Important: There is going to be a flashback to "the night before" at the end of every chapter, and, by the end, hopefully, you will all understand what unfolded that night. The message is going to appear at the beginning of each too, since I'm sure this will be a little confusing for everyone (sorry). I'll stop chattering on now and get to the good (snort) stuff.

The Phoenix and Turtle

By Taelyn

Chapter: 6: Nil, Nada

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hands too much,

Which mannerly devotion shows in this;

For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,

And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss"

W.S

Hermione stared, surprised, at the two boys in front of her (though at this point it was more like one big blur of fists and shoes and girlish-squeaks). Neither had paid a moment's notice to her, the head girl!

Okay, so it wasn't like either of them had ever really paid close attention to authority and rules. And so maybe both Malfoy and Harry had never really taken her all that seriously (for completely different reasons, of course).

But still.

She was about to start yelling again when Christopher Hessian, a Ravenclaw seventh year and Head Boy, somehow stepped in between the two very angry enemies. Perhaps it was not the smartest thing to do, she mused. He evidently had never seen what these two could do to an individual's much needed body parts.

Nonetheless, he laughed uneasily as they stopped swiping at each other and stared down at him. Though Christopher was hardly short, it seemed as though both Harry and Malfoy towered over him, and, for a few of those eerily silent moments, the poor boy wished that he had spent more time toning his muscles on the Quidditch field rather than studying.

"Come on you guys," he addressed them, laughing a little uneasily as he looked around to see if any of the others around him had backed him up. No one stepped forward.

Christopher turned back around. "You guys don't want to get in trouble, do you?" he continued, almost cringing as he saw both Harry and Draco raise their eyebrows. "Not that I would say anything . . . ." trailing off and avoiding eye contact by taking in the situation further.

Blaise Zabini, Draco's cousin, was standing behind the Slytherin and was visibly smirking though her eyes were hidden under her almost black hair. Hermione Granger, who was Head Girl (but was also one of Harry's best friends) was standing behind Harry, exactly opposite Blaise and looked at first flustered and then nearly irritated. She crossed her arms and pursed her lips.

('Well,' she thought, 'if these three hormone-driven megalomaniacs—sorry Harry—were going to have a testosterone match, then she would certainly not interfere.' At least not yet.)

A crowd had formed around the five of them and was making sure to stay a safe distance away from the fight itself. It seemed that neither of the two girls (who truly were the only ones that had a chance to stop the brawl) was going to jump to his rescue.

Christopher sighed. Every single person in Snape's Advanced Potions class had seen this coming: the clash of the titans.

Raising his wand and shrugging at the two boys who looked at him menacingly as he did, he was about to signal the nearest teacher when he heard a shriek and saw a glint of brilliant red hair moving through the crowd.

"Hey! Get off my foot—Ow! Okay, MOVE!" Ginny Weasely suddenly appeared in the center of the circle, people parting as quickly as they possibly could when they saw her coming. Her eyes glinted as she stared past Hermione and her red hair flew around her angry countenance as she stopped immediately in front of Harry and Draco.

"HARRY POTTER!!! What-in-the-bloody-hell-do-you-think-you're-doing?" she screeched, the words flowing out with so much rage that the whole crowd took a step back.

Harry turned from staring furiously at Malfoy and, hunching his shoulders, he looked up at his very angry girlfriend, paling visibly.

"Ginny, what are you doing here?" he asked her incredulously, trying to hide his already swollen left eye with a bloody hand.

She took a few more steps forward until she was only inches away from him and stood there, tapping her foot, her arms crossed over her chest.

She said nothing, and the look on Harry's face went from one of surprise to fear.

"Ginny, it wasn't my fault, I swear—"

The sound of Ginny's hand slapping his cheek echoed off the stone walls.

"Ow!" he yelled angrily, his hand sliding from his eye to his cheek, the cold air of the dungeon corridor only adding to the pain.

"Go! Now!" Ginny yelled, and, eying her wearily, he retreated a few steps back. She huffed and furrowed her eyebrows. "You said that you wouldn't get into any more fights!" she continued plaintively, a tearful look now appearing in her eyes. "You promised!"

Any anger that had been left in Harry disappeared, and he took a step forward to hug her, about to mumble a thousand apologies, but she put out her hand.

"No." she said, the determination in her voice returning. "This is stopping now," she announced to everyone in a set this-is-what-is-going-to-happen voice. "And no teacher will hear about this . . . umm . . . little discussion," she finished, eyeing Christopher meaningfully.

Then, grabbing Harry's hand, she led him forcefully away from the crowd and out of the already disintegrating circle. Hermione heard her mumble something to him about "that stupid prick Malfoy" and smiled. She had been afraid for Harry's life for a while there.

Draco sniggered as he watched the small girl lead Harry away.

"Well, it looks like we all know who wears the dick in that relationship," he sneered and a few of the Slytherin's in the crowd laughed sycophantically.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and turned to scowl at Draco. His nose was still bleeding and his lips were unnaturally swollen, but his usual arrogance and nasty tone of voice seemed intact. She walked quickly up to him as he looked around at the crowd that thought him so funny and slapped him, without warning, on the cheek.

"Bloody woman," he said wincing. "I should have expected that." The people that had turned to leave froze and gasped like the audience of a soap opera.

Hermione stared at him, and said, very simply, "Shut up Malfoy."

He looked down at her with what most called a disdainful look on his face.

"I don't take orders from mudbloods," he snarled.

She went to slap him again on the opposite cheek, but he, expecting this, caught her hand easily.

He leaned closer and, in a voice that only she could hear, he whispered "We've danced this little dance before, haven't we Granger?" he gripped down harder on her arm and sneered menacingly, his gray eyes so cold and shallow that she almost spit in his face.

Hermione recoiled from him and he let her pull her arm from his grasp. "You will not touch me again," she stated as if it was a command. He looked at him haughtily, her nose turned up, waiting for him to respond.

But instead of saying anything, he only smirked and bowed mockingly as she rolled her eyes and stormed past him. She looked down as she walked past at his face and, though his hair had fallen into his eyes, she thought she saw something there—more than anger or insult. But she wasn't going to stare at Malfoy, and, with a huff, she stomped out of the hall.

If anyone in the crowd had noticed any parallels between Ginny and Harry's confrontation and the one that they had just witnessed between Draco and Hermione, none of them discussed it—at least not with the parties in question.

Malfoy stood up straight from his bowed position and looked up at the people that were still watching him—most of them quickly went on their way. After taking out his wand and performing a cleaning spell to take care of the droplets of blood that would certainly stain the dungeon floor, he began to walk back to the Slytherin dormitories.

"Fuck Herbology," he thought, his nose was still bleeding.

The few remaining in the hallway trickled out—everyone except for Christopher Hessian, who stood, stock still, in the middle of the hall, still trying to comprehend what had just happened.

Hermione, who had opted out of her Herbology class by taking the yearly exam in advance and used her free period for her Head Girl responsibilities, decided that it would be in everyone's best interest if she visited the Gryffindor common room.

She wasn't surprised when she found Ginny, Ron, and Harry shouting at the top of their lungs at each other as she stepped through the portrait hole.

It was actually quite amusing to watch. Ginny and Ron, both bright red and panting between screams, were standing on armchairs with their wands pointed at each other, each trying to get their own point across.

"And," she thought, "Probably neither can hear a word that the other is saying."

At intervals, both would simultaneously (as if practiced) turn and face Harry, who was cowering near the fireplace, and shout at him.

He, of course, looked terrified.

Hermione almost grinned as she saw that there was no one else to witness the spectacle—Ginny's shrieks emptied a room instantly, she had noticed.

The red-haired girl was the first to notice her, and stopped shouting, ending the cacophony. Hermione caught a bit of Ron's rant before he stopped.

" . . . . MY fault that YOUR stupid boyfriend decided to . . . " he stopped when he noticed that he could actually be heard and, looking up to see Hermione, he grinned sheepishly.

"Oh, err, sorry Hermione, I didn't see you there."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at the three of them. "Aren't you all supposed to be in class?" she asked

Ron looked down at the floor and mumbled something about "always with the education," and Harry looked apologetic, but Ginny just shrugged.

"Harry's hurt and I needed to talk to him—Ron was here already," she explained. Ginny had been planning on becoming a mediwitch since the end of her fourth year (after she had snuck a few of the career brochures from Ron) and the skills that she had acquired since than had become helpful when Ron and Harry (and sometimes even Hermione) had returned from their adventures injured. Explaining to Ginny why there was a doxy attached to Ron's left eyebrow was much easier than explaining to Madame Pomfrey. Well, not that much easier, but still.

Of course, Hermione noticed that Harry had not yet been tended to. His eye was still swollen and his fist, still covered in Malfoy's blood, had obviously not been washed off yet.

Harry saw her looking at his injuries and smiled wryly.

"The discussion took precedence over the healing," he joked and Ginny flashed him a look.

You got yourself into this and you are just going to have to wait a few minutes to be healed," she snapped.

Ron shot a look at her. "So you admit that it was his fault and not mine!"

Ginny, who had gotten down from the chair, scowled up at her brother as he waved his wand to punctuate his point.

"If you had not have started anything in the first place with Malfoy, then Harry would have had a reason to get hurt!" she hissed.

Ron mumbled something about sisters and friends and the not-mixing of the two and kicked the last cushion that had survived the battle off the chair.

As she seemed to be finally done with her rant, Ginny suddenly turned into her other personality—cuddly and loving—and walked over to Harry and hugged him.

"I just worry that you'll get really hurt," she said.

Harry was as surprised as Hermione. It would take a few more years before they could get used to Ginny's mood swings.

"Just like her mother," he mouthed over his girlfriend's shoulder to Hermione.

She nodded and laughed silently.

Harry looked down at his sweet-as-honey (for the moment) girlfriend and smiled winningly at her when she looked up at him.

"Oh Merlin, I think I'm going to hurl!" started Ron. "My little sister and my best friend?" He melodramatically placed his hand on his forehead and stepped down from his perch on the chair. "Could nature be so cruel?" He pretended to heave into a pillow.

"Oh shut up Ron," snapped Ginny as she nestled against Harry's chest (amid Ron's shouts of "My eyes! My eyes!")

"Um, you guys----class?" Hermione asked, already knowing that it was a lost cause.

"I don't think I can stand Binns right now" Ginny stated as she yawned. "Besides, Harry and Ron need their sleep if we're going to win the Quidditch game tomorrow night. I suggest a good nap."

The Quidditch game had been postponed after what Dumbledore called heavy snowfall (and what everyone else called a blizzard) and was scheduled to take place in the early evening on Tuesday.

"I agree with Ginny," chorused Harry and Ron nodded (slightly happier as Ginny and Harry separated)

All three headed up to their respective rooms, but not before Harry followed (or tried to follow) Ginny up to her dorm. The stairwell kept flattening out, and he came sliding down the stairs to land back in the commons.

"If only . . ." he said wistfully, staring up the stairwell that led to his girlfriend, which earned him and indignant yowl and a punch from Ron. Fingering his now very sore cheek, he suddenly looked up.

"Hey, she never healed me!" he said, frowning and again trying to rush up the stairs to the girl's dorms. "Ginny! Ginny!"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh as he tried over and over again to get up the stairs, injuring himself further in the process. As she turned from the extremely comical scene, she heard Ron call her name and looked to see him turn to address her.

"Ummm, Hermione?" he said, crossing his arms and worrying the carpet with the toe of his shoe.

"Yes Ron?" she asked, a little preoccupied as she tried to remember where she had left the book she was researching in.

"I, uhh, I just wanted to thank you for standing up for me in Potions today."

Hermione looked up at him and flashed a smile. "It was no big deal. Everyone knew that you were right, and I didn't want to see Malfoy win like that."

For some reason, Ron looked down and his ears tinged slightly red. "Well, I'll see you later then," he muttered and turned quickly, heading up the stairs to his room.

Hermione cocked her head, a little perplexed, and turned to leave the common room and begin her duties. She didn't see Harry, who had momentarily stopped yelling for his girlfriend, watch Ron and her conversation and shake his head incredulously.

It was beyond darkness, something indescribably close to death, and she felt the chaos, the endless silence, pull on her, pull her further in.

The last ounce of life within her looked, tried to find in itself the will to scream, to kick, to fight, to look once more for something. For anything.

But she could only find darkness—she felt herself become a shell, a nothing surrounded by nothingness.

And she couldn't even scream.

Author's Note: I know, maybe a bit too much Ron/Hermione interaction, but how could a semi-realistic story (about Hermione and Draco falling in love—ha!) happen where the two best friends don't interact?

Anyway, I hoped you liked it—another chapter soon, I promise. (Please Review—as I am sick and not really able to hold down real food, I'm living off all of your words right now. They're very good actually. Kind of salty. Hee hee) Hugs and Kisses (the candy, you sillies) to all of my wonderful reviewers! PS—I just figured out how to use italics and bold and underline and keep it! Wow I'm dense. So I apologize for the overuse of all three.