The silence unnerved Draco. He looked out onto the streets, but he didn't really see anything; all he saw was the grey blur of the passing scenery. It was in this moment of silence that he began to ponder the consequences of his actions. What could his father possibly be thinking now? Would he buy the story that Draco wanted nothing but to gain the Order's trust and was prepared to do anything to obtain it? Would he then see through Draco's masquerade and demand the truth? Would Draco tell the truth? How would he explain his actions?
Draco paused; he couldn't think of an excuse, his musings had all come to a dead end. He'd neglected everything his father had taught himand for what? Gratitude. Acceptance. But it didn't feel like it was worth it, and to top it all off, Draco thought he felt a slight prickle on his arm. It would not be long before those endless andexcruciating nights full of agony the rest of his short-lived life would be filled with infinitely burning pain.
Draco's train of thought was broken by a series of taps on the cab's window.
"That's your eagle-owl," said Harry. There was more surprise than suspicion in his voice.
"Hey!" growled the driver, "Get your ruddy owl away from my cab! Jesus, what type of people own bloody owls?"
Draco stared up at his owl helplessly. "How...?"
Harry reached over and opened the window for him. Draco's owl held out a rolled-up piece of parchment. Draco quickly untied it.
"Thanks Erus," said Draco to the hovering Eurasian eagle-owl. "I don't have anything for you, but I give you permission to hunt in the woods," Draco nodded at Erus who, to Harry's amazement, nodded back and flew away.
"How do you get him to do that?" asked Harry, not bothering to hide his astonishment.
"Do what?" Draco shakily unrolled the long piece of parchment.
"Hedwig always makes a big deal about delivering letters," Harry clarified. "She flutters in, shedding, her feathers everywhere and it's always a big mess and she always smothers me... and..."
"Sounds like you have an untrained, no, uncultivated owl." Draco cut it "Well, too late now, if you let her do things like that, she'll stick to them. Better get yourself a new one; however, if you want to attempt training your owl, I suggest those mini-whips they sell at Borgin & Burkes, impressive potency."
"I'd never whip Hedwig," admonished Harry. Draco began reading the letter; his eyes swept through the whole letter, his hand dropped and his chest began heaving. After swallowing a lump in his throat, Draco read the letter once again.
"What does it say?" asked Harrycuriously.
"Mind your own business Potter," snapped Draco before he could stop himself.
"This is my business," Harry's voice rose several decibels. "Are you writing to your dear old dad? Mrs. Weasley told us he was the one who threw her down the set of stairs and chances are, he burned down Sirius' house too."
"It wasn't much of a house if you ask me…" scoffed Draco
"Answer the question, Malfoy!" Harry interrupted angrily
So we're back to Malfoy and Potter, eh? Fine.
"It's from my mother."
"What?" Harry queried suspiciously and quickly tried to grab the letter away from Draco who, to Harry's surprise, jerked his hand away in time. It seemed that Draco had good reflexes after allalthough it didn't show much on the Quidditch pitch. Maybe it didn't have anything to do with reflexes, perhaps Harry was just a natural with brooms but that was beside the point Harry wanted to read that letter. Draco sensed that he'd have to keep sitting on his hand while wrestling Harry one-handed to keep him from reading the letter.
"Fine," Draco relented. He covered the majority of the letter with his hand except for a patch of writing in emerald inknear the bottom of the parchment.
Harry craned over Draco's shoulder. "'With all my love, your mother,'" read Harry.
"Ha! See?" Draco shot Harry an arrogant look.
"Whatever."
"It is most certainly not 'whatever'! I just proved you wrong, Potter! Word of advice, refrain from speaking or behaving in such a way that makes slugs and other such invertebrates look like Order of Merlin Third Class...ers. Otherwise you'll always end up on the loser's side of the table."
"You suck," Harry enunciated the two words carefully and with as much disdain as possible.
Draco's eyes narrowed into two grey slits. "Wow Potter, no, really, wow! Your vocabulary is such an orgy of stultifying, cacophonous, verbal depravity," he sighed dramatically. "Gotta brush up on your insults, my friend."
"Shut up," Harry muttered and made a rude gesture with his finger
"Don't be such a loser," drawled Draco as he put his mother's letter away in a pocket. "Seriously, what with your comebacks and all you're about as entertaining as a child's inflatable punching toy, you bop it, it springs back, you bop it again and you forget it ever existed...okay, that was a bad example, but I know you get my point."
Harry scowled audibly from his seat.
"Well," amended Draco, "I suppose silence is always an option, eh?"
Hermione had just finished settling her things into Ginny's room when Ron appeared by the doorway. Smiling a little shyly, he approached her.
"Hey," he began, sitting on Hermione's bed beside her.
"Hey," answered Hermione looking at her feet.
"So..."
"Yes?" Hermione asked, spying Ron's crimson face from the corner of her eyes.
"So, what do you want to have for dinner?"
Hermione looked at Ron indignantly.
"Is that all you came hereto say?"
"Yeah," replied Ron uncertainly, but upon noticing Hermione's raised eyebrow he tried again "No? I also came to say that I er..."
Hermione was enjoying the helpless look on his face.
"That…I love you?" he said finally.
"I love you too Ronald Weasley," beamed Hermione turning to him and closing her eyes.
This, Ron understood; she wanted him to kiss her. He leaned in nervously and placed his lips on hers. Hermione didn't react, but she didn't pull away either. Ron found himself suddenly thinking of Lavender now, snogging her was definitely more intense. Ron didn't trust himself to kiss Hermione the way he kissed Lavender either it seemed so...wrong. It was like painting graffiti on the walls of a church;not that wizards went to church, but Ron was positive that if he was a church-going Muggle he would feel as guilty about french-kissing Hermione as he would painting graffiti on a church.
There was the pitter-patter of footsteps running up the stairs and Ginny breathlessly breezed into the room. "Oh, I am so sorry... I... I just..."she surveyed the scene with widened eyes and trailed off embarrassingly.
Ron and Hermione abruptly broke apart.
"Don't mind me," squeaked Ginny, her hand covering her eyes. Even with all her brothers (and she had six), she would never be used to seeing them snog their girlfriends especially when the aforementioned girlfriends were close friends.
"Never mind," said Ron irritablyputting some distance between him and Hermione
Ginny peeked through her fingers and sighed with relief. "Mum wanted me to ask what you guys want for dinner," remembering why she had come upstairs in the first place.
"It doesn't matter," answered Hermione absent-mindedly.
"Oh," Ginny inched towards the door, "Okay, then I'll..."
"Don't bother, I'll do it," Roncut her off quickly, bounding down the stairs.
"Sorry," Ginnyapologized, settling herself beside Hermione in the spot Ron left vacant.
"No, don't worry about it," said Hermione, shaking her head. "It wasn't, well, it wasn't much of a snog session, per se anyway."
Ginny paused. Then she stood, closed the door and sat back down again. "Okay, tell me about it."
Hermione bit her lip uncomfortably. "It's just that…well, you know I love Ron. I mean, in him I've found a friend as well as..."
"Hermione," Ginny broke in, "please... "
"Oh," said Hermione shortly, "Right, well, the thing is, when we kiss, it's like... I feel his lips alright, but where are the fireworks? Where's the magic?"
"Magic?" Ginny raised an eyebrowat her choice of words.
"It's a Muggle phrase," explained Hermione quickly. "The thing isit doesn't feel special. I... it's just... well, nothing. But I love him. I know I love him. This must be what it feels like. This can only be love."
Ginny smiled sympathetically at Hermione's nonsensical rambling, "I guess if you love him, you love him, but Hermione, are you sure? I love, yes I do, I love Ron too. I get jealous of other girls but in a sisterly waymaybe it's the same with you. I don't know but maybe you should think about it."
Hermione opened her mouth to respond, butdecided against it. Instead, she surmised to do just that, think about it.
Author's Note: Sorry for the hold-up! I needed some time to get my thoughts about the plot together and plan the next few chapters out. I would also like to announce that school has officially started, and this year is extremely important to my academic... er... future! I won't bother you with the details, but if I don't get all my credits this year (the easiest of the ultimate hard ones) I won't be able to graduate, and that would be, well... tragic. This means I'm gonna be hard at work in school so updates won't be quite as often as before, but at the least once a week (weekends). I promise they'll be longer! Stay with me!
Let me clear something up. I uploaded this chapter yesterday and I woke up this morning and everyone's going, "Ron/Hermione!". Ron and Hermione basically hooked up at the end of HBP. That's fine because Draco and Hermione aren't going to be falling in love just because they live in the same house. They haven't even had much time to talk yet, we're talking about this chapter being three or four days after he moved in. In this chapter,I was trying to establish the fact that Ron and Hermione's relationship would never work out and why... because it's too weird making out with your best friend. There has to be a reason for that relationship not to work out, so that Draco and Hermione's future relationship is possible and plausible.
Thank you yet again to my outrageously amazing BETA! Every phrase of beautiful wording in this fic belongs to her! (grin)