Disclaimer: Am I J.K. Rowling? I didn't think so. Therefore, I do not own anything contained within my story. Damn it all! (Stewie voice--for those Family Guy fans out there ^_~)
A/N: The longest chapter yet!
Even in broad daylight the long corridors made her nervous. The skin on the back of her neck prickled, and she felt like there were eyes boring into her back. She kept glancing nervously behind her, but the halls were deserted. All the students were safely in their classrooms, while the one person who should be in a classroom was roaming the hallways alone. Her tension kept climbing until she felt sick to her stomach. Why didn't I let Ron come with me? she thought miserably. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Then a moment later, It never seemed like the Room of Requirement was so far away. She felt defenseless and even more vulnerable than before; now she didn't even have her wand to protect herself with.
Up ahead she saw the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy and quickened her pace. All at once, it seemed too much like the night before--quickening her pace as she came within sight of the space of wall that hid the Room of Requirement, the deserted hallways--and she trembled violently as she nearly ran down the hallway. When she stepped over the place that she had lain the night before, a chill ran up her spine and nausea nearly choked her. Like walking over my grave, she thought, her mind chaotic. She felt on the edge of hysteria and in the sane portion of her mind she was shocked at herself. Hermione Granger didn't have hysterics. That just wasn't the way that she worked. But here she was, nearly running down the hall from something that wasn't even there anymore. She spotted her wand in the corner, still untouched, and leaped for it just as she heard footsteps behind her.
She came up with her wand pointed and eyes wild, and found herself aiming her wand at a very calm Dumbledore. Shaken, she lowered her wand immediately. "I'm sorry, Headmaster," she said jerkily, still trembling from the sudden rush of adrenaline.
"It's quite all right, Miss Granger," he said gently. "Why don't you come with me to my office?"
Biting her lip, Hermione nodded. "Yes sir," she mumbled, hanging her head and mentally berating herself. First you forget your homework, and now you're in trouble for threatening the headmaster! Could it get any worse, you silly girl? She fumed, and beat the nagging mental voice back with a stick.
"You're not in trouble, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said quietly. "Quite the opposite, in fact."
Startled, Hermione glanced up at him as he led the way to his office. He didn't look angry, she thought hopefully. They came to the stone gargoyle that led to his office, and he muttered, "Now what was that blasted password? Minerva always changes it on me. Ah yes--vomit flavored beans," he said triumphantly.
Hermione made a face behind Dumbledore's back as the gargoyle moved solemnly aside as the wall behind him split to reveal a spiral staircase, and he said in an amused voice, "Quite right, Miss Granger. I'm afraid Professor McGonagall has a very. . .unique sense of humor."
Hermione mentally substituted 'gross' for 'unique' and decided that sounded about right. She mutely followed Dumbledore up the stairs and into, and seated herself in the chair that he offered her. When she heard the door shut behind her, she relaxed. No matter if her attacker came from within Hogwarts or without, he would never dare to invade the sanctuary of Dumbledore's office. Especially when Dumbledore himself occupied it.
She blinked rapidly when a warm butterbeer was pressed into her hands, and realized abruptly that she had been so caught up in her thoughts that she had been blatantly ignoring the patiently waiting headmaster.
"Feel safer now?" he asked quietly. Hermione felt the last of her tension recede.
"Yes sir." She smiled ruefully at him, and he smiled briefly back. Then he sobered.
"Before I say anything, I would like you recount the events of last night to me, Miss Granger," he said somberly.
Hermione bit her lip, then nodded reluctantly. "I was--I was out to meet Draco," she blurted out, then looked up at Dumbledore anxiously. He didn't appear surprised or perturbed at this news, so she continued on, slightly reassured. "We were going to meet in the Room of Requirement, so I started walking that way. . ." Hermione continued on with her telling of the events of the night before. When she told Dumbledore of how she had been physically attacked, her hands gripped her mug of butterbeer so hard that her knuckles were white.
When she concluded, she sat back in her chair and realized with some surprise that she had been sitting as straight as a poker with tension vibrating through her like a plucked wire. She sipped her now cold butterbeer and involuntarily made a face. Dumbledore murmured a small charm, and she felt the mug warm in her hands. Startled, she looked up at him and saw that he was deep in thought, not even paying attention to her anymore. When she glanced at him again a moment later, he hadn't moved, so she turned her full attention sipping at her butterbeer. She felt her tension ease muscle by muscle, until she was finally relaxed again.
Once she was totally relaxed, Dumbledore abruptly spoke. "Thank you for telling me all this, Miss Granger. It's deeply troubling, and I'll tell the professors to keep a closer watch on the corridors." His kindly face now looked very grim. Looking at his face, at the subtle expression stamped on it, an idea suddenly occurred to Hermione.
"Professor," she said hesitantly, "do you have any idea who attacked me?"
Dumbledore looked at her sharply. Finally he sighed deeply. "I have a good idea, Miss Granger." He was silent for another moment, and she had the impression that he was deciding what exactly to tell her.
"Miss Granger, I know that you're a very well read student, but I wonder if you've ever heard of Erumpets?"
Hermione blinked. "Erumpets, sir?"
He nodded encouragingly, and Hermione blinked again. "Yes, sir," she said slowly. "They're much like elephants, and they live in Africa."
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, a contemplative expression on his face. "I once visited with the matriarch of an Erumpets herd. Matriarchal creatures, you know. Very much like Muggle elephants in that respect."
Puzzled, Hermione just stared at him, wondering how this was even remotely related.
Oblivious to her confusion, Dumbledore blithely continued. "That herd mother was a nasty old biddy. Not many of the Erumpets in the herd particularly liked her, but they stay in herds for safety, you know, so they couldn't very well just take off on their own. But there was a great deal of resentment in that herd, Miss Granger. A great deal. While I was visiting, the herd mother was killed. I came upon her just moments after her slaying and saw a black Erumpet standing over her with blood on his tusks."
Hermione stared, her mouth gaping. "But--but sir! Erumpets are never black!"
"Precisely, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, nodding his head in agreement. "Which made me wonder why on earth this one was. As I watched, the black Erumpet simply faded away into nothingness."
Hermione stared, utterly confused. Dumbledore continued. "You said that your attacker was robed in black, didn't you?"
Hermione's brow furrowed. "Yes," she said slowly.
Dumbledore nodded, as if confirming something in his own mind. He mumbled something under his breath, and Hermione involuntarily leaned forward to try to hear. Dumbledore glanced back at her and sighed. "I'm sure you're wondering how this relates."
"Well, yes," Hermione admitted. "I don't quite understand."
Dumbledore suddenly looked years older. "I believe that your attacker was--" Abruptly his words were cut off as one of the portraits suddenly rushed back into his frame and started shouting frantically for Dumbledore. Seeing as the portrait was a portly man and had a very serious face, Hermione decided it must be a matter of utmost urgency if a portrait such as he was so upset.
Dumbledore rose to his feet instantly. "Francis? Are you quite all right?"
Francis the Currently Frantic was panting. Hermione absently wondered how portraits could become out of breath. "Headmaster!" he panted. "At--at the Ministry! They're sending out dozens of Aurors! There's a disturbance in the Forbidden Forest!"
Hermione covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes enormous as she looked up at Dumbledore. He didn't looked surprised, just resigned. He nodded curtly to the panting portrait. "Thank you, Francis. Miss Granger, we will have to continue this discussion at a later date." He ushered Hermione out of his office, then strode down the hall, leaving her behind. For one instant, Hermione saw the wizard that was so feared, instead of her kindly old headmaster.
Her mind bounced wildly from one thought to another. Dozens of Aurors sent out! That obviously meant it was something very serious. And so close to Hogwarts! She bit her lip. Did that mean there was to be an attack on Hogwarts? She was afraid to talk to Harry--he'd instantly want to go out and help. If he thought there was even a small chance of Voldemort being there, he would rush out, determined to do his duty and destroy Voldemort once and for all. So Harry was out. Ron would blab to Harry, she thought caustically. Draco? If it was Deatheaters, Draco could be too closely involved. Which left only Ginny. Ginny would never endanger Harry by telling him that Voldemort was possibly around. Torn, Hermione hesitated. But Draco would want to know. He wouldn't thank Hermione for keeping such news from him. And where did her loyalty lie?
She stuck her hand in her pocket and gripped her wand firmly as she stared at the corridors. Despite that she had felt safe in Dumbledore's office, suddenly she felt as if she were surrounded by threats on all sides. There was her mysterious attacker, as well as the trouble in the Forbidden Forest. She gnawed anxiously on her lip, her gaze faraway. Suddenly a hard shoulder drove into her ribs, sending her sprawling. She clamped her hand desperately around her wand and twisted so she didn't break it. She whipped it out and found herself pointing her wand at Blaise Zambini.
She stared up at him in shock. Had he been her attacker? She couldn't think of any other reason that he would be pushing her around. Instead he sneered at her. "Oops, sorry, Granger. Didn't see you there."
Slightly startled--this was just regular Slytherin venom, not the intense hate she had sensed from her attacker last night--she rose to her feet. "What's your damn problem, Zambini?" she asked him, scowling, her hand clenched around her wand in readiness.
He just sneered at her, and she felt the familiar irritation at that facial expression. A moment later she realized it was because formerly it had always been worn by Draco when he looked at her. "Is that so?" she asked him coldly. "I don't see anyone else in the halls, Zambini. I don't believe you couldn't have missed seeing me."
He curled his lip. "Bad eyesight. Runs in the family, you know." He smirked at her.
Hermione just glared at him coldly. "No, I don't know, Zambini. I don't make it a point to mingle with rats."
His eyes flashed, and he took a step forward, his fists clenched. "Why you little bitch!"
Hermione whipped out her wand and pointed it at him. She was proud to see that her hand was steady. "If you take one more step towards me, Zambini, I swear I'll stun you and rightfully claim self-defense. And who do you think everyone will believe?"
He didn't move, just stared at her with an impotent fury that sent a chill up her spine. "I don't need to touch you, you whore," he said icily, and Hermione felt her stomach knot. "There'll be other times."
"Is that a threat?" Hermione asked steadily.
Zambini sneered. "You bet that sweet mudblood ass it is. What are you gonna do, mudblood? Report me to that doddering old fool that people call a headmaster?"
"I could," Hermione said, her brown eyes watchful.
"But you won't," Blaise said softly, his eyes just as watchful as hers. They had squared off like two combatants in a wizard's duel, but Zambini still didn't have his wand out. Hermione still had hers pointed at him. After last night, she wasn't taking any chances with Zambini's good nature.
Hermione glared at him. "And what makes you think I won't report you, Zambini?" she asked, goaded. "It's sure as hell not for love."
"It's not?" he asked softly, and Hermione stared at him in silence. He knows, she thought numbly. He knows about me and Draco.
He didn't say anything else, just watched her as she watched him. Finally she lowered her wand and said curtly, "Get back to class, Zambini."
He made a mocking little bow. "Oh, yes ma'am." Then he turned smartly on his heel and walked away, his hands shoved into his pockets and whistling a sprightly little tune. Once he turned the corner, Hermione let herself relax slightly. She stared at the place where she had last seen him, feeling impotent fury bubble in her veins. "You bastard," she whispered. "Sneaky, underhanded bastard." He knew that she wouldn't report his threats, because if she reported him, he would spread the word about Draco's relationship with her. And Draco had made it clear that he didn't want their relationship public.
In the beginning, she had agreed with him. At first, she had just wanted that lovely man all to herself. But somewhere along the way their relationship had moved past the physical and into the emotional. She loved him now. And she would gladly make their relationship public, even if she had to endure the whispers and animosity from Gryffindors and Slytherins alike. She knew the name 'whore' would be only the first that would be whispered about her. But she would even endure that, because she wasn't ashamed to be Draco's woman. Woman, girlfriend, Hermione thought sadly. Did it make a difference? Words were just words--they were all the same. At night she dreamed of the life she could have with him, and in the morning knew that it would never happen.
Even if Draco wanted to continue their relationship past Hogwarts, his family would never allow it. Hermione was Muggle born, which made her less than dirt beneath their pristine shoes. Oh, they were certainly pristine, Hermione thought bitterly. Beneath all that shiny shoe polish was the blood of people who the Malfoys had stepped on and murdered to rise to the highest ranks of Lord Voldemort's Deatheaters. Hermione shuddered at the thought that Draco might ever follow in his father's footsteps. The thought terrified her. Draco might be annoying, antagonistic, and didn't like Harry one bit, but it didn't make him evil. He was a good man underneath all that. Hermione knew that she was perhaps the only person who had ever seen so deeply into Draco Malfoy to know that there was a strong, steady man beneath his smirking veneer. Certainly his father never had.
Bleakly, Hermione wondered if she and Draco were going to become a wizard and witch version of Romeo and Juliet. She just hoped that their fate didn't end up the same.
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No shoutouts in particular to readers this time. ^_^ Just a general thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. ^_^
