PART FIVE
Within
Malfoy pressed his left hand to his closed eyes and gritted his teeth. This was not good at all. Even as he was sitting here at the side bench of the Quidditch field under the shelter in the pouring rain, he still couldn't quite figure it out. It was still lingering in his thoughts, confusing him, haunting him, making him lose concentration.
He sighed and gripped the handle of his Light Year Twenty Ten more tightly in his right hand, leaning back against the wall. He looked up at the blackened sky, as a flash of lightning momentarily illuminated it. Moments later, the thunder followed. Just great. The start of Quidditch season and it was already raining.
But even with this thought, he still couldn't bring himself to be distracted. Because recently, there was only one thought that was always on his mind.
Hermione Granger.
He knew he'd made a big mistake when he softened up to her the night of their last detention. Sure, it was alright to laugh at her; he was always doing that. But that night, that laughter he'd shown somehow didn't seem to be intended as an insult for once. It almost seemed as if…he was laughing with her. And he didn't know why. Maybe because he thought she was really funny, or maybe because he was probably too sleepy and too tired to think straight. Okay, so there was definitely a logical explanation to that.
But having a mud fight with her? That was totally absurd. He couldn't imagine himself to have actually done that. And to have actually enjoyed it. Was he out of his mind?
That, and the fact that he'd assured her he was going to see her at the session the next day, was out of his understanding. So he dismissed it all as the effect of fatigue or something. But that very night, in the middle of his regular nightmares, when he was beginning to sweat once again and his cut was beginning to hurt, her image popped into his mind all of a sudden. And surprisingly, he felt…well…safe. It was like it gave him peace.
Of course, this was only temporary, but it had made him feel good, even for a short while. And this, he couldn't decipher at all. He lay awake again that night, the thought confusing him. And he instantly remembered that she had been worried about his wound when they were out there on the fields. The question was, why?
Why was she so worried all of a sudden? Why did she care at all about her sworn enemy? Why was she concerned about his injury when she was supposed to be jumping for joy that he was hurt?
All these disturbing thoughts had obsessed him all throughout his waking hours, and when he'd arrived at the study earlier than she had the next day, he had lain on the couch, thinking, trying to figure out what the heck had happened to Granger's brain overnight. She hadn't even acted normal when she came in, and he'd decided to make the first move of putting things back to the way they were before the whole 'mud' incident. He'd made a rude comment on her, and had expected her to snap back just like before, but instead, she had kept quiet and had even been concerned enough to ask him if he knew how to pass the quiz McGonagall had given.
It was sheer lunacy.
And so he'd tried to give distance between the two of them for a while, but that didn't really last for long. By the end of the day, he knew he had to answer the test sooner or later, and there was no other way to do that but to ask for her help. Approaching her was his only option. She'd been a little bitchy about it—that was normal, at least—but then when they reached the study, she'd gotten all serious and concerned. There were no pranks, no comebacks, no practical jokes. It almost seemed like she was really determined to help him pass. Somehow, she'd made it clear to him that she was doing this for his sake, not because the school asked her to. That was just plain weird. Barking mad, that was what she was.
Of course, that wasn't what he was thinking of at that time. He was grateful, yes, but he would be a complete idiot if he were to show it. He'd kept his usual obnoxious attitude, but she hadn't seemed to mind. On the contrary, the more he'd tried to annoy her, the more she'd seemed to care for him. It was disturbing and he didn't like it at all, except at the near end of the session, when she'd reached for the book on the floor beside him and across from her, and her left breast had accidentally and very slightly brushed against his shoulder. He remembered that he had swallowed heavily and had tried not to notice when she'd immediately leaned back into her seat, flushing like it was the fourth of July.
He had to admit; Granger had really grown over the years. She was not half that bad, and there was definitely some potential in her, if only she weren't so absorbed in her books and, of course, a Mudblood.
Still, despite that, he really didn't feel any attraction to her—no, none at all. He wasn't mesmerized by her looks, or petrified at her touch, or whatever it was that love struck people were experiencing. He just simply found it weird for her to suddenly change the way she treated him. She was always concerned. And just this morning, she'd shown that concern again. Even when he'd acted all cold and offensive, she hadn't seemed to notice.
But the thing that freaked him out the most, was that the thought of Granger always seemed to have this…calming effect on him. At night during his nightmares, during the day whenever he was pissed, in bed whenever his wound hurt and during classes whenever he was bored. The thought of her was almost…comfortable.
And it was confusing him more than anyone could ever know. Because of this, he couldn't even get started on his next and final task, which was already long overdue.
He was snapped out of his reverie when his teammates poured out from the locker rooms and made their way towards him under the shelter. He stood up from the bench he was sitting on and tried to clear off any thoughts of Granger, at least for now.
"Ready for practice?" His Keeper, Shawn Peregrine, nodded towards the Quidditch field.
"You bet," he replied, looking around at his team. "You all know what to do, right? Just follow what I explained a while back."
He was answered by "yeahs" and "okays" and a "let's do it", and soon they all shuffled out into the field, under the heavy rain. He watched as six green robes began mounting brooms, and just when he was about to mount his, he spotted a red robe walking out into the field as well from afar.
He frowned and clenched his fist, as he made his way towards the red robe. Even in the distance, he knew exactly who it was.
"Potter!" he shouted as he reached him. "What the hell do you think you're doing? The Slytherin team is practicing tonight!"
Harry glared back at him. "I don't think so, Malfoy. You know perfectly well that Gryffindor practices at exactly this time of the night! Your schedule is supposed to be after ours!"
"Oh, and since when did we have a schedule?" he snapped sarcastically. "I could've sworn Madam Hooch allowed us to practice whenever we wanted to."
"Come off it, Malfoy! Do you honestly want us to suddenly barge into your practices if you were in my shoes?" Harry answered angrily.
"Isn't that what you're doing now?"
"This is our field tonight!"
"I can't delay the practice tonight!" Malfoy said. Because if I postpone any later…I won't make it to the session…He shook his head, cursing himself for wanting to attend the stupid tutorial. "So you'll just have to deal with us sharing your space, okay Potter? Or is your ego too big to fit two teams here at once?"
Harry merely glared at him again and headed for the locker rooms, where his team was waiting for him. Malfoy smirked and returned to the field.
"What did the 'Saint' want?" one of his Beaters, Eric Polansky, asked, gripping his club tightly.
"He's whining about his pathetic team's schedule," Malfoy answered, mounting his broom as well. "Forget him; just think of it this way—we'll be having target practice tonight."
The rest of the team sniggered, and soon all seven robes were speeding high into the air, tossing heavy Muggle bowling balls at each other. It had been Chaser Madeline Brown, taking up Muggle Studies, who suggested to Malfoy that they use the bowling balls as replacement for the Quaffles, because the heavier the balls, the more difficult it was to throw them, which meant it would be excellent for training. And ever since Malfoy had become team captain in their fifth year, they had been alternating with the Gryffindors in winning the Quidditch Cup. But this year though, Malfoy was determined to win the Cup no matter what.
He soared through the air, shaking his damp bangs out of his eyes as he reached out and caught the small plastic ball he'd bewitched to fly, and when he squinted down he spotted seven red robes making their way out into the field as well. He smirked. This was going to be fun.
Soon, the Gryffindors were zooming here and there too, and Malfoy grinned again as he watched his teammates swerving and flying in their way. He jerked up a bit in surprise though, when all of a sudden Harry stopped short in front of him, wearing the best frown Malfoy had ever seen.
"Tell your ruddy team to stop interfering with our practice! My team can't do anything, for crying out loud!" he said in fury.
"Oh, really?" Malfoy sneered. "Guess your team's no good after all, eh, Potter?" He threw the small plastic ball into the air and caught it again, enjoying the priceless look on Harry's infuriated face. "Tell you what, Saint Potter. Since I'm feeling a tad bit generous tonight, I'll cut an agreement with you. If you manage to catch this 'Snitch' before I do, then I'll lay off your practice space, and your practice time. Deal?"
Harry didn't seem to need telling twice. "Deal."
"I must warn you, though; I don't think your rusty Firebolt can catch up to my Light Year." Malfoy snickered and threw the plastic ball, watching as it flew away. He turned to Harry. "One—two—three—"
And they sped off. All the people on the broomsticks immediately moved out of the way as a dash of red and green broke through the rain and into the dark night, swerving and zooming at exactly the same pace. But soon, the green haze was starting to gain more speed.
"What's the matter, Potter? Your Firebolt's sentimental value is losing its touch?" Malfoy taunted, as he watched Harry disappearing farther and farther behind him. He grinned. He could sense Harry speeding up behind him at his words, but still he knew he was no match for him.
Up ahead, he could see the faint outline of the small ball zigzagging away, down, down, lower down near the ground, and a flash of lightning told him he was near. Very near. Potter was going to have to lose his practice space.
He smirked again and reached out. He was almost there—he could see it—it was coming closer—and closer—
Until he caught a glimpse of bushy brown hair emerge into the sheltered benches. And in a split second, he could no longer feel his broomstick beneath him. All he could feel was the aching pain on his neck and on his back.
He realized he'd lost his balance and fallen flat on the ground.
His eyes caught seven green blurs swoop down on him at once, and a red one stop right in front of him. He shook his head and tried to clear his eyesight, thankful that he hadn't been flying high.
He slowly sat up and met the worried gaze of his team members, and he reached for his neck and groaned. It hurt, but it wasn't so bad. Instantly, he saw Harry make a move towards him. "Malfoy, are you—"
"Shut up, Potter." He tried to stand up and he picked up his broom. "Practice is over."
One by one, his teammates started making their way back to the lockers, still stealing worried glances at him. He knew they didn't want to finish up for the night yet, but having worked with them for years, he knew no one would protest. He was captain, and no one dared to oppose him.
He turned his back on Harry and began heading back to the lockers as well, but not before glancing at the benches again. And he was right. Hermione Granger, accompanied by the weasel, was right there, probably watching Boy Wonder's alleged Quidditch skills.
He cursed as he realized that he found this disturbing—the fact that she was out here in the rain just to watch the practice of Scarhead. He glanced at her again, and saw that she was staring at him. Him, not Mr. Fame-philic. He frowned menacingly, and she immediately turned red and looked away, then began running out into the rain with Weasley to meet up with their friend.
Damn that Granger, he thought irritably. She just graciously made me lose my focus!
And he had no idea why.
***
He ran his hand through his wet hair again, annoyed that it hadn't dried off while he was changing out of his Quidditch robes a while back in the lockers. All the way from the field, to the showers, and to the study, he couldn't seem to get his mind off her, and the irritating way she'd distracted him. All that thinking was really starting to get to him, and his brain was pretty stressed out.
Too bad he felt obliged to attend tonight's session and wear his brain out some more.
"Nickel Knacks," he muttered exhaustedly, and stepped into the study. He stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he looked up from the floor.
Granger was sitting on the carpeted floor by the fireplace, her back to him, the flickering of the fire reflecting on her long, brown locks, which were pushed to one side of her neck and were all gently resting on one shoulder. In her hand was a brush, and Malfoy found himself staring at the way she combed her straight, wet hair stroke by stroke.
For some unknown reason, he felt like it was the most breathtaking sight he'd ever seen.
He swallowed heavily and felt his face get hot, but at the same time wanted to smack himself. What the hell was he thinking?
He cleared his throat to make his presence known, and she immediately jerked up in surprise. Hadn't she heard him say the password outside?
She scrambled away from the fire and flipped her damp hair behind her shoulders anxiously, then walked to the table and sat down. He followed and sat down across from her.
"Sorry; I…didn't hear you come in," she said apologetically. "Are you ready to start? Or do you need to rest for a while?"
There she goes again with the bloody concern, he frowned. "I do not need to rest. For your information, that fall didn't hurt a bit," he lied. Plus it was your fault anyway, he added inwardly.
"Okay…" she replied uncertainly. "You're sure you're not—"
"I'm positive, okay?" he cut in irately. "What the hell do you care, anyway?"
He intended it as more of a statement than a question, and he wanted to end the conversation at that. But she answered him, to his surprise, and it was another answer he could never understand.
"I just care," she replied. "Is there anything wrong with that?"
And this sparked the impatience in him. "Yes! Yes, it's wrong, in case you haven't noticed! You care too much all of a sudden and it's not right!"
Again, she looked hurt. "I never knew there was something wrong about caring for someone."
"There isn't, but in this case, there is." He sighed. "So stop it, Granger. I hate it."
He hoped for her to say something more, to defend her answer or to simply say "shut up" like she always did, but she merely kept quiet and stopped making conversation for the remainder of the night, except when she was explaining something.
Malfoy, though he didn't want to admit it, wished more than anything that he hadn't said what he did.
***
I didn't feel too good that night. Perhaps the rain had gotten to my head. Luckily there were no visions that came my way. But as I lay awake in my bed, staring at the ceiling, I couldn't help but ponder on everything I had seen so far. Slytherin and Gryffindor were definitely involved. Red eyes, green light, screams and blood? Only one thought may be attributed to that. It most probably concerned the Dark Lord, Voldemort. But the blond hair…where had it come from? And the forest…that I couldn't quite place. What was with the sixth serpent, and the terrifying new power that would rise again…?
Hey, it's me again! I'm really, really, REALLY sorry for taking so long to upload…I was kind of pretty busy lately, and then there was the camping and all…and yes, my bones do ache and I'm soooooo tired from all the training stuff! Anyway, my point is that I haven't been getting enough spare time for myself so it took me a while to upload…sorry talaga:D But once again, thank you sooooooooo much for those who reviewed!!! Those reviews were what kept me going. Thanks a lot, and please don't stop filling me in on what you think of my work:D Thanks so much!