"Draco Malfoy, son of esteemed wizard Lucius Malfoy—" a pause, quickly
followed by a sarcastic snort, "has finally be found, after missing for a
period of four weeks. Unfortunately, he was not found in his former good
health, but is dead at the untimely age of seventeen. His death, which
details have been kept secret by both the Malfoy family and Hogwarts, is a
mystery. Still, a piece of him remains. He is now a ghost, currently
haunting his former school."
Ron Weasley couldn't take it anymore. He burst into hysterical laughter.
"Mal-Mal-Malfoy's a GHOST!" he stuttered between bouts of giggles, not silenced even after Hermione sent him a look that could have had him following in Draco's footsteps.
"Honestly, Ron! Have some sense of dignity, won't you? It's not a very laughable subject! He died!" she reprimanded, looking over at Harry for support. Her raven-haired friend, however, was much more preoccupied with skimming the rest of the article on Malfoy in the Daily Prophet. He seemed to be attempting to suppress his chuckles, but was failing. He, too, came into Hermione's wrathful gaze.
"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, trying to sound more serious than he felt, "You're entirely correct. That is not a joking matter at all."
"You're quite right it's not. Just because you didn't like him doesn't mean you should have no respect for his passing, especially since he's still floating around here." Both boys looked over at their friend, lips frowning and eyes laughing.
Ron nodded. "Yes, mum," he said playfully, mussing her hair when she sent him another of her death glares. "Honestly, Hermione, no need to be so uptight. I know it's not good to make fun of Malfoy—" Hermione harrumphed in agreement, "—but he got what he deserved."
"Oh yeah?" she replied hotly, "And what exactly did he deserve?"
Harry shook his head, "Why don't we stop this conversation now, before it escalates any further?" He patted Hermione's arm, but she jerked away from him.
"I'm going to go to the library. I'll be back later this afternoon." With that, she stood and turned away, heading out the doors of the Great Hall.
Ron rolled his eyes, jutting a thumb in the direction their female friend had stormed off. "She's gone mental! Pitying Malfoy? Jeez, next thing you know she'll be making badges and hats like for S.P.E.W.!" He thought for a moment, then. "Save the Poor, Angelic Malfoys!"
Harry repeated it, then promptly burst out laughing. "S.P.A.M.?"
Harry's laughter continued for several minutes, and no amount of prodding or begging could get him to tell Ron exactly what was so funny about the word Spam.
Whispers. Everywhere he went, he heard whispers. In his head, he cursed Granger to the very deepest, darkest depths of hell. He preferred hiding in a closet for the rest of eternity to having the entire school whispering and pointing behind his back. Honestly, it was quite pathetic. He glared at a bunch of first years who were fervently corresponding with each other, their eyes following him as he floated past.
"Being dead doesn't make me deaf, you know," he spat, watching as the group visibly jumped and scampered down the hall in the opposite direction. He smirked to himself; one of the upsides of being a ghost was that it made him even more intimidating than before. Still, the pros paled in comparison to the cons.
First of all, he could nowhere without being gawked at or talked about. For a moment he considered if that was any different than the attention he'd gotten before he died. After a bit he decided that yes, it was, because that attention had been wanted and appreciated. Now that he was a spirit, he only wanted to be left very much alone.
And he would have been, too, if it weren't for that meddling Granger!
Granger, who he'd almost been able to tolerate. Granger, who he had almost decided he kind of maybe sort of respected. Granger, who proved, once again, that she really was just as bad as he had originally thought.
Sulking, he floated aimlessly toward the Great Hall. It was well into the afternoon and the students wouldn't be showing up for dinner for another hour and a half, so he crossed his translucent fingers that he would be able to—finally—be left alone. Unfortunately for him, he had many things working against this plan. For one, classes had be let out fifteen minutes earlier and students were feely roaming the halls. Secondly, while the Great Hall wasn't officially open for dinner, it was still open for students who wanted some quiet time. They were allowed to use the space, along with the library, as a place for studying, as long as it wasn't mealtime.
He cut through a corner (pro—it took less time to get to places) and promptly floated through someone. Had he been human and whole his body would have smashed into their own and sent the other person sprawling, however he was not and the person was merely hit with a shock of cold. Still, he felt the need to make a smart comment about watching where they were going. He turned, only to find Pansy Parkinson, ex-girlfriend Pansy Parkinson, staring at him.
Her eyes were wide and staring and her mouth had fallen open in shock. She was making funny noises, as if she were trying to form words but all that was coming from her was a weird gibberish language that made no sense. He considered floating away and leaving her there, but then decided that probably wasn't the way to deal with her.
"Erm... good evening, Pansy."
She was still stuttering and speaking nonsense, but he managed to catch a single "D-d... Draco."
His eyes were shifting up and down and left and right and everywhere but Pansy. It was an insanely awkward situation, and for one of the few times in his life, Draco Malfoy found himself at a loss for words. "So... um... how are things?"
Pansy, having gathered her wits a bit, shook her head and blinked once, slowly. "I don't know."
He arched his ghostly eyebrow, the thought of floating away flickering once again in his mind. Again, he pushed it away. It was more than tempting and in most other situations he would have done just that, but he felt like he at least owed Pansy something. He wasn't sure what, though. It was not as if he could apologize for dying, because he hadn't planned on doing it so soon. He supposed it was some sort of conclusion. "You don't know?"
She moved closer to him, clutching her books tightly to her chest. She looked wary, as if she wasn't sure she could trust him to be the real Draco Malfoy. Her hand reached out, delicately, to his face. It lingered a second in midair before passing through him. She looked disappointed. "I can't believe you're gone."
His eyes followed her hand. "Yeah."
"I never gave up hoping they'd find you, alive and healthy and everything. And then, like this morning... Millicent comes in and she's talking about how they found your ghost and stuff and I was just so confused and upset. I skipped all my morning classes, even Potions and Transfiguration." She was starting to ramble, and she'd lost Draco on why she was telling him all this. It didn't seem important, but Draco nodded anyway.
"Yeah, well... I guess things just won't be the same anymore," he affirmed, still feeling strange in the heat of Pansy's dislocated and odd stare. "Look, Pansy, are you okay? Because I'm fine, really I am."
Her eyes filled up with tears; suddenly, Draco understood what Hermione had been talking about. He could deal with her now, but if he had had to put up with Pansy acting like this for weeks, he probably would have gone insane as well.
She blinked many times then dragged her wrist across her eyes, effectively wiping any escaping tears away. She shook her head as if to clear it and nodded. "I'll be okay." She stated, her Slytherin mask slipping back into place. "So what happened anyway? One minute you were here and then the next, you were like... gone."
Maybe Pansy had a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, but Draco was extremely angered out of the blue. Would he have to face that question from everyone? He'd heard people murmuring it to their friends all day long, and then when he was finally able to talk someone normally—or as normally as possible—and then she went and ruined it! His eyes narrowed and he gave her a superior glance, clenching his fists in an effort to control himself.
"Goodbye, Pansy," he said flatly, before turning and gliding away. He did not turn around, but he could hear her sobbing. For a moment, he considered apologizing. But that moment was not very long; he was a Malfoy and he had been insulted. Quite obviously, he was in the right. She was the one who had felt the need to bring up the painful (and really quite embarrassing) details of his death.
Making his way through the corridors, sour expression in place, he could hear clumps of students whispering and murmuring. Prompting his anger to return, he glared at them sharply before continuing his way. He supposed ghosts didn't have the luxury of resting in peace. He was only a few hallways away from his broom closet when he heard a voice call out his name. It seemed strangely familiar, Draco mused to himself, and paused. Could it perhaps be an old housemate? He turned, but what he saw was not one of his Slytherin kin.
"Potter. Weasel. What do you want?" He asked calmly, suppressing the rage that was welling up inside of him.
"Nothing in particular," replied Harry, tossing a raven tress from his eyes, "We just wanted to see if it was real, what we read in the paper this morning."
Draco moaned. The paper, already? His father would be outraged. "The Daily Prophet got ahold of it already? Bloody excellent. I have to go speak with Dumbledore, excuse me."
"No, wait. We're not done talking, yet," interrupted Ron quite unceremoniously, stepping in front of the ghost as if to stop him. Draco rolled his eyes and simply passed through him.
"A little slow on the uptake, Weasel?" He said mockingly, laughing as Ron turned bright red. "It's been lovely chatting with you two, really it has, but I must be—" A shrill voice caught him in the middle of his sentence.
"Ron! Harry! I've been looking for you two everywhere! We were supposed to meet in the library ten minutes ago so we could get in some last minute studying before we went down for dinner. Remember? Honestly, I don't know what you two would do without—Draco."
Draco smirked, adding, "Oh, I don't know what they'd do without me, either."
Ron glared at him, before addressing Hermione. "Sorry, 'Mione, we just got caught up and forgot, I guess."
Hermione gave him and Harry both a sharp glance. "And disturbing the dead is what you got caught up in?" Her tone was one of disgust. "Honestly, guys, that's rather pathetic. Draco is no different now—well, of course he's different, but you know what I mean—and... oh, what was I saying? Bother, just leave him alone."
Rolling his eyes, Ron matched Hermione's glare with one of his own. "No, Hermione. You're wrong." A cloud of silence befell the three teens and their ghostly companion as Harry tugged on his arm desperately, trying to dissuade him. "Malfoy is different now."
Draco hung in the air and faked a yawn. "Yes, Weasley, I'm transparent now. Good job." His eyes shifted to Harry's watch. "And it only took you a few minutes, too."
Ron ignored his sarcasm. "Everything that you claimed made you better, Malfoy, it's all gone. You can't practice magic anymore, so you can't be better at it. You have no money, no influence, no social status. You don't even have your precious pure blood." He gave a spiteful laugh. "Now, in reality, you're what we always saw you as, anyway. Transparent, like you said."
Upon hearing Ron's speech, Draco's first instinct was to launch himself at the red headed, jeering boy and pummel him. Yet a second later he realized that that was quite impossible. He considered a verbal comeback, but decided against it. Weasley had taken a cheap shot, which had gone straight to one of the few things he still had—his pride. For a moment he merely held still, his face drawn and pensive, then he simply turned and vanished through the wall, leaving the silence and the three pairs of eyes behind him.
He missed Hermione's wrath.
"Ronald Weasley! You are, without a doubt, the most vile, horrible, insolent, nasty creature ever to walk the earth and if you ever speak to me again it will be far, far too soon!" She exploded as soon as Draco was gone.
Ron shook his head, his eyes still wide and his gaze never leaving the spot his former classmate had disappeared through. "I'm sorry, Hermione."
She glowered. "No, you're not."
Harry stepped between the two, playing peacemaker. It occurred to him that he'd had to do that a lot, lately. It was getting to be not only aggravating but difficult. He had hoped that they had just entered some odd stage, yet both of their tempers showed no sign of relenting, constantly thrusting him into the middle man position. "Ron, that was uncalled for." Ignoring the look Ron gave him, he turned to Hermione, "And Hermione, while harsh, Ron's statements weren't far off base."
"He tortured us for years!" Ron interjected, before Harry threw a hand over his mouth.
"I know you two are having some problems, so let's just put this behind us, okay? Malfoy didn't deserve to be treated like that Ron, despite what he's said to us for years and years. I seem to recall us saying a few things back, didn't we?" He removed his hand from Ron's mouth. "Now apologize, Ron."
Brushing a red strand away from his face, Ron sighed. "I shouldn't have said it, Hermione. At least not to his face."
She shook her head, eyes still narrowed, and began to turn away. "Whatever, it doesn't matter," she said quietly, retracing her earlier steps. She was stopped, however, when Harry called her name.
"You've been acting strange, lately, Hermione," he said quietly, his voice low and without accusation, but she sensed something, some undertone, to it. She mumbled a quick list of classes, friends, teachers, and the usual lot of things that made her act strange, surprised to see Harry shake his head. "No, it's different."
Ron nodded, "Yeah. Like what you did just now with Malfoy." That summoned a glare from both of the other parties. "What? Don't look at me like that, it was strange. You've never cared about him, and don't try to tell me any different."
"He has a point," Harry acknowledged, "Plus, you've been sneaking out at night, or so Lavender and Parvati have told everyone."
"Those gossiping... !" She nearly swore and just caught herself, "They pretended to be sleeping." Upon the realization that she'd said far too much, she closed her mouth quickly and began to chew on her lower lip.
"So something IS going on," Ron added suspiciously, "What is it?"
She turned away from them and faced the empty hallway. She suddenly felt like crying, or laughing, or doing something, anything, that had no meaning to this conversation. She didn't like keeping things from Harry and Ron, but there were a few things in her life that they would most definitely not understand. Sighing, she began to tell them about what had happened when she'd come across the ghostly figure of Draco Malfoy one night...
"... and he's really not as bad as we made him out to be, really! I don't know, it's almost like... like..." She trailed off, shifting uncomfortably under the flabbergasted stares of her friends.
"Like your friends?" Harry finished, green eyes probing hers for more information. "I don't mean to insult you, Hermione, but are you entirely sure that's safe? I mean, with who his father is..."
"... and who his father serves!" Ron interjected.
"Oh, Ron, Harry...you two just don't understand. He's changed, sort of. Not a lot because he's still mean and pompous and all of that, of course, he wouldn't be himself if he weren't, but it's more as if... as if he had some sort of strange reality check, or something."
Harry snorted. "A strange reality check, indeed." Upon her glare, he amended, "No offense. I just... I worry, Hermione."
"We just want to make sure you're okay." Ron gave her a quick hug. "That's all."
Hermione nodded understandingly, but inside she felt like this battle hadn't been won, and she, Ron, and Harry would be having it again. "I know, I know."
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or its characters and blah blah blah!
A/N: So I like the first half of this chapter, and I like the last half of this chapter, I'm just not quite sure if I like them together. Comments on how it flowed/the writing in general/everything else would be greatly appreciated.
Sorry about not posting this in forever. Worst case of writers block ever. I just couldn't write a thing. It was horrible! But it's mostly over so hopefully updates will be coming a little faster, eh?
Anyway, please read and review. If you don't want to talk about the fic a lot, why not tell me your favorite musical? If you don't have a favorite musical, then please explain to me how you manage to live without one. However, I'd really appreciate a comment or two on the chapter.
Thanks!
Ron Weasley couldn't take it anymore. He burst into hysterical laughter.
"Mal-Mal-Malfoy's a GHOST!" he stuttered between bouts of giggles, not silenced even after Hermione sent him a look that could have had him following in Draco's footsteps.
"Honestly, Ron! Have some sense of dignity, won't you? It's not a very laughable subject! He died!" she reprimanded, looking over at Harry for support. Her raven-haired friend, however, was much more preoccupied with skimming the rest of the article on Malfoy in the Daily Prophet. He seemed to be attempting to suppress his chuckles, but was failing. He, too, came into Hermione's wrathful gaze.
"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, trying to sound more serious than he felt, "You're entirely correct. That is not a joking matter at all."
"You're quite right it's not. Just because you didn't like him doesn't mean you should have no respect for his passing, especially since he's still floating around here." Both boys looked over at their friend, lips frowning and eyes laughing.
Ron nodded. "Yes, mum," he said playfully, mussing her hair when she sent him another of her death glares. "Honestly, Hermione, no need to be so uptight. I know it's not good to make fun of Malfoy—" Hermione harrumphed in agreement, "—but he got what he deserved."
"Oh yeah?" she replied hotly, "And what exactly did he deserve?"
Harry shook his head, "Why don't we stop this conversation now, before it escalates any further?" He patted Hermione's arm, but she jerked away from him.
"I'm going to go to the library. I'll be back later this afternoon." With that, she stood and turned away, heading out the doors of the Great Hall.
Ron rolled his eyes, jutting a thumb in the direction their female friend had stormed off. "She's gone mental! Pitying Malfoy? Jeez, next thing you know she'll be making badges and hats like for S.P.E.W.!" He thought for a moment, then. "Save the Poor, Angelic Malfoys!"
Harry repeated it, then promptly burst out laughing. "S.P.A.M.?"
Harry's laughter continued for several minutes, and no amount of prodding or begging could get him to tell Ron exactly what was so funny about the word Spam.
Whispers. Everywhere he went, he heard whispers. In his head, he cursed Granger to the very deepest, darkest depths of hell. He preferred hiding in a closet for the rest of eternity to having the entire school whispering and pointing behind his back. Honestly, it was quite pathetic. He glared at a bunch of first years who were fervently corresponding with each other, their eyes following him as he floated past.
"Being dead doesn't make me deaf, you know," he spat, watching as the group visibly jumped and scampered down the hall in the opposite direction. He smirked to himself; one of the upsides of being a ghost was that it made him even more intimidating than before. Still, the pros paled in comparison to the cons.
First of all, he could nowhere without being gawked at or talked about. For a moment he considered if that was any different than the attention he'd gotten before he died. After a bit he decided that yes, it was, because that attention had been wanted and appreciated. Now that he was a spirit, he only wanted to be left very much alone.
And he would have been, too, if it weren't for that meddling Granger!
Granger, who he'd almost been able to tolerate. Granger, who he had almost decided he kind of maybe sort of respected. Granger, who proved, once again, that she really was just as bad as he had originally thought.
Sulking, he floated aimlessly toward the Great Hall. It was well into the afternoon and the students wouldn't be showing up for dinner for another hour and a half, so he crossed his translucent fingers that he would be able to—finally—be left alone. Unfortunately for him, he had many things working against this plan. For one, classes had be let out fifteen minutes earlier and students were feely roaming the halls. Secondly, while the Great Hall wasn't officially open for dinner, it was still open for students who wanted some quiet time. They were allowed to use the space, along with the library, as a place for studying, as long as it wasn't mealtime.
He cut through a corner (pro—it took less time to get to places) and promptly floated through someone. Had he been human and whole his body would have smashed into their own and sent the other person sprawling, however he was not and the person was merely hit with a shock of cold. Still, he felt the need to make a smart comment about watching where they were going. He turned, only to find Pansy Parkinson, ex-girlfriend Pansy Parkinson, staring at him.
Her eyes were wide and staring and her mouth had fallen open in shock. She was making funny noises, as if she were trying to form words but all that was coming from her was a weird gibberish language that made no sense. He considered floating away and leaving her there, but then decided that probably wasn't the way to deal with her.
"Erm... good evening, Pansy."
She was still stuttering and speaking nonsense, but he managed to catch a single "D-d... Draco."
His eyes were shifting up and down and left and right and everywhere but Pansy. It was an insanely awkward situation, and for one of the few times in his life, Draco Malfoy found himself at a loss for words. "So... um... how are things?"
Pansy, having gathered her wits a bit, shook her head and blinked once, slowly. "I don't know."
He arched his ghostly eyebrow, the thought of floating away flickering once again in his mind. Again, he pushed it away. It was more than tempting and in most other situations he would have done just that, but he felt like he at least owed Pansy something. He wasn't sure what, though. It was not as if he could apologize for dying, because he hadn't planned on doing it so soon. He supposed it was some sort of conclusion. "You don't know?"
She moved closer to him, clutching her books tightly to her chest. She looked wary, as if she wasn't sure she could trust him to be the real Draco Malfoy. Her hand reached out, delicately, to his face. It lingered a second in midair before passing through him. She looked disappointed. "I can't believe you're gone."
His eyes followed her hand. "Yeah."
"I never gave up hoping they'd find you, alive and healthy and everything. And then, like this morning... Millicent comes in and she's talking about how they found your ghost and stuff and I was just so confused and upset. I skipped all my morning classes, even Potions and Transfiguration." She was starting to ramble, and she'd lost Draco on why she was telling him all this. It didn't seem important, but Draco nodded anyway.
"Yeah, well... I guess things just won't be the same anymore," he affirmed, still feeling strange in the heat of Pansy's dislocated and odd stare. "Look, Pansy, are you okay? Because I'm fine, really I am."
Her eyes filled up with tears; suddenly, Draco understood what Hermione had been talking about. He could deal with her now, but if he had had to put up with Pansy acting like this for weeks, he probably would have gone insane as well.
She blinked many times then dragged her wrist across her eyes, effectively wiping any escaping tears away. She shook her head as if to clear it and nodded. "I'll be okay." She stated, her Slytherin mask slipping back into place. "So what happened anyway? One minute you were here and then the next, you were like... gone."
Maybe Pansy had a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, but Draco was extremely angered out of the blue. Would he have to face that question from everyone? He'd heard people murmuring it to their friends all day long, and then when he was finally able to talk someone normally—or as normally as possible—and then she went and ruined it! His eyes narrowed and he gave her a superior glance, clenching his fists in an effort to control himself.
"Goodbye, Pansy," he said flatly, before turning and gliding away. He did not turn around, but he could hear her sobbing. For a moment, he considered apologizing. But that moment was not very long; he was a Malfoy and he had been insulted. Quite obviously, he was in the right. She was the one who had felt the need to bring up the painful (and really quite embarrassing) details of his death.
Making his way through the corridors, sour expression in place, he could hear clumps of students whispering and murmuring. Prompting his anger to return, he glared at them sharply before continuing his way. He supposed ghosts didn't have the luxury of resting in peace. He was only a few hallways away from his broom closet when he heard a voice call out his name. It seemed strangely familiar, Draco mused to himself, and paused. Could it perhaps be an old housemate? He turned, but what he saw was not one of his Slytherin kin.
"Potter. Weasel. What do you want?" He asked calmly, suppressing the rage that was welling up inside of him.
"Nothing in particular," replied Harry, tossing a raven tress from his eyes, "We just wanted to see if it was real, what we read in the paper this morning."
Draco moaned. The paper, already? His father would be outraged. "The Daily Prophet got ahold of it already? Bloody excellent. I have to go speak with Dumbledore, excuse me."
"No, wait. We're not done talking, yet," interrupted Ron quite unceremoniously, stepping in front of the ghost as if to stop him. Draco rolled his eyes and simply passed through him.
"A little slow on the uptake, Weasel?" He said mockingly, laughing as Ron turned bright red. "It's been lovely chatting with you two, really it has, but I must be—" A shrill voice caught him in the middle of his sentence.
"Ron! Harry! I've been looking for you two everywhere! We were supposed to meet in the library ten minutes ago so we could get in some last minute studying before we went down for dinner. Remember? Honestly, I don't know what you two would do without—Draco."
Draco smirked, adding, "Oh, I don't know what they'd do without me, either."
Ron glared at him, before addressing Hermione. "Sorry, 'Mione, we just got caught up and forgot, I guess."
Hermione gave him and Harry both a sharp glance. "And disturbing the dead is what you got caught up in?" Her tone was one of disgust. "Honestly, guys, that's rather pathetic. Draco is no different now—well, of course he's different, but you know what I mean—and... oh, what was I saying? Bother, just leave him alone."
Rolling his eyes, Ron matched Hermione's glare with one of his own. "No, Hermione. You're wrong." A cloud of silence befell the three teens and their ghostly companion as Harry tugged on his arm desperately, trying to dissuade him. "Malfoy is different now."
Draco hung in the air and faked a yawn. "Yes, Weasley, I'm transparent now. Good job." His eyes shifted to Harry's watch. "And it only took you a few minutes, too."
Ron ignored his sarcasm. "Everything that you claimed made you better, Malfoy, it's all gone. You can't practice magic anymore, so you can't be better at it. You have no money, no influence, no social status. You don't even have your precious pure blood." He gave a spiteful laugh. "Now, in reality, you're what we always saw you as, anyway. Transparent, like you said."
Upon hearing Ron's speech, Draco's first instinct was to launch himself at the red headed, jeering boy and pummel him. Yet a second later he realized that that was quite impossible. He considered a verbal comeback, but decided against it. Weasley had taken a cheap shot, which had gone straight to one of the few things he still had—his pride. For a moment he merely held still, his face drawn and pensive, then he simply turned and vanished through the wall, leaving the silence and the three pairs of eyes behind him.
He missed Hermione's wrath.
"Ronald Weasley! You are, without a doubt, the most vile, horrible, insolent, nasty creature ever to walk the earth and if you ever speak to me again it will be far, far too soon!" She exploded as soon as Draco was gone.
Ron shook his head, his eyes still wide and his gaze never leaving the spot his former classmate had disappeared through. "I'm sorry, Hermione."
She glowered. "No, you're not."
Harry stepped between the two, playing peacemaker. It occurred to him that he'd had to do that a lot, lately. It was getting to be not only aggravating but difficult. He had hoped that they had just entered some odd stage, yet both of their tempers showed no sign of relenting, constantly thrusting him into the middle man position. "Ron, that was uncalled for." Ignoring the look Ron gave him, he turned to Hermione, "And Hermione, while harsh, Ron's statements weren't far off base."
"He tortured us for years!" Ron interjected, before Harry threw a hand over his mouth.
"I know you two are having some problems, so let's just put this behind us, okay? Malfoy didn't deserve to be treated like that Ron, despite what he's said to us for years and years. I seem to recall us saying a few things back, didn't we?" He removed his hand from Ron's mouth. "Now apologize, Ron."
Brushing a red strand away from his face, Ron sighed. "I shouldn't have said it, Hermione. At least not to his face."
She shook her head, eyes still narrowed, and began to turn away. "Whatever, it doesn't matter," she said quietly, retracing her earlier steps. She was stopped, however, when Harry called her name.
"You've been acting strange, lately, Hermione," he said quietly, his voice low and without accusation, but she sensed something, some undertone, to it. She mumbled a quick list of classes, friends, teachers, and the usual lot of things that made her act strange, surprised to see Harry shake his head. "No, it's different."
Ron nodded, "Yeah. Like what you did just now with Malfoy." That summoned a glare from both of the other parties. "What? Don't look at me like that, it was strange. You've never cared about him, and don't try to tell me any different."
"He has a point," Harry acknowledged, "Plus, you've been sneaking out at night, or so Lavender and Parvati have told everyone."
"Those gossiping... !" She nearly swore and just caught herself, "They pretended to be sleeping." Upon the realization that she'd said far too much, she closed her mouth quickly and began to chew on her lower lip.
"So something IS going on," Ron added suspiciously, "What is it?"
She turned away from them and faced the empty hallway. She suddenly felt like crying, or laughing, or doing something, anything, that had no meaning to this conversation. She didn't like keeping things from Harry and Ron, but there were a few things in her life that they would most definitely not understand. Sighing, she began to tell them about what had happened when she'd come across the ghostly figure of Draco Malfoy one night...
"... and he's really not as bad as we made him out to be, really! I don't know, it's almost like... like..." She trailed off, shifting uncomfortably under the flabbergasted stares of her friends.
"Like your friends?" Harry finished, green eyes probing hers for more information. "I don't mean to insult you, Hermione, but are you entirely sure that's safe? I mean, with who his father is..."
"... and who his father serves!" Ron interjected.
"Oh, Ron, Harry...you two just don't understand. He's changed, sort of. Not a lot because he's still mean and pompous and all of that, of course, he wouldn't be himself if he weren't, but it's more as if... as if he had some sort of strange reality check, or something."
Harry snorted. "A strange reality check, indeed." Upon her glare, he amended, "No offense. I just... I worry, Hermione."
"We just want to make sure you're okay." Ron gave her a quick hug. "That's all."
Hermione nodded understandingly, but inside she felt like this battle hadn't been won, and she, Ron, and Harry would be having it again. "I know, I know."
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or its characters and blah blah blah!
A/N: So I like the first half of this chapter, and I like the last half of this chapter, I'm just not quite sure if I like them together. Comments on how it flowed/the writing in general/everything else would be greatly appreciated.
Sorry about not posting this in forever. Worst case of writers block ever. I just couldn't write a thing. It was horrible! But it's mostly over so hopefully updates will be coming a little faster, eh?
Anyway, please read and review. If you don't want to talk about the fic a lot, why not tell me your favorite musical? If you don't have a favorite musical, then please explain to me how you manage to live without one. However, I'd really appreciate a comment or two on the chapter.
Thanks!