Disclaimer: I own shit except for the plot.
A/N: Thanks for sticking around. Here's the fifth chapter. Drop me a memo if you have a few extra seconds. Flames are welcome. Thanks to jameslvr and Wind-demoness for reviewing again and to all my current readers. You guys are great. And, yes, jameslvr. Bastian is the moon.
Reign In Blood: When The Curious Girl Realizes She Is Under Glass
--------------------
Still March 16
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The massive, flaming ball of gas that they called the sun was already fairly high on the horizon and all the students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were awake.
All but one.
Hermione Granger rolled over in her unbelievably warm and comforting bedspread. Suddenly, though (and for no apparent reason), the young girl awoke abruptly and sat up. Her head pounded.
Hermione winced at the pain that she had almost become accustomed to, but she calmly glanced at the wizard clock beside her bed.
'I'm late for breakfast,' she thought in an offhand-ish manner. Hermione then contemplated what to do next. She couldn't go down to breakfast, definitely not. Ron would think she was roaming the castle, and he wouldn't be happy. Although, she couldn't just stay in bed because she would probably be late for her first class, which was Transfiguration.
Hermione slowly got out of bed, not knowing what excuse she would give Ron as to why she wasn't at breakfast. Hermione tried desperately to think of a reason as she stumbled into her uniform.
She couldn't do it.
Her mind was on overdrive and she couldn't even think straight. The bell rang and Hermione grabbed her book and ran out to the common room. The bushy haired Gryfinndor could only think one thing as she was exiting the portrait:
He's going to kill me.
Before Hermione knew it, she was freaking out. Her heart was up a million, she couldn't breathe right, and her palms were terribly clammy. Hermione's eyesight and hearing started failing as she dashed around a corner.
"I'm going to be late for class and he's going to kill me," Hermione almost pleaded.
"Who's going to kill you?" a voice said from somewhere behind her, "Hermione? Wait!"
Before Hermione could run any faster, an arm was on her shoulder. She instantly stopped as she obeyed her reflexes. She wasn't paying attention to the voice itself, but if it was Ron...she would have done the right thing by stopping and not running away.
But it wasn't Ron. Hermione's senses returned as she calmly looked up at a tall man with messy jet-black hair and glasses. A thin lightning bolt shaped scar jagged itself across his forehead and his expression was one of pure worry.
It was Harry Potter.
"Harry," Hermione breathed.
"Are you okay, Hermione? Why were you running?" he asked as he gave her a look once over.
"I didn't – I didn't want to be late for class," the small girl replied hurriedly, "I was in the – the kitchen, though, talking – to Dobby."
"Were you?" a deep voice said from behind. It was Ron and he sounded livid, but only a furious that Hermione could detect.
"Hey mate," Harry said to Ron, "I think we're going to have a Quidditch practice tonight. I want to go over some new strategies." The trio started walking again. They were nearing the Transfiguration classroom.
"That's fine," Ron said smoothly, "I'll tell Ginny."
"Thanks," Harry said while stifling a yawn.
"Why were you talking to Dobby?" Ron asked Hermione. Hermione mentally swore. She had thought that Harry's change of the subject was for the better, but Ron was very good at not forgetting things that he could use against people. His favorite person to use things against seemed to be Hermione.
"He asked me to come down," she replied quietly.
"Why?" Ron asked sternly.
Harry looked from Ron to Hermione with his eyebrows raised.
"Ron, I'm not supposed to tell," Hermione responded. She had tried to sound firm but she failed miserably and her voice had shaken.
"Well, why not?" Ron came off as impatient. Hermione thought he looked murderous.
"She doesn't have to tell us, Ron," Harry said simply as the three Gryfinndors entered the Transfiguration classroom. They sat down and Hermione realized that she felt oddly suffocated.
"I'll tell, but you can't say a word to Dobby," Hermione said delicately. She couldn't keep anything from Ron for more than a few seconds. Her mental state would go down the drain and Hermione would start to shake all over.
Harry nodded and Ron said, "All right."
"He wanted to know what you two wanted for Christmas this year," she lied in one breath.
Ron scowled, but Harry said, "What did you tell him?"
"I said socks."
The bell rang and Professor McGonagall told the class to take out their essays. The trio did so. "That's bull shit, Hermione. It's March. Christmas isn't till December," Ron whispered in a sharp voice. Hermione noticed that he tried to sound quizzical. She almost believed it and she was positive that Harry did. Ron was definitely a very good actor.
Without missing a beat, Hermione replied, "Remember the load of socks Dobby made Harry a few years ago? There were over 100 pairs. It took him nearly half the year."
"How do you know that?" Ron asked as Harry listened.
"Kindly stop disturbing my class, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said, looking at Ron over her spectacles. She looked exhausted. Hermione grasped the idea that Ron's change of attitude and behavior hadn't only affected her. However, Ron didn't even look at Professor McGonagall. She then proceeded to turn her back to the class. The teacher started bewitching the board to write notes and began talking about Advance Animagus spells.
"Well?" Ron asked, clearly losing patience.
"I was in the kitchen with the house elves constantly," Hermione murmured.
"Why were you?" Ron inquired.
"Remember S.P.E.W.?" Hermione asked.
Harry snorted and pitifully covered it up with a cough. Professor McGonagall shot a glance in their direction. Ron looked completely caught off guard and he didn't say another word to Hermione for the rest of the class period.
Hermione smiled inwardly (which was not something she did often), glad that Ron had bought the story. Also, she was incredibly relieved.
Hermione would get one less beating. She could live in a fair and fake peace for another (guaranteed) sixty minutes.
A/N: Thanks for sticking around. Here's the fifth chapter. Drop me a memo if you have a few extra seconds. Flames are welcome. Thanks to jameslvr and Wind-demoness for reviewing again and to all my current readers. You guys are great. And, yes, jameslvr. Bastian is the moon.
Reign In Blood: When The Curious Girl Realizes She Is Under Glass
--------------------
Still March 16
--------------------
The massive, flaming ball of gas that they called the sun was already fairly high on the horizon and all the students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were awake.
All but one.
Hermione Granger rolled over in her unbelievably warm and comforting bedspread. Suddenly, though (and for no apparent reason), the young girl awoke abruptly and sat up. Her head pounded.
Hermione winced at the pain that she had almost become accustomed to, but she calmly glanced at the wizard clock beside her bed.
'I'm late for breakfast,' she thought in an offhand-ish manner. Hermione then contemplated what to do next. She couldn't go down to breakfast, definitely not. Ron would think she was roaming the castle, and he wouldn't be happy. Although, she couldn't just stay in bed because she would probably be late for her first class, which was Transfiguration.
Hermione slowly got out of bed, not knowing what excuse she would give Ron as to why she wasn't at breakfast. Hermione tried desperately to think of a reason as she stumbled into her uniform.
She couldn't do it.
Her mind was on overdrive and she couldn't even think straight. The bell rang and Hermione grabbed her book and ran out to the common room. The bushy haired Gryfinndor could only think one thing as she was exiting the portrait:
He's going to kill me.
Before Hermione knew it, she was freaking out. Her heart was up a million, she couldn't breathe right, and her palms were terribly clammy. Hermione's eyesight and hearing started failing as she dashed around a corner.
"I'm going to be late for class and he's going to kill me," Hermione almost pleaded.
"Who's going to kill you?" a voice said from somewhere behind her, "Hermione? Wait!"
Before Hermione could run any faster, an arm was on her shoulder. She instantly stopped as she obeyed her reflexes. She wasn't paying attention to the voice itself, but if it was Ron...she would have done the right thing by stopping and not running away.
But it wasn't Ron. Hermione's senses returned as she calmly looked up at a tall man with messy jet-black hair and glasses. A thin lightning bolt shaped scar jagged itself across his forehead and his expression was one of pure worry.
It was Harry Potter.
"Harry," Hermione breathed.
"Are you okay, Hermione? Why were you running?" he asked as he gave her a look once over.
"I didn't – I didn't want to be late for class," the small girl replied hurriedly, "I was in the – the kitchen, though, talking – to Dobby."
"Were you?" a deep voice said from behind. It was Ron and he sounded livid, but only a furious that Hermione could detect.
"Hey mate," Harry said to Ron, "I think we're going to have a Quidditch practice tonight. I want to go over some new strategies." The trio started walking again. They were nearing the Transfiguration classroom.
"That's fine," Ron said smoothly, "I'll tell Ginny."
"Thanks," Harry said while stifling a yawn.
"Why were you talking to Dobby?" Ron asked Hermione. Hermione mentally swore. She had thought that Harry's change of the subject was for the better, but Ron was very good at not forgetting things that he could use against people. His favorite person to use things against seemed to be Hermione.
"He asked me to come down," she replied quietly.
"Why?" Ron asked sternly.
Harry looked from Ron to Hermione with his eyebrows raised.
"Ron, I'm not supposed to tell," Hermione responded. She had tried to sound firm but she failed miserably and her voice had shaken.
"Well, why not?" Ron came off as impatient. Hermione thought he looked murderous.
"She doesn't have to tell us, Ron," Harry said simply as the three Gryfinndors entered the Transfiguration classroom. They sat down and Hermione realized that she felt oddly suffocated.
"I'll tell, but you can't say a word to Dobby," Hermione said delicately. She couldn't keep anything from Ron for more than a few seconds. Her mental state would go down the drain and Hermione would start to shake all over.
Harry nodded and Ron said, "All right."
"He wanted to know what you two wanted for Christmas this year," she lied in one breath.
Ron scowled, but Harry said, "What did you tell him?"
"I said socks."
The bell rang and Professor McGonagall told the class to take out their essays. The trio did so. "That's bull shit, Hermione. It's March. Christmas isn't till December," Ron whispered in a sharp voice. Hermione noticed that he tried to sound quizzical. She almost believed it and she was positive that Harry did. Ron was definitely a very good actor.
Without missing a beat, Hermione replied, "Remember the load of socks Dobby made Harry a few years ago? There were over 100 pairs. It took him nearly half the year."
"How do you know that?" Ron asked as Harry listened.
"Kindly stop disturbing my class, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said, looking at Ron over her spectacles. She looked exhausted. Hermione grasped the idea that Ron's change of attitude and behavior hadn't only affected her. However, Ron didn't even look at Professor McGonagall. She then proceeded to turn her back to the class. The teacher started bewitching the board to write notes and began talking about Advance Animagus spells.
"Well?" Ron asked, clearly losing patience.
"I was in the kitchen with the house elves constantly," Hermione murmured.
"Why were you?" Ron inquired.
"Remember S.P.E.W.?" Hermione asked.
Harry snorted and pitifully covered it up with a cough. Professor McGonagall shot a glance in their direction. Ron looked completely caught off guard and he didn't say another word to Hermione for the rest of the class period.
Hermione smiled inwardly (which was not something she did often), glad that Ron had bought the story. Also, she was incredibly relieved.
Hermione would get one less beating. She could live in a fair and fake peace for another (guaranteed) sixty minutes.