Clandestine Rendezvous

Chapter 7: The Final Scores

----1----

Hermione unfurled the Daily Prophet and skimmed its headlines. Tips of Lestrange Residence Lead to Nothing, screamed the front page. You-Know-Who Rumoured to be Weaker Than Before, said another headline right under it. Dementors Unsafe to Employ flashed the last bold headline.

"Anything?" asked Harry, having finished his breakfast.

Hermione shook her head. ¡"Nothing important."

"Mum said they aren't getting anything important over at the Order, either," said Ron, skimming over his letter. "And she wants you to be extra careful, Harry. Just so you know."

Hermione smiled and spooned some scrambled eggs onto her plate as Draco Malfoy strutted into the Great Hall, casting a lazy eye over the Gryffindors. When he saw her, he sneered pointedly and tilted his head back towards Goyle. Her smile dropped.

"Stupid git," said Ron, watching Malfoy say something snide to his cronies and go over to the Slytherin Table, propping his feet up on two seats. "Did you see that? He was looking at you!"

"Don't worry. Before the month is over, you'll see him dance to his death," said Hermione with an evil chortle, watching Malfoy from an empty space in the Hufflepuff Table where Susan Bones usually sat.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, who was now skimming over the Daily Prophet.

"You'll see," smiled Hermione, sipping her orange juice. "You'll see."

----2----

"Finished," announced Hermione, setting down her quill. The second night of the detentions progressed like the previous--silent and satisfying.

Malfoy leaned back on his chair in the darkness of the room, gazing out the window over her shoulder at dark, willowy shapes. "96," he said.

"103," countered Hermione.

They exchanged glares, then rose and departed, strolling along the corridors.

"Why do you always have to be the best, Granger?" asked Malfoy. "Why do you always have to succeed and put everyone else to shame?"

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Shame? I'm just driven, I guess. I suppose it was originally because I'm new to the wizarding world and I didn't want to fall behind, that was all. And then, when I started to do better than everyone else, I liked it and wanted to continue, since I was so partial to books anyway."

Malfoy scowled. "So you actually like all that studying and such?"

"Weren't you listening? Yes!" replied Hermione crossly. "You're too busy making fun of us Gryffindors to really succeed in school. That's why you're so bitter."

"I'm not bitter!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and tightened her grip around her cloak. They had walked into a set of empty corridors where the wind whipped her hair around her face like a brown cloud. Malfoy gave her a sidelong glance and snickered snottily. She stuck her nose up proudly into the air and walked off briskly. To her surprise, Malfoy followed and because his legs were longer, soon caught up with her.

"My parents had ingrained the idea that we were superior to all other beings inside me since I was a boy," said Malfoy, breaking the silence.

Hermione nodded. "So you hate it when I best you, considering you were supposed to be better." Hermione grinned despite herself, turning her head away so that her companion wouldn't see. Malfoy seemed almost humble tonight, she thought. This is too good to be true.

----3----

"Who are you?" she screamed, her footsteps echoing down the halls. The torches had blew out in the wind, leaving her in darkness, all except for the point of light on her wand. "What are you?"

A shadow lurched in front of her and she screamed again, turning away. "Help! Somebody, help!" she yelled.

"Quiet, sweet child," came the silky reply of the shadow behind her. "No one can hear you, not so late at night."

She tripped on a loose stone, tumbling down a short segment of stairs, her wand flying out of her hand. Her heart pounding, she struggled to straighten, clinging to the wall in desperation. "Why are you chasing me?"

The shadow laughed, a soft tinkling noise like wind chimes. "It's punishment for what you've done, my pretty girl."

She gasped as she realized blood was trickling down her ankle.

"So what have I done? It's not like I hate muggleborns or make fun of Dumbledore? I'm a Ravenclaw, for Merlin's sake!" She edged away, a pain starting to grow in one ankle. She could see her wand in the distance, still lighted.

The shadow glided in circles around her, taunting and laughing. Finally, she reached her wand and shoved it towards the face of the shadow. Her eyes widened in shock.

"You!" Her voice came out at a strained whisper.

"Yes, precious little morsel. Me." The figure began to laugh manically and pointed its own wand at the girl. "Me!"

The shadow, still laughing, uttered a single spell. There was a flash of indigo light and the seventh-year crumpled where she stood. The shadow stepped on the Ravenclaw's wand with crushing finality. "Delicious," it hissed.

----4----

After paying their respects to Professor Vector, Malfoy and Hermione set out on their solitary path again. Malfoy began to praise the Slytherin House fervently, as he had won the night's contest.

Finally, Hermione had had enough. "What's so great about Slytherin, anyway? Name one wonderfully talented Slytherin now in school besides yourself, who you hold in such high esteem. Sure, Salazar was a genius, Snape was amazing, and your own father couldn't be beat, but what about now?"

Malfoy made a face. "Well, there's...­ er...­ Millicent Bulstrode. She scares me."

"Millicent Bulstrode is the human form of a bulldog," said Hermione with a derisive scoff. "Crabbe is a log that walks and Goyle is an overgrown frog. Don't you name Pansy Parkinson, either. She's a mad cow."

Malfoy simply looked at her with a blank expression on his face. Then, miraculously, he began to laugh. Hard.

"Mad cow! Oh, that's fresh, that's really fresh," he said, tears starting to come to his eyes in mirth. "Only Britain can come up with Pansy the mad cow, because only our bloody country is full of dairy cannibals."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you were one," Hermione replied dryly, walking on without him.

Malfoy sprinted a few steps to catch up with her. "And how do you know I'm not?" he said, leering down at her. Hermione bit her tongue, resisting the urge to slap him.

"Because if you were, Crabbe and Goyle would be skeletons by now," she replied.

"Actually, they have really tough flesh. Salty, too. I'd need to boil them for hours before I could chew even the blubber."

Hermione made a face. "Thanks for those most breathtaking images. I think I'll have nightmares for a month, at least."

"You're welcome. Now, Pansy..."

----5----

Harry Potter pushed his dark hair out of his eyes and glanced over at his best friend Ron, who was sleeping soundly on the bed next to his, sprawled out over his covers. His lanky limbs were spread over his bedcovers and his pillow, for some reason, was resting his feet. Harry smiled indulgently as Ron let out a loud snore. Recently, it had become very obvious Ron was becoming attracted to Hermione. Though Harry didn't think it particularly horrible, he had nursed his own confused feelings towards Ron for many months and it hurt knowing that Ron could never know.

Harry closed his eyes in reminince of the first time he realized Ron meant more to him than just a best friend. He was at the Burrow, enjoying a scrumptious dessert after the dinner celebrating Ginny's birthday. Ron was eating a particularly large piece of cake with red and yellow frosting. Some of it was smeared over his lips and chin. Harry had put down his butterbeer as Ginny laughingly wiped some of the frosting away. He grinned as Ron started to protest, licking his lips to make sure the rest of the frosting was safely inside his mouth. And then Harry started to wonder what it would be like to kiss those lips.

He had been shocked at that thought and immediately dismissed himself to go to the bathroom. There, he splattered his face with cold water but his cheeks were still burning in embarrassment. Ron and Hermione greeted him with a laugh when he came out. "You aren't bulimic, are you?" joked Ron. Harry shook his head, but couldn't clear it of his strange thought. Throughout that summer, he was kept awake until very late hours thinking about Ron. He didn't understand--was he in love?

He tried hard not to look at Ron too much when they sat close together. He tried to ignore how close they were on a regular basis. But boys being boys, even now he could still get a rise out of seeing Ron asleep on his bed. Harry shivered, blushing, and opened his eyes to see Ron was awake, looking at him inquisitively.

"Something wrong, Harry?" he asked, sitting up to get his pillow out from under his feet.

"No, nothing." Harry turned away and folded his covers over his ears so that Ron wouldn't see him flush again.

----6----

"Goyle is really excited, you know," remarked Malfoy with his trademark smirk. "He really wants to go with you. I'm sure that's not all he wants, either," he laughed.

They had just finished another session of silent rivalry. Much to Hermione's distaste, Malfoy had won again, this time by a margin of one paper. Professor Vector seemed strangely oblivious to their proceedings, almost conveniently so. Hermione did not see the way the teacher smiled knowingly every time the two sniped at one another in anger, or the way her eyes sparkled with mirth when they glared at each other as she picked up the papers.

Hermione gave him an exasperated look. "Can't you be more mature?" she asked crossly.

"I'm sixteen!" he exclaimed. "How mature am I going to get?"

"I'm sixteen, and look at me," replied Hermione, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Does 'pink tutu, dancing Swan Lake on top of the Ravenclaw table while singing My Heart Will Go Away' signify maturity?" he retorted.

"I told myself to think like Ron and Harry would," replied Hermione stiffly. "And it's My Heart Will Go On."

Malfoy snickered. "You sure don't think much about Potter and Weasley if that's the way you think they think," he said.

"It doesn't matter how smart they are or aren't," replied Hermione, blushing. "It matters how pleasant they are. And Harry is the kindest, most considerate boy I know. Ron is...­ the most­ well-meaning." Hermione frowned a little, hoping Malfoy wouldn't see that though she did appreciate Ron for being a good friend, he could be childish and thick sometimes. Ron was the kind of guy that was rather slow on the uptake, even with his heart of gold.

Malfoy grinned. "And what am I?" he asked. Hermione could see his head swell in size, expanding like a hot-air balloon under a blazing inferno.

"The most annoying, puerile, pigheaded, annoying, narcissistic, spoiled, annoying, insensitive, and manipulative person I know. Oh, and did I mention that you are an absolutely annoying prick?"

Malfoy's grin faded and his eyes narrowed, glittering with malice. "Really?" He grabbed her shoulder and slammed her into the wall. Hermione gasped in pain, struggling as he held her arms still with his hands and pinned her against the stone with his own body. "Am I that nasty?" he jeered, his nose only centimeters away from hers.

"Haven't you considered the danger of walking with me, night after night, in the darkness of the hallways? You are a Gryffindor, dear mudblood, and I am a Slytherin, a pureblood and therefore better than you. I'm not someone you can trifle with," he spat, unusually pale. Hermione could feel his heavy breath on her face and the uncomfortable warmth of his legs holding hers down.

"I assumed I could trust you, but now I know how stupid I was. I can't believe I actually thought you could be nice," she hissed, glaring at him intensely.

"Nice? Nice? With your description of me, I am no better than any other Slytherin!"

Hermione snarled. "No, you're not."

Malfoy stood there, staring at her as comprehension dawned on his face. No, he's not looking at me, Hermione observed. He's looking past me. His shoulders hunched in sudden sorrow and he closed his eyes in thought, before pulling away in resignation, releasing her. They stayed in those positions for a long time, as if captured in a pitiful scene in stone, trapped in a moment of time.

"I'll win, you know," he said finally, his back to Hermione, his shoulders thrust back in defiance. Without a glance back, he strode off, leaving Hermione to massage her shoulders in confusion.

----7----

Hermione pulled back from the last sheet of parchment with a sort of sad finality to her action. Truth be told, she would rather miss this competition. Malfoy was still angry at her and would not look or speak to her throughout the detention. She really didn't mean to offend him when he asked her what she thought of him. That was how she thought of him a few days ago, but the more time she had spent in his company, the less she had detested him. She didn't want to ruin a budding friendship; from what she had seen of Malfoy, he could be a good person if he tried.

She leaned across the table. "Malfoy," she began apologetically.

He gave her a withering look with his clear grey eyes. "What?"

"I'm... sorry. I shouldn't have called you all those things." Hermione gave him a hopeful smile. "Do you forgive me?"

"Forgive? What is there to forgive? It's all true isn't it?" he replied viciously. "I am just like every other Slytherin. I am self-absorbed and annoying. I am spoiled. I am all those things and more."

"But I was...­ was wrong," Hermione said. "You aren't just like every other Slytherin. You have the capacity to be likable."

Malfoy gave out a bark of laughter. "Likeable? Draco Malfoy is not likable. Although it is nice that for once you actually think you were wrong, you aren't. I'm exactly like my Malfoy heritage dictates--a perfect example of Slytherin maliciousness."

Hermione bit her lip and leaned back resignatedly. "How many?"

"99."

Hermione calculated the entire number of the papers on a piece of scrap parchment. When she finished, she gawked at it.

"Well?" Malfoy asked snappishly. "Who won?"

Hermione lifted her wide brown eyes to lock onto his. Her mouth opened and closed several times, reminiscent of a fish. "Spit it out!" Malfoy ordered. Hermione looked back down at the numbers, calculating them again. The result was the same.

"Malfoy..."

"What?"

"We tied."

----x----

I'm finished! Finally!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. Everything I write about it is now legal. MWAHAHA!! You can't prosecute me!!

Hehe! It's a tie!