DISCLAIMER ~ I own nowt but the baby.
THANKS TO ~ Draco is the man (god, you make me laugh. I'd just uploaded the 4th chapter and about 5 minutes later a review from you came up!) ~ Corn Dawg ~ Lux-soap (thanks for that great review!) ~ Weasel Girl, Misao ~ and anyone else who reviews chapter 4 after I upload this chapter.
WARNING ~ a little bit of swearing in this one.
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Chapter Five ~ Three Good Samaritans
At first Draco could see nothing. All was black and silent. Maybe the world had ended. Maybe he was dead. If this was the afterlife then he could go and find his father. But no - Hell was riddled with demons and fire. This place was dead and empty. Like his soul. He felt cold upon the hard flagstones, and wished he could be in a soft bed. Suddenly out of the darkness he saw three shapes, like brightly coloured snakes weaving through the gloom towards him. He tried to scramble away but he couldn't.
As they drew nearer he recognised them as scarves, all in the Gryffindor colours. They came closer and two wrapped themselves around his legs and the other around his shoulders. He must be dreaming. Without warning the scarves lifted him up gently and began to carry him away. Draco didn't know what to do or think; in truth he didn't really want to do or think, as he felt terrible. His head pounded and in his mouth he could taste the metallic tang of blood. His ribs ached and he found it hard to breath. He coughed and writhed slightly in the scarves' grip and the one supporting his shoulders brushed delicately over his face in a caring style. Draco never knew how friendly scarves could be.
As he traveled through the shadows of his dream world many bizarre shapes loomed out and leered at him. Everything was contorted as though he was submerged in flowing water, making the odd shapes even worse. Sneering trolls and goblins fashioned from stone emerged out of nowhere, the shadows dancing dramatically on their ugly features. Copious amounts of other scarves drifted by, some in the colours of Ravenclaw, others in Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, but the scarves that were striped in his colours hung around him, flitting back and forth as they moved on.
Soon, or what seemed an eternity to Draco, a glowing radiance shimmered up ahead. It grew like the rising sun, gold and warm. The three scarves of Gryffindor took up to it, and held him there before it. With a great roaring whoosh a mighty wing swept out from the golden glow and came down. As it came closer it appeared to Draco that the scarf was covered in newspaper, and when even closer he saw that the feathers themselves were marked in such a way that they held a great likeness to newspaper. It read but one word all over: "Hospital". The word was printed on the wing in the many sizes and fonts used in actual newspapers.
Draco's eyes widened. He certainly hoped that this was all a dream; he wasn't sure if he could live in a world of living scarves and newspaper wings. To his great surprise the wing descend swiftly, stretching out towards him. Great warm gusts of wind blew over him, as though a giant being was breathing on him. The scarves held him higher and allowed the wing to scoop him up. Draco felt drowsy and comfortable as he was pulled into the heated glow. Feeling safe he let himself drift into sleep, if that was possible inside a dream world, but then anything was possible in a dream world.
The matron looked down upon the battered lad, and sighed.
'You say he fell down the stairs?'
Harry and Ron nodded vigourously; Hermione just stared into space.
'He has two broken ribs, and by carrying him here I'm afraid you've worsened their state, though he probably would've stopped breathing if you hadn't brought him to me when you did. He also has a broken nose - severe bruising on his back and face - are you *sure* he fell down the stairs? Did you actually *see* him fall down the stairs?'
The two Gryffindor boys stuttered in their replies but Hermione cut through them, loud and defined.
'No. We didn't actually *see* him fall down the stairs, but when we found him he was sprawled across the bottom of the staircase, so we assumed that he had fallen.'
The matron nodded slowly, Hermione saw the doubt and disbelief in her face and eyes. She glanced at Harry and Ron, seeing their own bruises.
'What happened to you two then?'
Ron blanched beneath his freckles. Harry quickly thought up a suitable answer.
'Quidditch practice, er, teaching Ron to cope with the Bludgers. Hasn't quiet got the hang of those fast dodges. . .'
The matron then glanced around at all the other faces, all the Slytherins. There was only half a dozen or so, crowded around the bed on which Draco Malfoy lay unconscious, all black and blue, smeared with blood here and there. She exhaled noisily before shooing them all away. Just as the Trio was heading out of the door Madame Pomfrey called out,
'You three will wait here while I fetch Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape,' and with that she left the ward at a brisk pace, her heels clipping smartly.
'What a fine load of dandy shit we've got ourselves into this time!' growled Ron, crossing his arms and sitting on a chair.
'Why did we even bother to bring him?' Harry asked Hermione angrily. 'Why couldn't we have just left him?'
Hermione scowled, goaded by their stupidity.
'Because he would have died!'
'Hurrah -'
'Shut up Ron, you insensitive carrot-top!'
Ron gasped in shock, Harry snorted. Hermione narrowed her eyes at the pair; they could be so tactless and dense at times.
'You heard what the matron said! "He probably would've stopped breathing if you hadn't brought him to me when you did!" Are you two completely brainless or what?'
'She's got a point you know, Ron,' piped up Harry, finally beginning to see things from Hermione's aspect.
'So? One less Death Eater for everyone to worry about, isn't it?'
The others shifted from foot to foot.
'*He's* got a point you know, Hermione,' said Harry.
'Oh, be quiet.' She turned to look upon Draco, laid out on the bed, oblivious to their argument over him. Within the nets of sleep he looked a cocktail of descriptions that would never suit a Death Eater. Innocent, harmless - and angelic in a way. He seemed young and yet old, in the way that he lay with his head turned on the pillow, his lips slightly parted and breathing deeply and rhythmically, then his pallid and sunken cheeks, now bruised and scratched made him look an age beyond his years. He was so skinny. He can't have eaten for days.
Ron watched Hermione staring down on the seemingly lifeless form of Malfoy, but he couldn't read her face. Was it pity? Curiosity? Then a terrible thought hit him; was it adoration? Perhaps she was attracted to him, drawn to him in her compassion, only to become blind to what he really was and only seeing what was not there, a poor and helpless boy. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her extend a hand towards Malfoy. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry staring at her too. She reached out for his left sleeve and pulled it back to reveal the inside of his forearm. It bore nothing but a purple bruise. Hermione sighed.
Just then footsteps entered the room, and all whipped around to see the three professors and the matron striding towards them. The heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin flanked the Headmaster, who glided placidly with his fingertips meeting in a knowing manner. McGonagall looked somewhat irked, though Snape was visibly livid.
'WHAT HAVE YOU DONE POTTER!' he bellowed.
'Now, now, Severus. . .' said Dumbledore.
'YOU DID IT! YOU PUSHED HIM DOWN THOSE STAIRS!'
He turned sharply to face the Headmaster.
'Sir, I would see it fit if these three were expelled - or strictly punished! Strictly, I say!'
'Severus Snape, calm yourself!' cried McGonnagal.
'Yes!' chimed in Madame Pompfrey. 'We have a very sick patient on our hands!'
'Exactly!' hissed the bat-like man. 'And the aggressors of this situation MUST be punished!' He looked upon the Trio, his eyes bulging, red blotches appearing all over his wan visage. 'THEY are the aggressors!'
Dumbledore cast his glassy blue eyes over Harry, Hermione and Ron, thinking all the while. He looked hard at the two boys and their bruises, then at Hermione who did not seem to be injured in any sense at all.
'Am I right in thinking,' he pondered out loud, cleaning his sickle spectacles on his beard, 'that he did not fall down the stairs at all, and that you two boys had a bit of a scuffle with young Mr Malfoy here?'
There was no answer.
'Am I right in thinking that Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger were having a bit of an argument, and you two thought that you would come to the rescue?'
Three hearts of Gryffindor skipped a beat.
'You see, I never keep secrets from myself. As you may or may not know there is a portrait of my younger self that was painted before I became Headmaster, right next to the Fat Lady. I told myself everything.'
He chuckled lightly.
'Everything that was said and done,' his eyes flitted momentarily towards Hermione, 'was reported to me literally seconds after it had happened.'
The entire Trio cast their eyes to the ground in shame and dread.
'However, after your acts as Three Good Samaritans you will be let off with the deduction of fifteen points each, including Mr Malfoy, and when he has regained consciousness all four of you will serve a week of detentions with these two Heads of Houses here. Mr Potter and Mr Weasley will serve with Professor McGonagall while Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger will serve with Professor Snape.'
With a slight nod that bid them good day he turned gracefully and swept out with McGonnagal behind him. Snape glared spitefully at Harry, Hermione and Ron, his eyes mere pools of black venom.
'Consider yourselves lucky!' he whispered dangerously. Then he too, left the Hospital Wing.
The three let out a breath they had subconsciously been holding.
'I'm so sorry Hermione!' said Ron, gazing at her with sympathy etched between his freckles.
'For what?' she asked, surprised.
'You have to serve a week of detentions with Snape and Malfoy!'
'Oh,' she mumbled, turning away, wondering why her heart had started beating very fast. 'I'll cope.'
She glanced out of the window and wondered why there were so many people outside. Then she realised.
'Oh my god! They're burying Draco's dad and he's not there!'
'What did you just say?' Ron questioned with an incredulous tone. 'Did you just call him *Draco*?'
But Hermione wasn't listening. Se had pressed her face up against the cold glass and was staring at the solemn scene in the snow.
'I can't believe they'd go ahead and have the funeral while Draco's not there. . .'
Ron clasped his hands over his blushing ears in disbelief and desperation.
'She's not saying it. She's not saying it -'
'Not saying what, mate?' asked Harry as he took his place beside Hermione at the window. Ron sighed shakily. He stared longingly at the bright and beautiful girl, whose attention was on anything but him. Her figure drove him mad, he desired it but knew he could never have it. It was like having the power to turn Snape into a dung beetle and being forbidden from actually doing it. Sighing once again he joined his two best friends and watched as the funeral of Lucius Malfoy took place.
They watched as the coffin was carried out, they watched as it was placed in the ground, they watched as Dumbledore and The Minister said a few words, and they watched as Narcissa Malfoy cried, cradling her newborn baby. At last it was over, and the tiny crowd disintegrated. The Trio retreated from the window to sit down on a bed. None of them had ever seen a proper funeral before, except Hermione but she had been a very young child. It left them with an odd feeling inside, not for the person who was buried of course, but it just felt odd, knowing that there was a dead man inside that box, and that he was now lying in the grounds of their school. Ron frowned.
'Hermione?'
'Mmmm?'
'What's a Good Samaritan?'
Hermione was just about to answer when they heard a small moan come from the bed next to them. Draco was stirring. Harry, Hermione and Ron all exchanged nervous glances. They set their eyes back on Draco, who was now almost awake. His eyes fluttered open gently, and the first thing he saw was Hermione.
AN ~ Hmm. That was my last idea. Oh well, you'll all just have to wait longer while I think up some more. I spelt McGonagall right, didn't I? Just a question, should I do all the days of Hermione and Draco's detention in one chapter, or should I do one chapter per day of detention? Would that make it too long? I dunno, but I do know that they won't be doing the same things for detention every night. Reviews are good. Chapter 6 up ASAP.
THANKS TO ~ Draco is the man (god, you make me laugh. I'd just uploaded the 4th chapter and about 5 minutes later a review from you came up!) ~ Corn Dawg ~ Lux-soap (thanks for that great review!) ~ Weasel Girl, Misao ~ and anyone else who reviews chapter 4 after I upload this chapter.
WARNING ~ a little bit of swearing in this one.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter Five ~ Three Good Samaritans
At first Draco could see nothing. All was black and silent. Maybe the world had ended. Maybe he was dead. If this was the afterlife then he could go and find his father. But no - Hell was riddled with demons and fire. This place was dead and empty. Like his soul. He felt cold upon the hard flagstones, and wished he could be in a soft bed. Suddenly out of the darkness he saw three shapes, like brightly coloured snakes weaving through the gloom towards him. He tried to scramble away but he couldn't.
As they drew nearer he recognised them as scarves, all in the Gryffindor colours. They came closer and two wrapped themselves around his legs and the other around his shoulders. He must be dreaming. Without warning the scarves lifted him up gently and began to carry him away. Draco didn't know what to do or think; in truth he didn't really want to do or think, as he felt terrible. His head pounded and in his mouth he could taste the metallic tang of blood. His ribs ached and he found it hard to breath. He coughed and writhed slightly in the scarves' grip and the one supporting his shoulders brushed delicately over his face in a caring style. Draco never knew how friendly scarves could be.
As he traveled through the shadows of his dream world many bizarre shapes loomed out and leered at him. Everything was contorted as though he was submerged in flowing water, making the odd shapes even worse. Sneering trolls and goblins fashioned from stone emerged out of nowhere, the shadows dancing dramatically on their ugly features. Copious amounts of other scarves drifted by, some in the colours of Ravenclaw, others in Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, but the scarves that were striped in his colours hung around him, flitting back and forth as they moved on.
Soon, or what seemed an eternity to Draco, a glowing radiance shimmered up ahead. It grew like the rising sun, gold and warm. The three scarves of Gryffindor took up to it, and held him there before it. With a great roaring whoosh a mighty wing swept out from the golden glow and came down. As it came closer it appeared to Draco that the scarf was covered in newspaper, and when even closer he saw that the feathers themselves were marked in such a way that they held a great likeness to newspaper. It read but one word all over: "Hospital". The word was printed on the wing in the many sizes and fonts used in actual newspapers.
Draco's eyes widened. He certainly hoped that this was all a dream; he wasn't sure if he could live in a world of living scarves and newspaper wings. To his great surprise the wing descend swiftly, stretching out towards him. Great warm gusts of wind blew over him, as though a giant being was breathing on him. The scarves held him higher and allowed the wing to scoop him up. Draco felt drowsy and comfortable as he was pulled into the heated glow. Feeling safe he let himself drift into sleep, if that was possible inside a dream world, but then anything was possible in a dream world.
The matron looked down upon the battered lad, and sighed.
'You say he fell down the stairs?'
Harry and Ron nodded vigourously; Hermione just stared into space.
'He has two broken ribs, and by carrying him here I'm afraid you've worsened their state, though he probably would've stopped breathing if you hadn't brought him to me when you did. He also has a broken nose - severe bruising on his back and face - are you *sure* he fell down the stairs? Did you actually *see* him fall down the stairs?'
The two Gryffindor boys stuttered in their replies but Hermione cut through them, loud and defined.
'No. We didn't actually *see* him fall down the stairs, but when we found him he was sprawled across the bottom of the staircase, so we assumed that he had fallen.'
The matron nodded slowly, Hermione saw the doubt and disbelief in her face and eyes. She glanced at Harry and Ron, seeing their own bruises.
'What happened to you two then?'
Ron blanched beneath his freckles. Harry quickly thought up a suitable answer.
'Quidditch practice, er, teaching Ron to cope with the Bludgers. Hasn't quiet got the hang of those fast dodges. . .'
The matron then glanced around at all the other faces, all the Slytherins. There was only half a dozen or so, crowded around the bed on which Draco Malfoy lay unconscious, all black and blue, smeared with blood here and there. She exhaled noisily before shooing them all away. Just as the Trio was heading out of the door Madame Pomfrey called out,
'You three will wait here while I fetch Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape,' and with that she left the ward at a brisk pace, her heels clipping smartly.
'What a fine load of dandy shit we've got ourselves into this time!' growled Ron, crossing his arms and sitting on a chair.
'Why did we even bother to bring him?' Harry asked Hermione angrily. 'Why couldn't we have just left him?'
Hermione scowled, goaded by their stupidity.
'Because he would have died!'
'Hurrah -'
'Shut up Ron, you insensitive carrot-top!'
Ron gasped in shock, Harry snorted. Hermione narrowed her eyes at the pair; they could be so tactless and dense at times.
'You heard what the matron said! "He probably would've stopped breathing if you hadn't brought him to me when you did!" Are you two completely brainless or what?'
'She's got a point you know, Ron,' piped up Harry, finally beginning to see things from Hermione's aspect.
'So? One less Death Eater for everyone to worry about, isn't it?'
The others shifted from foot to foot.
'*He's* got a point you know, Hermione,' said Harry.
'Oh, be quiet.' She turned to look upon Draco, laid out on the bed, oblivious to their argument over him. Within the nets of sleep he looked a cocktail of descriptions that would never suit a Death Eater. Innocent, harmless - and angelic in a way. He seemed young and yet old, in the way that he lay with his head turned on the pillow, his lips slightly parted and breathing deeply and rhythmically, then his pallid and sunken cheeks, now bruised and scratched made him look an age beyond his years. He was so skinny. He can't have eaten for days.
Ron watched Hermione staring down on the seemingly lifeless form of Malfoy, but he couldn't read her face. Was it pity? Curiosity? Then a terrible thought hit him; was it adoration? Perhaps she was attracted to him, drawn to him in her compassion, only to become blind to what he really was and only seeing what was not there, a poor and helpless boy. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her extend a hand towards Malfoy. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry staring at her too. She reached out for his left sleeve and pulled it back to reveal the inside of his forearm. It bore nothing but a purple bruise. Hermione sighed.
Just then footsteps entered the room, and all whipped around to see the three professors and the matron striding towards them. The heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin flanked the Headmaster, who glided placidly with his fingertips meeting in a knowing manner. McGonagall looked somewhat irked, though Snape was visibly livid.
'WHAT HAVE YOU DONE POTTER!' he bellowed.
'Now, now, Severus. . .' said Dumbledore.
'YOU DID IT! YOU PUSHED HIM DOWN THOSE STAIRS!'
He turned sharply to face the Headmaster.
'Sir, I would see it fit if these three were expelled - or strictly punished! Strictly, I say!'
'Severus Snape, calm yourself!' cried McGonnagal.
'Yes!' chimed in Madame Pompfrey. 'We have a very sick patient on our hands!'
'Exactly!' hissed the bat-like man. 'And the aggressors of this situation MUST be punished!' He looked upon the Trio, his eyes bulging, red blotches appearing all over his wan visage. 'THEY are the aggressors!'
Dumbledore cast his glassy blue eyes over Harry, Hermione and Ron, thinking all the while. He looked hard at the two boys and their bruises, then at Hermione who did not seem to be injured in any sense at all.
'Am I right in thinking,' he pondered out loud, cleaning his sickle spectacles on his beard, 'that he did not fall down the stairs at all, and that you two boys had a bit of a scuffle with young Mr Malfoy here?'
There was no answer.
'Am I right in thinking that Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger were having a bit of an argument, and you two thought that you would come to the rescue?'
Three hearts of Gryffindor skipped a beat.
'You see, I never keep secrets from myself. As you may or may not know there is a portrait of my younger self that was painted before I became Headmaster, right next to the Fat Lady. I told myself everything.'
He chuckled lightly.
'Everything that was said and done,' his eyes flitted momentarily towards Hermione, 'was reported to me literally seconds after it had happened.'
The entire Trio cast their eyes to the ground in shame and dread.
'However, after your acts as Three Good Samaritans you will be let off with the deduction of fifteen points each, including Mr Malfoy, and when he has regained consciousness all four of you will serve a week of detentions with these two Heads of Houses here. Mr Potter and Mr Weasley will serve with Professor McGonagall while Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger will serve with Professor Snape.'
With a slight nod that bid them good day he turned gracefully and swept out with McGonnagal behind him. Snape glared spitefully at Harry, Hermione and Ron, his eyes mere pools of black venom.
'Consider yourselves lucky!' he whispered dangerously. Then he too, left the Hospital Wing.
The three let out a breath they had subconsciously been holding.
'I'm so sorry Hermione!' said Ron, gazing at her with sympathy etched between his freckles.
'For what?' she asked, surprised.
'You have to serve a week of detentions with Snape and Malfoy!'
'Oh,' she mumbled, turning away, wondering why her heart had started beating very fast. 'I'll cope.'
She glanced out of the window and wondered why there were so many people outside. Then she realised.
'Oh my god! They're burying Draco's dad and he's not there!'
'What did you just say?' Ron questioned with an incredulous tone. 'Did you just call him *Draco*?'
But Hermione wasn't listening. Se had pressed her face up against the cold glass and was staring at the solemn scene in the snow.
'I can't believe they'd go ahead and have the funeral while Draco's not there. . .'
Ron clasped his hands over his blushing ears in disbelief and desperation.
'She's not saying it. She's not saying it -'
'Not saying what, mate?' asked Harry as he took his place beside Hermione at the window. Ron sighed shakily. He stared longingly at the bright and beautiful girl, whose attention was on anything but him. Her figure drove him mad, he desired it but knew he could never have it. It was like having the power to turn Snape into a dung beetle and being forbidden from actually doing it. Sighing once again he joined his two best friends and watched as the funeral of Lucius Malfoy took place.
They watched as the coffin was carried out, they watched as it was placed in the ground, they watched as Dumbledore and The Minister said a few words, and they watched as Narcissa Malfoy cried, cradling her newborn baby. At last it was over, and the tiny crowd disintegrated. The Trio retreated from the window to sit down on a bed. None of them had ever seen a proper funeral before, except Hermione but she had been a very young child. It left them with an odd feeling inside, not for the person who was buried of course, but it just felt odd, knowing that there was a dead man inside that box, and that he was now lying in the grounds of their school. Ron frowned.
'Hermione?'
'Mmmm?'
'What's a Good Samaritan?'
Hermione was just about to answer when they heard a small moan come from the bed next to them. Draco was stirring. Harry, Hermione and Ron all exchanged nervous glances. They set their eyes back on Draco, who was now almost awake. His eyes fluttered open gently, and the first thing he saw was Hermione.
AN ~ Hmm. That was my last idea. Oh well, you'll all just have to wait longer while I think up some more. I spelt McGonagall right, didn't I? Just a question, should I do all the days of Hermione and Draco's detention in one chapter, or should I do one chapter per day of detention? Would that make it too long? I dunno, but I do know that they won't be doing the same things for detention every night. Reviews are good. Chapter 6 up ASAP.