[A/N: Dear Buddha, I am so sorry that I didn't update. Please, blame my current Slytherin mood. I have recently been writing Slytherin fanfics and cursing some other fanfics that made Pansy, Lucius, Narcissa, Bellatrix, Snape, or Draco look bad. My apologies. Lack of inspiration hardly happens to me, but I just read a few Draco/Hermione fanfictions lately (which will probably be completely irrelevant to this story) and just had to continue this one. Plus all the reviews I have received. smirks Yeah, I am a bit obsessed over those Snape/Hermione fanfictions, they are just so good! Completely edgy. Sorry, off topic again. Here's the long awaited chapter]
Chapter IX
The only noise that could be detected, was Hermione's soft breathing as she entered the kitchen, staring around at everyone. Her deep brown eyes gazing over all the faces filled with emotions that were relevant to shock.
Wordlessly, Hermione swept to the seat at the farthest end of the table. Everyone else had seated themselves in the light, leaving six empty chairs in the dark, and she had decided to take one of them.
Chatter finally broke out as Molly set a plate in front of Hermione, who slowly began to eat, glancing up at everyone occasionally. She did not feel good, after the reality shock that had hit her very roughly, she suddenly felt weary. Her limbs felt weak, her mind was groggy, and she had gone temporarily blind and deaf.
Minutes crept by, until dinner was over, and Hermione absently got up from her seat and headed back upstairs. She hardly noticed the hand on her arm, until it an alarm went off in her head. Telling her that she was going to be attacked again.
Hermione jerked her arm from the grip and whipped around. Harry stood in front of her, behind him were Ron and Ginny, frowns evident on their faces.
"Are you okay?"
His voice was shaky, as if he couldn't trust himself to actually speak. She didn't trust him either.
"What do you suppose?" Hermione snapped irritably, before continuing up.
The hand grabbed her arm again. The alarm went off as well, telling her to run, that they were going to make her bleed again. Inside and out.
"Leave me alone!" Hermione screamed, taking her arm away in fright.
Without giving them a chance to retort, Hermione ran up the stairs, as fast as she could. Ginny blocked the door, leaving Hermione in a state of shock.
"Hermione, we need to talk to you," Harry coaxed, trying to reassure her.
"We could have done that a long time ago! But, you didn't believe me then, why should I believe you now?" Hermione spat at them sarcastically, giving a bitter laugh.
"Your not okay," Ron told her calmly.
"Of course I am," a twisted smile crossed her lips, her sarcasm still tainting her words. "I mean, I lost a dreadful amount of blood, I suffered trauma... twice! I even got pushed around by people I thought cared about me! Why would I not be fine?"
"We're sorry," Ginny sighed.
"Those were the exact words of Draco Malfoy. So I assume I should believe it then?" Hermione backed away from them, until she was leaning against the railing of the staircase.
"We didn't mean it," Ron pleaded, taking a small step towards her.
"Of course you did!" Hermione laughed again. A cruel, bitter and cold laugh that seemed to echo repeatedly off the walls. "I am, after all, a stuck up prude. I am the know-it-all who bossed you guys around! Not spending my time on sports instead of school, gods I must be a moron!"
"No your not," Harry said.
"Leave me the hell alone! I am sick of how your, all of a sudden, the caring best friends that stick by me. Who love me for who I am, not what everyone assumes I've done. Just goes to show you how great I am at finding friends!" Hermione pushed them away from her as she headed to her room.
Opening the door, she looked back at them, eyes glistening with forming tears.
"By the way, after my parents died, the only hope I actually had was that you three would bring me back up like you always did. Guess Malfoy got a say in that, eh?" Hermione whispered, before slamming the door shut, and falling onto her bed in a fit of sobs.
VVVVVVVVVVVV
Days passed, and still, no one dared to enter her room. Harry, Ron, and Ginny would walk by, glancing at the door in guilt. The other occupants were too frightened by what they would find. The adults had found out about Hermione's old nasty habit, and they would make Remus sniff the air with his werewolf senses to detect blood.
Inside the room was another story, Hermione sat against the wardrobe by the mirror, looking through the letters she had found in the box earlier on.
"Did she ever talk to you?" she asked the mirror.
"No, Bellatrix was too busy reading Dark Arts books to converse with me."
"Hmm," Hermione sighed, ignoring the stiff tone in the mirror's voice.
She began to unconsciously twirl a black strand of hair around her finger, her eyes sweeping over the room.
"That makeup you've been practicing with has really made you look gorgeous!" the mirror gushed, changing the subject once again.
Hermione ignored the mirror once more as she stood up and crossed the room, running her fingers over the walls as if searching for something.
Suddenly, a loud crack sprang in the room, making Hermione jump a few feet from the ground. Turning toward the offending sound, she was immediately greeted by the twins.
"Why am I not surprised?" Hermione asked the heavens.
"I see you've missed us," Fred grinned.
"So, what's it like to live in one room? We want to be able to understand the concept when we move into an apartment," George explained.
"I have developed a phobia for closed spaces," she shrugged.
"A better mood, too," Fred noted with a brisk nod.
"Not to be rude or anything, but why are you in my room?" Hermione inquired.
"Everyone misses you," George stated knowingly.
"Even Snape," Fred added with a disgusted look.
"Really?" Hermione gasped, a little too dramatically.
"How interesting, Fred," George mused.
"Very," Fred nodded.
"As you have seen. I'm not exactly in the mood-"
"Hermione!" George shrieked, in a very femine like tone.
"Whatever gave you the idea that we wanted you, in the mood?" Fred looked at her, appalled.
"I give up," Hermione groaned, slumping down onto the floor.
She was, no doubt, cheered up by the twins' logic, but they did tend to annoy her at times.
"We'll see you at dinner," Fred told her with a pat on the back.
"Dress lovely," George gave a sly wink, before disapparating after his brother.
"Was that your boyfriend?" the mirror asked suspiciously.
Hermione groaned again, being depressed was so much easier.
VVVVVVVVVVVV
Hermione, to her own complete and utter surprise, left the room that night, smoothing out the clothes that she had sadistically stolen from Bellatrix. She had to admit that she adored the blood-lustful witch's taste in old-fashioned clothing.
The torch on the wall made her pale skin glow and contrast in comparison to her dark eyes and hair, she paid no attention to the portraits of dark mages that looked at her in "unusual" interest. Letting out a large sigh, Hermione made her way down the stairs, focusing her mind on books, a topic that would probably help her through the night.
Licking her unhealthily dry lips, she entered the originally lively kitchen, to suddenly find it silenced. The lack of sound pained her, because it just made her feel even more out of place, and she didn't want that. Taking a deep breath, Hermione took a seat between Fred and Remus, in the light.
A plate was set before her with shaky hands, and she immediately began to eat, just noticing how empty her stomach was. She received a few stares, as she practically stuffed her self in an un-feminine like way.
Conversations were slowly brought back again, to which Hermione was quite grateful, and no one continued to stare at her. Fred turned to Hermione, nudging her playfully.
"Decided to listen to the twins, eh?" he teased, giving her a wink.
"I suppose so," she couldn't suppress the faint grin that made its way onto her face.
"No one can resist our good looks and charm," Fred smirked, making Hermione laugh in a barely audible chuckle.
"Feeling better?"
"Completely, thanks Fred."
Fred gasped melodramatically. "I am astounded Miss Granger!"
A few people glanced their way, eyebrows raised and curiosity written clearly on their faces. Someone had actually managed to cheer Hermione up. That was obviously a rare feat.
"Astounded by what? The difference between you and your brother is completely evident," Hermione chirped in a playful sarcastic tone, most unlike the one she had used on her (ex) best friends.
Fred smiled and shook his head good naturedly. "You have nothing on me, Granger."
"Try me," Hermione narrowed her eyes in mock determination.
Eyes around the table widened as the neighborhood Gryffindor know-it-all, prude, strict, stiff, depressed, unable to be cheered up, and untrustful Hermione Granger engaged herself in a sword fight (using breadsticks) with our lovable and local prankster, troublemaker, cheerful and outgoing Fred Weasley.
VVVVVVVVVVVV
Draco Malfoy sat on the couch in his own person living room, which was built beside his bedroom, holding a drink that looked suspiciously like liquor. He rolled his head to soothe his stiff neck, groaning in exasperation for the hundredth time.
He did not notice the door open on his right.
Pansy Parkinson, quite a pretty girl depsite her snobbish features with long dark brown hair, hazel eyes and a small petite form, entered the room. She stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, thin lips turned downward in a clear frown. It worried her when Draco was down, which was quite a rarity because he was a spoiled brat.
"Draco, what has possibly made you so depressed?" she inquired, taking a seat beside him and glancing between the drink and him.
"Nothing," he mumbled incoherently, but her, being the friend that she was, clearly understood his words.
"Granger, right? You were obviously mad when we made those comments the other day," Pansy told him.
"So?" Draco bit back irritably, jerking away from the arm set around his shoulders.
"Draco, I know when you like somebody. You liked me during our first four years at Hogwarts," Pansy shrugged.
Draco glared at her.
"Sorry I brought that up," she lifted her hands in defense.
"I don't like her. I obviously helped Potter and Weasley, didn't I?"
"Yes, and then a little emotion called remorse came prancing your way."
"You are way too unusual," Draco muttered, setting the glass down on the table in front of him.
"And I plan to stay that way," she smirked.
"Besides, even if I did like her... which I don't!" Draco added abruptly, causing Pansy's smirk to grow. "She hates me now, I was a complete jerk and asshole."
"You got that right and spot on."
Draco chose to ignore her last comment. "God, did you know she slapped me when I tried to apologize? I hardly ever apologize!"
"Drac-"
"And you should have seen the hurt and loathing in those beautiful brown eyes," Draco began to gush.
"Dra-"
"She hates me so much and I had the daftness to mess up when she actually was okay with me!"
"Oh God," Pansy began to promptly bang her head against the table, trying to block out Draco's new and less improved fluffy personality.
"I mean, I have liked her since the Yule Ball for Merlin's sake!"
"That was pretty obvious," she muttered, rolling her eyes, her companion had surely lost his sanity.
"And then, I went and started a rumor about her sleeping with me and continuing to be cruel when she needed someone most! And then, when she told me her parents were dead, I just died!"
"Draco!" Pansy screeched, said boy stopped yammering and turned to her in surprise.
"If you love her so much, why don't you do something instead of blabbering like a Hufflepuff-ish fool?"
Draco looked offended for a few seconds, then his gray eyes lit up with an idea, he leapt out of the room and locked himself in the confines of his bedroom. Pansy sighed, wondering who had possibly corrupted the young man.
[A/N: Finally, the end of the chapter. I wasn't much in a depressed mood when I wrote this, so I hope it amuses you]
Chapter IX
The only noise that could be detected, was Hermione's soft breathing as she entered the kitchen, staring around at everyone. Her deep brown eyes gazing over all the faces filled with emotions that were relevant to shock.
Wordlessly, Hermione swept to the seat at the farthest end of the table. Everyone else had seated themselves in the light, leaving six empty chairs in the dark, and she had decided to take one of them.
Chatter finally broke out as Molly set a plate in front of Hermione, who slowly began to eat, glancing up at everyone occasionally. She did not feel good, after the reality shock that had hit her very roughly, she suddenly felt weary. Her limbs felt weak, her mind was groggy, and she had gone temporarily blind and deaf.
Minutes crept by, until dinner was over, and Hermione absently got up from her seat and headed back upstairs. She hardly noticed the hand on her arm, until it an alarm went off in her head. Telling her that she was going to be attacked again.
Hermione jerked her arm from the grip and whipped around. Harry stood in front of her, behind him were Ron and Ginny, frowns evident on their faces.
"Are you okay?"
His voice was shaky, as if he couldn't trust himself to actually speak. She didn't trust him either.
"What do you suppose?" Hermione snapped irritably, before continuing up.
The hand grabbed her arm again. The alarm went off as well, telling her to run, that they were going to make her bleed again. Inside and out.
"Leave me alone!" Hermione screamed, taking her arm away in fright.
Without giving them a chance to retort, Hermione ran up the stairs, as fast as she could. Ginny blocked the door, leaving Hermione in a state of shock.
"Hermione, we need to talk to you," Harry coaxed, trying to reassure her.
"We could have done that a long time ago! But, you didn't believe me then, why should I believe you now?" Hermione spat at them sarcastically, giving a bitter laugh.
"Your not okay," Ron told her calmly.
"Of course I am," a twisted smile crossed her lips, her sarcasm still tainting her words. "I mean, I lost a dreadful amount of blood, I suffered trauma... twice! I even got pushed around by people I thought cared about me! Why would I not be fine?"
"We're sorry," Ginny sighed.
"Those were the exact words of Draco Malfoy. So I assume I should believe it then?" Hermione backed away from them, until she was leaning against the railing of the staircase.
"We didn't mean it," Ron pleaded, taking a small step towards her.
"Of course you did!" Hermione laughed again. A cruel, bitter and cold laugh that seemed to echo repeatedly off the walls. "I am, after all, a stuck up prude. I am the know-it-all who bossed you guys around! Not spending my time on sports instead of school, gods I must be a moron!"
"No your not," Harry said.
"Leave me the hell alone! I am sick of how your, all of a sudden, the caring best friends that stick by me. Who love me for who I am, not what everyone assumes I've done. Just goes to show you how great I am at finding friends!" Hermione pushed them away from her as she headed to her room.
Opening the door, she looked back at them, eyes glistening with forming tears.
"By the way, after my parents died, the only hope I actually had was that you three would bring me back up like you always did. Guess Malfoy got a say in that, eh?" Hermione whispered, before slamming the door shut, and falling onto her bed in a fit of sobs.
VVVVVVVVVVVV
Days passed, and still, no one dared to enter her room. Harry, Ron, and Ginny would walk by, glancing at the door in guilt. The other occupants were too frightened by what they would find. The adults had found out about Hermione's old nasty habit, and they would make Remus sniff the air with his werewolf senses to detect blood.
Inside the room was another story, Hermione sat against the wardrobe by the mirror, looking through the letters she had found in the box earlier on.
"Did she ever talk to you?" she asked the mirror.
"No, Bellatrix was too busy reading Dark Arts books to converse with me."
"Hmm," Hermione sighed, ignoring the stiff tone in the mirror's voice.
She began to unconsciously twirl a black strand of hair around her finger, her eyes sweeping over the room.
"That makeup you've been practicing with has really made you look gorgeous!" the mirror gushed, changing the subject once again.
Hermione ignored the mirror once more as she stood up and crossed the room, running her fingers over the walls as if searching for something.
Suddenly, a loud crack sprang in the room, making Hermione jump a few feet from the ground. Turning toward the offending sound, she was immediately greeted by the twins.
"Why am I not surprised?" Hermione asked the heavens.
"I see you've missed us," Fred grinned.
"So, what's it like to live in one room? We want to be able to understand the concept when we move into an apartment," George explained.
"I have developed a phobia for closed spaces," she shrugged.
"A better mood, too," Fred noted with a brisk nod.
"Not to be rude or anything, but why are you in my room?" Hermione inquired.
"Everyone misses you," George stated knowingly.
"Even Snape," Fred added with a disgusted look.
"Really?" Hermione gasped, a little too dramatically.
"How interesting, Fred," George mused.
"Very," Fred nodded.
"As you have seen. I'm not exactly in the mood-"
"Hermione!" George shrieked, in a very femine like tone.
"Whatever gave you the idea that we wanted you, in the mood?" Fred looked at her, appalled.
"I give up," Hermione groaned, slumping down onto the floor.
She was, no doubt, cheered up by the twins' logic, but they did tend to annoy her at times.
"We'll see you at dinner," Fred told her with a pat on the back.
"Dress lovely," George gave a sly wink, before disapparating after his brother.
"Was that your boyfriend?" the mirror asked suspiciously.
Hermione groaned again, being depressed was so much easier.
VVVVVVVVVVVV
Hermione, to her own complete and utter surprise, left the room that night, smoothing out the clothes that she had sadistically stolen from Bellatrix. She had to admit that she adored the blood-lustful witch's taste in old-fashioned clothing.
The torch on the wall made her pale skin glow and contrast in comparison to her dark eyes and hair, she paid no attention to the portraits of dark mages that looked at her in "unusual" interest. Letting out a large sigh, Hermione made her way down the stairs, focusing her mind on books, a topic that would probably help her through the night.
Licking her unhealthily dry lips, she entered the originally lively kitchen, to suddenly find it silenced. The lack of sound pained her, because it just made her feel even more out of place, and she didn't want that. Taking a deep breath, Hermione took a seat between Fred and Remus, in the light.
A plate was set before her with shaky hands, and she immediately began to eat, just noticing how empty her stomach was. She received a few stares, as she practically stuffed her self in an un-feminine like way.
Conversations were slowly brought back again, to which Hermione was quite grateful, and no one continued to stare at her. Fred turned to Hermione, nudging her playfully.
"Decided to listen to the twins, eh?" he teased, giving her a wink.
"I suppose so," she couldn't suppress the faint grin that made its way onto her face.
"No one can resist our good looks and charm," Fred smirked, making Hermione laugh in a barely audible chuckle.
"Feeling better?"
"Completely, thanks Fred."
Fred gasped melodramatically. "I am astounded Miss Granger!"
A few people glanced their way, eyebrows raised and curiosity written clearly on their faces. Someone had actually managed to cheer Hermione up. That was obviously a rare feat.
"Astounded by what? The difference between you and your brother is completely evident," Hermione chirped in a playful sarcastic tone, most unlike the one she had used on her (ex) best friends.
Fred smiled and shook his head good naturedly. "You have nothing on me, Granger."
"Try me," Hermione narrowed her eyes in mock determination.
Eyes around the table widened as the neighborhood Gryffindor know-it-all, prude, strict, stiff, depressed, unable to be cheered up, and untrustful Hermione Granger engaged herself in a sword fight (using breadsticks) with our lovable and local prankster, troublemaker, cheerful and outgoing Fred Weasley.
VVVVVVVVVVVV
Draco Malfoy sat on the couch in his own person living room, which was built beside his bedroom, holding a drink that looked suspiciously like liquor. He rolled his head to soothe his stiff neck, groaning in exasperation for the hundredth time.
He did not notice the door open on his right.
Pansy Parkinson, quite a pretty girl depsite her snobbish features with long dark brown hair, hazel eyes and a small petite form, entered the room. She stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, thin lips turned downward in a clear frown. It worried her when Draco was down, which was quite a rarity because he was a spoiled brat.
"Draco, what has possibly made you so depressed?" she inquired, taking a seat beside him and glancing between the drink and him.
"Nothing," he mumbled incoherently, but her, being the friend that she was, clearly understood his words.
"Granger, right? You were obviously mad when we made those comments the other day," Pansy told him.
"So?" Draco bit back irritably, jerking away from the arm set around his shoulders.
"Draco, I know when you like somebody. You liked me during our first four years at Hogwarts," Pansy shrugged.
Draco glared at her.
"Sorry I brought that up," she lifted her hands in defense.
"I don't like her. I obviously helped Potter and Weasley, didn't I?"
"Yes, and then a little emotion called remorse came prancing your way."
"You are way too unusual," Draco muttered, setting the glass down on the table in front of him.
"And I plan to stay that way," she smirked.
"Besides, even if I did like her... which I don't!" Draco added abruptly, causing Pansy's smirk to grow. "She hates me now, I was a complete jerk and asshole."
"You got that right and spot on."
Draco chose to ignore her last comment. "God, did you know she slapped me when I tried to apologize? I hardly ever apologize!"
"Drac-"
"And you should have seen the hurt and loathing in those beautiful brown eyes," Draco began to gush.
"Dra-"
"She hates me so much and I had the daftness to mess up when she actually was okay with me!"
"Oh God," Pansy began to promptly bang her head against the table, trying to block out Draco's new and less improved fluffy personality.
"I mean, I have liked her since the Yule Ball for Merlin's sake!"
"That was pretty obvious," she muttered, rolling her eyes, her companion had surely lost his sanity.
"And then, I went and started a rumor about her sleeping with me and continuing to be cruel when she needed someone most! And then, when she told me her parents were dead, I just died!"
"Draco!" Pansy screeched, said boy stopped yammering and turned to her in surprise.
"If you love her so much, why don't you do something instead of blabbering like a Hufflepuff-ish fool?"
Draco looked offended for a few seconds, then his gray eyes lit up with an idea, he leapt out of the room and locked himself in the confines of his bedroom. Pansy sighed, wondering who had possibly corrupted the young man.
[A/N: Finally, the end of the chapter. I wasn't much in a depressed mood when I wrote this, so I hope it amuses you]