IMPRESSIONS chapter five
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!
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
"I said get away from me. I'm filth, remember?" he snarled, standing. He swayed a little for a moment, gave her one more disgusted glance and striding out of the library without another word.
Hermione stared after him; open mouthed and feeling quite horrible.
After a few minutes, she turned back to the table, vanished her conjured glass of pumpkin juice and swung the Invisibility Cloak around her shoulders half-heartedly, feeling very ashamed of herself but not knowing why.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
"Harry, Ron, are you guys going to Hogsmeade today?" asked Hermione as she joined her two friends at the breakfast table.
Ron scowled. "No," he muttered darkly. "We have Quidditch try-outs."
"Oh," said Hermione, put off. "Well, whom should I go with?"
"What's up with Malfoy?" asked Harry, glancing over to the Slytherin table.
Hermione turned her head sharply, a painful twinge in her stomach as she recalled her terrible behavior. Malfoy sat at the end of the long table, his head buried in his arms and his silver-blond hair covering his eyes. "Who cares?" asked Ron snidely. "He's a prat."
"Ron, he hasn't done anything to us this year," said Hermione reproachfully.
"So what? Isn't what he's done in past years enough for us to hate him?" asked Ron angrily.
Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed a piece of toast. "I need to go to Dervish and Banges," she announced. "See you later. Good luck with try-outs." She swung her bag over her shoulder and walked out of the Great Hall and to the horseless carriages waiting outside for the students.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
"Excuse me, I need a new set of scales," said Hermione politely to the man behind the counter.
The wrinkled old man (presumably either Dervish or Banges) peered down at her through a monocle. "An' yer a studen' at the school?" he questioned, his voice sounding as though he used it very rarely.
"Yes, sir," she said nervously.
"Righ' then," he rasped. "Foller me." He shuffled from behind the counter and indicated for Hermione to follow him. He led her to the very back of the shop, where there was a handsome array of silver, bronze, gold, and copper scales. "Once you made yer choice, you can come up ta' the fron.'"
Hermione nodded and began to browse around the little shop. "And what, exactly, are you doing?" a cold, sneering voice asked her.
Hermione stiffened and turned slowly to see Malfoy leaning against a stack of bronze cauldrons casually. "Did you follow me in here?"
"Yes."
"Why?" asked Hermione, tearing her gaze away from him and looking back to the various scales.
"Because I need to talk to you. And you have been – unexplainably – avoiding me. And you did not return to the library," said Malfoy coolly, crossing his arms and narrowing his steel-gray eyes at her.
"Avoiding you?" asked Hermione indignantly. "Since when have we ever been on terms that would even make avoidance an option? And you never told me –"
"Cool it, Granger," said Malfoy. "I just need to talk to you."
"Why? Since when have you needed to talk to me?" asked Hermione crossly.
"Shut it, Granger, just listen," said Malfoy wearily, and Hermione shut her mouth. "What did you say to Potter today?"
Hermione looked at him in sheer amazement. "What?"
"Granger, you heard my question."
"How did you – How can you?" she stammered, unable to believe that he could have heard her brief conversation about him with Harry earlier today.
"I have excellent hearing," said Malfoy shortly. "Stop…" he searched for words. "Stop sticking up for me, or whatever it is that you're doing. Stop it."
"But why?" asked Hermione, mystified.
"Because people will get suspicious, that's what. You think I want it going back to my father that I need a mudblood to stick up for me?" asked Malfoy harshly.
Hermione paled. "I told you to call me 'Hermione,'" she said slowly. "We made a deal."
He looked at her. "What's the deal with all this familiarity you Gryffindors go for?" he asked coldly.
"What are you talking about?" asked Hermione exasperatedly.
"What's the deal with your obsession over first names?" Draco rephrased. "Why call someone by their first name if you are not familiar with them?"
"Is that your entire philosophy, Malfoy?" questioned Hermione wearily.
"Not entirely. If you call someone by their first name when you are not friendly with them, then would it not give them a fake sense of intimacy. I don't call you Granger because it's an insult"- a smirk tugged at his lips –"I call you that because we are not friends."
Hermione's eyes widened. "You are so weird," she said in disbelief.
His eyes turned cold. "Back to the business at hand, Granger"-
-"I told you, it's Hermione"-
Malfoy ignored her. "If you are still hell-bent on hopelessly looking for a cure, then meet me in the library tonight. 12:00."
"Don't you sleep?"
He glanced at her coolly. "No," he smirked.
Hermione raised her eyes to the sky. "I have to look for scales," she said resignedly. She picked the first set she saw off the rack and walked to the counter, where the withered old man still pottered around behind the desk.
"Can I have these, please?" asked Hermione courteously.
The man looked up at her, surprised. "Certainly," he scratched out. He took a glance at the scales and pronounced in a wheezy voice. "That will be thirteen galleons and four sickles."
Hermione looked through her purse, uncomfortably aware of Malfoy standing close to her shoulder. She gasped in surprise when she saw just seven galleon and five sickles left in her bag, along with an a few knuts. Not now, she thought miserably. Not with Malfoy here.
Her jaw dropped as a slim hand loaded with gold slid the coins into the man's hands. "I think that will do," said Malfoy smoothly.
Hermione stared at him. "What?"
"And throw in a set of liquid measures, please," said Malfoy blandly.
"Of course, sir," the owner wheezed.
Malfoy took the bag and handed it to Hermione, who was staring at him in unabashed shock. "Tonight, Granger. 12:00."
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Author's Note: I'm sorry this was so short, I had a lot of trouble getting this one out. I rewrote it a couple of times, and this is the version I liked the best. I promise, I'll get you another one soon!
Ar-Zimraphel