IMPRESSIONS chapter three
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, except for stuff you don't recognize.
Summary: An emotionally, physically, and mentally wounded Draco needs someone to help him, whether he wants to admit it or not, after his father lands in Azkaban, his mother is committed to St. Mungo's, and his entire world crumbles. Romance/Angst.
Author's Note: Please review!
"It doesn't matter. What matters it that you have to promise not to tell anyone," said Malfoy, turning his attention back to the Permeus Surpos.
"Malfoy…" began Hermione slowly. "I don't think I can do that."
"Why not?" asked Malfoy sharply, narrowing his eyes. "You swore."
"Because…" Hermione trailed off as she searched for words. "Because it's wrong, that's what. I may not like you, but I'm not going to let you die. And yes-" she said at the look on his face –"wizards have died from that curse before."
Malfoy crossed his arms. "Screw your stupid Gryffindor do-good complex. You swore. I thought Gryffindors always stood by their word," he said, smirking at her.
"Malfoy, I didn't know what you were going to say. If I had known it was so serious –"
"For Merlin's sake, Granger, lay off! I'm fine. Just swear you won't tell, and we can go back to distrust and hatred," said Malfoy, running his hands through his hair, frustrated.
Hermione faltered. "But… What if there is a cure that you don't know about?" she asked timidly. "I could help."
"And why would you want to do that? I'm evil Malfoy, remember?" Malfoy spat. "I don't need help. And not from a mudblood."
Hermione paled. "Yeah, well this mudblood happens to be the top in the class, Malfoy," she retorted with equal anger. "And I can help you. But I'm not so sure if I want to."
"Good. Now swear and get out," said Malfoy unconcernedly.
"No," said Hermione, standing and drawing herself up. "I'm not leaving until you promise to get help."
"Fine," said Malfoy, sneering. He grabbed his cloak and swept it over his shoulders. "I don't have to stay." He walked towards her, slipping his wand from his pocket. "Swear," he commanded her, pointing the wand to her chest.
Hermione drew her own wand. "I will not."
"Granger… Although you are, admittedly, a good witch, you have not been trained in the Dark Arts. It would be intelligent of you to lower your wand," Malfoy drawled lazily.
"I've been trained in Defense, Malfoy," Hermione spat. "And I'm not stupid. If you were going to curse me, you would have attempted to long ago."
Malfoy's eyes flicked to the torches on the walls. He flicked his wand and muttered, "Grand nox."
The entire room went black, and Hermione felt her heart begin to quicken. "If you are so intent on helping me, go to the library tomorrow night at 12:00," breathed a voice into her ear, hot breath on her neck. "And if you don't, I will wipe your memory."
Hermione gripped her robe tightly as Malfoy brushed past her and out the exit.
"Where have you been?" asked Ron, looking up at Hermione as she entered the common room at 1:00 the morning.
"Took a bath," Hermione murmured tiredly.
"Your hair is dry," Ron observed, standing and crossing his arms. "Where did you go?"
Hermione was reminded of the promise she had nearly made. "I'm a witch, Ron. I can dry it."
"Oh," said Ron, put off. "Right."
"I'm going to bed," said Hermione, brushing past Ron. "And don't forget that Potions essay."
"What?" Ron asked indignantly. "I forgot that! Can I borrow yours?"
Hermione looked at him severely. "No, you may not borrow mine, Ronald Weasley. You should have done it this afternoon when you were ogling Parvati Patil."
Ron opened and closed his mouth several times before replying. "Fine," he said, pouting, and sat down at a table, opening his Potions book with a thud and taking out his quill.
"You look tired, Hermione," said Harry over the breakfast the following morning.
Hermione glanced at him from her book. "Yes, couldn't sleep well for some reason," she said absently.
"What's wrong?"
Hermione looked at Harry, her eyebrows wrinkled. "Nothing. Honestly, Harry, we should be the ones to be taking care of you, not the other way around."
A faint grin slipped across Harry's face. "Nah, I need you guys to take my mind…" he trailed off.
Hermione noticed his discomfort and changed the subject. "So, we have Defense Against the Dark Arts first today," she announced, smiling. "I expect it'll be another free period."
"Probably," Harry agreed. "What are you reading?" he questioned, leaning it and taking the book from her hands. "What – the Permeus Surpos curse?" He glanced at her. "What's that and why are you looking it up?"
"Long story," Hermione mumbled. "Look, I think I forgot my quills upstairs. I'll see you in class, Harry." She got up, swung her bag over her shoulder, and walked out of the Great Hall.
"What did you tell Golden Boy?" a familiar, sneering drawl reached Hermione's ears.
She stopped her walk and turned slowly to see Malfoy leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.
"I don't see that it's any of your business, Malfoy," said Hermione firmly.
"I think it is," said the boy, slipping his wand from his sleeve and twirling it idly between his fingers. "Tell me what you said," he commanded, ignoring the hair that had fallen in front of his eyes.
"It wasn't important," said Hermione, itching to whip out her wand and curse him out of sheer irritation.
"I didn't ask you if it was important, mudblood. I asked you what you said," Malfoy hissed.
"If you continue to insult me then there will be no reason for me not to go to Dumbledore," said Hermione levelly. "Make your choice. Call me Hermione or I leave for Dumbledore's office."
Malfoy's eyes blazed. "I should just wipe your memory!" he spat.
"And take the risk of wiping your own instead?" Hermione countered. "I already told you that I would help you. But only if you call me by my given name."
He stared at her in helpless anger for a minute. "Fine," he snarled.
"'Fine' who?" asked Hermione sweetly.
He glared at her in disgust. "Fine… Hermione," he said, saying the name slowly as though the feel of it on his tongue revolted him.
"Good," said Hermione primly. "Now, what I discuss with my friends does not concern you. Now, if you will let me through, I need to go to my common room."
"If you were talking about my… malady, shall we say… than it does concern me," said Malfoy coldly. "You didn't swear, and therefore I have no reason to believe anything you say."
"Fine, Malfoy, I swear not to tell anyone," said Hermione. "Satisfied?"
"Say, 'Draco, I swear not to tell anyone,'" said Malfoy silkily.
"What?" asked Hermione in complete surprise.
"Say, 'Draco, I swear not to tell anyone,'" Malfoy repeated. "I do have a first name, in case you had forgotten it. If I must call you by yours, than you will do the same for me."
"But –"
"What?" asked Draco, raising an eyebrow elegantly. "I don't see a difference."
"But you're Malfoy," said Hermione. "Do you have any idea of what Harry and Ron would say if I started calling you by your first name?"
"Do you do everything by Potter and the Weasel?" asked Malfoy shortly.
"No, but –"
"Prove it. And don't forget, tonight at 12:00," said Malfoy, turning on his heel and sauntering down the hallway, giving no indication of pain whatsoever.
Author's Note: I'm sorry this chapter has been long in coming, but I had two ideas that I needed to get out of my system. I hope you liked this chapter! It was rather short, and my apologies, but I though it was a good place to stop. If you see any typos please put them in your review so I can correct them. Please review!
Ar -Zimraphel