Mind you, I know nothing about wiccans, but still…that's pretty cool. Lol, I'm a dork, I know. Leave me be! Well, here…
Ringette-chick- Spanks! In all caps, too…'course, that could've been an accident… Oh well. I'm glad you like them both!
I's so proud! I finally figured out what those obnoxious 'J's are in my story. Everytime I make a smiley face, it turns into those little nice ones, and ff.net hates me, so turns 'em into Js. HUZZAH! I thought I was dumb! Lol.
The old headmaster stepped onto Hogwarts grounds, eager to return to his office.
He wanted to be caught up on the lives of the students concerning him.
Sighing, he faced the statue, smiling widely, and said softly, "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."
He chuckled, remembering the day he chose the password. It was when he had stumbled across one of their rather brilliant faux wands. Lot of talent those boys had. If only they'd use it for good.
All Dumbledore knew was that soon, very soon, everything would be okay again.
Clapping lightly, he watched the lights dim as he took out the Pensieve, his 'spying device' of sorts.
Dumbledore dipped his wand in, and whispered, "Hermione Granger."
Almost immediately, with little delay, the liquid-like material rippled, and focused again.
There was his top student, crouched at the top of some steps, looking down at something.
"Oh, bugger," he exclaimed, using the childrens' phrase. Sighing, he dipped his finger in, and felt himself leaving his office.
Now, the old headmaster had a better view of Hermione. He looked about the Slytherin Common Room, and heard faintly Blaise Zambini speaking.
"We'll have to get him soon. That mudblood needs to learn a lesson. No body touches Blaise Zambini and lives to talk about it," he threatened, pointing to Crabbe and Goyle.
Dumbledore tsked, watching the boy carefully.
Finally, he looked back at Hermione, who was now sitting at the top, gazing down at the Slytherin in fear.
Fear? Now, this was something the Professor must've missed. Was the girl feeling something for Draco?
"I swear, I'll make Draco pay for sticking his ugly nose in business that wasn't his!"
Hermione looked on, her face scrunched up in pain. She wiped the corners of her eye, and stood fiercely.
"Blaise Zambini! You will go nowhere near Draco Malfoy if you know what's good for you!" she shrieked, hatred flashing in her eyes.
Dumbledore was more than taken aback. What exactly happened while he was gone?
"Oh yeah? And what will you do to stop me? Besides, I thought you hated the git!"
"I-I do," she stammered, her face flushing. "But he helped me, so I'm returning the favor, you…you…" she trailed off, unable to find a word to express her hatred.
Dumbledore nodded, and jumped out. She could handle herself.
He looked about, and smiled in his office.
"My, my, things have changed while I was gone. Draco Malfoy."
The Pensieve shifted, and there stood the platinum blonde male.
He chuckled, seeing Harry approach Draco.
Ah, Harry. The boy only knew half of what the Pensieve was. Dumbledore explained a bit. In truth, this was his thoughts. But the other stuff, the thing that let him spy on his students was the ability of that certain magical object to let him see what he wanted.
Which, in the most part, were his memories. For the most part.
With that thought in mind, the Headmaster submerged his finger in the substance again, and felt the familiar pull.
There before him stood Harry, shouting Draco's name. In his hand was a curious light blue book with a lock.
"Draco! Draco, wait up!"
The youth whirled around curiously, forcing a smile. "Harry. What are you up to?" he asked, his gaze falling upon the book.
Harry saw this, and adjusted it out of view. "Nothing much. I just…I needed to talk to you. About all the stuff that's been happening."
~*~
Draco looked curiously at his friend, tilting his head. "What about?"
"Well, just about everything. I know you've been pretty suspicious, so…it's about time you knew. Ron will know soon, too…just not now," Harry added quickly, seeing Draco's face.
"Ok," he replied slowly, still very confused.
"Here, er, meet me in Myrtle's bathroom after lunch."
Draco nodded, and continued walking to…wherever.
He wasn't quite sure where he wanted to go until he heard muted murmurs ahead of him.
A voice sounded very, very familiar, as he crept forward, not acknowledging it was wrong.
"Blaise, you better leave him alone!" a feminine voice pleaded.
"What's it to you, if I do or don't? I thought we had this conversation in the Common Room earlier today!" Blaise hissed, exasperated.
"No, you had this conversation. Now leave him out of this! If you don't, I will make it my personal business to make sure the entire school know how unequipped you are, if you understand."
Draco peeked around the corner, feeling very satisfied at the pink tinge in Blaise's cheeks.
"You know, Hermione, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you liked Draco Malfoy," he spat, accusingly.
Draco jumped back, feeling his face heat up. Who was Blaise kidding?
"Yeah, well you don't, do you?" she hissed, her hands on her hips.
Blaise didn't have a response for this, and fell silent.
"Don't even think of telling a soul about this Blaise, or that threat will become a reality."
Draco snickered softly, then became somber again.
It finally hit him, the impact of Blaise's words. Hermione Granger…liked him? No, impossible.
"Whatever, bitch," Blaise grumbled, glaring hatefully with his dark eyes.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Some 'one time' that was."
Hermione glared at him, clenching her jaw. "Then why beg for more?"
She had him there, as he fell silent again.
~*~
Hermione flinched, looking after Blaise, who was storming away.
"Don't think I was lying!" she called, whirling on her heel.
Behind her, she heard a ruffling, and she whipped toward it. "Who's there?" she asked sharply, aggravated beyond belief.
Silence.
"Don't be daft, I heard you."
Silence, once more. Finally, a figure stepped from behind the wall, blushing.
"Draco," Hermione stated dryly, feeling her mood dropping even further.
"Yeah. Er, I didn't mean to eavesdrop but—"
"No, I'm sure you didn't. Honestly, what do you take me for? Well, out with it! How much did you hear, you stupid arse!"
Draco sort of wrung his hands, looking quite perplexed.
"It isn't a hard question, Draco."
Still, he stood, looking upon her with a strange look on his face. "Erm, I think just about all of it…"
Hermione groaned, thinking the day couldn't have possibly have gotten worse. "Well, don't read much into it. Believe me, I would find great pleasure in watching Blaise beat you senseless. However, in perhaps a momentary lapse of judgement…" Hermione began, looking curiously at the Gryffindor, "in a very un-Slytherin-like way, I decided it's only fair. Don't make me regret that, Malfoy," she threatened.
"Whatever, Granger. Anything to save face, I'm sure," he spat, regaining intelligible use of his voice.
Hermione scoffed, fixing Malfoy with a deadly glare. "Don't flatter yourself. As if I could ever feel anything but hatred to you!"
She was slightly pleased at his fraction of a flinch.
"You know what? You keep telling yourself. Whatever makes your cold heart happy. But I have a life to get back to. You know, one that doesn't revolve around trying to insult others to get your sick jollies," Draco seethed, his molten eyes hard.
"Ooh, Gryffindor courage, is it?"
Malfoy simply rolled his eyes, and turned swiftly on his heel.
"That's right, run!" she called, feeling worse than before, if that was possible.
~*~
Harry stood anxiously, pacing Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
"Harry, how nice to see you again. I'm glad you took up my suggestion from last year," Myrtle giggled, floating a few inches above him.
Harry rolled his eyes, remembering with a cringe the tub, and how it was Cedric who had suggested it to him.
Poor Cedric.
Comprehending his silence almost creepily, Myrtle assured him, "Cedric is quite pleased that it was still a Hogwart's win, don't worry."
Harry nodded, smiling faintly. "When did you see him?"
"Oh, a ghost party every now and then. He even visits me sometimes. Very nice indeed. It's a shame no one was like that in my time…" she trailed off, clearly close to another round of tears. "No one ever cared about poor, sobbing, moaning Myrtle!" Myrtle wailed, covering her transparent eyes, diving into her toilet.
"What'd you do this time, Harry?" asked a voice from behind.
Harry turned around, slightly grim. Draco had his hands in the pockets of his robes, watching Myrtle dive. He had asked the question teasingly, of course.
"I dunno. Started on about Cedric, and how nice he is…then burst into tears. No one like that in her year, I s'pose."
Draco nodded, finally removing his hands. Sitting on the floor, he looked up at Harry. "What did you want to talk about that was so secret?"
Hesitantly, Harry pulled out the diary hidden his robes. "This. Before you say anything, it's Hermione's."
Draco's eyes widened, impressed. "Harry Potter! Reading a girl's diary? Thought things like that were surely beneath you."
Blushing, he replied, "It's nothing like that. Listen, she really needs help. I know—I know she's been an annoying prat," he added, watching Draco's skeptical face, "But she really needs help. Read it."
Silently, and most curiously, Draco opened the book, distinctly hesitant about viewing the words inside.
For the next ten minutes, Harry watched apprehensively as Draco skimmed through the entries.
Would he help?
After what seemed like eternity, Draco closed the book, looking up at Harry. "This is ridiculous. We can't help!"
He looked quite frightened, and very perturbed. Standing swiftly, he walked quickly out of the bathroom.
Harry watched, crestfallen, as his last hope fled.
~*~
Crazy! Harry was flippin' mad!
How could Draco help? How could anyone? More importantly, who wanted to, after how evil and nasty Hermione had been?
Draco paced around his dorm, weighing his options.
Still, it was the right thing to do.
With that, Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair. He left, looking for Harry.
~*~
Hermione hid underneath her Invisibility Cloak, her heart beating furiously. She had followed Draco, after the way he had insulted her.
She leaned against the wall, fury slowly creeping into her body, penetrating her soul.
So it was Harry. Harry had her diary. Harry knew. Harry shared with Draco. Draco knew, too.
These simple thoughts ran quickly through her mind, as she clenched her fists.
Finally, Hermione remembered the plot for revenge she had for Draco. This most certainly had to be put into place.
Yes, his knowledge definitely hindered her plan. But for Gods' sake, she was a Slytherin!
The only thing left was for Harry. The start of her troubles.
Sick out of her mind in worry…sick out of her mind in worry over her diary…and Harry Potter had it!
Harry…Potter. Saint Potter. 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' Potter. Her mortal enemy Potter.
And then, Potter shared it with Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Bookworm Malfoy…Mudblood Malfoy. Her second mortal enemy Malfoy. Hermione's-major-competition-for-Top-Student Malfoy.
Hermione was going through her disbelief stage. The part where it took repetition to finally grasp something.
The anger, the fury…it was there; it was building. It would soon be released after she came to grips with the situation.
The secret she had slaved over to keep…the secret that would soon ruin her life…the secret that should—in all rights—never have happened: was out. It was not only out, but there were two people who knew it. One of which seemed determined to 'Save the day'. Probably just to revel in the liberal amounts of praise to come with it. The other of which, wanted nothing to do with it.
The only thing Hermione liked about Draco at this point.
Suddenly, she couldn't wait for their upcoming Quidditch match.
~*~
Lee Jordan, the commentary student for Quidditch, shifted eagerly in his seat.
"Thompson's got the Quaffle, passes it off to Grey, who passes it back to Thompson…Ooh! Those stupid gits—"
It was most obvious McGonagall sent him that scathing look.
"Erm, I mean, Slytherin scores. The score is tied up: 30, 30. Oh! Potter dives down, Granger not far behind. Has he seen it? No, no…false alarm. Well, Malfoy has the Quaffle-passes it off to Bell-she gives it to Johnson…SCORE! Hah, take that you filthy—sorry, Professor…"
(A/N: Let's pretend Alicia Spinnet quit, eh? Otherwise, Malfoy couldn't be on the team…I forgot about that.)
"Weasley blocks the attempted score by Thompson—That's it, Ron! You—Er, my fault…Now…Ooh! Granger's been hit! One of the Weasley twins hit a Bludger her way…No, no, she's alright folks…"
The crowd watched as Slytherin played with a vengeance.
"Hmm, Gryffindor up by 20 points now. Ah, make that, erm, 10. What's this? Hardly fifteen minutes in, Potter! Great going! Oh, sorry, Professor. I know, he hasn't caught the Snitch yet, but he will…Oh, fine. Potter chases in zigzags, while Granger speeds up, trying to beat him to it. No way, Slytherin…no way. OK! SORRY! Erm, meanwhile, Jackson—the last of the three Slytherin Chasers—has possession of the Quaffle, and zooms around, looking for an open teammate. Ah, there it is, Thompson has it again…Oh fine, Professor. He's on 'fire'," Lee said, dully.
"He aims…denied! What a save, Weasley…what a save! Now, he's on fire! Let's see…oh, no. Granger's inches ahead of Potter, in this allusive chase after the Snitch! She reaches out…NO! Potter gets a spurt of energy. What's this? A victory lap? Gryffindor wins!" Lee shrieked, jumping up.
The other Slytherins glared at the entire Gryffindor house cheering wildly.
~*~
Hermione scowled, watching the Gryffindors exit the field. So what? One bloody game, big deal.
Without warning, a snowy owl swooped down, jutting its legs out for Hermione to take the letter.
Cautiously, avoiding the curious looks her team sent her; she grabbed it, and bounded toward the stairs, still in her Quidditch gear.
Hermione,
Great news. Your mother, though slightly disturbed by the news, has agreed to help plan the wedding. Almost done, if truth be told.
I'm—for once—very proud of you. You accepted your fate. Not to sound morbid about that, but I do believe life as ruling Lady will be most pleasant. Imagine, all those people bowing down to you.
Not to mention—which I'm sure has crossed your mind—I will have to be among those. But what am I saying? I'm sure you're most eager to have that power. I doubt highly you need some 'fatherly' cheering.
So, until break,
Your father
With that one, tiny, little letter, Hermione's whole world fell apart.
Running blindly, she raced into the school, tears welling up, and spilling haphazardly onto the floor.
Everything that could go wrong—was. Everything that could go right—wasn't.
Her secret was out. Two people knew it. There was no denying that she would be forced to marry Voldemort, the most disgusting thing on the planet. Although insignificant, Slytherin lost.
To top it off, this was the first time her father was truly proud.
Nothing was right…nothing was right. Everything that Hermione had ever lived for…
~*~
Draco watched, perplexed and worriedly as Hermione ran off with the letter crushed in her hand.
This was a girl who needed serious help. All grudges aside.
He watched carefully, as she ran quickly throughout the halls, never once stopping.
Kids who had left the game yelled angrily at her, as usual, never suspecting a thing.
Hermione ran, and ran. It was amazing, really, how far she could get.
Draco followed swiftly, making sure she didn't hurt herself somehow.
~*~
Hermione was finally draining out of any energy that was left in her body. Her run slowed, and the second she noticed this, she used the last spurt of energy.
Well, until she crashed into a solid object.
Looking up, tears blocking her vision, she felt arms wrap sympathetically around her, and the person she had run into was looking sorrowful.
Why were they hugging her? She didn't need this person…Hermione Granger needed no one.
Ready to resist, she finally saw the eyes that had been haunting her for the past five years. In a good or bad way, she didn't know.
~*~
A/N: Ah, who is it? Bum, bum, bum!!
Heh. Sorry, I'm feeling a bit queer.
Well, I'll be away until Sunday, and its Wednesday now, so…and then after that, I'll probably be swamped with work…Sorry.
Erm, until then, review, read other stories, or check out my other story!!!
Oh, and wish my friend happy birthday!!!!
[Submitted: April 16, 2003]