Chapter Three: Violet is a Lovely Shade of Purple
When Hermione awoke the next morning it seemed as though the heavens had opened up and the chorus of angels was singing to her. Even while brushing her teeth she could barely suppress the grin that kept erupting, sending toothpaste dribbling down her chin. She skipped down to the Great Hall, settled down beside the kippers and waited.
Five minutes later, a brown owl brought her the morning paper which she buried herself in. It was still fairly early; there were barely a handful of people at each table, she knew she would have a bit of wait before anything really happened.
Hermione was looking over the Prophet for what seemed like the tenth time when Malfoy strolled in also looking refreshed and chipper. It seemed to Hermione that her strange change of character the night before hadn't perturbed him that much. Over her paper Hermione spied the blonde-haired debaucher sit down beside Pansy.
Ron trudged into the Hall, followed closely by Harry, who looked nor more awake than Ron did. Hermione couldn't help containing her excitement as she greeted them with a hearty "good morning".
"What's so good about it?" Ron grumbled, loading his plate with a heaping spoonful of scrambled eggs.
"Yeah," Harry agreed, stifling a yawn as he sat down on the other side of Hermione. "Hagrid still wants the class to meet Aragog."
"He's positively nutters, that one," Ron exclaimed. "There's no way you'll get me into that Forest. D'you remember the last time we had a chat with that, that monster?"
Harry nodded grimly. Hermione hadn't been there when Harry and Ron had encountered Aragog, but she was fairly certain it would have traumatized her too, even if she wasn't afraid of spiders. While Hermione sat chatting with Ron and Harry she kept a watchful eye out for Phyllis, who was bound to come into the Great Hall at any moment.
Soon enough, Hermione spotted the blonde head, barely distinguishable from the three other girls, who were just as heavily made up as Phyllis; it seemed to Hermione that glamour traveled in packs.
To Hermione's great pleasure, Phyllis and her gaggle of girlfriends sat down almost right in front of her, giving her a perfect view of Phyllis' delicate back. 'This is almost too easy,' Hermione thought to herself.
Her wand hand itched to finish the hex she started last night, but she wasn't quite ready, yet. There was one more thing she needed before she could complete it: Malfoy's attention. At that moment Pansy was stroking the boy's arm as though he were an obedient puppy dog. Malfoy looked like he wanted to send some hexes flying himself. Although he probably adored the attention, the way Pansy had chosen to use his arm as a doorbell ringer probably had begun to grate on his nerves.
'What a self-serving, vile excuse for a boy!' Hermione couldn't help thinking as she watched Malfoy out of the corner of her eye. She was sick of waiting. Patient was her middle name all morning and now the opportunity was there, staring right at her. Neither Ron nor Harry had even noticed she'd stopped paying attention to their conversation; they simply continued on, yammering away about the state of Hagrid's mental health.
Hermione slipped her wand from her pocket, as subtly as possible, underneath the table. With a steady hand she pointed it at Phyllis' slender back.
"- and then he's got the nerve to bring out those hideous beasts!" said Ron, eyebrows reaching to the rafters. "Dumbledore must really like ..."
Hermione sent the hex sailing through the crack in between the table and bench, across the footpath flanked by the Gryffindor table and Ravenclaw table, right into Phyllis' back.
Casually, Hermione turned back towards Ron, who was now taking a long draught of pumpkin juice; no doubt he was parched from his long tirade.
"Leave Hagrid alone," Hermione admonished the two boys, "the creatures he brings to class may be peculiar but they'll serve as great stories later in life, I suspect. Plus, every now and then they come in handy, don't they? Like Buckbeak, or the thestrals."
Ron and Harry both nodded in reluctant agreement.
"Still, I wish he just kept the spiders –"
Ron had no time to finish his sentence; something at the next table over caught his attention. Midge Smith, one of Phyllis' companions, let out a frightened shriek and began pointing at Phyllis like she had the plague.
"Phyllis, l-look at your fingers!"
Hermione fixed her expression into what she hoped was a polite look of bewilderment, but she knew Phyllis was in the process of turning a very shocking shade of indigo right in front of the entire school. From Hermione's vantage point, she saw Phyllis frantically scrubbing at her forearms.
Her friends were no help; they sat staring at the blonde in complete, utter astonishment. Phyllis let out a loud howl in desperation. She rose violently and looked around, as though the answer to her sudden skin discoloration was hidden somewhere in the Great Hall.
Ron let out a low whistle and Hermione turned to see amazement written across his features. "I hope that's not in the pumpkin juice," he said.
Harry was trying to stifle a chuckle. It was a peculiar sight to behold; the normally well-groomed girl had just become a walking, wailing blueberry. The Hall, which was by then, filled with hungry students, echoed with the angry buzz of at least a thousand voices whispering to each other, pointing their fingers at Phyllis.
"What's that on her forehead?" Harry asked, squinting to read what had appeared on Phyllis' brow. He gasped, hunching down to laugh into his robes. "It says 'slut' right across her face," he hissed to Ron and Hermione.
Hermione's mouth hung open, hoping her look of incredulity was genuine. A tiny pang of guilt hit her as she watched Midge scrounge around her purse for a mirror, finally showing it to Phyllis who promptly burst into tears. Through her angry sniffles and the buzz of everyone talking at once, Hermione heard Phyllis spit out one word: "Malfoy!"
The Head Boy had been staring at the entire scene with a look of genuine shock carved onto his face. Hermione watched him swallow nervously as the plum-coloured girl marched up to him, called him a number of unmentionable names and slapped him hard enough to leave an angry, red mark across his left cheek; Phyllis then ran from the Great Hall, sobbing and clutching at her prune-coloured face.
Ron, Harry and Hermione sat in stunned silence, as the Great Hall rang with the numerous voices of students recounting what had just transpired. The rumor-mongering was just beginning and by the end of the day would culminate in wild and fanciful tales of what may have happened. The twinge of guilt in the pit of Hermione's stomach returned; perhaps it wasn't such a nice thing to have done to Phyllis. 'Of course it wasn't, you silly twit,' a sad, tiny voice issued from within. The girl had never truly done anything to hurt her in any way; she just happened to be the handiest tool Hermione had at the time.
"Violet really is a lovely shade of purple, you know," Ron finally spoke up.
That sent the three into peals of laughter as they picked up their bookbags and headed off to the first class of the day. At the doorway, Hermione turned to look back at Malfoy, who looked dazed but no longer had Pansy hanging onto him. She moved down to the other end of the table, finding the attention of Blaise Zabini more interesting. Blaise looked proud, as though he had won a small battle.
To Hermione's surprise, Malfoy's gaze met her own; it was as if he had felt her eyes on him. His tense face grimaced into a scowl; Hermione couldn't help but shiver. Something told her she had just given herself away to the one person she shouldn't have.
Turning to catch up to the two boys, Hermione deeply sighed. 'That was a nasty thing I did. If karma truly exists, then I'll really be in for it.'
By dinner time, the pebble of guilt inside Hermione's stomach had somehow been charmed into a very large boulder. Whenever she heard someone whispering about the morning's excitement, she scolded offenders, taking a point from each one. However, it wasn't just her prank that put Hermione on edge.
At lunchtime, Ron and Harry were the only ones to sit near her, for many students were afraid of being verbally bawled out by the Head Girl. They ate in heavy silence; Ron and Harry were completely flummoxed by Hermione's displeasure.
To make matters worse, Malfoy managed to corner her soon after the event. She was on her way to the bathroom on the third floor, when he appeared from behind the large statue of Ian the Incorrigible.
Malfoy yelled to a pair of third years behind Hermione, "This hallway is closed. Go around."
The ferocity in the Head Boy's voice was enough to send the girls fleeing without question. Hermione tried to turn and scurry away with the two girls, but Malfoy was too quick for her; he grabbed her large book bag and pulled her against a wall. Alarmed at his aggressiveness, Hermione let out a startled squeak. Her hand immediately went to her pocket to retrieve her wand, but Malfoy was too quick; he pressed his wand against her chin, forcing her head up so she could look him in the eye
"M-Malfoy, what are you doing?" She asked innocently.
He growled back, "You know exactly what I'm doing, you disgusting Mudblood. You did that ... thing to Patricia."
Her eyes darted from side to side; unfortunately, there was no one else in the hallway. 'No one to save me,' she thought frantically. The thought surprised her. She had always thought she was too headstrong to need rescuing, however, now she was at the mercy of Malfoy's anger and it angered her royally that she was acting like a meek, little mouse.
"Her name is Phyllis, you insensitive clod," Hermione intoned acidly. She grabbed his wand hand and pushed it away. "I didn't do anything to her. You obviously did that to the poor girl because you're a heartless bastard looking for a cheap laugh, but it backfired on you and now everyone knows that you're a filthy pig who sleeps with anything that breathes."
As a result Malfoy grew angrier, he pinned her to the wall with both hands, his jaw hardened, which struggled to contain his wrath. A sudden image of him taking that anger out on her froze and terrified Hermione. 'He wouldn't really hit me ... would he?' She couldn't be certain anymore.
"Me? Filthy?" He let out a bitter laugh that drew goosebumps along Hermione's skin. "I was born into a Trueblood family that can be traced back as far as the Dark Ages. I wouldn't sleep with just anything. That's something a common dirt-born like you would do. It's the only way you can keep your repulsive heredity going and if I had it my way you wouldn't be allowed to. You say I sleep with anything that breathes? Please, Granger, I'm not common guttertrash. Phyllis is a Pureblood, a stupid Pureblood, but a Pureblood nonetheless."
Hermione glared back, "It doesn't matter whether she's a Pureblood or Muggle-born. What matters is that you used her."
He cocked an eyebrow. Obviously, from the look he gave her, Malfoy had never heard of the term before. "She came-on to me."
She sighed and rolled her eyes at his senselessness. "That doesn't excuse you from using her."
His hold on Hermione's shoulders had loosened and he no longer looked as furious. His expression was one of confusion. 'Perhaps his conscience is kicking in,' Hermione though derisively.
"I didn't use her," he growled back. He ran a hand threw his hair in frustration. "Your little stunt this morning –"
Before she could deny it again, he stopped her, "- Because I know you did it, I won't be getting any come-on's from anyone for a long time. It's entirely your fault and I intend to make you pay for your mistake."
Despite the pain in the shoulder from Malfoy's grip, Hermione smirked.
'I'll be lucky to survive this week without bruises.'
"That's a damn shame, Malfoy. I suppose it'll just be you and your best friend from now on."
He cocked his head to the side.
"My best friend?"
"You're right-handed, aren't you? Remind me not to borrow a quill for the next couple of weeks." She laughed belligerently. "God knows if you wash it after wanking off."
The cold malice rolled off him like waves. He squeezed even tighter, daring her to scream. They glared at each other, neither one saying a word. The pounding of her heartbeat drowned out any other sounds in the empty hallway. His face was inches from hers as though he was studying her closely like a painting, but she knew he was only trying to intimidate her by invading her personal space. She loathed admitting that his tactic was working.
"Perhaps you're interested in finding out?"
'He must really be sex-starved to be offering.'
"I wouldn't touch your prick with somebody else's hand, Malfoy," she bit out.
A sharp bark of bitter mirth erupted from him, and his face quickly transformed back into his normal sneer. "I wasn't suggesting you join me, Mudblood. I wouldn't be able to wash the stink off me for weeks if I sunk that low."
The jab at her lineage was to be expected, but Hermione couldn't fight back the first angry tears; no matter how much she prepared for them, the common Malfoy jeers always made her feel like she'd come too close to the fire.
Swallowing back the solid lump of hatred, she asked, "Then what were you suggesting." She wasn't going to let him get away without answering. It certainly sounded like he was making a pass at her.
"It's obvious that you have a pathetic, little crush on me," he replied witheringly. "I was only trying to get your hopes up to crush them, of course."
Hermione couldn't stop the look of astonished hurt from escaping.
"I do not have a crush on you!" She cried out shrilly. "I find you absolutely disgusting and –" she wrenched his hand away, stumbling forwards from the wall and past him "- I truly hope you die a gruesome and particularly painful death while serving as ... your father's lapdog."
She had almost said Voldemort, Hermione thanked Merlin she hadn't.
Hermione ran from the hallway as fast as she could, not stopping until she reached the door to her next class. She stood alone in the hallway, doubled over as she tried to catch her breath. With ten minutes left in the lunch-hour, she was the only one waiting for the bell. Milling students occasionally gave her a funny look as they walked by, but no one stopped to question her.
Malfoy's accusation infuriated her; far from being true, Hermione only saw him as a cocky troll whose purpose in life was causing misery and getting laid. Why would she ever be attracted to something like that? She didn't have enough energy in the day to loathe Malfoy, let alone to actually detest and harbor secret desires for him simultaneously.
She would explode from the emotional turmoil, before coming to terms with her feelings.
'Thank Merlin I don't like him, in that case,' she thought, purposely checking her book bag for the one thing that could help ease her frayed nerves.
What she found sent her stomach flying into her throat, which far from soothed her. Her journal was no longer in her book bag. She searched through the heavy tomes and scrolls of parchment within the bag, but could not find the familiar little, burgundy journal. It was missing.
Dropping her bag, Hermione searched the ground, hoping she had dropped it while she was fleeing from Malfoy, but the hallway was empty apart from a few dust bunnies and the occasional crumpled piece of parchment. She grabbed her bag and began running back to the hallway where Malfoy cornered her, scanning the ground for any sign of it. When she reached her destination she found it as empty as it had been before; not a single object lay on the ground.
Her mind reeled with the frantic desire to retrieve her little book. She ran down the hall, in search of Malfoy, hoping very much so that he wasn't the one who found it.
As she scurried down the main stairwell towards the Entrance Hall, she could hear his voice ringing loudly throughout the Hall. To her horror, the worst had occurred; he had found it, and at that moment, he was regaling a large group of Slytherins with the contents of her journal.
Students who were filtering out of the Great Hall towards their afternoon classes turned to her as she bellowed his name savagely, running towards him as fast as she could. He was in the middle of ten Slytherins, all – by the looks of it – wildly amused by his excerpts.
"Oh look, here she comes now," Malfoy announced to the others, grinning wickedly as he looked up from her journal. "Tell us, Granger, is Viktor Krum really that terrible of a kisser?"
Peals of laughter surrounded the mortified Head Girl, but the only person she could see was Malfoy and she desperately wanted to rip that smug expression right off his face and throw it across the Entrance Hall.
She pulled her wand out of her pocket and pointed it at the group of Slytherins.
"Accio journal!" she cried out, holding out her other hand to catch the flying book.
Except Malfoy was clutching it so hard, the force of the spell pulled him along with the journal and he barreled into Hermione, knocking her down and landing right on top of her. The collision surprised both of them and neither knew exactly what to do until the sound of laughing students brought them back to reality. Malfoy assumed his natural sneer of disgust, throwing himself off her as though he were lying in dirt.
Hermione grabbed her journal from his hand while he brushed himself off.
"How dare you?" she shrieked into his face, brandishing the journal like a weapon. "This is my private journal. You have no right –"
"– to mess with your privacy?" Malfoy cut in, "Just like you have no right to mess with mine, right?"
Swallowing the retort, Hermione narrowed her eyes.
"Fair enough," she snarled.
"What is going on here, Mr. Malfoy?" a cool voice came from behind Hermione, causing her to turn.
It was Professor Snape, sidling up to the group of students. He paid no attention to Hermione, which infuriated her even more.
Malfoy smiled up at the Potions Master indulgingly.
"The Head Girl and I thought we'd entertain the students, Professor. A little song-and-dance number -" Malfoy's eyes flickered to Hermione's face "- before class."
Snape gave Malfoy a calculating look over Hermione's head. "I hardly think that is appropriate, Mr. Malfoy. Kindly disperse the crowd and head to your next class, please."
He turned to leave before, yet whipped around once more to add, "5 points from Gryffindor for causing a disturbance, Miss Granger."
Hermione's jaw dropped at his audacity. She was about to argue when she felt a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back gently. She turned to find Ginny Weasley giving her a sympathetic look.
"You know it won't do any good, Hermione," she said. The Head Girl nodded numbly, she couldn't believe how openly biased Snape could be.
"Hermione, what happened?" Harry came bounding down the stairs carrying his bookbag. "Why's everyone out here?"
She let out a bitter laugh. "You just missed Malfoy publicly reading an excerpt from my journal."
Hermione's heart swelled as Harry's expression darkened in anger. No matter what Malfoy did to hurt her, Harry's support always made it feel a bit better. Hermione held him back as he ranted on about the indignity of the stunt and prepared to walk over and beat the snot out of him; knowing her current streak of luck, Snape would still be lurking around and he'd be right there to witness Harry's mad attack on Malfoy.
"Just leave it be, Harry," Hermione said wearily. "It's not worth the effort."
"He deserves pain, Hermione," Harry said.
"Just forget it," she replied, more forcefully and grabbed him by the arm. "Let's get to class. I left my bookbag by the door."
They said goodbye to Ginny and headed back up the stairs towards Professor Binns' History of Magic class.
"How did he get a hold of your journal?"
Hermione shrugged at the question, "We were discussing something in the hallway and I dropped it when I left for my class."
Still looking slightly perturbed, Harry nodded. The feeble excuse seemed enough, though and he asked no more questions.
"Where's Ron?" Hermione asked him quickly, wishing to change the subject and wishing for a really strong memory charm to make her forget the entire day thus far.
"He's uh ..." Hermione could feel his discomfort already. "Well, y'know ..."
She tsked, annoyed at his hesitance.
"With Hannah?"
Harry gulped and nodded slightly, a feeble smile spread across his face.
Hermione rolled her eyes at his reaction. She was perfectly fine with Ron going out with Hannah Abbot. In fact, It didn't affect her in the slightest that he was with her. No matter how many times she told Harry this, he still seemed uncomfortable telling her that Ron was with his girlfriend and it wasn't her.
Sixth year with Ron was fun, Hermione had to admit. He was her first "official" boyfriend, and it was a natural progression that she loved, but their friendship outgrew the romance; both knew they were better off as best friends than lovers and for the sake of their friendship they ended their romance.
Harry, caught in the middle, knew either too little in an effort to distance himself from their romance, or believed that they still carried a torch for each other; therefore, any discussion revolving around another girl or another boy around either one caused him to squirm.
It left Hermione feeling exasperated.
"Oh, for Heaven's sake," she started, "it's been three months, Harry. Please don't worry about us."
He smiled sheepishly behind his round glasses, a slight tinge of embarrassment coming to his cheeks.
Hermione was about to further scold him when Ron came rushing up with Hannah in tow. He was out of breath, from the looks of it having run up several flights of stairs.
"'Mione ... I just heard ... Malfoy ... kill ... prat!"
These were the only words Hermione could decipher from in between his gasps of breath. She peered at him in amusement as he rested his hands on his knees while trying to catch his breath.
Hannah, who had been a few paces behind him, was only slightly winded. She filled in what Ron managed to miss.
"We just heard, Hermione," she said sympathetically, brushing a stray lock of blonde hair from her brow. "Malfoy's a real prat for reading your journal in front of everyone."
A wave of anger rushed through Hermione's head, but she managed to force out a tight smile.
"Thanks Hannah, Ron. I'll deal with him when I get the chance. I'm just glad he didn't read a lot of it," she replied, grateful to have such caring friends.
Ron, having finally righted himself, scowled.
"Just give me five minutes with him and I'll straighten him out for the entire year, I promise you that."
Harry nodded in agreement. "He deserves a good beating, that one," he added.
"Watch what you're saying," Hermione said playfully, "I am a Head Girl after all. I'm just itching to dole out some punishments."
"Even on Prefects?" Ron asked, a grin spreading out across his face as he pointed to his badge.
Hermione cocked an eyebrow, as in 'why of course!'
The door to the classroom swung open, and the class filed in. Ron and Hannah kissed goodbye and he followed Hermione and Harry to the back of the classroom where they always sat.
"Seriously though, you are going to make him pay for that, aren't you?" Ron whispered to Hermione across Harry's desk.
She shrugged casually, arranging her quill and parchment on her desk. "I might," she mumbled.
She looked up to see her two best friends looking slightly perturbed about her nonchalant response.
"It will only turn into a war, really," she explained, under her breath. "No sense in starting something that can only end up badly."
Neither looked convinced and Hermione felt just as flummoxed as they looked. She wasn't sure whether she would retaliate or not, that is even if she had the stones to. That evening she'd have to swallow her pride and speak with him. Malfoy may be an evil prat but perhaps he would listen to a truce.
Neville's excitement rose and fell as though he were on a Muggle Ferris wheel, the kind he managed to convince his grandmother to take him on when he was ten on an afternoon trip to London. He was the last person left in the library that evening, pouring over tomes under the feeble light of the lantern on the table.
His eyes ached and his hand began to cramp from writing so many notes, nevertheless he was finally making some progress in his research. Love potions, Neville found, were incredibly difficult to make, although not impossible.
He would need the assistance of Professor Sprout.
Author's Note: Thank you so much to my betas (again!). You ladies make this so much easier :)
To all of you who have reviewed! Thank you so much :) Especially to the comprehensive reviewers. You are the best of all cause you pinpoint my mistakes so I can learn from them.
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