Rating: PG-13
Category: Romance, Drama
Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter
Pairings: Draco/Hermione
Summary: Hermione knew something was amiss when an inexplicably mercurial Malfoy tried to dissuade them from working in Honeydukes, but she didn't bargain for how things would turn out working alone with her mysterious arch-nemesis. D/Hr.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and etc belongs to JKR.
Author's Notes: This chapter is dedicated to Yingx, who's a splendid beta and a great listener (mostly). :)
Chapter 2
Of Frilled Balaclavas and other Frivolities
Balaclava [n]: A warm woollen hood covering the head and neck, worn especially by mountain climbers and skiers.
It was one o'clock, and the few other students still in Hogwarts had already finished their lunch and were filtering gradually out of the Great Hall. However, the nine sixth-years who had forgone Ireland for toiling unpaid in Hogsmeade milled around the empty High Table, waiting for Dumbledore. The headmaster, who had not been seen for the whole morning, was supposed to meet them in the Great Hall to give them the results of their selection.
"D'you think Malfoy really chose Honeydukes?" Ron asked Harry and Hermione as they hovered at one edge of the High Table.
"I wouldn't know," Hermione said pensively. "I really wish I knew what he was trying to do."
Harry shrugged. He had revived his former spirit dramatically over a game of Quidditch, in which he had thrown himself into so vigorously Ron had admitted in a whisper to Hermione that he had dodged the last Quaffle on purpose in case it caused him the hospital wing. "I sure hope he doesn't get in, whatever it is. I don't think I could bear the strain of not punching his sneering face into the next millennium and beyond."
"I'm already having trouble doing that," Ron muttered, glancing over at the other end of the High Table where Malfoy was talking to Terry Boot. His eyes narrowed. "Why do people even bother giving him the time of day? Don't they remember what he was like the past five years?"
"Did you say something about Malfoy?" Padma Patil had wandered over, sleek black hair swinging jauntily in a high ponytail. Harry was suddenly reminded of someone else.
"Yeah," Ron said darkly. "That git tried to bother Harry again this morning."
"Really?" Padma looked surprised. "But he's been acting really civil this year. Almostfriendly, in fact."
Ron looked enraged. "Padma! Have you forgotten how absolutely horrible he's been for five whole years?"
"Wellmaybe he's redeemed," Padma suggested hopefully.
Ron snorted without restraint, and behind him Susan Bones jumped and looked around her in alarm. Harry and Hermione exchanged amused glances. "Please, Padma! Malfoy's just a bloody git."
"Right, right," Padma said in a placating voice, but she didn't look convinced. She glanced over at Draco, and Hermione recognised with a start the overly bright look in Padma's eyes. She liked Malfoy! The Draco Malfoy? And she was pretty too. She should be able to get anyone she wanted. Of course, Malfoy wasn't that bad-looking, Hermione realised with a start, looking over at him again. She'd never seen him as more than a pale, snarling, ferrety character whose only goal in like was to make their life miserable. However, seeing him from Padma's point of view, without the usual sneer contorting his face, the straight, aristocratic arches of his face were in more prominence, and she conceded that he actually looked rather mature and elegant.
Still, looks weren't everything.
"Which job did you apply for?" Harry was asking Padma.
"The Three Broomsticks," Padma said grouchily. "I wanted to go to Northern Ireland, but my parents said they couldn't afford to send both of us. So Parvati got to go because she was two minutes older than me. Two minutes!"
Harry, Ron and Hermione nodded sympathetically as Padma ranted on lugubriously, working to keep their faces from lapsing into boredom. Even so, Hermione couldn't keep her mind from wandering. Where was Dumbledore? He hadn't been in the Great Hall for breakfast either. She sighed. Everything had been so messy this year with the news that Voldemort was back out in the open.
Hagrid had relinquished his position as teacher for Care of Magical Creatures, which Professor Grubbly-Plank had been happy to take up again. Now he spent most of his time away on 'top-secret missions' for the Order, he told them gruffly when quizzed, or in the Forbidden Forest, improving sibling relationships while trying to ward off the increasingly hostile centaurs. Dumbledore had been pestered by what seemed the entire wizarding community ever since his return to Hogwarts, and appeared more haggard and wizened then ever, frequently not turning up for meals with the rest of the school. He still had to direct the Order, which was kept unknown from the Ministry for security reasons. Even Snape and Professor McGonagall seemed tired and harassed, though neither had lost their vigour in drilling the students, or in Snape's case, torturing them.
"don't you agree?" Padma's plaintive voice whined distantly in Hermione's head.
"Er, yeah, yeah," Hermione guessed randomly, trying to sound supportive of whatever Padma had been talking about.
Harry took his cue from Hermione and nodded his head vigorously. Ron, however, was gazing cross-eyed at the entrance of the Great Hall, and did not even notice the pause in Padma's stream of words.
Just then footsteps were heard and Dumbledore entered the Great Hall. His midnight blue robes looked more faded and limp than usual, but his footsteps were still firm and brisk, and when he looked up at them his eyes twinkled familiarly under his half-moon spectacles. Clopping along beside him, a glum look on his round face, was -
"Neville!" Ron said in surprised, having snapped back to attention when Dumbledore entered. "What's he doing with Dumbledore?"
"Has he been with him the whole morning?" Harry wondered. "No wonder I didn't see him at the table for breakfast."
"Sorry to keep you waiting," Dumbledore said pleasantly as he strode towards the High Table. "Do take a seat."
Seeing the students look around in confusion, he gestured towards the seats of the High Table. Feeling more than a little awkward, the students took seats behind the table, looking down at Dumbledore uncomfortably.
"What's up with Neville?" Ron muttered, as Neville turned towards Dumbledore, a pleading look on his face. A half-smile chanced Dumbledore's face and he gave Neville a reassuring pat as he pointed him towards the High Table. Disappointment flushing into his face, Neville clambered up the platform onto the High Table, and took the only available seat left - the Headmaster's chair.
Neville's face reddened as he sat down to the accompaniment of raised eyebrows and a few unsuppressed smiles, but Harry did not notice. He was staring hard at Dumbledore. He recognised that look. It was the same one he had given Harry at the end of the fifth year. That exact same expression of bleak sorrow that came with the burden of knowledge.
However, he didn't have any more time to contemplate this new development, for Dumbledore was already speaking.
"Well, then, I'm sure all of you are impatient to hear the results of your allocations, so I shall not delay any further," Dumbledore cleared his throat and unrolled the parchment he had been carrying. "Terry Boot will be working in Dervish and Banges, under Mr. Dervish."
Terry Boot, sitting at one side of the table beside Malfoy, nodded his acknowledgement.
"The placements for Honeydukes Sweetshop are Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter."
Harry, Ron and Hermione all sank back into their seats, gloom settling onto them. They were so distracted they almost missed Dumbledore saying that they would be working under a Mrs Chary.
"So Malfoy was right after all," Ron muttered. "I thought you said he was lying?" He shot a venomous glare at Hermione. "Now, if I'm lucky I'll get into Madam Puddifoot's." He shuddered. Harry couldn't resist doing the same.
"I really did think he was just bluffing," Hermione bit her lip. "Anyway I had to break his control over us, or we would have played right into his hands.
"About what?" Harry asked, peeking over Ron at Hermione, who was staring abjectly at a point on the table and frowning.
"I don't know," Hermione said irritably, not looking at Harry. "That's what I'm trying to work out. And what's wrong with Madam Puddifoot's? The place is cute."
Ron look as though Hermione had sprouted about ten million spiders in her hair. "Excuse me?" he squeaked disbelievingly. "Even you have been pulled over by the Dark Side?"
Hermione shot him a disgruntled look. "It is generally advisable to use less clichéd phrases when attempting a tone of melodrama. And no, I have not sprouted about ten million spiders in my hair."
"Hey, that was just what I was thinking!"
Hermione looked like she would dearly love to whack Ron's head into the table.
"Madam Puddifoot's, under Madam Puddifoot."
"What? Who got in?" Ron asked in interest, having missed most of what Dumbledore said.
"It appears," Harry said carefully, an unnaturally strained expression on his face. "That you have placed in Madam Puddifoot's."
"Pardon?" Ron said in a strangled voice. It was amazing, Harry thought bemusedly, how many shades of colour Ron could turn. He had already worked his way through plum purple and puce green, and seemed to striving towards an ashen white tone.
Finding it hard to control his twitching mouth, Harry glanced over at Hermione, who was blinking very hard, her mouth set in an unnaturally straight line. She appeared slightly too interested in Dumbledore, who had just announced that Padma Patil and Neville Longbottom were working under Madam Rosmerta at The Three Broomsticks.
"The fates are against me," Ron moaned, his face thudding onto the table.
"Ernie Macmillan and Susan Bones will be working in Zonko's joke shop under the guidance of Mr Zonko," Dumbledore rolled up the parchment again. "Working hours are from nine to four on weekdays only, with a one hour break for lunch at noon. You will eat breakfast at the High Table every morning and assemble at half past eight in the morning, where you will walk together to Hogsmeade under the supervision of Professor Snape ("My day looks bright again," Ron's muffled voice came from the table) and gather outside The Three Broomsticks by four fifteen sharp in the afternoon where Professor Snape will escort you back.
"The Work Experience Programme will commence tomorrow, Monday and will last till Christmas eve next Thursday on the 24th. You will be required to return the next morning, yes, Christmas Day, at nine in the morning for a short hour debrief by your mentors. The Feast begins at noon, so you will be able to make it if you wish to attend, and I most certainly hope you will."
Dumbledore smiled benevolently at them. "That is all. I wish every one of you a fulfilling experience."
Dumbledore turned and strode out of the Great Hall. There was a shuffling and scraping of chairs as everyone stood up to make their way out of the hall. Neville clambered awkwardly out of his heavy oak chair and sped after Dumbledore.
"I feel so happy," Ron muttered, his face still plastered to the table.
When dinner rolled around, Ron was still lamenting his tragic, wretched, and
calamitous fate.
"I got into Madam Puddifoot's," Ron wailed to Harry and Hermione, as they dug into their beef stew.
"We know," Hermione said tersely. A muscle was twitching in her jaw.
"I got into Madam Puddifoot's!"
"We know," Harry said tiredly.
"I got into Madam Puddifoot's!"
"Congratulations," Hermione snapped.
"How did I get into Madam Puddifoot's?" Ron said, changing tack
"Maybe if you did better in your studies," Hermione replied promptly.
Ron coloured, quickly steering the conversation to another topic.
"Frilled balaclavas," he said firmly.
"Excuse me?" Hermione asked.
"I'll bet Madam Puddifoot makes her employees wear frilled balaclavas," Ron elaborated.
Harry and Hermione blinked.
"Ron, no one wears balaclavas indoors," Hermione said.
"Madam Puddifoot does," Ron said with conviction.
Harry and Hermione exchanged very much raised eyebrows.
"Er Ron," Harry tried. "When I went, you know, the waitress I saw was just wearing a standard Madam Puddifoot uniform. Without frilled balaclavas."
"Aha! Then the waiters wear frilled balaclavas!" Ron said triumphantly.
"No, they do not," Hermione said exasperatedly.
"At least you don't have to suffer Malfoy," Harry said, starting to feel irritated. He didn't understanding why Ron kept moaning, when neither he nor Hermione were making any noise about having to work with Malfoy. With any luck, Malfoy would just keep his distance, like he had been doing since the start of the school year, but looking at this morning, Harry thought it unlikely. It would take a lot of his self-control not to mutilate Malfoy if he started goading him about Sirius, Harry thought, a flicker of rage lighting his throat at the thought of Malfoy's words. Sure, Madam Puddifoot's was pretty scary, but it wasn't as bad as Malfoy at his worst, Harry was sure.
"Yo! Wassup, ya'll?" Ginny had slid onto the bench beside Ron, and was grinning unperturbedly at them.
"What?" Ron said, momentarily distracted from his melancholy.
"Nothin', bub." Ginny said brightly. Harry, Ron and Hermione stared.
"Are you sure you're sane?" Ron asked, trying to feel her forehead.
"Are you sure you're asking the right person?" Hermione muttered out of the corner of her mouth. Harry tried to keep his face straight.
"Aw, gee bro, don' go all sistah on meh," Ginny scoffed, waving away Ron's hand.
"I think she's been affected by me," said a serious voice from behind Ron.
Harry, Ron and Hermione jumped. They had been so involved with Ginny's peculiarity they had failed to notice Luna hovering behind her. She now moved and sat down beside Ginny.
"You know what?" Ron said. "For once I agree with you."
Luna nodded gravely. "I agree with myself too."
Everyone tried to look as though people regularly told the world they agreed with themselves, except for Ginny of course, who giggled unrestrainedly.
"Ah sho agreh, ye knaw," Ginny said.
Ron shook his head resignedly. "Where have you been the entire day?" he asked suspiciously. "You weren't in the Hall for breakfast either."
"Ask not, hear not," Ginny said virtuously.
"As quoted by Quinapulus," Luna added.
The muscle in Hermione's jaw began twitching again. If there was one thing Hermione couldn't stand, Harry thought, it probably would be false information.
"So, did you get your Career Commitment placements today?" Ginny enquired, having finally reverted back to Standard English.
Ron's face dipped back into the land of lachrymose.
"What's wrong?" Ginny asked in concern.
"He was received into Devils and Bangles," Luna said wisely. "It is a tough place to work."
Hermione's hands started twitching too.
"Er no, not actually," Harry said. "Hermione and I got into Honeydukes, but Ron got into -"
"Madam Puddifoot's!" Ron ended mournfully.
"What's wrong with that?" Ginny said in surprise. "The place's cute."
Harry hastily removed Ron's bowl of stew from harm's way as Ron's face thudded onto the table.
"Cute!" Ron said almost hysterically. "She said the place is cute!"
"Neville!" Hermione called, seeing the boy enter the Hall. She looked extremely relieved at the appearance of someone in any measure saner than Ron. "Come over and eat!"
Neville shook his head and took a few rolls from the platter on the table.
"Aren't you eating anything else?" Harry asked in surprise.
Neville dropped a roll onto the table. "No," he said, his voice sounding tight. Without looking at them, he turned and ran out of the Hall.
"What's wrong with him?" Harry turned to the others, a quizzical expression on his face.
"Dunno," Ginny said.
"You know, Hermione said thoughtfully. "He's another one who's been acting unusual this year."
"He has?" Ron said in surprise, having lifted his head off the table.
"Well, seeing as how your skin is as thick as elephant hide, you wouldn't notice," Hermione said waspishly.
"Hey! My skin is a lot smoother than that!"
Hermione looked like she was having trouble controlling herself.
"Go on," Harry suggested.
"Well, he's seemed pretty down in the dumps ever since school started, and you wouldn't believe how many times I've seen him in the library!"
"Maybe he's cramming for NEWTs?" Harry suggested.
Hermione looked highly dubious. "I believe I'm the only one in our year who has actually started preparing," she said in a sniffy voice.
"Hermione!" Ron sounded shocked. "NEWTs is more than a year away!"
"I think I just made my point," Hermione said. "Anyway, he can't be studying. I saw him looking in the Divination section. No one actually studies that."
"Maybe they do?" Harry said.
"Yeah, just 'cause you're prejudiced," Ron piped up.
"Please," Hermione said, waving her hand dismissively. "Neville would have at least looked in the Herbology section right?"
Harry couldn't deny the truth of that statement.
"You know," Ginny said suddenly. "I think you're right. I noticed he's been avoiding everyone recently."
"Come to think of it, yeah," Harry said thoughtfully. "I never really see him around in the common room. And the last time I spoke to him must have been quite a while ago."
"Gee, is everyone acting weird?" Ron said grumpily.
"Speak for yourself," Hermione retorted.
"Hey well, I'm going to suffer two weeks of Madam Puddifoot's with frilled balaclavas!" Ron proclaimed sombrely.
Even Luna looked somewhat amazed.
"Don't. Ask." Hermione said through gritted teeth.
"What about frilled balaclavas?"
"I already said not to -" Hermione began, then stopped as she realised that the voice didn't belong to anyone at the table.
"Do you have a problem, Malfoy?" Hermione railed, turning around to see Malfoy behind her, looking supremely unconcerned that Hermione was baring her teeth at him, looking positively unhinged. It appeared that the insanity radiating from the members of the table had proved too much for her.
"None whatsoever, though it seems like you might," Malfoy replied. "I just thought you wouldn't mind some help. Weasley, you'd like to get out of Madam Puddifoot's, wouldn't you?"
"Why?" Ron asked suspiciously, but he looked interested nonetheless.
"I believe you're allowed to swap places with others as long as they consent," Malfoy said in a non-committal manner.
"Really?" Ron looked as though Christmas had come early. In fact, he looked as if Easter, Halloween, Hanukkah, Vesak, hell, even Senior Citizen's Day had come early. Harry listened thoughtfully. Maybe he and Ron should change places, Harry wondered, since each thought they had come off with the worst deal.
"Don't listen to him," Hermione said sharply. She was glaring at Malfoy with eyes narrowed, a distinctly shrewish expression on her face. "You've got some plan to get us in trouble right?"
"What makes you say that?" Malfoy looked mildly hurt.
"Do you ever do anything else to us?" Hermione retorted.
"That was in ages past," Malfoy said dismissively. "Now I'm a bettered man."
Harry, Ron and Ginny gave derisive snorts of laughter. Luna smiled vaguely and said, "I'm sure that was a joke."
Hermione just glared piercingly at Malfoy, as if trying to read the meaning behind his shuttered eyes.
Malfoy shrugged and began strolling away. "Just in case you were interested," he said over his shoulder.
"Did you hear him?" Ron chortled. "'Now I'm a bettered man'!" he mimicked Malfoy's voice in a falsetto, and Ginny started giggling again. "Who's he kidding?"
"But that wasn't his point," Hermione muttered, still staring after the door through which Malfoy had exited.
"Huh?" Harry asked distractedly, watching Ron attempt to pull an exaggerated expression of Malfoy's hurt expression.
"Nothing," Hermione said, turning back to her goulash. "I was just thinking, that's all."
"Sorry? That is a term weaklings use to excuse themselves from their responsibilities.
You had shown yourself to be of exemplary capability over the summer, and I
believed I could entrust this vital task to you. It appears I was wrong, however.
I am sorely disappointed in you."
"Master, this is just a temporary setback we had not foreseen. Give me some time, and I will resolve the problem. Do not worry, I will not fail you again."
"Very well. I cannot afford to waste much more time. Report back to me within a week with news of your success, or prepare to face the consequences."
Author's Notes:
---
"Bub" is borrowed off Logan from X-Men Evolution (though I think he
uses it in the original X-Men too)
"Quinapulus" is the bogus name of a supposedly quote-worthy person
from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night.
---
Yay! I managed to update just in time to meet my two-week deadline. ^_^ The next chapter should also come out in two weeks or soI just need to get it to beta-ing. I may move faster if I get more reviews. *hint* So, do review! Also, if anyone can recommend any nice D/Hr tragedies, I would be much grateful.
&SnoOza
