THE SECRET ADMIRER
Disclaimer: I forgot about this for the Prologue and first chapter, but basically, none of it is really mine except for my little plot, which JKR's welcome to have if she wants anyway.
Chapter 2 – Aftermath
Hermione's mind was still reeling the next morning. She, plain old bookish Hermione Granger, had received a Valentine from a Secret Admirer! It had been all over the school, naturally, within moments. Lavender and Parvati did have a very secure gossip network throughout all four houses, so that by lunch time the next day, several people were pointing at her and saying: 'that's the girl who got a Valentine from a Secret Admirer.'
Secret Admirer. For some reason, the idea of a Secret Admirer was always capitalised in Hermione's mind. It was just so important.
Hermione scoffed at herself at that. Why should an anonymous Valentine, which could easily just be a prank, warrant such significance in her life? Other things, surely, were much more important – the highest exam mark she had ever received (124% in fourth year Arithmancy), the first time she had ever scored full marks (when she had been four, in a pre-school spelling bee), or the moment when she had discovered that she was to be made Prefect. Even that dratted troll in first year, for even though it had put her life at risk, it had cemented a friendship between her and her two closest friends. Those were much more important moments in her life.
But this was special, and she couldn't deny the effect it had on her. She sternly told herself to think rationally. This could, very easily, be a hoax and herself a fool for believing so easily. But then again, she'd never received so much attention in this way before, and she might as well reap the benefits while she could. Attention to Hermione Granger had previously taken various forms along the lines of – 'that girl there, with the bushy hair, that's the resident school swot, a bit of a freakish novelty who manages to get impossibly high marks.' This usually led to requests for academic help – in other words, cheating. Or they would say – 'the girl sitting holding all the books, she helps Harry Potter win all his fights against Voldemort.' But never the envious murmurs she heard now which were somehow very pleasing to her feminine self – 'that's the girl who's got a Secret Admirer … isn't that sooooo romantic …' usually accompanied by wistful sighs. All girls wanted a Secret Admirer. It was, after all, very romantic.
And so, Hermione now found herself in a novel position, an object of interest … even the object of flattery, no matter how false it may be.
'Your hair looks nice today.' (Untrue, since Hermione had still be in shock and had forgotten to even try and wrestle the bushy mass to tamer looking curls or fight it into a tight braid and now lay about her shoulders in a glorious mane of frighteningly wild looking hair.) 'Great bracelet you're wearing.' (Worn since her first year at Hogwarts, a going-to-school gift from her grandparents.) 'Cool shoes.' (Three years old, plain, black, scuffed with soles about to fall off.) "Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera!" to quote a famous Muggle musical.
Less complimentary remarks also signalled Hermione's changing status in the eyes of the school. For instance, she could hear Pansy Parkinson bitching about who on earth Hermione's Secret Admirer could possibly be in unmistakably resentful tones. Snobbish Sally Ann Perks from Ravenclaw could be heard saying how Hermione's outfits weren't even that great and how nobody could possibly find her attractive enough to interest a Secret Admirer.
In fact, even Draco Malfoy had found it necessary to comment during their Herbology lesson before lunch.
'A Secret Admirer, Granger?' he drawled. 'He must be desperate. And a soppy drip. Doves and red roses? Excuse me while I retch into the Mandrakes,' he added with mock-courtesy.
'I wouldn't,' Hermione advised calmly, composure unruffled, for once, near Malfoy. 'I don't think the Mandrakes would like it very much.'
'And I feel so sorry for the poor little harmless Mandrakes,' Malfoy said sarcastically.
'Well I would start feeling sorry for yourself,' Hermione replied smugly, glad to have a come-back. '"Harmless" Mandrakes can react very strongly to unpleasant behaviour of that sort, and I believe they can detect ill-intent. Thus, if you were to move your finger just one inch closer, I am certain they would be very happy to remove it for you,' she said, referring pointedly to the ungloved hand drifting rather close to the Mandrake pot.
He scowled, clearly bested, at least temporarily. 'Enjoy the roses, Granger,' he growled. 'While they last.'
What did that mean? Hermione didn't really care. She had triumphed over Draco Malfoy, even though he had had the last word. But still, a triumph was always something to be savoured. After all, she would never forget that incident in third year when she had slapped him – the thought made her want to chortle with unholy glee. Or the time when her appearance at the Yule Ball in her fourth year had temporarily rendered him speechless. Those instances were always rather lovely, for her at least.
Potions was the last class, on the day after the momentous Valentine had arrived, and Hermione made her way to the dungeons in a lighter mood than usual (most people hated having Potions as the last subject on a Friday afternoon) due to several reasons. Mainly because the excitement of having a Secret Admirer had not yet died, and because she was also looking forward to receiving her test results from yesterday's quiz on roses. She made her way into the evil-looking dungeon with Harry and Ron, and sat in her usual seat between them, taking out parchment and quill for note-taking while whistling tunelessly.
'You're chirpy today,' Ron said grumpily.
Hermione flushed, hoping her gladness about her Secret Admirer wasn't that obvious, and made her seem like an idiotic girl that couldn't be taken seriously. 'I really want to see how I did in the test,' she said hurriedly.
'Test results are exactly why you shouldn't be chirpy,' Ron said darkly. He was convinced he'd failed, and Hermione was fairly certain of that too.
'If you'd studied you wouldn't be so moody,' Hermione retorted.
'Study doesn't help,' Ron said, pessimistically convinced.
'It shouldn't be that bad,' Harry said, smiling wryly.
'Yes, it is,' Ron said, sighing glumly as Professor Snape made his way into the room, looking as much like an overgrown bat as usual.
Snape didn't bother wasting any time. He slammed a pile of papers onto the desk before him, and fixed the class with his black eyes.
'The results for the test were pitiful.'
The class cringed.
'You would think that some of you would place more effort on your marks than frivolous activity,' Snape continued furiously. 'I have never had a NEWTs Potions class as terrible as yours.'
Ron looked ready to throw up there and then: his face was so green. But the other Gryffindors in the class aside from Hermione, Harry and Neville, looked similarly worried.
Discouraging lecture done, Snape was now stalking amongst them, passing back test papers. Hermione took hers eagerly when the Potions master walked past her, and grinned happily. 100%. She had never received a mark higher than that from Snape, who didn't seem to understand the concept of bonus points, and in fact, had often received marks in the nineties, so she was, needless to say, quite happy at the fact that Snape hadn't managed to find fault with her work. Snape had a tendency to be very picky.
'What did you get, Herm?' Harry asked, curiously, still waiting for his paper.
Hermione beamed, ready blurt out her joyous results, but noticing the sickly face colour of Ron, who was staring at his paper in mute resignation, toned it down tactfully. 'I did okay,' she whispered.
'Okay?' Harry asked, smiling. 'I'm sure it was better than okay.'
'I'm happy,' Hermione just smiled. Her day was perfect.
'I can tell,' Harry said as he collected his own paper. He gave a relieved sigh. 'I passed,' he told her, running a hand through his already messy hair.
'Better than me,' Ron uttered, sounding ready to sink into the cold stone floor and disappear entirely. 'D for Dreadful,' he said with a hollow laugh.
'Well, Ron –' Hermione began.
'Spare the lecture, please?' Ron said weakly. 'I'm going to have to work like mad for the rest of the year if I want to pass my Potions NEWTs, which I need to be an Auror.'
Neville nodded. 'I didn't do too badly in this,' he said, waving an exam paper with a mark of sixty-three percent. 'But my prac work is really bad.'
The other three winced. "Really bad" was an understatement. "Hellishly buggered up" was more like it, yet Neville was determined to succeed in Potions, just so he could become an Auror like his parents had been. Hermione admired his doggedness, seeing how hard he worked at a subject he disliked under a teacher he feared.
'As you may no doubt have noticed by now,' Snape said, commanding attention once more, 'the results were terrible. Malfoy was one of the few who managed to score a respectable mark.'
Hermione gasped, then scowled at Snape. He was awful like this, giving undue credit to the Slytherins while taking away Gryffindor's glory. She could see Malfoy, who sat near the front of the dungeon (the only class in which he did sit near the front), smirking, and turn his head slightly to catch her eyes laughingly, nearly making her want to run to the front and slap him.
Her friends were similarly disgruntled. Hermione had probably beaten Malfoy, but he was praised and not her.
'Don't worry,' Harry said soothingly.
'Everybody knows you must have gotten at least full marks anyway,' Ron added supportively. 'The day you don't will be the day Snape runs around the Great Hall in pink boxers.'
Hermione's sense of injustice lessened. Slightly.
'Now, today I will be giving you your last assignment for your Potions NEWTs. This is the last assessable task before your examinations, and is worth twenty-five percent of your overall NEWTs mark,' Snape said briskly. 'The assignment is due to me two weeks before your examinations begin, and will be worked on in pairs. I have assigned the pairs you will be working in.' He gave a smile with definite sinister overtones to the Gryffindors, but they weren't the only ones worried. The entire class looked disturbed about the possible pairings. Snape tended to only smile in public when he had something really nasty up his sleeve. In fact, the only time Hermione had ever seen him truly smile had been the day he had found out that Voldemort was finally overthrown.
'So, here are the pairs. Move to sit with your partner when I read out your names,' he said, pulling out a sheet of parchment on which he had written a list of pairings. 'First partnership, Hermione Granger … ' at this, Hermione's heart began beating triple its regular speed, '… and Draco Malfoy.'
Triple speed thudded to a stop, and for a moment there was complete silence in Hermione's mind, as though the world had decided to wink out of existence. She gaped. She hadn't been happy when Snape had neglected to mention her brilliant test result, but now she was very unhappy. Complete dismay was etched into her face.
'I can't work with Malfoy, Professor Snape!' she exclaimed, standing up at once.
Snape looked extremely annoyed at her protestation.
'Why ever not?' he inquired silkily. 'You both received the top two marks in the test.' If Hermione hadn't been so upset, she would have noted this acknowledgment with satisfaction. 'I'm certain such a partnership would be fruitful.'
'I can't work with him,' she said, in disgust, and to make her point, looked over at Malfoy, who had had an expression of equal annoyance on his pale and pointed face. However, a calculated smirk quickly appeared when he noticed Hermione's scornful eyes on him.
'Frightened, Granger?' he drawled.
'Why should I be frightened of a cowardly rat?' she retorted. She winced at once – Snape would no doubt take points off, but for some reason, she couldn't stop sprouting off clever comebacks at Malfoy. She had often been terribly annoyed at herself in the past for not thinking of something to say when somebody mentioned something to her, but that was simply not the case when it came to Malfoy. For some reason, she had to come to some staunch defence of her personal pride in her feud against Malfoy, which was good. But it did lead to unfortunate consequences.
He smiled a smile that made Hermione extremely uncomfortable. 'You should be frightened, Granger, because this cowardly rat has the power to give you a less than perfect Potions NEWT result,' Malfoy said smoothly, looking very satisfied.
'You absolute bastard!'
Ohhhh …. nonononono … not in Snape's classroom … bad move, Hermione …
'Twenty points from Gryffindor for insulting a fellow student and using inappropriate language,' Snape said, obviously pleased at the first chance to deduct points from Gryffindor this lesson. 'You should be past such childish behaviour, Miss Granger. I would warn you now that ten percent of this assignment is based on your ability to co-operate with your partner, so I suggest you start learning how to at once.'
Hermione continued to stare back in mute rebellion.
'Now!' Snape barked.
She bit her lip, and sat down reluctantly.
There was a suspenseful pause.
'One of you do have to move,' Snape said nastily. 'It is hard to conduct collaborative work when the both of you are separated by nearly the length of the classroom.'
There was absolutely no way in hell Hermione was going to budge and she looked ahead stonily, ignoring Malfoy.
'Well?' Snape asked, clearly impatient.
Hermione glanced at Malfoy, and saw that he had swivelled around to lean infuriatingly on the side of his desk, a confident smirk well settled on his face. She glared at him, but that only served to make him smirk more, grey eyes contemptuously amused, expecting her to move.
Hermione hardened her will. Never.
'Miss Granger, move,' Snape rapped out. 'That's an order.'
Snape had to be abusing his authority as a teacher, Hermione thought as she sulkily stood and collected her books, ignoring in her anger the sympathetic looks of her fellow Gryffindors. She stalked to Malfoy's desk and unceremoniously dumped her stuff on his desk, and, pulling up an extra chair, sat down rigidly on the seat.
'Well now that's finally been settled, Miss Granger,' Snape said, making it seem like it was all her fault, to Hermione's sense of injustice, 'we can continue. Terry Boot and Neville Longbottom …'
Hermione didn't bother listening though. She was just too resentful of Snape for doing such a thing to her in her last months at Hogwarts, and she ignored the looks of immense dislike Pansy Parkinson was casting her way. She was determined not to look at Malfoy, who sounded suspiciously like he was trying to stifle sneering laughter, and focused on a point above Snape's head. It was just wrong forcing her to work with Malfoy, and she had half a mind to go and complain to Professor McGonagall about it later. She would too, if it weren't for the fact that she needed Professor Snape to write a reference letter for her application to the highly selective wizarding college – USAM, the University of Sorcery and Advanced Magick. Bloody hell, it meant behaving politely in class and trying to avoid losing points for Gryffindor. But that was impossible in a class that contained Malfoy!
Calm down, she told herself. Brilliant idea, but how to begin? She frowned heavily for a moment, before remembering. Her Secret Admirer! A dreamy smile began to creep onto her lips as she remembered the roses and doves, and she began speculating about his identify, her head leaning against one hand, elbow propped against the desk.
'Granger, let's start.'
A cold voice disturbed her from her thoughts, and she jumped, temporarily losing her composure.
'What?' she asked, startled.
'Discussing our assignment,' Malfoy said, one brow raised. Hermione, still a little bemused with her thoughts of her Secret Admirer, looked at him, a little puzzled. Malfoy was strange, she noted to herself. Although his blond hair was so pale it almost seemed white, his eyebrows were a darker blond – practically brown really, giving his face more definition. They were perfectly shaped, while still managing to appear masculine, and he could do something she never could do – arch a single brow. I wish I could do that, she mused to herself, and then suddenly realised exactly what she was doing.
Shit, concentrate! You're sitting next to Draco Malfoy, in the Potions classroom, and you have to do a Potions assignment! You're not going to USAM yet! And you most certainly need to drop the whimsical air and get out of the dream world!
'Right. Our assignment,' Hermione sat up straight, ignoring the quizzical look Malfoy was giving her, and extracted a sheet of blank parchment and a quill from her bag to begin writing. Her attempt to look like she had been concentrating.
Malfoy didn't look ready to begin though. 'Do you usually drift off in class and start smiling?' he asked, sounding genuinely curious.
Hermione simply sniffed, highly mortified at being caught during a rare lapse in concentration.
'I wonder why you were smiling,' Malfoy said, voice low. 'Dreaming about your Secret Admirer?'
A deep flush on her cheeks betrayed the answer at once. 'Why shouldn't I?'
'Why shouldn't you,' Malfoy repeated mockingly as a statement. 'After all, we've only got an assignment to complete that's only worth twenty-five percent of your Potions NEWT, the only examinations left of your school years, and that could only just happen to have a big say in your future career in the wizarding world.'
'I can do more than one thing at a time,' Hermione said haughtily. 'I can both think and listen at once.'
'How talented, Granger,' Malfoy said, pretending to applaud. 'You can multi-task!'
Hermione winced, realising how stupid her statement had been, but could not retract. 'Can't you?' she asked instead, trying to sound superior.
'Of course I can,' he said, waving it off. 'So, what potion are we going to choose for our assignment?'
The blank confusion on Hermione's face was real, though.
'Assuming of course, that your wonderful multi-tasking brain happened to take in the instructions Snape gave about a minute ago about our assignment,' Malfoy added dryly.
Another flush on Hermione's face betrayed her yet again.
'You know, Granger,' Malfoy said conversationally, 'I thought that to multi-task meant to do more than one thing at a time. Not, do one thing, and pretend you're doing another thing.'
'Shut up, Malfoy!' Hermione whispered, irritated. 'Just tell me what Snape said!'
Malfoy said nothing, and just blinked his grey eyes innocently, making them seem larger than they usually were.
Hermione didn't know if she should laugh insanely or scream like a banshee. 'I meant, shut up with your teasing,' she said wearily instead, a safe third option in Snape's classroom.
'Thank you for elaborating,' he said, his gratitude definitely insincere.
'So, er, what did Snape say?'
'Our assignment is to research a potion that is either illegal or forbidden except in extreme circumstances. We are allowed to select the potion for research, describe as much as possible the ingredients and how it's made, the historical origins of the selected potion, then describe why it's illegal or forbidden, and give several case studies that explain its current status. We should also detail similar, weaker versions of the selected illegal or forbidden potion, and brew one such weaker potion whose identify is disclosed to us,' Malfoy recited.
'Oh.'
'A lengthy task, made all the more difficult by the fact that information on illegal or forbidden potions is not common. Professor Snape has said he will write notes for us to take out books from the Restricted Section of the library.'
'Okay. So do we just choose any potion?' Hermione asked questioningly.
'We choose from a list that was put onto the board,' Malfoy pointed with a quill, 'and which I have already copied onto my own notes along with the assignment instructions.'
'You have?' Hermione asked eagerly. She saw the notes Malfoy was holding up, and started scribbling quickly.
Malfoy rolled his eyes.
After about fifteen minutes, by which time Hermione was nearing the end of her copying, Malfoy drawled. 'You know, there is an easier way to do this.'
He tapped his notes on the assignment with his wand. 'Duplicus.'
A perfect, complete copy appeared on the desk.
Hermione's jaw dropped. The little ferret! He could have mentioned it earlier (she quickly ignored the fact that she should have thought of it), and could have saved the time spent copying which had also resulted in a very sore hand from the frantic writing. She rubbed her hand, furious with him.
'Now that you finally understand the task, we can choose our potion,' Malfoy said, with an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh, 'even though we have only five more minutes until the lesson ends thanks to your inability to multi-task.'
'That's your fault, for not being helpful,' Hermione said at once.
'Excuse me, but I do believe I'm the one who diligently copied down the notes?' Malfoy said smugly.
'Well I wouldn't be having that problem if I hadn't been paired up with you. I can't even stand the sight of you!' Hermione spat out.
'The feeling's mutual, I can assure you, Granger,' he said coolly, his taunting banter gone, his grey eyes icy cold.
Hermione was slightly shaken by his sudden change in demeanour, and startled by how chillingly indifferent yet angry his eyes were, but did not show it externally. Instead, she merely stared back, her expression equally frosty. It was a battle of wills, trying to see who would look away first, when Malfoy, without glancing away spoke.
'I choose Inculamor,' he said. 'I'll meet you on Thursday at eight in the library.'
And then he stood, and swept away arrogantly, books in hand, as the bell went to signal the end of the lesson.
The Forced Love Potion.
Why the hell had Malfoy chosen the only love potion on the list?
*
Author's Notes: Incredible. I just saw this kid on the train the other day, pretty short and chubby, but that's not the point. His hair was exactly like what Harry's hair in the books is like – it stuck up in the back! It's black, and it naturally sticks up messily in the back and looks like no matter how much effort you make to brush it the other way it'll keep sticking up the back! Incredible. Has anybody else ever walked along the street etc. and saw somebody that just looked exactly like you'd think a character from Harry Potter would look like? I see Harrys and Hermiones and Rons everywhere … although unfortunately Dracos seem rarer …
But that's beside the point. Thank you to the reviews so far! I love reviews! As you may have noticed so far, this fic seems to be made up of a string of cliches, but that's the way it's working … for now. It took a while before updating this but I got distracted since I'd just discovered Draco/Harry fics and so spent all my time reading terribly long fics as quickly as possible. And then I read Underwater Light by Maya at Schnoogle.com, and it spoilt me for any other Draco/Harry fics which is why I returned to writing this fic. I also spent ages sorting out details, eg. a time-line for the course of my fic etc. By the way, the dates/days don't correspond to the actual year of 1998. JKR's don't, so I don't see why mine have to (and besides it wouldn't work!)
Somebody enquired about the possibility of me updating my other fic, The Manor in the near future. I'm sorry – I've given up on re-writing the first part (too lazy …) and so the sequel should be up soon. I just need to do a bit more background research on Britain since my first chapter's set in Muggle London.
About this chapter, the quote comes from The King and I. The 'scientific' name of the potion, Inculamor, comes from me flipping through a Latin dictionary. I don't do Latin, so don't sue if it doesn't even come close to resembling the English translation – Forced Love.
Anyway, thanks to those who reviewed: Mooxey, Elenath Ambrose, dracos girl, Kay, crystalized12, Erythros, Miss Raynbow, Jenie, Lexie, Hatokirei, super sycoh, Mousas, Vu, & wolfy 65. Please do review! The more reviews, the sooner I update!