A/N: Okay, it's been quite a while. A huge apology to all, 'cos I couldn't get the intended effect I had aimed for here. Hope you guys won't hold it against me (and remember to review :P)
Chapter 9: Revelations I
Her Watcher was seated behind his desk in the classroom, reading. He looked up at her entrance. "You're early, Miss Granger, for once."
Ignoring the snide dig, she deposited her outer robe on another worktop, moving to the centre of the cleared floor and beginning her warm-up exercises wordlessly.
He snapped his book shut just as she was completing her exercises, the sudden sharp sound cutting through the silence of the classroom and making her flinch. "Come," he said. "I have something to show you."
"Will I get bruised for it?" The question escaped before she could swallow it. Cringing inwardly, she prepared herself for a severe tongue-lashing.
Surprisingly, he simply arched a brow at her. "Was that a complaint, Miss Granger?"
"Oh no, sir, just curiosity."
He made no answer to that. Standing up, he strode to the door on a side of the teaching dais. A few muttered words later, he pushed it open and disappeared inside, leaving her to trot in after and shut the door. How gentlemanly, she thought sarcastically as she settled herself into the cold stiff chair before the desk.
The office had not changed since the last time she had been in it. Spartan furnishings, shelves bearing rows and rows of neatly labelled jars. Two stacks of parchment stood on one corner of the desk. red slashing scrawls marring the uniformity of black-inked words on the surfaces.
"Here," he said, pulling her attention from the essay at the very top of the stack closest to her. Taking the sheet he held out, she noted that it was regular white Muggle paper, and not parchment.
She spent the next few moments scanning the brief missive, absently gnawing on her bottom lip.
Finally, she raised her eyes to his questioningly, and he nodded wordlessly. "Does this mean—"
"Yes." He straightened in his chair and steepled his fingers. "How it was actually done, I have no idea, but my colleague has promised to look into it."
"It doesn't have anything to do with You-Know-Who, does it?"
His posture stiffened the slightest bit as he shook his head. "No, I don't believe so."
She hesitated before forging ahead with her next question. "He...didn't mention anything about an attack, did he?"
"That's none of your business, Miss Granger." His back was ramrod-straight, his face a blank mask. "If you would be so kind, I would like to commence with your training."
"Yes sir." Mentally kicking herself, she stood up from the chair and meekly followed him back into the classroom. However, instead of stopping in the cleared space in the middle of the floor, he bypassed it in favour of yet another door which materialised at a flick of his hand. "Sir?"
"We will be trying something different today. Yesterday's session proved that you have grasped the basics, with plenty of room for improvement, if I might add." The door swung open obediently at his spoken command, and he swept through. Moving to the portrait opposite the doorway, he did something to it, causing it to swing aside and reveal a rich mahogany cupboard set into the wall behind it.
She gasped as he slid the doors aside. Rows and rows of armaments hung on hooks or rested in brackets in the niche, all of them polished to a flawless shine. She identified a crossbow, a set of throwing knives and a mace among the array of weaponry displayed before her, each looking as lethal as the last.
"They are beautiful..." she whispered reverently as she stepped forth to get a better look.
He acknowledged her breathless wonder with a nod, plucking various daggers and knives from their holders. "We will try out hand-to-hand fighting today, beginning with bare-handed close quarters combat. If you prove adequate in that, we could try the knives."
That night, she threw herself into the lesson with a vengeance. On retrospect, she had only an inkling why.
Somehow, the sight of the weapons store had ignited a roaring fire within her, a drive to hone herself into a blade as sharp and efficient as they are, and most terrifying, a drive to kill, to destroy.
She was not a fighter by nature, she knew that quite clearly, but the spark was there, had always been, dormant, waiting to be stirred. She had buried herself so resolutely in books and learning in hopes of suppressing the random violent urges she got every now and then and deny it the necessary kindling, but now she welcomed its awakening with arms wide open. And now it motivated her like nothing else ever had.
All the previous times she had participated in skirmishes had been nothing compared to this. Harry was always the man of the moment, the one who did most of the legwork that mattered in those fights. All she and Ron had to do was to ensure no one hexed his arse off in the thick of the fray. It took an enormous amount of concentration, leaving no room at all for the heady adrenaline rush.
She was almost sorry when Professor Snape finally ended the session. "Good night, sir," she said, mostly out of courtesy than anything else. He never returned her greeting, and she expected no less of him.
Her hand was on the doorknob when he spoke. "Miss Granger?"
She looked back over her shoulder. "Yes sir?"
"The Dark Lord does not consider the Watchers' Council a threat."
She inclined her head at his acknowledgements of sorts. "Thank you, sir."
Receiving a quick, sharp nod in reciprocation she left for her quarters, deep in thought,
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Ron Weasley walked away from the dungeons in a daze, so preoccupied that he nearly missed treading on Mrs Norris's tail.
Harry was waiting for him on the windowseat. "Well?" he asked expectantly.
"I—I..." The weight of his conclusion finally went came crashing through his consciousness and he sank into an armchair, kness too weak to hold him up.
"Spit it out, mate," he prodded impatiently. "What has got you so shaken up?"
The expression he saw when the pale face lifted was enough to make his blood freeze in his veins. "I...I think Hermione's having a relationship with Snape.
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"Okay, let's go over this once more," said Harry, pacing the length of the floor. "You heard him telling her that he has something to show her, and she asked if she will get injured for it?"
"Bruised," Ron corrected.
Spinning on his heel, he retraced his steps across the carpet. "And then you heard their footsteps receding and the closing of a door."
"Yes."
"When they came back out, he asked her if she was ready, but he didn't say what for, and she answered in the affirmative."
He nodded in confirmation. "I left right after that. I would have been sick if I stayed any longer."
Harry frowned, eyes staring off at a point of the wall. "That doesn't sound like Hermione at all..."
"I told you he had her under Imperius."
"No, Ron, can we look at this and examine it from every angle before jumping to a conclusion?"
"Can there any other reason for her visiting him at this time of the day, and acting all secretive?"
Harry halted in the middle of the room, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "None I think of."
A faintly triumphant smile graced his lips. "You see my point, don't you?"
His friend's next words wiped the expression off his face. "No. Hermione wouldn't do that. You and I both know very well she's a stickler for the rules, and Snape is a teacher, after all."
Ron sighed the sigh of the aggravated. "Does the words 'Imperius' and 'curse' ring a bell anywhere, mate?"
Harry shook his head vehemently. "Listen, if she is really under the Curse, she will be acting unlike her usual self, and we would have noticed."
"Ah," Ron said with a distinct air of superiority. "That's easy. She's been withdrawn and all."
"That, too," he conceded reluctantly.
They sat in glum silence until Harry snapped his fingers suddenly, making Ron jump. "Malfoy. He would know."
"You trust that ferret?" He flinched at the volume of his exclamation, and lowered his voice. "You honestly do?"
Harry rolled his eyes heavenward in a gesture of exasperation. "For goodness's sake, Ron, if Draco had realy wanted to get rid of Hermione, he would have done so in the first few months they moved into the same tower, wouldn't he? For once, will you please overlook the idiotic house rivalry and see him as a human being, however annoying he is?"
Ron blew out a long breath, looking down at his lap. A few minutes had passed when he finally lifted his head again. "Very well, for Hermione's sake."
The rare bit of maturity surprised him, and he grinned encouragingly. "See? That wasn't so bad after all."
"But I don't have to like him, do I?"
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Draco Malfoy frowned as he heard the banging on the door. It was probably Crabbe and Goyle again, despite the fact he had sent them off a few seconds ago. Aborting his attempt to get to his room, he turned sharply and yanked the door open. "What are you—" His complaint died midway.
"Hello to you too, Malfoy," replied Harry Potter wryly. Behind him, Ron Weasley stood, silent, his face blank.
"Hermione's not back yet. I'll tell her you guys dropped by." He was about to shut the door when Harry slapped an open palm against it, effectively halting its progress,
"We wanted to talk to you."
His first response was to sneer at them and slam the door shut in their faces, but he clamped down tightly on that urge. "Yes?" he asked warily.
"Can we come in?"
"Would you go away if I said no?" In spite of his words, he stood aside to allow them entry. "Nothing's out of the ordinary with Hermione, if that's what you want to know." He winced inwardly at the brusqueness in his tone. The abrupt appearance of Hermione's friends threw him off, made him unsure. He wasn't used to civility with them.
"It's not that. Has Hermione been acting anything out of the ordinary?"
He knitted his brows. "How so?"
"Out of character, not like her usual self."
He cocked his head for a moment, then shook it. "No. Studious and bossy as ever." He watched as they exchanged a commiserating smile, feeling a pang in the region where his heart ought to be. Yet another reminder of what he could never have.
"Ron suspected she was having an...uh..." Harry's face coloured. "Relationship with Snape. Professor Snape," he amended in deference to the boy's perception of the professor, which was undoubtedly more pleasant that theirs.
Draco simply stared. "You're pulling my leg, aren't you?"
"No. At least that was what Ron interpreted from eavesdropping on them."
"You're joking." He collapsed into fits of disbelieving laughter before he could stop himself. It was quite some time before he finally mastered his mirth, only to find them staring at him as if he had grown an extra head.
"What?" he asked between gasps.
"The great Malfoy laughs," Ron observed solemnly. "Oh my, I think I feel a little faint. He laughs!" Laying the back of his hand across his forehead, he pretended to swoon onto the couch.
All three burst out laughing, sounding in that moment, likethe young men they are at the core of their beings,careless, vibrant with the possibilities life had to offer.
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Hermione clambered into the portrait hole and climbed the steps, shivering slightly as perspiration evaporated from her skin.
Near the top, she raised her brows at the sound of three boys chattering away at the top of their voices. Initially, she supposed they were Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy, but on closer inspection...
"Harry?" she murmured in disbelief. "Ron?"
Bolting up the remainder of the steps, she flung the door open, her jaw dropping at the tableau before her.
Harry was curled up on one side of the couch, with Draco and Ron holding pillows, poised to pummel him.
"Who are you and what have you done with my boys?" she demanded, putting her hands on her hips.
"What do you mean, 'who are you'?" Draco echoed, affecting an air of injured innocence.
"We're still 'your boys'," Ron assured her.
"But—but..." she fumbled to put her thoughts into words. "You, and you, and..."
"Hello, Dorothy."
"I must be dreaming. I really am dreaming." She pinched herself. "Okay, I'm not. All right...what are you doing here?"
The wide grins faded from their faces, and they looked at each other, looking very much like children caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
She scowled. "What are you three up to?"
"We...uh..." Draco stammered.
Ron scuffed his shoe against the carpet and said something indistinct.
"Speak up!" she ordered, supremely brassed off.
"WhydoyougodowntothedungeonstoSnapeverynight?" Ron asked in a rush.
"'Why do I—'" Suddenly everything fell into place, the odd camaraderie they had developed, the feeling that someone was staring at her... "Have you been following me?" she all but shrieked.
All three boys, though taller than her in stature, cowered in the face of the impending onslaught of wrath that was to come. "Well, uh, we were just concerned for you..." Ron offered tentatively.
"Concerned?" she repeated stridently. "Concerned? You are invading my privacy, that's what you are." Shoving past them, she stalked into her room and slammed the door so hard Draco was rather surprised the hinges didn't give way.
"So, now that we have put our collective foot in our mouths, what do we do?" Harry piped up in a hushed voice.
He stared at him. "You're asking me? I thought you are the one who's supposed to know!"
Harry flopped onto the couch. "Well, anything we're going to do, we'll have to wait till she's completely cooled down."
"Why don't you go back to the tower first?" he suggested. "Come back tomorrow..."
"Good idea," Ron declared, heading for the door. "Coming, mate?"
Tumbling off the cushions with a sigh of resignation, he cocked an eye at the blonde boy. "You had better vamoose too, before she appears and castrates you."
"I know that," came the dry reply. "Nearly became a bloody eunuch after a slip of the tongue in front of her,"
That drew a sympathetic grin from them. "Good night, Malfoy."
"Same to you, Potter, Weasley."
The door shut behind them, and he was left alone in the common room.
He couldn't believe how well they had got along for the past hour or so, he had felt almost like one of them, not all Draco Malfoy, the ferret-boy from Slytherin.
He rubbed his face tiredly, thinking it was all too much to handle, his sudden bond with the Three Musketeers, Hermione's secret rendezvous with Professor Snape...
The clicking of a doorknob broke through his pensive trance, and he fled into the sanctuary of his room.
Hayley: Hey, you're back (frowns) I don't throw things at people, you know, much too violent for my taste.
Anigen: Yay, a new reviewer :D I go with the flow of the plot, and end the chapter when I feel that it's appropriate. Hope you don't mind.
humanoid: Yeah, I know. Still working on updating regularly.