dontpokeelmo- Thank you all very much for the wonderful reviews you left
me. I've been a terrible person and left you hanging for so long without an
update. Please don't hate me. In short, I've had no life at all for the
past few months between work and school and trying to get rid of this
AWEFUL writer's block that's been plaguing me for quite awhile now. If you
have any ideas or thoughts on how you'd like this to go, I can be reached
either via aim: dontpokeelmo, or my e-mail address:
dontpokelmohotmail.com. Please continue to read and review, and remember
that future chapters are based on the contents of reviews, but if you don't
like the story, just tell me. Also a special thanks to my wonderful BETA
Shel, who, I'm afraid, I've lost contact with in the past few months. If
she's still out there, or if anyone else would like to become my BETA, it
would be a tremendous help. Before you read, I decided to take this story
in a bit of a different direction. Please let me know what you think: if I
should burn this tryout of a chapter and rewrite it based on how it was
before, or if I should continue with this somewhat newly twisted plot line.
I thought it may make things a bit trickier and a lot more fun between
Harry and Hermione and Hermione and Draco.
Oh, and on the point of advertising a few friends and myself have started up a Hogwarts role playing site and in order to get up and running we need students, and in needing students we need YOU! Let me know if you're interested, and I shall give you more information.
Hermione's Point of View
The snow fell lazily to the ground as the Hogwarts grounds presented a picturesque winter scene. Hermione watched from her warm perch inside the castle as Hagrid struggled, dragging an enormous pine through a thick white blanket of snow.
Christmas was fast arriving, and despite that the weather confined the students to the castle, holiday cheer could be found looming everywhere. Almost everywhere, Hermione corrected herself, as she bleakly watched the tiny flakes drift down to the ground.
She turned from the window to view the empty dormitory, and once again a sudden wave of longing washed over her. Everyone had left to spend the holidays with their family while she'd remained, hoping that the Christmas spirit might mend the rift, fast becoming a chasm between Harry and herself. Life had turned lonely in a matter of weeks.
Harry constantly maintained that things were normal, assuring her that nothing had changed. Yet he had become as cold to her as the ice sculptures that adorned the corridors, beautiful on the outside, but frozen solid within. He put on an act that fooled even Ron, but she could see right through it. But with luck she could spark a blaze to melt it all away. Although it might be best to stay away from fires, as those tended to cause disastrous effects. Her thoughts clouded over as she remembered the kiss, and how amazing it felt to have Harry's lips pressed to hers, but did it mean anything? Of course it meant something, but he was her best friend, how could he ever be anything more? When she began to confront her emotions on Harry, her stomach began to knot and she felt light headed.
And what of Malfoy? He had assumed his cool usual self as though nothing had happened between the two of them, most likely because according to his standards nothing did happen. They hadn't spoken a word since their last encounter, and it made her angry. A small part of her wanted him to chase after her, but she knew that he had far too much pride for that. She laughed dryly at the mental image of Malfoy on his knees kissing her feet, but almost screamed in surprise at a sudden sharp rap from the window behind her.
There, sitting astride his broomstick in all his glory and looking utterly ridiculous wrapped up in numerous garments, was the Malfoy air himself, recognizable only by his windswept fair hair and cold gray eyes. Her hands shook with shock and anger as she fumbled with the latch and swung the window open. The sudden gust of wind chilled her and she rubbed her arms to keep warm while glaring contemptuously at the hovering mass of cloth before her. If she wasn't angry about being interrupted from her thoughts, she'd have found it funny.
"What in Merlin's name are you doing, Malfoy?" venom dripped from her voice as she could feel his smirk through the layers of cloth draped over him.
"That will be explained in due time, once you stand aside and let me enter. It's not getting any warmer out here, you know." His voice, muffled by a thick emerald scarf, sounded amused, and it sparked anger in Hermione's veins. How could he stand there and demand to enter? She was a very reasonable person, but this was incredulous.
"You're not allowed," she said sourly, and moved for the window to slam it shut when his gloved hand shot out to pin the window open before she could reach it and shoved what she assumed to be his head inside.
"Right, because I can see that with all these people around, the risk McGonagall will find out I'm here is staggeringly high."
She took a few steps back and watched with scathing eyes as he landed inside the room and began to unwrap the scarf encasing his head. "Don't get too comfortable, Malfoy. Just explain yourself and get out."
"I keep forgetting," he sneered, "just how hospitable you Gryffindors really are. I probably would have been better off out there."
"That's the most sense I've ever heard you make, Malfoy."
"As pleasantly entertaining as this is, I didn't come to fight with you."
"Brilliant," she spat. "And why did you come?"
"Meet me alone in the dungeons in an hour. I've acquired something that you may find interesting."
Hermione waited a few seconds before letting out a snort. "You must really think I'm daft. I've seen enough horror movies to know that the girl gets a message like this right before the killer knocks her off."
"What are you going on about? No one's about to kill you, not now anyway."
"Oh well that's assuring."
"Don't you trust me, Granger?"
"No."
"Good, you shouldn't."
"Even more assuring, Malfoy."
"This is not a joke," he said wrapping the scarf back around his head, his voice sounding distant. "One hour in the dungeons," and with that he mounted his broom and flew out as quickly as he'd come, leaving Hermione baffled.
What was he playing at? He had sounded so serious though. And hadn't he said it was something she would find interesting? But of course she wasn't going to go, was she? Maybe she could bring Harry and Ron along just in case. No, Harry would never agree to come, and Malfoy had said to come alone. She would go, but she would make sure to have her wand at hand if it was needed.
The common room was tightly packed despite the fact that most students had left, and Hermione prayed silently she would remain unnoticed as she headed for the portrait door. In passing passed a table of noisy first years playing exploding snap, she spotted Harry and Ron conversing quietly a few tables away. She had seen the two chatting a great deal before, but a stab of pain struck her as she realized she had always been a part of the quiet conversations, and now she was only an observer. Had she hurt Harry so badly that friendship was impossible? Brushing away a stray tear, she attempted to compose herself as she entered the corridors. If Malfoy saw her like this, he would be sure to have a fit. Malfoy! How much time did she have left until she was to meet him? According to her watch, only ten minutes remained, and it took at least twenty to get down to the dungeons from the Gryffindor tower.
Pushing aside all earlier thoughts, she raced down the corridor. If her luck held out, all the teachers would be in the great hall decorating for Christmas, and she could still make it on time.
"Miss Granger."
Oh bloody hell, not now of all times. "Yes, Professor?" Hermione turned to face the greasy haired, hooked nosed potions professor wearing a sardonic grin.
"Miss Granger, I believe you know that running is forbidden in the corridors," his lips parted to expose yellow teeth. "What, exactly is the rush?"
"Oh nothing, professor, I was just going to the library to meet Harry and Ron so that we could begin on the forgetfulness potion you assigned," she lied, bitting back the bitter comment that he was holding her up.
"Ah, yes," he grinned wickedly. "But however important your little entourage with your boyfriends may be-" he cut off suddenly as a man with long blonde hair, sharp features, and deep gray eyes that could only belong to Lucius Malfoy exited from a seemingly empty classroom.
"As I was saying before, Severus," Lucius's cold voice froze as h is gaze reached Hermione, and a nasty smirk played across his face causing her to shudder. "Well, well, Miss Granger, what a pleasant surprise."
"Mr. Malfoy," she struggled to keep the shock and disdain from her voice. "How very pleasant, indeed."
Snape's confused gaze traveled from Lucius, to Hermione, and back. "So you know Draco's father, do you? Well, Miss Granger was just leaving, if you'll excuse us." Snape turned and directed Lucius to the end of the hallway conversing in hushed tones.
That was odd. Since when had Snape and Lucius been on a first name basis? Well that was a waste, she thought sourly, as she checked to make sure Snape was out of sight before she resumed running again.
As she reached the dungeons, she collided into something soft, and hunched over against the cool stone wall, clutching a stitch in her side.
"You're late." Well, that explained the something soft she had bumped into. Her body went rigid at the sound of the voice.
"And you can tell time," she said between heavy breaths. "You learn something new everyday."
"What crawled up your arse and died?"
"I don't know, but it must be related to whatever's been lodged up yours for the past eighteen years."
"Oh," he dead panned. "Well just how did you manage to get one of my father's genuine dragon-hide boots up your arse?"
"Pure talent. Now why don't you just tell me why I'm here, so we can get this over with."
"Patience, Granger. All will be explained in due time."
"I'm getting awfully bloody tired hearing you say that."
"And I'm bloody tired of not being able to manage a civil conversation with you, but it seems sometimes we can't always get what we want." With a swift flick of his wand, the door to an empty classroom was opened, and he motioned her inside.
"Really, Malfoy!" She let loose a sigh of indignance. "I thought I made it plainly clear before that I won't-"
"Granger, if I wanted in your pants, I would have gotten in by now. Will you stop being ridiculous, and just get in the damn classroom."
She quickly walked past him, her cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment. "If you try anything," she muttered, "I'll-"
"I assure you, the only thing I want to do is talk." He pulled out an ancient book from underneath his robes, and set it on a vacant desk. The book was bathed in moonlight, and all Hermione's earlier suspicions and fears were lost as she walked towards it.
"What's this," she asked, gently laying a hand on the leather cover and tracing the gilded lettering with her fingers. "It looks like a different sort of language, but I can't place it. French possibly?"
"Yes, and roughly translated, it reads 'Guiding Light in the Darkness.' There are only three copies of this book in the world: one held by the ministry of Magic, one by Dumbledore, and this particular copy resides in my father's private library."
"Wont your father be angry to find such an important book missing?" she asked, tearing her gaze away from the book to Draco.
"What of it?" his eyes clouded over in an unreadable expression. "He need never know it's missing, besides there's something you need to see." He picked up the book, and flipped to the back while he continued on. "A very long time ago, there was a seer, who predicted the rising of a dark and powerful lord. Most people thought she was mad, and believed her prophecies to be false. She was my great grandmother, and she wrote this book." He found the page he'd been searching for and handed the book to Hermione.
"It wasn't until after she had died that most of her predictions began to be proved true and people began to believe." He pointed to the page and translated "'Enemies Union as Lovers the Demise of the Dark Lord,' the only prophecy that remains. It states that in order for the dark lord to be ultimately defeated, someone close to the boy who lived must fall in love with one of his most hated enemies. The power of their combined love would somehow aid the boy in bringing down the Lord. In defeating Voldemort for good."
Was this some sort of trick? Hermione's mind raced with questions. Why would Malfoy show this to her? Was it true? What did it all mean? "What's your point, Malfoy?"
"Isn't it obvious?" His voice sounded weary with stress and lack of sleep, and the moonlight illuminated the dark circles under his eyes. "Hermione," she blanched as he used her first name, "we're destined to fall in love."
She snorted. "Please, it could be anyone, if it's even true at all."
Malfoy looked annoyed. "For such a bright girl, you can really be stupid sometimes."
"Why are you showing me this when your father serves Voldemort openly?"
Draco's body went rigid as he answered stiffly, "He is my father's Lord, not my own. I serve myself."
"But you hate Harry, why are you trying to help him?"
The tension in his body receded, and the anger in his eyes were replaced by confusion as he remained silent for so long Hermione thought he may not answer. "You know, I keep asking myself that same question."
Oh, and on the point of advertising a few friends and myself have started up a Hogwarts role playing site and in order to get up and running we need students, and in needing students we need YOU! Let me know if you're interested, and I shall give you more information.
Hermione's Point of View
The snow fell lazily to the ground as the Hogwarts grounds presented a picturesque winter scene. Hermione watched from her warm perch inside the castle as Hagrid struggled, dragging an enormous pine through a thick white blanket of snow.
Christmas was fast arriving, and despite that the weather confined the students to the castle, holiday cheer could be found looming everywhere. Almost everywhere, Hermione corrected herself, as she bleakly watched the tiny flakes drift down to the ground.
She turned from the window to view the empty dormitory, and once again a sudden wave of longing washed over her. Everyone had left to spend the holidays with their family while she'd remained, hoping that the Christmas spirit might mend the rift, fast becoming a chasm between Harry and herself. Life had turned lonely in a matter of weeks.
Harry constantly maintained that things were normal, assuring her that nothing had changed. Yet he had become as cold to her as the ice sculptures that adorned the corridors, beautiful on the outside, but frozen solid within. He put on an act that fooled even Ron, but she could see right through it. But with luck she could spark a blaze to melt it all away. Although it might be best to stay away from fires, as those tended to cause disastrous effects. Her thoughts clouded over as she remembered the kiss, and how amazing it felt to have Harry's lips pressed to hers, but did it mean anything? Of course it meant something, but he was her best friend, how could he ever be anything more? When she began to confront her emotions on Harry, her stomach began to knot and she felt light headed.
And what of Malfoy? He had assumed his cool usual self as though nothing had happened between the two of them, most likely because according to his standards nothing did happen. They hadn't spoken a word since their last encounter, and it made her angry. A small part of her wanted him to chase after her, but she knew that he had far too much pride for that. She laughed dryly at the mental image of Malfoy on his knees kissing her feet, but almost screamed in surprise at a sudden sharp rap from the window behind her.
There, sitting astride his broomstick in all his glory and looking utterly ridiculous wrapped up in numerous garments, was the Malfoy air himself, recognizable only by his windswept fair hair and cold gray eyes. Her hands shook with shock and anger as she fumbled with the latch and swung the window open. The sudden gust of wind chilled her and she rubbed her arms to keep warm while glaring contemptuously at the hovering mass of cloth before her. If she wasn't angry about being interrupted from her thoughts, she'd have found it funny.
"What in Merlin's name are you doing, Malfoy?" venom dripped from her voice as she could feel his smirk through the layers of cloth draped over him.
"That will be explained in due time, once you stand aside and let me enter. It's not getting any warmer out here, you know." His voice, muffled by a thick emerald scarf, sounded amused, and it sparked anger in Hermione's veins. How could he stand there and demand to enter? She was a very reasonable person, but this was incredulous.
"You're not allowed," she said sourly, and moved for the window to slam it shut when his gloved hand shot out to pin the window open before she could reach it and shoved what she assumed to be his head inside.
"Right, because I can see that with all these people around, the risk McGonagall will find out I'm here is staggeringly high."
She took a few steps back and watched with scathing eyes as he landed inside the room and began to unwrap the scarf encasing his head. "Don't get too comfortable, Malfoy. Just explain yourself and get out."
"I keep forgetting," he sneered, "just how hospitable you Gryffindors really are. I probably would have been better off out there."
"That's the most sense I've ever heard you make, Malfoy."
"As pleasantly entertaining as this is, I didn't come to fight with you."
"Brilliant," she spat. "And why did you come?"
"Meet me alone in the dungeons in an hour. I've acquired something that you may find interesting."
Hermione waited a few seconds before letting out a snort. "You must really think I'm daft. I've seen enough horror movies to know that the girl gets a message like this right before the killer knocks her off."
"What are you going on about? No one's about to kill you, not now anyway."
"Oh well that's assuring."
"Don't you trust me, Granger?"
"No."
"Good, you shouldn't."
"Even more assuring, Malfoy."
"This is not a joke," he said wrapping the scarf back around his head, his voice sounding distant. "One hour in the dungeons," and with that he mounted his broom and flew out as quickly as he'd come, leaving Hermione baffled.
What was he playing at? He had sounded so serious though. And hadn't he said it was something she would find interesting? But of course she wasn't going to go, was she? Maybe she could bring Harry and Ron along just in case. No, Harry would never agree to come, and Malfoy had said to come alone. She would go, but she would make sure to have her wand at hand if it was needed.
The common room was tightly packed despite the fact that most students had left, and Hermione prayed silently she would remain unnoticed as she headed for the portrait door. In passing passed a table of noisy first years playing exploding snap, she spotted Harry and Ron conversing quietly a few tables away. She had seen the two chatting a great deal before, but a stab of pain struck her as she realized she had always been a part of the quiet conversations, and now she was only an observer. Had she hurt Harry so badly that friendship was impossible? Brushing away a stray tear, she attempted to compose herself as she entered the corridors. If Malfoy saw her like this, he would be sure to have a fit. Malfoy! How much time did she have left until she was to meet him? According to her watch, only ten minutes remained, and it took at least twenty to get down to the dungeons from the Gryffindor tower.
Pushing aside all earlier thoughts, she raced down the corridor. If her luck held out, all the teachers would be in the great hall decorating for Christmas, and she could still make it on time.
"Miss Granger."
Oh bloody hell, not now of all times. "Yes, Professor?" Hermione turned to face the greasy haired, hooked nosed potions professor wearing a sardonic grin.
"Miss Granger, I believe you know that running is forbidden in the corridors," his lips parted to expose yellow teeth. "What, exactly is the rush?"
"Oh nothing, professor, I was just going to the library to meet Harry and Ron so that we could begin on the forgetfulness potion you assigned," she lied, bitting back the bitter comment that he was holding her up.
"Ah, yes," he grinned wickedly. "But however important your little entourage with your boyfriends may be-" he cut off suddenly as a man with long blonde hair, sharp features, and deep gray eyes that could only belong to Lucius Malfoy exited from a seemingly empty classroom.
"As I was saying before, Severus," Lucius's cold voice froze as h is gaze reached Hermione, and a nasty smirk played across his face causing her to shudder. "Well, well, Miss Granger, what a pleasant surprise."
"Mr. Malfoy," she struggled to keep the shock and disdain from her voice. "How very pleasant, indeed."
Snape's confused gaze traveled from Lucius, to Hermione, and back. "So you know Draco's father, do you? Well, Miss Granger was just leaving, if you'll excuse us." Snape turned and directed Lucius to the end of the hallway conversing in hushed tones.
That was odd. Since when had Snape and Lucius been on a first name basis? Well that was a waste, she thought sourly, as she checked to make sure Snape was out of sight before she resumed running again.
As she reached the dungeons, she collided into something soft, and hunched over against the cool stone wall, clutching a stitch in her side.
"You're late." Well, that explained the something soft she had bumped into. Her body went rigid at the sound of the voice.
"And you can tell time," she said between heavy breaths. "You learn something new everyday."
"What crawled up your arse and died?"
"I don't know, but it must be related to whatever's been lodged up yours for the past eighteen years."
"Oh," he dead panned. "Well just how did you manage to get one of my father's genuine dragon-hide boots up your arse?"
"Pure talent. Now why don't you just tell me why I'm here, so we can get this over with."
"Patience, Granger. All will be explained in due time."
"I'm getting awfully bloody tired hearing you say that."
"And I'm bloody tired of not being able to manage a civil conversation with you, but it seems sometimes we can't always get what we want." With a swift flick of his wand, the door to an empty classroom was opened, and he motioned her inside.
"Really, Malfoy!" She let loose a sigh of indignance. "I thought I made it plainly clear before that I won't-"
"Granger, if I wanted in your pants, I would have gotten in by now. Will you stop being ridiculous, and just get in the damn classroom."
She quickly walked past him, her cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment. "If you try anything," she muttered, "I'll-"
"I assure you, the only thing I want to do is talk." He pulled out an ancient book from underneath his robes, and set it on a vacant desk. The book was bathed in moonlight, and all Hermione's earlier suspicions and fears were lost as she walked towards it.
"What's this," she asked, gently laying a hand on the leather cover and tracing the gilded lettering with her fingers. "It looks like a different sort of language, but I can't place it. French possibly?"
"Yes, and roughly translated, it reads 'Guiding Light in the Darkness.' There are only three copies of this book in the world: one held by the ministry of Magic, one by Dumbledore, and this particular copy resides in my father's private library."
"Wont your father be angry to find such an important book missing?" she asked, tearing her gaze away from the book to Draco.
"What of it?" his eyes clouded over in an unreadable expression. "He need never know it's missing, besides there's something you need to see." He picked up the book, and flipped to the back while he continued on. "A very long time ago, there was a seer, who predicted the rising of a dark and powerful lord. Most people thought she was mad, and believed her prophecies to be false. She was my great grandmother, and she wrote this book." He found the page he'd been searching for and handed the book to Hermione.
"It wasn't until after she had died that most of her predictions began to be proved true and people began to believe." He pointed to the page and translated "'Enemies Union as Lovers the Demise of the Dark Lord,' the only prophecy that remains. It states that in order for the dark lord to be ultimately defeated, someone close to the boy who lived must fall in love with one of his most hated enemies. The power of their combined love would somehow aid the boy in bringing down the Lord. In defeating Voldemort for good."
Was this some sort of trick? Hermione's mind raced with questions. Why would Malfoy show this to her? Was it true? What did it all mean? "What's your point, Malfoy?"
"Isn't it obvious?" His voice sounded weary with stress and lack of sleep, and the moonlight illuminated the dark circles under his eyes. "Hermione," she blanched as he used her first name, "we're destined to fall in love."
She snorted. "Please, it could be anyone, if it's even true at all."
Malfoy looked annoyed. "For such a bright girl, you can really be stupid sometimes."
"Why are you showing me this when your father serves Voldemort openly?"
Draco's body went rigid as he answered stiffly, "He is my father's Lord, not my own. I serve myself."
"But you hate Harry, why are you trying to help him?"
The tension in his body receded, and the anger in his eyes were replaced by confusion as he remained silent for so long Hermione thought he may not answer. "You know, I keep asking myself that same question."