Recap: Her eyes were fixated upon the ground, thoughts running through her head. What reason could Dumbledore possibly have to speak with her so early in the year? These factors were what had occupied her so thoroughly, she was at the door to the chamber before she knew it.
Hermione knocked on the polished door, and tentatively stepped inside. Closing the door behind her, she looked up and the sight that greeted her was the last thing she would ever have expected.
Eyes wide, she said "Malfoy!"
Chapter Six: Authority with a Side of Misunderstanding
"Ah, Miss Granger, please, take a seat." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled as he saw the exchange of glares from the two top students in sixth year. "You're both probably wondering what I have asked you here for. Neither of you have spots on your school records, so what reason could I possibly have for wanting to speak with you."
The two students looked at each other, brows furrowed, with suspicion dancing in their eyes, then turned back to their headmaster. "Don't worry, you are not in any trouble. Quite the contrary in fact. This year at Hogwarts, the staff and the board of school governors have decided to instill another set of…shall we say, law enforcers. As you both know, we have Prefects, and the Head Boy and Girl." Hermione and Draco nodded understanding. "And in addition to those positions, there will be an apprenticeship to the Head students. That is, an in training Head Boy and Girl. The staff has agreed that you two will fill those posts quite nicely."
Hermione's jaw dropped as her heart began to hammer against her ribcage. Could she believe what she was hearing? She was actuallygoing to be in an authoritive position other than prefect? Chuckling, Dumbledore continued.
"Yes, Miss Granger, you will be taking up the post of Head Girl next year, as you, Draco, will be Head Boy. In past years, some of our heads have come to me in complete hysteria because they didn't know if they could handle the work that was assigned to them. After last year, we didn't want that happening again. So after talking with the governors of Hogwarts, we came up with this apprenticeship program. Your prefect duties are still your responsibility, but we want you to know what you're in for next year, back here at Hogwarts. This new post that you have been assigned will help you understand your duties for seventh year. You will work closely with the current Head Boy and Girl, helping to plan prefect meetings, Hogsmeade trips, and also, a ball."
Draco eyes widened. A ball? There was going to be a ball this year? There hadn't been one since fourth year. What was so special about this year that a ball was needed? "Professor…what exactly is this ball being planned for? Is it preceding a major event?" He wasn't really looking forward to this dance. He'd be stuck going with Pansy — again — and that was just a total nightmare. Yes, she could be sweet, but her voice was just so...irritating. It was like scraping nails against a chalkboard.
"No, Draco. There is no real 'event' as you put it. But I thought the students would enjoy a ball. Wouldn't you say so, Miss Granger?" Hermione nodded her head and began to speak. "Oh yes, Professor. Is there going to be a specific theme? Age limit?" "Now, now, Hermione, one question at a time. I cannot answer any of those queries, since it is Draco, Laurence, Melinda and yourself who will be planning it." A smile lit up Hermione's face, and Draco couldn't help but stare. She wasn't such an ugly thing after all.
"How exciting!" she breathed. She was positively glowing. "Now, if you'll both follow me, I will show you your new lodgings." Dumbledore stood up from the armchair he had been sitting in and walked to the door in four long strides. Hermione and Draco followed obediently as Dumbledore led them out into the, now deserted, Great Hall, through the Entrance Hall, and up the marble staircase.
They walked in silence, the sound of their footsteps bouncing off the walls. Dumbledore turned right when he reached the fifth floor, and continued about halfway down the corridor. He stopped in front of a blank stretch of wall, centered by two tapestries, one scarlet red, one emerald green. It looked innocent enough to Draco and Hermione, but no sooner had they arrived than paint began to materialize upon the stone. The form of a giant cat was taking shape, and when it was finished, Hermione recognized a sphinx. "Oh," she breathed.
"Hello, Rhianna," Dumbledore said pleasantly. The sphinx purred, and replied in a low, elegant voice very much like a lullaby. "Good evening, Headmaster." Rhianna turned her head to look at the new occupants of the rooms beyond her perch, and nodded her head in greeting. "Hermione, Draco. So pleasant to meet you at last. What do you wish your password to be?"
"We get to choose the password?" Hermione asked? "Why, yes," said Rhianna. "This is your dormitory after all."
Hermione and Draco looked at each other. They were so different, and they despised each other. How could they possibly agree on a password?
"You decide," said Draco, surprising Hermione. "Erm...okay," she said. "How about…television." "Television?" Draco asked. "Yes, television. I didn't want our password to be something that encourages the separation of the houses, and since a television is a muggle form of entertainment, I figured it couldn't do any harm. Not to mention it's unlikely anyone would ever think of it, since it isn't associated with the wizarding community." "Fine, television it is."
"Very well, then," Rhianna said. She faded back into the stone, just as the wall began to split in half. Dumbledore stepped inside first, and the two pupils followed.
The circular room before them was quite beautiful; and quite large. Whoever had decorated had an eye for color. It was the perfect meshing of red and green hues that created a homey feel. Both couches were black leather, positioned directly in front of the only fireplace, above which, Gryffindor and Slytherin banners hung side by side. A glass coffee table stood on an antique rug before the couches, while light from the crackling flames bounced cheerfully off it. Squishy armchairs were placed sparsely about the room, as to entice some privacy if desired.
Dumbledore looked on amusedly as Hermione's face positively radiated excitement, and Draco's more indifferent stare scanned the room. "Well, what do you think? Is it suitable?" "Oh, yes! Thank you so much, Professor!" Hermione exclaimed. Draco however, simply nodded. "Very good! Now, I'm sure you're both anxious to see your rooms. But to be honest, there isn't much to see. We have also left the decorating of your private dormitories to you. We want you to be as comfortable as possible. Hermione, your room is on the left of the middle door, Draco, the right. The middle door is your bathroom. Yes, Mr. Malfoy, you must share a bathroom. However, you both have your own half bath, just in case of emergencies," Dumbledore chuckled. "There is a bell pull in each room, if you were in need to call upon a house elf. I think that is all. The exploring I'm sure you are to do will tell you everything else you need to know, and you can, of course, come to me with questions. Good day Hermione, Draco." And he swept from the room in a few quick strides.
Hermione ran to her door, and threw it open. Inside, everything was white; the carpet, walls, draperies, and bedding. A whole slew of possibilities ran through her mind, until she had the perfect design and theme for her room. A few flicks of her wand and there it was: the wood on her four-poster bed was a deep cherry oak, gleaming as if newly polished. The walls had been shaded a beige-cream color with moldings the same wood as her bed frame; upon the walls, there were a few muggle paintings of serene landscapes. The bedding was plush and, surprisingly, pink. Not bright pink, mind you, but a light pastel that blended nicely with the cream and mocha accent pillows upon the bed. Satisfied, she strolled to the door of the bathroom.
It too, was completely white. Draco stood just over the threshold from his own room, and Hermione could just make out the colors of navy blue, cream, and black. "Why don't we just color code our toiletries and leave the rest white. It'll make things a hell of a lot simpler," Draco said. "Uhm, okay," Hermione replied feebly. Draco waved his wand once, and all of his belongings turned navy blue. Following his lead, Hermione waved her own wand, and the light pastel pink found in her room joined the navy blue.
"Goodnight, Malfoy," Hermione said, but Draco had already turned on his heel and closed the door to his room. "Figures…the inconsiderate prat. Can't even say goodnight…" Hermione continued to mumble as she turned on the hot water, undressed, and stepped into the shower.
Draco heard the water running, and his imagination went into over-drive. His eyes clouded and he was transported into the best daydream he had ever had: He was with Hermione, there in the shower with her, the hot water beating down upon his back as he traced his fingers delicately over her form. A breath escaped her lips as her head arched back, and her body, toward him. The silver eyes traced up and down the brunette's body, thoroughly pleased with what he saw. His breathing became shallow, and he brought his lips to her neck; a moan, barely audible over the rushing water, came from her lips, as he lightly scraped his teeth over her collarbone…
His vision cleared and he saw his hand on the doorknob to the bathroom. Backing away slowly, he was disgusted with himself. This is a MUDBLOOD! He thought. A very cute — NO, don't go there. The water wasn't running anymore, he noticed. Determinedly, he went to his bed and stripped down to his boxers. The minute he hit the bed, he was asleep.
xXx
The next morning, Hermione was incredibly refreshed. She loved the privacy of having her own room and not having Parvati and Lavender annoying her with their endless chatter.
Once again, Hermione stepped into the bathroom and took a shower. Hygiene was incredibly important to her. As she dressed, she checked the clock — 7:45. Right on schedule, she thought, dropping her bag into an armchair by the door. Curious as to the lack of noise from Draco's room, she knocked; receiving no answer, she slowly opened the door, peeking in. To be quite honest, she wasn't braced for the site that met her eyes.
Draco was atop the bed sheets, his body moving with the slow and deep breaths of sleep. The platinum blonde locks were tousled, a few strands hanging over his face, and they danced with the steady inhalations coming from the Slytherin. Draco was wearing nothing but silk, black boxer shorts the set off just how pale he was. But it wasn't a sickly pale, Hermione mused, but an alabaster coloring. It fit him, she decided.
Quietly, she moved into the room, intending to shake him awake, when his eyes popped open. Upon seeing her directly in front of him, he sat up, eyes widening. Temper over-took him and he began shouting. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING! BARGING INTO MY ROOM UNINVITED, STARING AT ME LIKE SOME…SOME… PEDOPHILE!" He doesn't know about it… just don't show that you're hurt, even if he isn't the cause of it. That one word, 'pedophile', set Hermione's tear ducts to work. And yet, Draco continued. "IT'S DISGUSTING! NOW, YOU'RE GOING TO TELL ME WHY THE BLOODY HELL YOU'RE IN HERE. THIS. INSTANT." Noticing her tears, he said much more quietly, "Damn it, Granger… don't cry."
He sprung up off the bed, and drew a robe from the closet. Bloody hell, I didn't mean to make her cry. That was nothing compared to my usual insults. But she's a mudblood, Malfoy. Don't worry about her.
"Like you care if I'm crying or not," Hermione spat, anger flaming in her honey eyes. "You don't even know the reason! But since you'd like to know why I was in here…fine. It's almost eight o'clock, first day of lessons; I didn't want you to be late. SATISFIED! YOU'RE SADLY MISTAKEN IF YOU EXPECT AN APOLOGY FROM ME, ESPECIALLY AFTER CALLING ME A PEDOPHILE. AND ON THAT POINT, YOU HAVE ME CONFUSED WITH MY FATHER." Hermione then stormed out of the room, tears staining her cheeks with pathways leading to the ground; Harry and Ron would find them at breakfast.
As she swiped up her bag from the armchair she had set it in, she thought to her self, What have I done?
xXx
After Hermione left, it seemed an eternity before Draco moved again. He was so stunned by her words — 'you have me confused with my father' — he just couldn't move his legs. Finally, he roamed into the bathroom and hurriedly took a shower and went through his morning routine: facial cream for soft, unblemished skin, a flick of his wand to ensure tangle-free, but wind blown locks, brushing his teeth… he seemed oddly disconnected from these simple, daily rituals; and all because he had insulted Hermione so badly (and the kicker was, he hadn't intended to).
In the Great Hall, he scanned the Gryffindor table inconspicuously, but did not find any sign of the Gryffindor Golden Girl. Uncomfortably worried, Draco headed to Arithmancy, disgusted with himself for worrying so much about the muggle-born.
xXx
Hermione had told Harry and Ron everything — except, of course, how she had found the shirtless Draco such a pleasant sight — and now as she sat in arithmancy, alone, without Harry and Ron, and she could feel his eyes on her. The silver eyes that shot fire or ice, all in a matter of seconds. Instead of succumbing to turning around and facing him, she sat up straighter and held her head higher, taking scrupulous notes on the blantep figure that Professor Vector was explaining.
But Draco couldn't concentrate on notes, not when he could see her hair shining as the sun hit it, not when he felt like such a fool for hurting her without meaning to, not when he thought of what she had said. They may be in rival houses, but no one deserved to have a pedophile for a father. And then his mind started working…
According to Hermione, her father preyed sexually on kids. Did that include teenagers? He wondered. If so, could it be that Hermione herself was preyed upon? That she had become a victim of incest? A chill ran up and down Draco's spine.
No, no, Hermione would have put up a fight if that were the case. And surely, she would have been more shaken by what he had said. But then again… She was indeed a beautiful girl, Draco mused, and he was sure any grown man would look at her, blood related or not. So the possibility was there, but hopefully it wasn't the case.
The bell rang and Hermione was already gone by the time Draco had exited the classroom himself. His next class was Potions with the Ravenclaw N.E.W.T. students, and as he made his way down to the dungeons, he resigned himself to more thoughts about Hermione.
xXx
"What do you think she'll be like?" was the main question that was floating around the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs alike were both anxious to meet their new teacher, to see a vampire in the flesh.
"Can you believe the teachers we've had before her? I mean look at the record: 1st year, a servant of You-Know-Who, 2nd year a famous wizard who is now in St. Mungo's, 3rd year a werewolf, 4th year another servant of You-Know-Who, and last year, that hag. And now, a VAMPIRE!" Seamus was clearly wired. Bouncing up and down in his seat, eyes practically popping out of his head, it was very evident he was ready to hear all that Professor Amanda Wellston had to say.
Harry and Ron, however, couldn't care less. Their thoughts were focused upon Hermione. She wasn't shaking as badly as she had been at breakfast, but she still seemed a bit uneasy in their opinions. "You okay, 'Mione?" asked Ron, hand on her shoulder. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you, though, Ron." She gave him a weak smile and resumed reading her text book.
The two boys glanced at each other and sat down on either side of their female friend, just as the doors opened and the lights went out. A few shrieks were heard, most likely from Parvati and Lavender, but candles were lit seconds later, and a woman stood at the front of the room.
She was slim and slender, her cheeks a bit hollow, but not unattractively so. Her hair was a deep crimson or auburn (the students couldn't tell in the dim light) that flowed to the middle of her back and shined when the candlelight hit it; she was dressed in muggle jeans and mocha colored turtleneck, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She smiled and addressed herself.
"My names Amanda Wellston, and as Dumbledore has already told you, I come from America. I apologize for the dim lighting, but my eyes are very sensitive to light. Not to worry, though. Next class, the lighting will be normal." Another smile. "Now, seeing as I am a vampire, why not start off talking about them? First, can anyone tell me one crucial characteristic about the vampire? Ten points to the house that answers."
Hermione's hand shot in the air, as expected. "And what would your name be?" Professor Wellston asked. "Hermione, Professor. Hermione Granger. And one way to identify a vampire is by their eyes. When a vampire becomes agitated, the pupils become very large, and the white of the eye becomes slightly bloodshot."
"Very good, Hermione! Ten points. Oh, and for future reference, no need to call me 'Professor.' That's not my style. Amanda or Miss Wellston will be fine. Now. What Hermione says is true. The eyes are very important in identifying a vampire. I didn't expect that as the first answer, naturally as everyone associates fangs with my kind. But the only thing about our canine teeth, is that they are hidden most of the time. But, I must say I was pleasantly surprised. Well. I'm sure you all have questions for me and I'll be more than happy to answer them." This time, she grinned wide, showing all of her teeth, and no fangs were present.
Seamus's hand shot up. "Miss Wellston, do you hang upside down?" She laughed. "No, I do not. That is just some… miffed up tale. Nor do I sleep in a coffin, or turn into a bat. Coffins are made for the deceased, and I am in no need of one, as I am alive and healthy. The bat story originated when a vampire was an animagus, and it just swelled to uncontrollable proportions. We vampires shouldn't be as feared as we are. We can control ourselves just as easily as you can. I don't drink blood for example. Just like a pig can be weaned from its mother's milk, a vampire can be weaned off of blood. When I was about a year old, my mother switched me to red wine. Whenever I got in a bit of a mood, she would give me a bottle filled with red wine, and it calmed me. And that is how I remain still."
"Now, before we get back to the question and answer session, your homework is a paper on the way you can identify a vampire. Also incorporate myths that surround the vampire, and if you can, prove them wrong with logical explanations." "Professor," Hermione started, "how long does this paper have to be? Six inches? Two rolls?"
"As long as it needs to be in order for you to address each point that I've asked for." Amanda waved her wand, and a tiny piece of parchment appeared in front of every student. "Whatever is on that piece of parchment needs to be included in your paper. Every lesson that you receive homework, you will also receive a rubric of what needs to be included."
"Okay. My eyes. You cannot see them because of the light. But they are a deep, bottle green. When I get angry, you wont see that green color anymore. It will seem as if my eyes have turned totally red. So I suggest you do not do anything to irritate me." Smiling, she continued. "On the subject of eye color, does anyone know what violet eyes represent? It is a very rare color and rightly so."
To everyone's surprise, Hermione didn't raise her hand. She hadn't a clue of what purple eyes could mean. "Just as I thought," Amanda chuckled. "Does everyone here know what empathy means? The identification with and understanding of another's situation, feelings, and motives. Well, violet eyes indicate a true empath. It is a blessing, and a burden. An empath has the ability to tune into another person's feelings. But then the feelings are transmitted into the empath, and to the empath, it's as if too many voices are speaking within their head, as if the over load of feelings could kill you from the inside out. Now, you have to be careful when confiding in an empath because of this sensitivity…"
Although Hermione was deeply fascinated by the role of an empath, something pricked at the back of her mind, and she didn't hear the continuation of the empath information. Violet Eyes, violet eyes…why were violet eyes so important now?
xXx
In the bright sunshine of the late morning, an owl could be seen flying away, a letter clutched in its talons. Only one student knew where it was going, and he smiled to himself as he ran a hand through his blonde hair.
Lifting his sleeve, he smiled at the underside of his left forearm. It was still unblemished by the Dark Mark tattoo, but not for very long. The smile split into a wide grin. The Dark Lord was going to accept him into the ranks of the Death Eaters. He could feel it. And when that mark was branded into his flesh he would smile broadly, proudly.
A/N: I hope you liked this chapter. And I think I'm going to take a hiatus for a while. I want to get a few more chapters written so I can update at least a little more regularly. I apologize for the odd schedule of my updates, but I was so anxious to get the first chapter up I didn't really think of regular updates. So please, bear with me. Also, I have terrible writer's block. I get frustrated and I take a couple days off and come back to it. I promise, I'll work harder to get my updates to a more normal schedule but can't guarantee anything. I hope you all will stick with me! Reviews are very much appreciated, as are recommendations of my story to other readers.
♥