Losing Sleep
By DistinctVagueness
Chapter 3
Hermione drummed her quill in an impatient rhythm against the desk as she flicked through her fifth year Transfiguration notes. She frowned. She had been sure there was something here about facial characteristics but on a second check, it appeared she had left them in the dormitory. Annoyed with herself for leaving such important lesson notes (she'd scribbled McGonagall's every word down on the subject) in the tower, she got up and went over to the bookshelves.
She began to run a finger along the spines and murmured to herself as she did so, trying to find the right book. Finally she came to the book that would help her, pulling it out and finding the right page. Hermione brought it to the desk and after checking Madame Pince was nowhere to be seen, passed a piece of blank parchment over the page, using her wand to whisper 'exemplaris'. Slowly text appeared, accompanied by a picture of the various stages of kitten-into-mouse. She smiled and put the book back, holding a perfect copy of the page. Studying over for the night, she tucked it between her pages of notes and left the library.
Hermione felt satisfied with herself; it was only February and she was soaring ahead of her revision plan. In a week or so, she'd start revising sixth year easily.
Hermione glanced at her watch and hurried her steps. She had five minutes until she was due to start that night's corridor duty. She reached the portrait hole soon enough and climbed in quickly.
Ron and Harry were sitting by the fire, feigning interest as Lavender read their horoscopes.
"…Sorrow is in store for you this week as Mars--oh, Hermione…" Lavender acknowledged her rather neutrally. Hermione suspected it was to do with an overloud comment she'd made to Ginny about Divination being for fluff-brained witches the other day.
Hermione gave her a small smile before turning to Ron and Harry. "I'm just going to leave my stuff here while I go on duty- will you make sure nobody moves them?"
Ron nodded but rolled his eyes at the stack of papers Hermione placed on the table.
"See you later."
Hermione rushed out of the portrait hole and down towards the entrance hall. She straightened her robes and made sure her hair was in some sort of order as she went down the stairs.
Draco was waiting for her.
"Granger," he said, coolly. His platinum hair was slicked back neatly and his blue eyes passed over her noncommittally, taking in her hasty arrival.
"Malfoy," she answered, keeping her tone level. His expression remained.
"I thought we'd head down to the dungeons first. If you want to check around the Potions classroom, I'm just going to have a word with Snape."
"Why?" she asked, curiosity aroused.
"Must you ask questions, Granger?" Draco started walking towards the dungeons. Hermione hesitated and then followed him down the steps.
They walked slowly in silence, listening for footsteps or telltale giggles. There was many a broom cupboard down here and it was rare that they weren't made useful.
Hermione pulled her thin robes around her shoulders as the wintry air of the dungeons crept up on her. She glanced over to Draco and assumed he must be used to the temperature. He was staring ahead, his eyes scanning the darkness. She noticed now just now tall he was. Not broad, but not wiry like Harry was. He was sturdily built and lean, with chiselled cheekbones and a colourless countenance.
Awkwardly, Hermione made an attempt at conversation.
"Have you started studying for the N.E.W.T's yet?" She knew it sounded feeble the second the words left her mouth but it seemed as good as anything else to say. What else was there? Hey Draco, visited your father in Azkaban lately?
He turned to her, his pallid features shining eerily in the candlelight. At first he looked suspicious. Then he answered.
"No."
Hermione resisted the urge to groan. She'd taken the initiative, the least he could do was respond a little more encouragingly.
"The exams are months off."
Hermione glanced up at him. He was looking at her with one eyebrow raised.
"You sound like Ron," she told him without thinking. Draco stopped and practically stared at her. Then he resumed walking.
"Never compare me to a Weasley again, Granger."
Hermione shook her head. "There's been animosity between you two since we started here. I don't understand it now- lately you've been so…" she sighed. "What do you really have against him?"
Draco didn't answer her.
"Fine," she answered. "Look, there's Professor Snape's office. I'll meet you back here in ten minutes."
Draco nodded curtly.
"And for future reference? My name isn't 'Granger'. I grant it's an improvement on what you used to call me, but I generally go by Hermione."
The Slytherin didn't say a word but his expression didn't look mocking as it might have done in the past. It was observant, even curious.
"I won't be long." He knocked on Snape's door. There was an 'Enter!' and Draco stepped inside. Hermione watched the closed door for a few seconds before wandering off down the corridor.
-
"Good evening, sir."
Snape looked up from his desk. "What's so good about it, Mr Malfoy?"
"Point taken." Draco looked his godfather up and down critically. "I spoke to my father this morning. He told me there was…a gathering last night."
"I wouldn't mourn not receiving an invitation if I were you," answered Snape dryly. He stood up to slide the book he had been reading back into his bookcase.
"He also told me the Dark Lord wasn't particularly happy with you."
"Did he now?"
"Severus-"
"-Professor Snape," broke in the older Slytherin with a warning glance before pulling some papers from a drawer.
"Professor Snape, how bad was it?"
Snape stopped moving about the room and turned to face his godson.
"I sincerely hope this war is won before you are required to join me in the Dark Lord's clutches. Tell me, did your father say anything else?"
Draco nodded. Snape saw his jaw clench slightly. "He told me that I must declare my allegiance to the Dark Lord by the time I leave Hogwarts. He accepts that I cannot attend the usual gatherings, or be branded yet, but he says I will be called before him soon, within a few months."
Snape sat back down and bridged his hands thoughtfully. "Then you need to be prepared. You won't be given another warning. The Dark Lord punished me for my lack of information regarding Dumbledore last night. Your father will be killed if they discover his son's lack of faith."
"Hasn't been the first time I've felt my father would shove me down the river to save his own neck." Draco gave a short, forced laugh.
His Head of House closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "Tell me- what has our world come to? When fathers can sentence their sons to a life of cruelty, to deceit...to pain." Snape regarded his godson seriously. "You must tell me when Lucius contacts you, or anyone else for that matter. Don't discuss this with Crabbe or Goyle- you'll end up sorely regretting it. Keep in line, act yourself. Promise me you will, Draco."
Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm not an idiot. I'm not about to shout this from the rooftops."
"Draco." The caveat in Snape's black eyes was grim. The message was clear. They were in this together now. If Draco slipped up, he was on his own. The younger Slytherin knew full well that Snape was trying to fulfil some mission, and though he also knew his godfather cared about his safety, he realised there was something bigger than him at stake.
"I swear."
Snape scrutinised him briefly and then seemed to relax. "You are on duty tonight aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Then go and do your job." Snape returned to his desk, his back turned to Draco.
"Goodnight sir."
-
Draco had barely stepped out of the office when he caught sight of Hermione leaning against the opposite wall, hardly recognisable in the darkness.
"How long have you been waiting?" he asked, his hackles immediately up.
"Five minutes or so," she answered, standing up straight
"You said you'd be ten," he said staring hard at her.
Hermione frowned. What was he so worried about? "I checked the dungeons and everything's fine. I didn't see the point in dawdling when I didn't need to."
Draco was still watching her suspiciously and she began to feel a little unnerved. What had made him so apprehensive?
"I think we should check the grounds and the Quidditch pitch. There's been a few people out there this week and Hagrid is away so he can't keep an eye out." She avoided his searching blue eyes warily.
"Let's go."
-
As they strolled across the path by the lake, Hermione glanced across the surface as a large tentacle emerged. She had hoped perhaps to catch a glimpse of Professor Snape, thinking there was a chance that he had been putting on a brave front in class. She couldn't explain it, but since she'd seen him the night before, the undisputable jeopardy he was constantly in had jolted her. Had there been worse injuries? Had he been close to death? Was there anyone who cared?
Of course there was, she admonished herself. She'd seen the quiet exchanges between the Headmaster and Snape at Grimmauld Place, unmistakeable concern written plainly in Dumbledore's eyes and Snape pushing it away without even speaking.
Ron's parents always had a supportive word for him as well. They admitted they didn't see eye to eye with the sullen Professor, but they couldn't make him any more welcome if he arrived at the Order or the Burrow. Molly Weasley never failed to offer him a place at the dinner table, even though he rudely reclined each time. Both she and Arthur quickly reproved their children if a bad word was said about him.
"He's done a great deal for you and this Order, most that you will never know about, and until you can properly understand that, I will not hear another unkind word about him."
Mrs. Weasley was right. Hermione didn't know all Snape had done and after seeing him in such a way, she wasn't sure that she wanted to
-
Draco glanced around the Quidditch pitch, looking carefully for any signs of students out when they shouldn't be. The vast stadium was blissfully peaceful, a slight breeze blowing through the grass. A perfect night for flight, he thought. He closed his eyes for a second at the notion of soaring above the stands, executing perfect twists and turns beneath the sparse clouds, the glowing orb peeking through them.
If anyone was asked what Draco Malfoy's dream career would be, there was bound to be numerous answers, mostly relating to the Dark Arts and such.
He knew it was a typical occupational dream of many young wizards, but Draco Malfoy wanted to fly. He didn't care if it was Quidditch or any other sport, art, activity, anything.
If he ever escaped from this stifling world of prejudice, death and fear, (in other words, his father) Draco Malfoy was going to leap on his broomstick and fly far away. Not to 'never return', he had too many scores to settle for that, but to get away from it all. To attempt to experience some semblance of what it was to be free. Maybe even happy.
The Head Girl strolled slowly and silently beside him, her bushy hair blowing slightly in the wind. Tonight had been odd. She had made an attempt at conversation that was bound to fail before it started, but then given up. Unlike before, when she had continued until they said goodnight. Her dark eyes were occupied tonight, thoughtful.
It was strange, but Draco had never before this year considered that she might make a good companion for this job. When he'd been made Head Boy, he'd accepted that he had to be civil- what point was there rebelling against his father's wishes if he did otherwise? –and cease his old comments and nicknames.
In the first month of seventh year, he'd been confronted by Potter and Weasley who attempted to be intimidating and told his in clear terms that if he said an unkind word to Hermione, they'd 'deal with him'.
So he'd made an attempt and was surprised to find that it was relatively easy. Hermione had been polite from the start, seemingly forgetting the past six years. Draco suspected she'd made some sort of promise with herself too. How like Granger. No, he corrected himself mentally. How like…Hermione.
The name sounded strange in his head.
"Yes?" asked the girl at his side, looking startled.
Apparently it sounded strange from his tongue also.
"Er…nothing." Well, that was suave.
Hermione stopped and looked at him thoughtfully. "Are you sure?" she asked.
Draco came to a halt, and looked back at her, feeling slightly taken aback. Putting aside her courteousness, he'd never expected her to sound like she actually cared.
"You asked me to call you Hermione."
She raised her eyebrows. "Yes, I did."
"Why?"
"I find it less offensive than Mudblood," she offered wryly. As he started walking again, she reached out and grabbed his arm. Draco turned quickly and wrenched his arm from her grasp.
"Look," she said looking pained. "I don't see any reason we should refer to each other by our surnames. You're perfectly welcome to call me 'Granger' if you're uncomfortable with 'Hermione', but I would prefer it."
The Gryffindor shrugged at his non-reply. "Just a suggestion." She began to walk on, looking resigned.
"Then you must call me by my name also," he called from behind her. "Hermione."
As she turned, Draco was bestowed upon with something he had never received from her before.
A smile.
-
As Hermione reached the verge of wakefulness, she kicked off the covers, feeling hot and uncomfortable in her old flannel pyjamas. Quickly, the cold air of the dormitory hit her and she sat up, yawning widely. Slowly she opened her eyes and blinked at the time displayed on her little alarm clock. Five thirty.
She'd had a different one last year, a specially charmed one but Parvati had threatened to throw both it and her out of the window if its yelling at five in the morning disturbed her dreams again. The poor, disillusioned alarm clock had no qualms about rising at dawn. Its owner's roommates however, voiced their displeasure at full volume. Now she had a sensible, Muggle-style alarm clock and she had to agree it was infinitely preferable.
She pulled herself out of bed and padded down to the girls' bathroom. After a swift shower, taming her hair and pulling on her school robes, Hermione headed downstairs to the vacant common room.
The fire had long since burnt out and the charred remains were left in the grate, sure to be replaced by blazing flames after dinner. She went to sit down, and took her notes from where she'd left them the night before and forgotten.
It became evident within five minutes of what had woken her up. The way Draco had been the night before was still lingering in her mind. If there was one person who she knew so little about, there was easily another. Though she didn't like to admit it, she was concerned for Professor Snape. She hadn't told a soul except Ginny, of course, but the guilt had started to creep in. If something more serious had befallen Snape and she had not told anyone… Hermione bit her lip. She had to know if he was truly all right or not, despite what quandaries she had about approaching the situation.
Decided, Hermione nodded absently to herself. She would visit Professor Snape tonight.
A/N: The amount of reviews I've received for just two chapters has really thrown me. It means more than you know that you spent the time to tell me your thoughts. Thank you.
Strega-in-progress- Oh, he will remember, he will just have to be 'reminded'. I like you name by the way- I'm assuming you've read Pawn To Queen? Thanks for reviewing.
Isobel L- You found it hilarious? Smiles I've never been found hilarious before. Thank you!
Lizard Queen 1- Yes, that's exactly how I like him. Glad you liked Ginny in that chapter. Thanks for reviewing.
M'cha Araem- Glad you like my penname : ) Grammatically correct? Nah. I just like being masochistic with my user names. Amazing story? Eek. I'll try, I promise you. Thanks for your review.
Note: This has also been posted on Lordandladysnape.net, a fantastic Hermione/Severus library, which quality checks fics, so you can check it out there instead if you wish to.
DistinctVagueness