Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. All of the Harry Potter universe belongs to JK. And this makes me sad.
Thanks to Jennifer Moorman, my fantastic new beta.
___
Dumbledore sucked pensively on a lemon drop as he watched Draco leave his office. He had expected a barrage of demands concerning Hermione's punishment over the library incident, coupled with threats about what Lucius would do if said demands were not met. When Severus had informed him that Draco wished to speak with him, he had expected a belligerent, irritated Draco to enter his office. He had not expected an apologetic young man, admitting to lying about Hermione's actions in the library.
Apparently, Malcolm Braddock, a fellow Slytherin who had accompanied Draco to the library, had decided to practice the curse on the petrified Draco. For some reason, Dumbledore didn't quite believe Draco's story. Perhaps it was the fact that Braddock had been away on family business the night of the incident.
Even more suspicious were the reports from Madame Pince about Hermione's weekend penchant for the Restricted Section. Although a few of her visits had been sanctioned by notes from professors, she had made a furtive trip late one night. He didn't suppose that she had seen him.
Another concern of his was the accidents during Saturday's Quidditch game.
He had yet to discover their cause, and as it was now Tuesday, the prospect of finding out wasn't a bright one.
He sighed heavily and placed his head in his aged hands. The sudden weight on his shoulder a moment later announced Fawkes' arrival.
'No', he thought, 'no amount of phoenix singing can comfort me about losing Hermione Granger to the dark side. About losing to the dark side.'
**
Draco strolled into the library with a scowl on his face. Malfoys should not enjoy public libraries. Especially not public libraries with Mudbloods in them.
Oh, but he did. Every blasted second spent her with her he loved.
He had never before seen the glow of pleasure and excitement Hermione possessed when learning. She had always seemed to know everything.
He sauntered up to the table they had agreed to use, where, in spite of the fact that it was five minutes before their scheduled meeting time, Hermione was already hard at work.
"Eager to see me, as always."
He was greeted with a wrinkled nose of displeasure. "Eager to get started so I can get away from you more quickly."
He grinned. "Fine, don't want me to help you? Suit yourself."
He started to walk away and heard her sigh. Their morning routine would end, as it had the past few mornings, with her begging him to stay. What a great way to start the day.
"Draco. Enough of the bullshit. Sit down. I need to talk to you."
He froze, unsure of whether he should risk his pride by obeying her or risk not finding out what she had to tell him. Damn that curiosity.
He returned to the table but didn't sit. He was a man of compromise, after all. At least with himself.
Hermione didn't seem the least bit surprised.
"Alright, this has to stop."
**
Hermione mentally berated herself over her quip about wanting to get away from him. That was childish and stupid. Of course, him sauntering away and expecting her to chase after him was no better.
She was almost surprised when he came back. She hadn't pleaded with him like she usually had to. Sometimes he was such a total arse that she wondered if it was all worth it.
But she knew it was. She felt as if she had learned more in the last week than in her entire Hogwarts life.
"Alright, this has to stop."
He looked almost upset at her statement. Almost. He recovered quickly.
"Fine, I'll go. We'll forget this ever happened. That is... unless you do something to really piss me off."
She sighed. Every sentence was a fight with him. She had never known tension like the kind between her and Draco.
"Sit down. I'm not talking about this -" at this, she gestured around at the table full of notes and books. "I'm talking about my little visits to the Restricted Section. I can tell Pince is getting suspicious and I'm running out of professors to ask and excuses to use. Don't you have a decent library at home? Couldn't your father owl you some of the ludicrous books you've sent me after?"
Draco scowled for a moment. His scowl was then replaced by a thoughtful expression, as he looked her over. Then he smirked.
"Well, Granger, we could slightly...alter the deal if you want."
Hermione was instantly suspicious. If anything, he certainly kept her on her toes. "How so?"
"What kind of sexual experience have you had, Hermione?"
Hermione had never blushed so deeply in her entire life. Her mouth opened but she failed to decide on an accurate response. "Whaa...I..."
Draco smiled. "Don't look so shocked. You're not terribly unattractive. I'm a teenage boy, and sometimes almost anyone will do."
If ever she thought about repeating the slap from third year, it was now. "Draco Malfoy. I can't even begin to express how insulting and...and...WRONG that little proposal is. I have never been so - "
"Who said it was a proposal? Are you trying to find things in my statements that aren't there, Hermione?"
"Your audacity astounds me. How could you be such a pompous little - "
"Aah... but you're not denying the truth in my accusation. You want me Granger, admit it."
"Just because I misinterpreted - "
"Coughfreudianslipcough."
Hermione was so angry she was close to tears. "You have done nothing but make me miserable from day one of our introduction. You are the most disgusting, insufferable idiot I have ever met. Why on earth would I ever - "
"Oh Hermione, it's alright if you've never had sex. I won't respect you any less. Don't feel the need to start insulting me. I never intended to upset you.... I didn't know that sex would be such a sore subject for you." At this, he paused, regarding her once more. "You've never even been kissed, have you?"
The combination of rage, resentment, hurt and a thirst to prove herself blinded Hermione momentarily and when she regained control, she found herself pinning Draco Malfoy to the desk and kissing him like she had never kissed anyone before.
***
Charms had gone... badly. Now that he was at lunch, Ron had a chance to reflect on some things.
Harry was getting worse.
Literally. It wasn't so much his daydreams - people had adjusted to those - but his incompetence in his subjects was quickly approaching a level equivalent to Neville's success with Potions.
Even his flying abilities were suffering. Ron could have sworn he saw him fall off of his Firebolt, but he was so close to the ground it was easy to take it as a jumping dismount. They had stopped using the snitch at practice, resorting to Rememberalls and... There had been murmurs about finding a new seeker. Ron couldn't blame the team, seeing as the last time they'd used a snitch at practice it had taken Harry five hours to catch it (and that was after a summoning charm).
Remembering Saturday's game, he didn't suppose it would be much of an issue. He wondered if Dumbledore would ever let them know what was going on.
As if Dumbledore had read his mind, he suddenly tapped his glass with a spoon, to bring the room to attention. "Everyone... everyone... If everyone could please quiet down... Yes, very good. I have an announcement that may please you all. After thorough investigation, we have decided to continue with the Quidditch schedule for the rest of the season. There will be a makeup game for the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs sometime in the next month. Thank you."
The old man took his seat gingerly, to a copious amount of applause from the students. He nodded and smiled, but to those watching him, it was obvious that he was less than excited by his own news.
***
Draco was, for the first time in his life, slow to react to a girl kissing him. It didn't last long. Before he realized the precariousness of their situation, he had turned her so she was no longer on top of him. Soon he had her propped up on the table, legs wrapped around his waist, mouths locked in years of repressed emotion.
This was passion like he never knew existed. It seemed that even sharing the same breath wasn't close enough... It wasn't enough to express what each member wanted to.
In the midst of this heated physical dialogue someone set off a filibuster firework a few aisles down. In his rush to pull away, Draco tripped over a chair leg and landed squarely on his butt. A flushed Hermione frantically tugged her robes and skirt back down and slid off of the table. For a moment no one spoke. Only Madame Pince's shrill reprimands filled the air. Then -
"Well. Perhaps I should make a proposal about that after all."
Hermione scowled, still red, picked up her quill and turned to the book she had been reading before he arrived.
Draco waited for her to respond. Finally, his curiosity got the best of him.
"Well? No comments? No facts about the average kiss that you care to share? You surprise me, Granger."
Hermione set down her quill and turned to face him. "What do you want me to say, Draco? Oooh, Draco. That was the best thing that's ever happened to me. Or how about I've wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you? No wait, you said something about facts? Want the statistics of the usual rate of -"
"Alright. You can stop. A simple glare would have sufficed."
"I doubt it. It's never worked before. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get some of this work accomplished before I have to go to Herbology." She looked pointedly at the empty chair across from her.
Draco sighed, picked himself up and took the seat in question.
"Alright Hermione. But you owe me a talk."
Hermione didn't smile, nod or acknowledge his statement in anyway. Somehow, though, he knew she agreed.
***
Ron chewed on his lip in anguish as he read through Tuesday's edition of the Daily Prophet.
Fifty-six Muggles. Unbelievable. Was he any help to the cause at all?
Attempting to ignore the rising guilt he felt, he concentrated on what Sirius had told him in the beginning... after his first night.
"People are going to die, Ron. You can't save the world. But you can try to save some people. Lives shouldn't be measured in numbers. Saving even one person is an amazing feat."
Ron had been crying. The guilt had overwhelmed him that first night. People screamed and he couldn't save them. People died at his feet.
And oh, God, the blood. He had pictured fighting the Dark Forces as something glorious and magical and heroic. When he had joined the Old Crowd in combat that first night, though, cold realization sunk in.
The good guys didn't always win.
The Death Eaters, the sadistic spineless bastards that they were, wouldn't simply use Avada Kedavra on people. Especially Muggles. They wanted suffering. They wanted pain. They wanted blood.
Some nights he returned to the Burrow doused in others' blood. His Mum had been hysterical the first time she'd caught him, and even more so when she found out what he was doing.
"First a dangerous curse breaker, then a dragon keeper and now this! Why can't you just settle into a nice office job with the Ministry, Ron? Like Percy?"
He had been so angry with her for that statement. But now he understood. After watching so many other people's children... actual children... die at the hands of the monsters he fought, he understood why his own Mum was so against his nightly missions.
He had been injured most nights, in the beginning. The first time he had been hit with Crucio, he had wished it was Avada Kedavra. He had never wished for death with such a passion before that night. He still wasn't sure how he had made it home, how he had managed to roll away from almost certain death... how he had managed to move at all after that.
But once summer ended and he got to Hogwarts, he remembered about a tool that lay within his grasp - a tool that would make his life so much easier.
He had worried so much over that damned cloak. What if he lost it? What if it was damaged?
Harry's face swam into view every time such dangers were imminent. It was that face that made him work harder - to dodge injury to the cape, to himself... to avenge the death of Harry's parents... to fight the forces that had tortured his best friend for as long as Ron had known him.
Ron Weasley wouldn't be insignificant anymore. He wouldn't sulk in the shadow of the boy wonder. He would join him in his fight to save the world.
It all sounded so noble. And then there were days like today.
Fifty-six Muggles.
Ron sighed and folded the paper into his Herbology book.
***
Harry waited patiently at the gargoyle. He hadn't the slightest clue what the password was, but he was sure that if he waited long enough, the staircase would appear.
Dumbledore knew he was coming, after all.
Harry stared at the gargoyle. Finally, it started to move.
When he reached the top of the steps, he saw a very tired, sad old man sitting at the desk in front of him. Quickly, Dumbledore changed into a somewhat more cheerful form as he greeted him.
"Hello, Harry. Have a seat. Would you like some medichocolate?"
Harry frowned and shook his head. That was odd. He looked up at Dumbledore. "What did you want to see me for, sir?"
Dumbledore sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I need to talk to you about Hermione."
***
"Hermione?"
She had heard him but refused to look up. The pain wasn't as strong anymore. They'd left her that way for so many months now that it had had time to numb. But she remembered those months. And there was no way she was going to make either of their lives easier after what she had been through.
She had wanted to change Houses.
"Please, Hermione. At least let me know you're listening."
She made a rude gesture with her hand and went back to writing. She heard Harry sigh and felt the cushion sink as he sat down on the couch with her.
"I know that what we did was awful. I'm sorry. I've just been so... So confused and I didn't know what to do and I didn't want to deal with anything and... and... I was just really stupid about it all."
She continued writing and when he said nothing else, she sighed and put down her quill.
"Harry."
She felt him shift places and turned to see the worry mix with excitement in his eyes. He wasn't sure if she would forgive him. Neither was she.
"Why isn't Ron here, apologizing with you?"
Jackpot. She saw his face sink and then his eyebrows attempt to save his expression to prevent her from noticing. He really had no idea how to lie to anyone.
"He... he's not ready to deal with this yet. But I need to. I need you."
She sighed again and looked at her homework. This was oddly reminiscent of the situation between Harry and Ron in fourth year. Only this time, Harry was attempting to take over her mediator role.
She had been under the impression that there was no longer anything to mediate.
"Harry, I'm not mad. Okay? With either of you. Can we just leave it at that?"
She watched his face light up and then his eyebrows wrinkle as he attempted to decipher her meaning. She turned back to her homework and he, not as oblivious as she thought he was, took his cue to leave.
Hermione sat up in bed, a cold sweat on her forehead. Lately her dreams had been little but bad memories from fifth year.
She hadn't been mad. Furious, maybe. But that had only been in the beginning. Then she felt betrayed. And the hurt of betrayal had slowly faded to indifference.
She had lost her two best friends and everything was okay. The sun still rose and she could still perform most spells better than anyone else in her year. This fact had stuck with her, had turned the entire affair into a learning experience.
They were really insignificant.
