Disclaimer: Much like the Pacific Ocean, llamas, and this computer, I own none of the Harry Potter characters, but enjoy them nonetheless.
Author's Note: This chapter is a bit shorter than my last couple and for that I am sorry. But, I hope you like it anyway. It is the first day of Christmas Break where I am. Yay!!!!!!! However, I'm also sick. Oh well, take the good with the bad, right? Thank you, all of my reviewers.
dracoluvsme2: danka
Miss Mills: Haha. I think we all confuse ourselves a bit, don't we? I do in this story all the time. Thanks, mwa!
ThousandI: Ah yes, Lucius. He really is quite annoying, isn't he?
In Dreams: I really am working on that transition back into school for them. Thanks for the comment on it.
fdskfgkfgskgf: I gotta say that your pen name is frustrating. Anyway, I'm glad you like it. I really want to know who recommended me.
darkprincess: welcome and thank you
Alenor: Yes, I do feel sorry for Harry. He's definitely the underdog in this story, isn't he?
Sailor Moon Rose: Wow. That was kind of brutal. I read over the last chapter, and, while it wasn't nearly my best work, it surely wasn't as bad as you made it out to be. Maybe I'm being too defensive. Anyway, tell me if you like this one any better.
Chapter 20: Venting Time
Draco took Hermione's hand and pulled her along the rows of books, trying to stay in the shadows and away from Filch. They stilled their breath to almost silent and walked gingerly on the pads of their feet in nervousness. It seemed that Filch would simply stand in the center of the library forever, unmoving and dangerous. Finally, Draco carefully took a book from the nearest shelf and flung it across the aisle, landing in a thud. Draco cupped Hermione's mouth to keep her from screaming from the shock.
Despite the risk, Draco's plan worked and Filch ran to the site of the crash, trailed by Mrs. Norris. Draco and Hermione took their opening and fled the library as quickly as possible, running until they were a floor above, laughing uncontrollably despite their panting for breath.
They took each other's hands and laughed for a moment, still looking towards the hallway from whence they came, praying they were not followed.
"That was close," Hermione said through a suppressed giggle into Draco's chest.
"No kidding." Draco hugged her close to him and they laughed for a bit longer.
"It reminds me of when I was younger… with Harry and Ron. We used to get in trouble like that all the time."
Draco immediately sobered.
"Or just nearly in trouble."
"Yes," Hermione leaned against the wall and gazed up at Draco dreamily, "We did have a knack for getting ourselves out of sticky situations."
"So Hermione," Draco stepped away from her and looked down the hall again, "What about Harry?"
"What about Harry?" she asked, instantly disliking the direction the conversation was heading.
"You are his wife, are you not?"
"Yes," Hermione nodded and shrugged.
"And you will remain so, I assume?"
"What am I to do, Draco?" Hermione asked, returning to her usual headstrong self. "I tried to get an annulment. We asked Dumbledore, but he refused…" he sighed, dwelling on that moment she had first seen Draco back at Hogwarts, "or at the very least advised against it."
"Why would he do that? It seems to me that the staff would hate having two of their students married."
"He doesn't want Harry in the spotlight and the media and the news… and you must admit, the divorce of Harry Potter and a muggle-born in Hogwarts would not be ignored by the press. He just wants to protect him."
"I see." Draco turned and continued down the hallway they were occupying.
"No, you don't," Hermione said, chasing him down and standing in front of him to block the way. "We really tried. It's not that I want to be married to him."
"Hermione," Draco said, taking her arm and pulling her close to him. As he spoke, he brushed the hair beside her face, smoothing its ruffled spots from running. "I have no desire to make you a tainted woman. You have a husband, and we will leave it as this."
"That's not it," Hermione grabbed at his arm and spun him back to face her. "You have no desire for me to remain an 'untainted woman.' The only thing you care about is sharing me with Harry. You would rather not be with me than have something that Harry has as well."
Draco unintentionally staggered back a few paces. She supposed the truth hit hard. What could he say? Nothing, he figured, and so he simply stood there, without saying anything and kept his eyes on an interesting piece of floorboard.
"Draco," Hermione said, disappointment intricately threading her words, "I have never been with Harry and I am certainly not untainted… a different Malfoy did that."
She turned and hastily made her way down the hallway to the portrait of the fat lady, praying that Draco would not follow her. She flung herself into the Common Room, very nearly in tears.
Of course it would only figure that who should be sitting directly before her in the overstuffed couches of the Common Room but Harry and Ron themselves. Forgetting everything else, Hermione fled to her best friends, falling on top of both of them as they tried to stand from the couch.
"Hermione?" they both asked nervously as she began to bitterly cry.
She didn't answer. Instead, she sat nestled between them and exhausted her supply of emotion for the night. Eventually, she looked up to the two of them, turning finally to Harry.
"Harry," she asked, smiling and wiping the last tears from her cheeks.
"Yeah, Hermione?"
"I think we should go to the dance together." Harry and Ron exchanged puzzled glances over her head.
"Why do you think so?" Harry asked hesitantly.
"Because I just think we should," Hermione stood indignantly. "We have to go anyway and why not just go together and accept it already."
Before Harry could answer, Hermione had run past them to the stairs and up to her dormitory. The boys were left more or less speechless.
Ginny and Hermione were in their dormitory the night of February 14 putting the finishing touches on their outfits for the ball. Ginny looked lovely in her dove-gray gown and black cloak, but she knew she had nothing on Hermione that night. It wasn't with jealousy that she saw Hermione, but with a gentle admiration and rapt attention. For as long as she had known her there had never been a time that Hermione had proven such a high caliber of beauty.
Hermione's hair fell in shoulder-length curls that were soft and smooth, only waving until the ends where they curled into soft ringlets. It was held back from her face by a single glistening pin lined with crystals. Her gown fit securely to her voluptuous, but not overly shapely body and it was the color of a deep crimson. The neckline fell in a deep oval, revealing her milky skin and prim collarbone and neck. It was simple, elegant and sexy.
"Alright, Ginny," Hermione said, turning from the mirror, "I guess we'd better get this over with, huh?"
"It's not like some chore, Hermione," Ginny laughed as she hid her wand in the folds of her cloak. "It's supposed to be fun."
"I'm dreading it."
"Don't," Ginny squeezed Hermione's arm, "Just take a break tonight."
"If only." Hermione followed Ginny out the door and down the stairs.
She paused at the bottom of the stairs, unable to take another step. The fear of the crowd, watching her and Harry, rushed into her head and made her light-headed. She did not want it. She wanted to be Hermione Granger again, the star student who was nothing more than friends with everyone. Who didn't get crushes, didn't become irrational, and didn't care what other people thought of her. But she wasn't that person anymore. She had been caught in a limbo of emotions and two minds were at war to claim her. This confusion made her angry, and with that, she marched back up the stairs and flung herself into her room and on the bed.
She sat very still, hating herself for her inability to handle the situation. Suddenly, she thought of Draco. She did not know why his face had entered her head, but she found herself become angrier than she had been already. She suddenly felt a bit nauseous and flopped across the bed on her stomach, stuffing her face in her pillow, trying to rid her thoughts of him.
"Go away!" she shouted into her pillow, furious at her immaturity. "He is gorgeous," she said to herself, "I'll give you that. And he's charming as hell, but he's Draco Malfoy." She sat up.
"He's Draco Malfoy," she said aloud again. "What am I thinking?" She laughed and laid her head back on the pillow. "Draco Malfoy," she repeated again. "The rude, obnoxious, arrogant bastard that made my life a living hell for six years." She laughed again, stunned at herself. "I hate him," she reminded herself. Then, with more conviction, "I hate him."
She became enraged at the thought of him and stood to kick her mattress, the only thing she could think of to satisfy her frustration. Unfortunately, it did nothing but give her a right pain in the toe. She thought for a moment about whether she could go down. The anger directed at Draco had overridden her fear of humiliation. She was about to step out the door when she thought of something that could satisfy her frustration.
She ran back to her bed and lifted the mattress' corner, revealing her journal, still empty as of the last several pages. She fished through her trunk until she found a good quill and inkwell, and sat to write.
Urge neither charity nor shame to me:
Uncharitably with me have you dealt,
And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd.
My charity is outrage, life my shame,-
And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage!
As she wrote the lines furiously the door to her room slowly opened and as she finished this first stanza, she became aware of the presence. She turned quickly, shutting her journal and shoving it under her pillow before realizing it was Ron in the doorway.
"Ron?"
"None other."
"How did you get up here?"
"Ginny carried me on her back."
Hermione let out a burst of laughter, "That girl amazes me."
"I know. She's like an ox."
Hermione laughed again and tried nonchalantly to slide the journal further out of view.
"What's that?" he asked, spotting the journal.
"Oh," Hermione picked up the journal, "This? Nothing, I'm just putting it away," she put it on her trunk and stood. "Let's go, shall we?"
"No, wait," Ron went to her trunk and lifted the journal. "Can I read it?"
Hermione thought for a moment. "I suppose," she said. She figured he wouldn't get it anyway.
He flipped through, skimming the pages briefly before stopping at the last page.
"These are some strong words, my friend."
"They're from King Richard III."
"You know King Richard?"
"Shakespeare, you moron."
Ron nodded, his expression apparent that he had known that from the beginning.
"Sorry," Hermione said quietly. "Seriously, let's go."
"No," Ron said, waving the journal, "Why the anger?"
"It's nothing. Can we drop it?"
"Well, I can tell you that venting your anger through some eloquent poetry will do very little to actually calm you down."
"How do you know? Maybe it will work perfectly."
"No," Ron smiled, "If you really want to get your anger out there, you need to just bash the person it's directed at. Usually, it's safer to do it alone so you don't get beat up afterwards. You can even use Shakespeare if you really want to."
"Okay," Hermione joined Ron on her bed, "How would you use Shakespeare to insult, oh, I don't know, say, Malfoy? I'm assuming your anger is directed at him quite frequently."
"Almost always." Ron thought for a moment, "Okay, Shakespeare insults, let's see…" he turned toward Hermione dramatically and spat, "Eat my knickers, thou goatish onion-eyed boar-pig!"
"Where does he say that?" Hermione snorted at Ron's outburst.
"He doesn't." Ron grinned widely, "It just sounds like something he could say. You try."
Hermione straightened herself before shouting, "Swim with leeches, thou spleeny sheep-biting lewdster!"
"Very nice," Ron laughed, before standing and adding, "and wipe thy ugly face!"
"Ooh," Hermione jumped to her feet, "I have another one."
"Go for it."
"Lead apes in hell, thou droning fen-sucked bladder!"
Ron cheered and jumped on the bed.
"Now you," Hermione said.
"Alright," Ron rubbed his palms together plaintively, "Grow unsightly warts, thou incurable doghearted foot-licker!"
Hermione fell on the bed beside him, holding her stomach from laughter.
"Yes, Ron," Hermione sat up, "that definitely helped."
"Good." Ron stood and helped Hermione to her feet, "You ready to go down now?"
Hermione nodded, wiping the tears from the corner of her eyes, "Yeah, I think so."
"Good," Ron kissed her hand and bowed, offering her his arm. She took it and stepped out onto the stairs only to spill down them because of the effects of Ron being a male.
End Note: Better? Review please.