Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any other related thematic elements by JK Rowling.
I'll Never Tell
"Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy. Would you care to explain to me why you have come so far behind in your lesson planning?" Professor McGonagall peered over her tiny new golden rimmed spectacles from behind her desk after Advanced Transfiguration. "Your students have been complaining that lately your lessons have seemed relatively boring and unplanned." Hermione and Draco were sitting in the two desks closest to the front and center, looking rather guilty. It was Hermione that spoke first.
"We've both been really busy, with the detention and all, and Malfoy is finding to be very...difficult...to get together with," she explained about the fact that even though Malfoy was being nice to her in private, he was still completely indifferent towards her in the halls.
"Listen," she said, sighing. "I feel that I have no other choice now but to schedule a mandatory lesson-planning session for you two. I didn't think it would be so hard for you to get along, but now that I know it is, I'm just going to have to interfere." She was clearly disappointed, and directed her speech mainly towards Hermione.
"No!" she said breathily. "Professor...Malfoy and I just...can't find a good time. It's not like we're fighting, we're actually getting along fine," she defended, looking at him sternly and willing him to look compliant. Why did I say that? She asked herself.
"Will wonders never cease!" she said in a lofty tone. "I'm still going to schedule this for you. I will inform you of the time after class tomorrow, I'll have to think about it. Good day." Draco and Hermione nodded resolutely, and left together until the fork in the corridor in which Draco turned to go to his dormitory, and Hermione left towards the Great Hall for a quick lunch with her friends. It was only after a few minutes after she sat down when she received a letter.
The letter was sealed with a green wax seal of the Malfoy crest, just like every letter Draco had ever sent her. This one asked her to meet him in the disused storage closet on the third floor that night at 9 o'clock. Sighing, she wrote a quick reply back, concealing it from her fellow Gryffindors, wondering what on earth he wanted to meet her for. In truth, she really didn't want to go. She had loads of homework she needed to get started on, and felt that the dark circles that had begun to form under her eyes needed ridding of. However, it seemed that she was not going to get the sleep she longed for tonight. She got up and headed towards the owlery.
.....
Laying in bed and staring blankly off into space, Hermione felt completely exhausted. It took all her energy not to fall asleep then and there, and it became ironic how lying down and doing nothing could have such a draining effect. Nine o'clock slowly neared, and she grudgingly pulled on her winter cloak and crept downstairs. She didn't have Harry's invisibility cloak, and therefore needed to be extra careful. After re- reading the note, she began to make her way towards the third floor. Despite the fact that she was exhausted, sneaking around after hours gave her a rebellious, adrenaline rushed feeling that she was actually beginning to become fond of.
Soon, the storage room door was directly in front of her, and she was gripping the knob, twisting it slowly.
Draco was already in the room, sitting on a wooden chair so dusty that it looked like it would be soft as worn leather. He was wearing just a plain black outfit and, surprisingly, he looked wide awake.
"You're actually on time, I noticed," he said with a smirk creeping across his face.
Laughing a little, Hermione sat down on a stool in the corner and removed her cloak. "Yes, so did I. What's this all about anyway?" she asked, because it was a question that had been nagging at her all evening. She stared at him, waiting, noticing how long it was taking him to form his answer.
"Well," he began slowly, "I thought we should get together to sort of...help each other out. You know, with us not being able to plan our lessons, or get our own work done for that matter," he said. "And I know that McGonagall started that whole bloody planning session, but I was thinking that we could get our own homework done together. I mean, we're at the top of almost all the same classes, so..."
"I get what you're saying, but why do you want to meet after hours and...in here? It's a bit er...cramped."
"Do you really want to be seen with me during hours? Just imagine what Potter and Weasley would say," he told her. A shadow of his old nature was kicking in, like the way he used Harry and Ron's surnames with a distinct accent on the two words, almost spitting them out like they were painful to speak.
Hermione nodded acceptingly. "Er...no. I see your point. So... where do you want to start? I'm exhausted, so I'll only work for a while," she said.
"How about Ancient Runes, then, that essay is killing me," Draco said. "Oh and...here, I brought us something to drink," He handed her a dark glass bottle. "It's from the manor."
"Thanks," Hermione said, accepting the drink, and noticing that the bottle was unmarked except for a flowing script running around the bottom, in a Slavic language she did not recognize. It tasted very good, all the same, tingly like mint at first, but honey-sweet in the aftertaste. "Ancient Runes, it is."
Hours later...
"Draco! Hey! That's not fair!" Hermione giggled. He had playfully stolen her bag and begun to copy her potions notes. "Give me yours, then!" She had been joking around with him nearly the whole evening, as if they were old friends, but the whole time she knew in the back of her mind that for him it was simply an act, and nothing more. It had just felt so easy to talk to him, and she was sure that the influence of sleep-deprivation and whatever was in that drink were also causing her to act so differently. She wasn't stupid.
"You? Cheat? Never," he mocked, continuing to copy. "Gryffindors don't do that, remember? You are moral and law-abiding citizens who enjoy sucking all the fun out of life, which is why at this particular moment you are absolutely stunning me."
"Excuse me, but we aren't exactly saints, if that's what you're implying. Gryffindors are action while Slytherins are all talk," she said, standing up to go reclaim her bag, but not breaking eye-contact with Draco. Suddenly she let out a shriek, and tripped on a pen lying on the floor.
Before she had time to react, she was falling over towards Draco who, thankfully, reached out to stop her from landing straight onto an old supply rack.
"Hey, you could have ruined my homework!" he said, holding her arms while she steadily regained her balance.
"Ruined your homework? You're homework. And you call me obsessed. Ha! I bet that the Slytherins are probably just like the Gryffindors, when there's nobody around to try to impress," she said huffily.
"Calm down, I was only joking, Hermione. Technically, it's your homework, anyway. But why does everybody seem to feel like they have to be just like the Gryffindors and not the Slytherins? Not that everybody is good enough to be like a Slytherin, I mean. Take Potter for instance, he is doomed to be pathetically faultless for the rest of his life," Draco declared. "And you too. You're way too—hey! What're you doing?" he asked. Hermione had been leaning over him to grab another drink.
"You don't mind, do you? These are really good..." she asked, her words beginning to slur together.
"Well, actually, you might not want to...er..."
"And what do you mean I'm not good enough to be in Slytherin?" she said, ignoring him and giggling even harder. She sunk onto his lap with an "Oof". Their homework fell on the floor crumpled, and she grabbed his shoulder to steady herself. Her eyes were fogged with exhaustion and her mind was spinning. She wasn't thinking clearly. "Not that I would ever try to—want to...er...be. No offense, I mean...but I could..." she trailed off, and before Draco had time to collect himself, she had kissed him. Ok, never mind. She wasn't just not thinking clearly, she wasn't thinking at all.
It was completely over in a matter of seconds, but Hermione had actually done it. Completely in shock, Draco had just sat there, his lips completely un-responsive. Hermione, who had acted solely impulse in what was merely an attempt to show Draco down, immediately knew she had gone too far.
"Oh my God. Draco. Malfoy. Tell me RIGHT NOW what was in those drinks..."she demanded, before everything went black.
.....
Hermione woke up the next morning to the sound of metal clanging against glass. As she opened her eyes and squinted to see what was going on, the light flooding in through the windows pierced her eyes and set off fireworks of pain inside her head. She was in the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey was standing by her, mixing a yellow smoking elixir. It was late morning."Sit up, now," she said. "Careful...not too fast, not too fast! Drink this," she said as she handed Hermione the warm glass. She gulped it down quickly and immediately felt relief to her throbbing head. "Now what's this all about, Miss Granger?" she asked. "Draco Malfoy carried you down here at quarter of six this morning looking half-dead! He told me that you must had have drunken some bad juice, because apparently you passed right out!" Madam Pomfrey gazed fixedly at her, hands on her hips, looking very stern.
Oh God. Draco Malfoy. The storage closet. The homework. The jokes...the flirting. The kiss. Oh God, Hermione thought. She began to panic as all the memories of the previous night flooded back and hit her.
Madame Pomfrey spoke again, more sternly this time. She must have noticed the fear on Hermione's face. "But...that story doesn't fit your symptoms. There is no poison! So how could this be? I don't mean to suspect the worst of you, but is there anything that Mr. Malfoy may have...left out of his story? Something you might know?" This was strange of Madame Pomfrey, she was usually one to not ask questions.
"No! No, that's really all. I mean, don't know what was IN the juice though," she lied. "So that must be the reason. 'Bad juice' doesn't necessarily mean 'poisoned' juice, does it?" Hermione prayed that the pathetic story was believable.
"This is all very curious, Miss Granger. Very curious indeed..." Pomfrey said, but Hermione barely heard her, because she was drifting off into a dreamless sleep.
That evening, Hermione had been resting, drifting in and out of light sleep, when somebody walked in. She could tell by the shock of black hair in dire need of a trim that it was Harry. She had always loved Harry's hair, so black that it looked like every individual strand had been dipped in ink, and if you touched it, the color would rub off on your fingers and never come off.
"Hey 'Mione," he said. "I brought you your potions homework."
"Oh, thanks. Where's Ron?" she asked. They always visited her together whenever she wound up in the hospital wing.
"He hasn't told you?"
"Told me what?" she asked, confused.
"He went to ask Casey Brisette out. She's from Ravenclaw," he said. He almost looked like he was bracing himself for an outburst from Hermione, as if she would disapprove.
"Oh..." she said, blinking, and taking a minute to think. "I didn't even know that he liked her. Had he told you?"
"No, just this morning. Now that you mention it though, that is a little weird, isn't it?" he said, and reached up and brushed his hair out of his eyes. They both sat in silence for a few minutes. Around her friends, silence seemed comforting, but around Draco it was the most perfect expression of scorn, Hermione thought. She asked Harry to describe the girl to her.
"She hasn't been in any of my classes, but I think she's a fifth year. Er...she's got brown hair, and she's pretty thin, and..."
"You've just described about 100 girls so far, Harry."
"Well Ron told me that she's really funny, too."
"50 girls..."
"You know what? I'll just point her out to you instead. How about that?"
"I think that would be a much better idea," Hermione said, and smiled.
"You'll be back tonight, right?" Harry asked.
"Probably, I feel fine. But don't you have quidditch practice today? It's seven o'clock," Hermione said. She was always on top of things. Only, she couldn't say that about the previous night.
"Oh, Angelina is going to kill me, now. Gotta go!" he said quickly, and ran out.
"Bye, Harry."
.....
Somebody was poking her arm. Hermione was reluctant to open her eyes, and tried to ignore it. She hoped that whoever it was would go away. But they didn't, and the poking only got harder and more insistent.
"Ouch! What?" Hermione finally snapped irritably. She was taken aback by who was standing in front of her. She had expected it to be Ron, or Lavender and Parvati, or even Madame Pomfrey. She definitely wasn't ready to see...Malfoy. He raised his eyebrows at her. "What?" she said again. She was in a very bad mood, but couldn't put her finger on the reason.
Draco tilted his head to the side in an observing manner. "You're cute when you sleep," he said. Wait a second, there. He had already played his joke—he poisoned her. Shouldn't he have been acting like his old self again?
"What?" Hermione asked for the third time, feeling stupid now.
"Although...that looks like it might hurt," he said, and pointed to her right hand which was completely bent flat against her forearm and lying at her head. But she always slept like that.
"And your point is...?" she said. 'Why am I being so mean?' she asked herself. Hermione noticed that she didn't want to be friendly with him. It was like she needed to compensate for the way she acted the night before by being hostile and indifferent. He didn't seem to notice, and it felt unfair.
"I just wanted to see how you were. You were in a state last night," he said.
"Yeah, a state of unconsciousness," Hermione answered sarcastically, eyes blazing. "And yet, you didn't bring me to the hospital wing until quarter of six in the morning! Then, you decide to make up some ridiculous story for Madame Pomfrey instead of telling her the truth, which is that you gave me a poisoned drink! If you expect me to forget about it and act like your friend or something, you are so very wrong," she said. It felt good to get all her emotion out.
"You didn't seem to mind the drinks last night," he said, clearly talking about when she had kissed him. "And they weren't poisoned, they were alcoholic. I thought you had known that."
"I DIDN'T! All I know, is that—"she stopped talking for a second, and tried to calm herself down. She counted to ten. "No...you know what? I am really tired. I am also not in the mood to talk to you, or even look at you for that matter. So if it's not too much of a problem for you, leave, shut the door on your way out."
Draco was taken aback. Maybe it was some weird side-effect of the medicine that was putting her in such a foul mood, but that was unlikely. It was just that Draco was so positively infuriating that she just could not stand to be near him. The mixture of annoyance, rage, and embarrassment was making her want to simply crawl under the covers and block the world out. So she did.
Before Draco left, he stood and hovered by her bed for a few seconds. Then, she heard the door shut, and was immersed once again in dreamless sleep.
.........................................
A/N: Thank you so much for reviewing so far! And please, if there's anything grammatically incorrect or something doesn't seem to fit or work in with the story, or if a character seems off, anything like that, tell me! I'm in to constructive critcism...anything to make the story better. Also...is there any way to edit a chapter once it's been uploaded?