I don't own any rights to Harry Potter, I did not creature any of the characters, place names (cept for London and Yorkshire and Kings Cross, I didn't create those either, but neither did JK Rowling) or magic spells or any other things, you all know JK Rowling did. Worship her as I do.
Yes, Iactually wrote more of this! Yay! Don't know how long this will last, but, I'll write while I have the urge.
Ron had twitched intensely, his face darting up so his eyes could bore into her. It made her want to squirm, his eyes felt like they were digging right through her, it was physically painful. But she held on desperately to every ounce of strength she had, and kept her head up. "I never should have let him. I'm so sorry, Ron, you have no idea how it makes me feel. I want to peel my own skin off. I, ..." she trailed off, her hands clutched so tightly together she didn't notice her nails biting painfully into her palms until she spoke. She did feel like hurting herself, anything, just to replace the feeling of him against her skin. Against her will, tears welled up in her eyes. "Ron, I never wanted to, but he, he made it feel so good and I couldn't think and it just happened and I wish it never had, I can't forget how it feels, I want to, it makes me sick." she croaked out, ignoring the fact her shoulders were shaking, her nose was running and that Ron was looking at her in a way she just didn't understand.
Ron felt numb. The throbbing in his head was so distant it didn't even register. All that did was Hermione, his Hermione, sobbing and losing all control right beside him. Hermione, losing control. It wasn't right. Somehow, her whimpers cut through his fury, something in his chest was expanding. He could feel tears fighting at the back of his eyes, too. Hermione needed him, she had come to him. That mattered more than anything. Thrusting his hands out, he grabbed her a little more roughly than he meant to, but it didn't seem to matter as she clutched his robes, curling up in his lap, hiding her face against his neck. He had never held her like this, and even considering the circumstances, it felt right.
Hermione let a long breath shudder out when Ron took her into his arms. So maybe he hadn't forgiven her, he still cared, and that was all that mattered. Ron holding her, and Harry settling in beside them to just sit. Her tears soon stopped, but she did not let go. She was too comfortable having the two people she loved most just being there with her, knowing that as angry as they were, they could put that past them and just be there.
Sometime during the night Madam Pomfrey ushered Hermione and Harry out of the hospital wing. She had put curtains around Draco's bed, but they still knew he was there. Harry held her very close to him the whole walk back to the tower, and even suggested that if she didn't want to be alone, he'd stay with her again.
But Hermione refused. She felt very light and empty, but somehow in a nice way. Like everything would be okay, especially after a good long sleep. Harry needed it too, so she shoved him off towards his dorm before trudging her way up to hers. She didn't even bother to change her robes, she just fell right into bed, very grateful Lavender, Parvati and the other girls were long asleep. She knew they would have questions, was she okay, what was it like having sex? Hermione mulled over which they would ask first. She used to think she was different than most other girls her age, that she was impervious to men and the stupid way people wasted their time together.
But Draco had proved her wrong. She did not blame him, not completely. Because he hadn't seemed himself when he had touched her so lightly, when he seemed to give just as much as he took, how he... No! Hermione rolled over, shoving her face into her pillow. That didn't matter anymore, it never had mattered. Draco didn't matter. It seemed like a long time, she just lay there in the dark, listening to the familiar sounds of the people sleeping around her.
She didn't know exactly when she fell asleep, when reality had slid into dreams, nor did she remember the dreams when she finally woke. And yet, something remained with her from those dreams, a feeling she couldn't shake. A feeling that even though Ron was now holding her hand and smiling at her as he talked, she could still see the distance in his eyes, and something told her these eyes were not the ones she wanted to get lost in.
She felt strangely numb the next morning, everything was distant. She changed her robes, gathered up her school books, and trumped down the stairs from the dormitory to the common room. Everyone's voices hushed at her appearance, some people shifted away from her, but through them Harry emerged. He looked very grim, and under his normally bright eyes there were large black circles. Obviously, he had not slept.
Without a word he put his arm around her back, leading her to the portrait hole. Eyes followed them, though no one knew what to say, or if they should say anything at all. Ginny was sitting in a corner, trying very hard to focus on her book, though Hermione saw Ginny's eyes were not moving, and her mouth was very tight indeed. Slumping her shoulders, Hermione crawled through the hole, clutching her book bag very tightly.
"Should we, I mean, would it be all right if we went and saw Ron?" she squeaked out to Harry, who was glaring down the hallway where some students were already wandering. He reminded her of a watchdog, the way his eyes darted around at every sound, how he stood just a little infront of her. But also a little away. When he nodded his assent and put his arm around her again to lead her away, she noticed he was slightly stiff, and his hand didn't close very tightly around her robes. Hermione couldn't blame him. She didn't want to be in her own skin as it was, she wouldn't blame Harry if he never wanted to touch her again. But he was trying to get past it, he was being a friend. And that made her just comfortable enough to walk down the corridors with him, even though she kept her eyes down and did her very best to ignore the looks from the professors and students alike who passed them.
The whole walk to the infirmary Hermione payed very close attention to her shoes. One had a scuff mark on it, and her robes seemed to be just a little bit too short for her taste. She could feel Harry beside her, he tensed up every few moments, sometimes cleared his throat at people who were looking at them too strangely, though to her it sounded more like a growl than anything.
Finally they came to the double doors that were covered in posters and pamphlets about remedies and warnings about illnesses and accidents. About level with her ankles was one about "A broomstick is an accident waiting to happen." Harry pushed the doors open and led her inside.
Finally, she raised her eyes. Through the narrow windows light streamed through. The curtains that had been around Draco's bed were pushed back into a corner now. Despite herself, Hermione glanced to where he had been the night before. The bed was made, and he was gone. Something inside of her loosened, and her shoulders relaxed as she passed her eyes over to Ron. He had been in the middle of tying his shoelace, but now he was looking at her strangely, she was sure he had seen her look to Draco's bed first. Something in Ron's cheek had twitched, and his jaw was set, but he seemed to shrug it off, or at least to shrug it away for the moment.
"Transfiguration after breakfast, isn't it?" he commented innocently, checking his school bag. Apparently someone had brought him his books earlier, though whomever it was he didn't say. "Should we go to breakfast?" Ron asked, though his voice was slower and quieter this time. He shared a look with Harry, and they both looked to Hermione.
Her hands tightened on her bag, but she nodded. She would not hide, she would not pretend it didn't happen. Besides, she knew somewhere under the lead weight in her stomach she was hungry.
Well, at least one thing would never change. People would always stare at Harry where ever he went. Normally he would just brush it off, but now he was more on edge because of it than he ever had been. Maybe because these whispers were of something that struck him even deeper than his relationship with Voldemort. Maybe because those whispers, and those eyes now included the two people he cared most for in the clicks of their tongues.
Hermione was comforted by the way Harry walked beside her, his hand floating just at her back, ready to give her a touch of comfort or to pull her from any danger. Even Ron stood tall to her other side, though he seemed more ready for battle than to protect her.
But she did not want protection. She wanted to try her hardest to get past this incident. She had so much to do. Halloween was approaching quickly, and she wanted to give her input on the decorations, and she hadn't even started on the treat bags she wanted to give to the house elves. She would have asked Harry and Ron to help, but she doubted they would be in the spirits to wrap packages of chocolate frogs in sparkling orange paper.
The great hall was much quieter than Hermione expected it to be. Some people cast glances towards them, but it seemed the stern faces of the professors at the head table, especially the solemness of professor Dumbledore kept everyone from bursting out with their whispered conspiracies.
"Look!" Ron reached around Hermione to poke Harry in the side. "Malfoy's not here! Last night Snape came to see him and took him away, I couldn't hear what was said. Maybe he was expelled!" Even the inclination of his voice did not contain much satisfaction, nor did the replying grunt from Harry. Expulsion was not the punishment they had in mind.
Hermione made a noise in her throat, but her eyes still remained on her shoes. She had not looked up in fear of seeing him, but somehow his absence seemed to stab rather painfully in her stomach as well. What could that mean? Maybe some part of her had enjoyed their private time together, maybe Draco's shield had weakened just enough for something gentle to escape. Maybe she was being a hopeful idiot who was just wishing some good into what was a horrible situation. Whatever the case, she wanted to know where he was. If he was expelled, good. If he was still here, somehow, somewhere, she would find out what did happen to him. She was, after all, Head Girl. She was allowed into the student records office. She would just go tonight, then. She was supposed to wander the halls, punishing anyone outside their common rooms after hours. Harry and Ron could not come with her. They would not let go easily, but she would make them.
"I guess he was, then. Good riddance." she stated, rather hollowly, and settled in to shovel food into her mouth.
Harry glanced at her sideways, but seemed content with her tone. Hermione had always been strong, maybe without him around she would recover quickly. Turning away from her, he called down the table to Parvati about the next quidditch practice. Ron perked up at that, and there was a scramble of people and clinking plates to rearrange the seating so the team could converse. They all seemed very grateful for a distraction from the uneasy conversations.
Hermione found Neville beside her now, looking at her rather oddly. "What is it? Did I get some eggs on my face?" she asked, as innocently as she could. But Neville, perhaps better than even Harry and Ron, saw right through her.
"You do care about him. Malfoy." he said plainly, quietly.
Hermione blinked, taken completely aback at his directness. "I... Neville... I don't know how I feel." She really didn't. She could not explain it to herself, not even to Harry or Ron, how in the world could she, or why would she even explain it to Neville?
Neville leaned forward, chubby cheeks taunt in seriousness. "Hermione, if there is any good in him, I know you can find it. You just have to decide if it's worth hurting so many people just to make one good man."
With that, Neville stood, book bag in hand, and left. Hermione gaped openly at the wisdom Neville had just imparted. How was it that such a dim boy could surprise her the most so many times? Slouching back, Hermione ignored her plate and sunk her chin into her hand. Neville was right. Was Draco really worth all the trouble, all the pain? Was she, in some way, trying to find some way to redeem him? And how stupid was she, really? Of course she would love to believe that there was no real 'evil' in the world, but that very obviously not the case. Could Draco end up like Voldemort? So bitter and hurt, so hateful that he would spite the whole world? Was she just the beginning?
Lost in her thoughts, Hermione allowed herself to be led around for the day by Harry and Ron, occasionally straying from her daze to attempt some form of normalcy. She even raised her hand in potions, and Snape, perhaps feeling pity, or just a conflict within himself, confirmed her answer without a battle. Or perhaps he noticed her eyes wander to Draco's vacant post and found some sort of emotion in her gaze that he recognized?
By the end of the day, Hermione had reached a decision. Neville was right. Draco had opened up to her, if only a sliver. If she could do anything for him, it was her obligation to try. Or to kill him, that was the if/or decision the mingled emotions her heart had come to. Yes, her heart. Her mind could find no logic in anything, and had conceded dominion to her heart.
Yes, Iactually wrote more of this! Yay! Don't know how long this will last, but, I'll write while I have the urge.
Ron had twitched intensely, his face darting up so his eyes could bore into her. It made her want to squirm, his eyes felt like they were digging right through her, it was physically painful. But she held on desperately to every ounce of strength she had, and kept her head up. "I never should have let him. I'm so sorry, Ron, you have no idea how it makes me feel. I want to peel my own skin off. I, ..." she trailed off, her hands clutched so tightly together she didn't notice her nails biting painfully into her palms until she spoke. She did feel like hurting herself, anything, just to replace the feeling of him against her skin. Against her will, tears welled up in her eyes. "Ron, I never wanted to, but he, he made it feel so good and I couldn't think and it just happened and I wish it never had, I can't forget how it feels, I want to, it makes me sick." she croaked out, ignoring the fact her shoulders were shaking, her nose was running and that Ron was looking at her in a way she just didn't understand.
Ron felt numb. The throbbing in his head was so distant it didn't even register. All that did was Hermione, his Hermione, sobbing and losing all control right beside him. Hermione, losing control. It wasn't right. Somehow, her whimpers cut through his fury, something in his chest was expanding. He could feel tears fighting at the back of his eyes, too. Hermione needed him, she had come to him. That mattered more than anything. Thrusting his hands out, he grabbed her a little more roughly than he meant to, but it didn't seem to matter as she clutched his robes, curling up in his lap, hiding her face against his neck. He had never held her like this, and even considering the circumstances, it felt right.
Hermione let a long breath shudder out when Ron took her into his arms. So maybe he hadn't forgiven her, he still cared, and that was all that mattered. Ron holding her, and Harry settling in beside them to just sit. Her tears soon stopped, but she did not let go. She was too comfortable having the two people she loved most just being there with her, knowing that as angry as they were, they could put that past them and just be there.
Sometime during the night Madam Pomfrey ushered Hermione and Harry out of the hospital wing. She had put curtains around Draco's bed, but they still knew he was there. Harry held her very close to him the whole walk back to the tower, and even suggested that if she didn't want to be alone, he'd stay with her again.
But Hermione refused. She felt very light and empty, but somehow in a nice way. Like everything would be okay, especially after a good long sleep. Harry needed it too, so she shoved him off towards his dorm before trudging her way up to hers. She didn't even bother to change her robes, she just fell right into bed, very grateful Lavender, Parvati and the other girls were long asleep. She knew they would have questions, was she okay, what was it like having sex? Hermione mulled over which they would ask first. She used to think she was different than most other girls her age, that she was impervious to men and the stupid way people wasted their time together.
But Draco had proved her wrong. She did not blame him, not completely. Because he hadn't seemed himself when he had touched her so lightly, when he seemed to give just as much as he took, how he... No! Hermione rolled over, shoving her face into her pillow. That didn't matter anymore, it never had mattered. Draco didn't matter. It seemed like a long time, she just lay there in the dark, listening to the familiar sounds of the people sleeping around her.
She didn't know exactly when she fell asleep, when reality had slid into dreams, nor did she remember the dreams when she finally woke. And yet, something remained with her from those dreams, a feeling she couldn't shake. A feeling that even though Ron was now holding her hand and smiling at her as he talked, she could still see the distance in his eyes, and something told her these eyes were not the ones she wanted to get lost in.
She felt strangely numb the next morning, everything was distant. She changed her robes, gathered up her school books, and trumped down the stairs from the dormitory to the common room. Everyone's voices hushed at her appearance, some people shifted away from her, but through them Harry emerged. He looked very grim, and under his normally bright eyes there were large black circles. Obviously, he had not slept.
Without a word he put his arm around her back, leading her to the portrait hole. Eyes followed them, though no one knew what to say, or if they should say anything at all. Ginny was sitting in a corner, trying very hard to focus on her book, though Hermione saw Ginny's eyes were not moving, and her mouth was very tight indeed. Slumping her shoulders, Hermione crawled through the hole, clutching her book bag very tightly.
"Should we, I mean, would it be all right if we went and saw Ron?" she squeaked out to Harry, who was glaring down the hallway where some students were already wandering. He reminded her of a watchdog, the way his eyes darted around at every sound, how he stood just a little infront of her. But also a little away. When he nodded his assent and put his arm around her again to lead her away, she noticed he was slightly stiff, and his hand didn't close very tightly around her robes. Hermione couldn't blame him. She didn't want to be in her own skin as it was, she wouldn't blame Harry if he never wanted to touch her again. But he was trying to get past it, he was being a friend. And that made her just comfortable enough to walk down the corridors with him, even though she kept her eyes down and did her very best to ignore the looks from the professors and students alike who passed them.
The whole walk to the infirmary Hermione payed very close attention to her shoes. One had a scuff mark on it, and her robes seemed to be just a little bit too short for her taste. She could feel Harry beside her, he tensed up every few moments, sometimes cleared his throat at people who were looking at them too strangely, though to her it sounded more like a growl than anything.
Finally they came to the double doors that were covered in posters and pamphlets about remedies and warnings about illnesses and accidents. About level with her ankles was one about "A broomstick is an accident waiting to happen." Harry pushed the doors open and led her inside.
Finally, she raised her eyes. Through the narrow windows light streamed through. The curtains that had been around Draco's bed were pushed back into a corner now. Despite herself, Hermione glanced to where he had been the night before. The bed was made, and he was gone. Something inside of her loosened, and her shoulders relaxed as she passed her eyes over to Ron. He had been in the middle of tying his shoelace, but now he was looking at her strangely, she was sure he had seen her look to Draco's bed first. Something in Ron's cheek had twitched, and his jaw was set, but he seemed to shrug it off, or at least to shrug it away for the moment.
"Transfiguration after breakfast, isn't it?" he commented innocently, checking his school bag. Apparently someone had brought him his books earlier, though whomever it was he didn't say. "Should we go to breakfast?" Ron asked, though his voice was slower and quieter this time. He shared a look with Harry, and they both looked to Hermione.
Her hands tightened on her bag, but she nodded. She would not hide, she would not pretend it didn't happen. Besides, she knew somewhere under the lead weight in her stomach she was hungry.
Well, at least one thing would never change. People would always stare at Harry where ever he went. Normally he would just brush it off, but now he was more on edge because of it than he ever had been. Maybe because these whispers were of something that struck him even deeper than his relationship with Voldemort. Maybe because those whispers, and those eyes now included the two people he cared most for in the clicks of their tongues.
Hermione was comforted by the way Harry walked beside her, his hand floating just at her back, ready to give her a touch of comfort or to pull her from any danger. Even Ron stood tall to her other side, though he seemed more ready for battle than to protect her.
But she did not want protection. She wanted to try her hardest to get past this incident. She had so much to do. Halloween was approaching quickly, and she wanted to give her input on the decorations, and she hadn't even started on the treat bags she wanted to give to the house elves. She would have asked Harry and Ron to help, but she doubted they would be in the spirits to wrap packages of chocolate frogs in sparkling orange paper.
The great hall was much quieter than Hermione expected it to be. Some people cast glances towards them, but it seemed the stern faces of the professors at the head table, especially the solemness of professor Dumbledore kept everyone from bursting out with their whispered conspiracies.
"Look!" Ron reached around Hermione to poke Harry in the side. "Malfoy's not here! Last night Snape came to see him and took him away, I couldn't hear what was said. Maybe he was expelled!" Even the inclination of his voice did not contain much satisfaction, nor did the replying grunt from Harry. Expulsion was not the punishment they had in mind.
Hermione made a noise in her throat, but her eyes still remained on her shoes. She had not looked up in fear of seeing him, but somehow his absence seemed to stab rather painfully in her stomach as well. What could that mean? Maybe some part of her had enjoyed their private time together, maybe Draco's shield had weakened just enough for something gentle to escape. Maybe she was being a hopeful idiot who was just wishing some good into what was a horrible situation. Whatever the case, she wanted to know where he was. If he was expelled, good. If he was still here, somehow, somewhere, she would find out what did happen to him. She was, after all, Head Girl. She was allowed into the student records office. She would just go tonight, then. She was supposed to wander the halls, punishing anyone outside their common rooms after hours. Harry and Ron could not come with her. They would not let go easily, but she would make them.
"I guess he was, then. Good riddance." she stated, rather hollowly, and settled in to shovel food into her mouth.
Harry glanced at her sideways, but seemed content with her tone. Hermione had always been strong, maybe without him around she would recover quickly. Turning away from her, he called down the table to Parvati about the next quidditch practice. Ron perked up at that, and there was a scramble of people and clinking plates to rearrange the seating so the team could converse. They all seemed very grateful for a distraction from the uneasy conversations.
Hermione found Neville beside her now, looking at her rather oddly. "What is it? Did I get some eggs on my face?" she asked, as innocently as she could. But Neville, perhaps better than even Harry and Ron, saw right through her.
"You do care about him. Malfoy." he said plainly, quietly.
Hermione blinked, taken completely aback at his directness. "I... Neville... I don't know how I feel." She really didn't. She could not explain it to herself, not even to Harry or Ron, how in the world could she, or why would she even explain it to Neville?
Neville leaned forward, chubby cheeks taunt in seriousness. "Hermione, if there is any good in him, I know you can find it. You just have to decide if it's worth hurting so many people just to make one good man."
With that, Neville stood, book bag in hand, and left. Hermione gaped openly at the wisdom Neville had just imparted. How was it that such a dim boy could surprise her the most so many times? Slouching back, Hermione ignored her plate and sunk her chin into her hand. Neville was right. Was Draco really worth all the trouble, all the pain? Was she, in some way, trying to find some way to redeem him? And how stupid was she, really? Of course she would love to believe that there was no real 'evil' in the world, but that very obviously not the case. Could Draco end up like Voldemort? So bitter and hurt, so hateful that he would spite the whole world? Was she just the beginning?
Lost in her thoughts, Hermione allowed herself to be led around for the day by Harry and Ron, occasionally straying from her daze to attempt some form of normalcy. She even raised her hand in potions, and Snape, perhaps feeling pity, or just a conflict within himself, confirmed her answer without a battle. Or perhaps he noticed her eyes wander to Draco's vacant post and found some sort of emotion in her gaze that he recognized?
By the end of the day, Hermione had reached a decision. Neville was right. Draco had opened up to her, if only a sliver. If she could do anything for him, it was her obligation to try. Or to kill him, that was the if/or decision the mingled emotions her heart had come to. Yes, her heart. Her mind could find no logic in anything, and had conceded dominion to her heart.
