Disclaimer: I own nothing but my crazy mind. JK Rowling owns the whole 'HP' thing.
Final exams week is FINALLY OVER! Four straight days of test taking are over and I'm so happy! I hope I didn't fail anything.Anyway, here's chapter three.
I lay awake, pondering in my bed, at midnight that night. The lights had been blown out and Crabbe and Goyle were snoring in the beds scattered across the room. I don't know what was keeping my eyes open at that hour. I needed all the sleep I could get.
Leaning against the stone wall, I played with my fingers in the dark. I was dreadfully bored. I rustled around in my sheets, going crazy within the confines of my own mind. My ear picked up something soft, though. It was a whimpering of sorts. Like someone crying.
Squinting, I looked about. No one turned or tossed in their sleep. My dorm mates were unmoving and unconscious. The doglike yips weren't coming from them, thankfully. I shrugged the noise off, guessing it was the pipes of a room upstairs. I laid my head on my pillow once again and shut my eyes.
The noises didn't stop. In fact, they became louder, faded away, and came back, much to my annoyance, mind you. Although I was glad to have an excuse to be awake, the noises were ringing through my head now. I grumbled and climbed out of bed, determined to find the source of the disturbance. I scratched my head, stumbling through the blackness of my bedroom. I left the room and the common room and treaded out into the hallway that shared a wall with the room I had just been in.
Much to my luck, I came upon the Granger girl. I could just make her out in the dimly-lit corridor. She was slumped against my wall, crying into her small hands.
"Granger, you git," I mumbled groggily, coming into clear view, "what in cricket's name are you doing here?" I glared down at her, expecting an answer.
She visibly shook and clambered messily to her feet. Hermione swiped a hand across her red, swollen face and started walking towards the staircase leading to the ground floor. "Nothing," she grumbled on her way, brushing past me gruffly.
"Tsk, tsk," I clucked, "it's after hours, Head Girl, why are you breaking rules?" I grinned wickedly, watching her disappear into the darkness. I truly enjoyed rubbing her worst qualities into her face. I mean, I was still a bit ticked that I was passed over for the position of Head Boy and the title ended up going to Weasel of all the idiots in the world. The Heads aren't supposed to do anything contraband.
Granger was in for it.
I could faintly hear her call, "Shove it," in my direction, but decided it was just the wind. I treaded back to my room and crawled underneath my warm blankets.
Needless to say, I slept wonderfully after that.
I saw Granger later that day in class. She looked the same as she did when she had been crying. Frizzy, bushy hair that still had yet to tame itself, dull blue eyes, rumpled robes, and a red, swollen face. Honestly, if she couldn't control herself, she shouldn't have been in classes at all.
She stared at her hands and notes and fidgeted with her things, not paying any of her attention to Snape, who was boring holes in her forehead with the most utter dislike. He cracked his knuckles and turned away without a word. Why didn't he call on the mouse when she wasn't paying attention, but he did me? I knew I had a better grade than her for the first time in seven years, so why was she getting away with it?
The little suck-up.
A few days later, I found that every night the crying came and went. The Granger girl must've really screwed herself over with Professor Snape to get herself detention for that long. I smiled all the while, knowing she was being a baby. Only children cried when they were punished.
I sat in Transfiguration, watching McGonagall going on and on about transforming a stupid teacup into an even stupider cat. Sunshine shone through the large, gothic windows. The rays created a very sleepy aura throughout the classroom. I was one of the many that fell under its spell. With both my elbows on the table, holding my head up with my hands, I sighed loud enough to attract unwanted attention.
Potter Boy Wonder sat in the seat ahead of me and turned around. He glared silently. I made a face back and motioned with my hand for him to turn around and pay attention to himself. That's the only thing he was really good at in the first place.
Though it was late October, the weather was still nice enough to leave the windows open. Particularly strong winds were blowing today and caused numerous papers to fly about the room. That's why; just as I was closing my eyes, something hit me smack in the face.
Abruptly, I looked about for the perpetrator. Instead, I found that a piece of parchment had drifted from my nose onto the table in front of me. I picked it up, surveyed the blankness of the sheet, and peered around. Granger sat at the table beside me, boring worried holes into my forehead.
"Give that to me," she hissed venomously.
"What," I asked, waving the paper. "This?"
She bobbed her frizzy head. "Yes, give it to me now."
I turned the parchment over, grinning wildly. "Finders keepers," I murmured in response. "Besides, you never said please." On the underside, I found a very fancy font in a standard, formal ink. I had a letter that looked exactly like it. A grade sheet.
The only difference was my paper had the highest marks a student could have - Outstandings, all of them. Hermione, on the other hand, had 'Acceptable' scrawled all the way down her sheet. I raised an eyebrow. Could it be? The Golden Girl? Just acceptable? Just human?
"Nice going," I whispered impiously.
While I reveled in my new found glory, an inkling started buzzing in the back of my mind. How, exactly, could this happen? Hermione Granger was every teacher's best dream. Now, here she sat beside me, barely passing? Even I knew she wasn't that much of an idiot. I figured she was lowering her standards for the Weasel brute. Half the school knew Weasel King had been the object of her affections ever since fourth year. This just proved that if a person is foolish enough, they'll do anything for love.
What bullocks.
Before I even managed a laugh, the parchment was snatched out of my hands. "Don't you ever look at my things again," Beaver-teeth hissed again. She was blushing furiously, busying herself with organizing her folders. She squirmed underneath my gaze, trying to avoid my questioning eyes.
I managed a quick peek at her arm. There was a hideous black and green bruise covering the upper part of her forearm. I opened my mouth to call it to attention, but Granger must've noticed my staring and harshly shoved the material of her robe over the length of her exposed flesh.
"Mr. Malfoy," a prim voice rang out. "Please, divert your attention up here, if you can manage."
"Yes, Professor McGonagall," I sighed.
I heard the cries outside my bedroom walls that night. It had fallen into a regular routine. By that night, I hardly opened a lid. It still disturbed me the fact that she was crying, but I found it so unimportant I would not rise from my bed. What sort of trouble could she be enduring anyway? She missed an extra credit point?
Thanks so much to: trapped-in-a-dream, The Lady of the 4leafed Clover, the fallen always falls, Monday mornings, and Lily. You guys are great reviewers!
I'm sorry, but I can't tell you what's going on with Hermione! It's coming in later chapters. I have it all planned out. Suspensful, no? Hee hee hee.
Yours awesomely, Katie
