A/N: Just wanted to thank you all overwhelming support! You guys have been nicer than I could have ever asked for! One thing, though… do you know if Head Girl/Boys get their own rooms? Ok… on with the show…
PS. I know this chapter is a little out there, but please bear with me…
Hermione woke with a start the next morning, dimly registering that it was still dark outside. Looking over at her clock, she silently cursed that it was still 5:00 a.m., and try as she might, she couldn't go back to sleep. Every time she tried to lay back down, her eyes would just snap open, and she had no idea why. A sort of restless energy was building up inside of her.
She had already done her homework, already had her clothes laid out for today, already had her Head Girl badge sparkling like new, and had already packed up her schoolbag. She had a fleeting mental image of Ron and Harry still snoring loudly, sprawled on their beds, with their homework undone, clothes scattered all over the place, and textbooks distributed around the common room… for all the dangerous and slightly extraordinary things they had done, they could still be quite immature. Hermione felt like their mother sometimes.
So with a sigh, she slipped into her pink wardrobe and matching slippers and decided on heading to the Head Girl's bathroom in the Transfiguration corridor, thinking she could at least take a nice, long, relaxing bath. As far as she knew (and that was a lot) it wasn't forbidden to be up and about the early morning; Hermione had done it once or twice before, though she usually prized her sleep.
Hogwarts was truly beautiful, Hermione observed. The dark cast mysterious shadows that only added to the grandeur and mystery to the ancient castle. The occupants of the paintings were all snoring gently as Hermione, shivering slightly, softly padded through the corridor, but she swore she saw a painting of Abernathy the Addled wink at her before snapping his eyes shut again.
As Hermione approached the statue of Morgana the Wise, she thought she heard a sound behind her. Spinning around, her heart suddenly beating faster, she beheld… nothing. Feeling stupid, she turned around again, and prepared to shake the hand of Morgana in order to open the door of the Head Girl's bathroom. But there it was again… a soft shuffling sound from somewhere behind her, suddenly stopping as she wheeled around again. The dark no longer seemed to be a friend anymore: the corridor seemed haunting, and Hermione kept seeing moving shadows that hadn't been there before. Hermione's heart began to pound, and she turned around and feverishly tried to get into the bathroom.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said a cold voice from behind her, and Hermione stopped her actions at once, recognizing the voice.
"Malfoy?" said Hermione disbelievingly, turning around to look at Draco. "What are you doing here?"
It looked like Draco had gotten no sleep at all: his clothes were slightly mussed, his hair slightly disheveled: quite a contrast from the crisp, cruelly clean image he usually displayed. And it was odd to see him without his usual cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.
His upper lip curled, and he sneered as he beheld her. Hermione's heart sank.
"I would ask you the same thing, Mudblood," he said softly. "But I would consider myself above someone such as you, so I'm afraid I can't answer your question."
Hermione trembled slightly, and pulled her robe closer to her. "The only thing you're above is a tub of flobberworms, Malfoy," she said irritably, ignoring the slur of her birth. If Harry and Ron had been there, Malfoy would have been on his back by now, but Hermione didn't take his taunt to heart. "How you ever became Head Boy is a mystery to me, but then I remember your father and then your incapability to care for yourself."
A flash of anger entered his eyes, but it was soon replaced by smugness. Hermione wanted to be anywhere but in a dark corridor with Malfoy, who could curse her in an instant… she wouldn't be found for a few hours…
"Ahhh, yes… my father," Draco began. "He knows your new friend very well," he added, his eyes glinting. If Draco had sprouted horns and a tail right then and there, Hermione wouldn't have been surprised.
"What friend?" Hermione snapped, trying to recall the Shield Charm in case Draco was up for some "Muggle sport", as he liked to call it.
"Why, Professor Wood," Malfoy said scathingly, his smile widening. "Seems like Wood's been pretty busy lately, if you know what I mean."
"Well, I don't," Hermione replied, glaring at Draco. Their eyes locked.
"Well, well, well. I can't believe Mudblood Granger here doesn't know. And here I thought you were halfway smart… Wood, Granger. Wood's been involved in some of the noble Dark Arts. Didn't you know?"
Hermione by now was staring at Draco, her eyes wide and her heart pounding like a hammer. Wood? Oliver Wood? Involved in the Dark Arts? No way…
She shook her head as if to clear it, but images of Oliver kept flashing through her head. Oliver laughing, his eyes lighting up and teeth flashing… Oliver flying, the joy on his face as the wind sped through his hair… Oliver playing Quidditch, saving goal after goal and in tears as he held up the Quidditch Cup…
It just couldn't be true… but Hermione glanced into Draco's eyes and saw the savagely triumphant look there, and her heart seemed to sink to the floor.
But, how could that be? Oliver played Quidditch, Dumbledore hired him, he was Harry's friend… Draco was watching her closely, and seemed to be reading her mind.
"Oh, hardly anyone knows. He's got a good cover; the only people that follow the Puddlemore United are Quidditch crazy, and most aren't smart enough to link him to anything suspicious. I knew you wouldn't tell anyone, seeing as you wouldn't want him to get into trouble. Your emotions betray you, Granger. You should have chosen another wizard to fancy…"
Hermione flushed a deep scarlet, barely suppressing her rage. She wouldn't take this.
"Malfoy, get… out… of… my… sight," Hermione hissed, pulling out her wand and pointing it at Malfoy's heart. "You have caused enough chaos here…"
And with a smile like a satisfied cat, Malfoy turned and walked away, clutching a small role of parchment.
Hermione was left all alone with her thoughts, and for the first time in her life, wanted nothing more than to go away from this place… Oliver Wood, a dark wizard? That would explain his surliness, his willingness to be Harry's friend… Hermione almost sobbed. She was shaking with rage, and wanted nothing more than to call Malfoy back and curse him into oblivion.
Damn him! Hermione though furiously. Damn him to eternal hell for disrupting my peaceful life!
But what hurt most of all was what Draco had said. He knew what she felt, and that chilled her to the bone. What resources did he have, to be able to know her feelings?
And with a feeling of apprehension and dread, her bath forgotten, Hermione hurried back to Gryffindor Tower, anxious to talk to Ron and Harry… God, why did this always happen to her?
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
But Hermione decided not to talk to Harry and Ron about Oliver, remaining pale and drawn all morning. She dreaded bumping into Oliver, and even more hearing him speak, knowing that every word that come from his mouth was a lie…
"Wufs wran, 'Mione?" Ron asked, his mouth almost exploding with scrambled eggs. He swallowed. "What's wrong, Hermione?"
Hermione shook her head, and tried to smile. She was having an internal struggle with herself… go to Dumbledore, not go to Dumbledore… maybe McGonagall would know what to do. Harry was looking at her shrewdly.
"Nothing," she said. "I'm going to go back to Gryffindor Tower to, um… finish some homework," she said, getting up from the table and feeling miserable. She didn't know that two pairs of eyes were also on her, watching her every move.
She hurried along the Great Hall, walking quickly and with her head down… she was almost to the exit, twenty steps to go… fifteen… ten…
But she ran into someone as she was almost free, and as she looked up her stomach seemed to drop out as she looked into Oliver's eyes. He smiled, and Hermione shivered.
"You free?" Oliver asked, looking at her. "I got the book for you, you can come pick it up now."
Hermione's mind was wheeling for an excuse, any excuse. She opened her mouth, but Oliver interrupted her. "It won't take that long… come on, follow me."
And Hermione had no choice but to follow him dumbly, her mind numb, each step leaving her heart feeling heavier and heavier. She was nervous as hell, not even noticing where her feet were taking her, and almost ran into Oliver as he stopped abruptly in front of a painting of Merlin. Hermione was surprised to find themselves in the Charms corridor. Oliver muttered something under his breath, and the painting smoothly changed into a rich, oak-paneled door, which silently opened under his strong pull. He held the door open for her, and Hermione hesitantly entered a medium-sized office, with dark upholstered walls and wood flooring.
Oliver walked over to his desk, and motioned for Hermione to sit down. She did so, and vaguely wondered what was going on. Why was she letting this happen? Why wasn't she in Dumbledore's office, confessing what she knew? Maybe Draco was right. Maybe she didn't want to turn Oliver in because she had feelings for him…
She began to stand up, suddenly resolving that she could atleast talk to McGonagall, when Oliver muttered something under his breath. The door shut with a click, and Hermione turned around, horrifed.
Oliver opened his mouth, and smiled grimly at her.
"We need to talk."
A/N: Sorry, I'm evil! I just wanted to see if you liked the story's direction before I posted again.