IMPRESSIONS chapter seven
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!
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"Nonsense. Follow me," said Snape dismissively. He looked to the three Gryffindors. "I will, of course, mention your behavior to the Headmaster and your Head of House. I daresay that you will all three be punished."
Malfoy scrambled to his feet. "Sir, I'm fine, really"- he said breathlessly. "And I've got loads of homework to do. I need to get back to my dormitory."
Snape frowned. "Mr. Malfoy, it would be prudent to go to Madam Pomfrey to make sure that Weasley did not perform the curse incorrectly. I would not be surprised if he had."
"Sir, I'm quite well," said Malfoy impatiently.
"Are you sure, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Yes, positive. Excuse me," said Malfoy, rushing past the Potions Master and out of the library.
Unable to hide his bewilderment, Snape turned back to the three Gryffindors slowly. "Twenty points each for being out of your beds," he hissed. "Forty for Weasley for cursing Mr. Malfoy."
"What?" Ron howled. "Sir, you didn't take any points off Malfoy"-
"Silence, Weasley," said Snape in a warning tone.
Ron fell into a broody silence. Eighty points!
"A detention for each of you, to be arranged after class tomorrow. Go to Gryffindor Tower immediately," said Snape coldly.
Hermione packed up her things and walked out with Ron and Harry sullenly. Once they were in the hall, however, she began to whisper furiously. "Ron, Harry, how could you spy on me? You don't trust me? And even if I were meeting Malfoy, it'd be none of your business anyway!"
"Well, you asked Harry twice for his cloak!" Ron protested. "With no explanation! And you've been acting funny lately!"
"I did explain, I told him I had extra research! And you only think I'm acting funny because I refuse to check your homework!"
"Calm down. What do you reckon that was about, anyway?" asked Harry seriously.
"What?" Ron questioned, mystified.
"Malfoy. He was getting ready to curse Snape or something if he didn't let him go. He didn't want to go to the Hospital Wing," said Harry, furrowing his eyebrows.
Hermione pinked but didn't say anything.
"I don't know. How I am supposed to know what goes on in that stupid, twisted, Slytherin mind of his?" asked Ron, sniggering.
"He looked strange… Like he was afraid or something. Like he was hiding something. Doesn't that sound suspicious?" said Harry, pointedly ignoring Ron. "In fact, he's been acting strange all year. Hasn't talked to us once."
"Well, that's an improvement, right?" said Hermione, struggling to keep her promise.
"Yes, but it doesn't fit his personality," said Harry as they rounded the corner to the Fat Lady's portrait.
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The next morning at breakfast, an eagle owl swooped down past Hermione and dropped a small envelope onto her plate. He didn't stay; he immediately winged upwards and out the Great Hall window, presumably back to the owlry.
Hermione opened it and raised her eyebrows as she scanned the brief message written in lean, though elegant, script.
Astronomy Tower at 7:00.
D.L.G.M.
Hermione sighed at his constant orders, always delivered with the arrogant assumption of her unwavering obedience. "Prat," she mumbled to herself.
"What?" asked Ron as he stuffed a piece of toast slathered with jam into his mouth.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Nothing, Ron."
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Wrapped in a cloak, Hermione stepped into the unseasonably chilly air of the open Astronomy platform, cursing Malfoy for his strange choice in meeting places.
"7:00 exactly. Getting better, Granger."
Hermione turned sharply to see Malfoy, uncloaked and seemingly perfectly fine, standing with his back to her. He was far out on the platform, his hands pocketed and his hair whipping around his face.
"I thought I t-told you to call m-me Hermione," said Hermione, her teeth chattering.
He swiveled. "As far as I recall, you have not been calling me by my name," he said blandly.
"Only b-because you s-started b-back with 'Granger!'" said Hermione indignantly, fighting to keep the cold-induced tremor from her voice.
His eyebrows rose. "Are you cold?"
"No, just peachy," said Hermione sarcastically. "Aren't you?"
"I'm fine. I like the cold," said Malfoy, turning his head to face the wind. "Always have."
"How c-can you l-like the c-cold?" asked Hermione, astonished.
He smirked. "It's kind of a Malfoy thing," he replied. "Family trait, and all."
"That's absurd," Hermione announced.
He pulled his wand from his sleeve and flicked it at her. "You're a witch, for Merlin's sake, Granger," he said, as the warming charm he had cast gave Hermione a pink glow.
Her shivering stopped at once. "Thank you," she mumbled, staring at her feet.
"Don't mention it," he said emotionlessly.
"What did you want to talk to me about?" asked Hermione, the wind blowing her hair across her face, giving the appearance that she was extremely frazzled.
"Merlin, Granger," said Malfoy exasperatedly, striding over to her and pulling her into a small alcove.
"What?"
"You fall apart up here, don't you?" he said, his eyes traveling over his frizzy hair with an amused expression.
"My hair just – just doesn't cope well with wind, that's all," said Hermione defensively. "Now what did you want to say to me?"
"How did you explain my… lack of interest in the Hospital Wing… to Potter and the Weasel?" he asked.
"I didn't say anything. I just left them to their own defenses. Ron figured it was because you were a Slytherin, and Harry… Well, Harry came close to the truth," said Hermione.
"Weasley thinks it's because I'm a Slytherin?" asked Malfoy, smirking. "How is it that such an idiot became a prefect?"
Hermione glared at him. "Ron is not an idiot, Malfoy!"
"What happened to 'Draco?'" asked Malfoy innocently.
"You haven't been calling me by my name!"
"Oh, right," said Malfoy. "Still, you could at least try. It's not as if I like being called by my surname constantly. 'Malfoy' this, 'Malfoy' that."
Hermione stared at him in disbelief. "You call everyone else by their surnames!" she pointed out. "Even your friends – or, rather, minions. Crabbe and Goyle hardly have enough between the ears to be considered confidantes."
Malfoy gave a snort.
Hermione gaped at him. "Did Draco Malfoy just laugh at a joke other than one about Harry Potter?" she said teasingly.
"It was funny. And entirely true. Besides," he added dismissively, "my whole house hates me anyway."
"Why?"
"Don't you read the papers, Granger?" he said, rolling his eyes. "I am no longer on their parent's… list of favorite people."
"But why not?" asked Hermione, astonished.
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Author's Note: Hope you liked it! I was going to make it longer, but I thought that that was a nice place to stop, wondering why Draco's house detests him and all that. Well, expect another chapter by Friday. Thank you so much to all the reviewers! Impressions has forty! I'm so excited! Too tired to do individual thank-you notes so just consider yourself thanked.
Ar-Zimraphel