I have to say I'm not very happy with the way this chapter turned out, and I'd like to continue it, but lately I've been hitting a writers block for right in the future, and I needed to get something up. I guess it's more like a filler chapter than anything, but hopefully you'll still read it. I feel like I'm losing the tune of the story, though hopefully I'll be able to get it back. I'm spending a week working with a real writer soon, so maybe that'll help =) As always, thanks for reading and reviewing, they keep me going.
(BTW-- to sphinx, thanks tons! I can't believe I didn't remember... -feels inadequate- But I've changed that now :D)
After half an hour it seemed as if Hermione would not awaken, and had fallen back to a deep sleep. Draco however, felt compelled to discuss certain matters with her, so he pulled a potions essay out from his bag. He grumbled softly to himself as he began writing out the information he knew on the many uses of the tendrils off of a Repulsive Ear Clocker.
Leave it to Snape to assign an essay to be due on Halloween. In between making a tasty snack when boiled for 37 minutes, and aiding in the healing of welts, he heard Hermione begin to stir behind him. He turned around to see her already leaned over the table, scrutinizing his half written assignment.
"You forgot their excellent ability to serve as a strong coil of rope," she said with a grin. He added it to his list, but set down his quill, turning to Hermione. Her smile faded at the look on his face, and she sat down.
"Granger, why the hell would you put me before your best friends," he asked coldly. He didn't know why he was angry with her, he just felt as if something wasn't right. He was supposed to be her enemy, and yet she pretended like there was no animosity between them.
"I... I didn't put you before them, I just felt that their argument was rather weak, and unfounded. They were accusing me as well, Malfoy," she replied harshly.
"Granger, do you hate me?" He asked simply, and she looked shocked.
"Of course not," she stated uncertainly.
"Wrong answer," he cut in. "You were supposed to tell Potter and Weasley that they're ten thousand times better than I am. You have to agree with them, you're a Gryffindor."
"And you're a Slytherin, it doesn't matter Malfoy, honestly, inter-house relationships are good," she replied back.
"Merlin Granger, this isn't just about whose house hates each other more," he said coldly, eyes burning. "This is about your people killing my people, and mine killing yours. No one's going to care what house you were in when the war comes around," he said.
"Maybe if you weren't so determined to be on the bad side, then we wouldn't be having this discussion," she said coldly, glaring at him now.
"How do you know that you aren't on the bad side, Granger? Aside from your heritage, do you really think your aurors are saints? What are you willing to bet that they won't be just as ruthless or more?" He questioned her angrily. Her jaw fell open, though she had difficulty finding words.
"At least the aurors don't kill mercilessly for no reason," she countered.
"You really believe that? I can give you over two dozen names of Slytherins who have had their families torn apart or killed for just being in the least bit associated with our side. It's not all murders and scheming, Granger."
She sat back down on the couch, unaware of standing at all. She stared determinedly into the pillow beside her, avoiding his intense gaze.
"I don't see how any of this relates to what I told Harry and Ron," she muttered absent mindedly, not even sure if he was still there. A moment later a sigh from behind her confirmed that he was, and then she felt the couch dip down as if someone had sat on it. She risked a glance over and saw that he seemed considerably calmer, and relaxed slightly.
"Granger, those two are some of the best friends you could get, I've seen how the three of you need each other," he said softly. "Compared to them, I'm pretty much the worst person you could know. I just don't want to see you throw that away in exchange for a fuck up like me," he stated calmly.
"I don't think you are," she said quietly, and he gave her a grim smile. "If they're such good friends, why don't they even care enough to know anything about me," she asked, unsure whether to expect an answer or not. He shrugged slightly, and remained silent for a long time. When he spoke it wasn't how she expected.
"What is it that you want them to know about?" He asked simply, staring into her eyes. He saw ill understanding. "Meaning to say, if they don't know anything about you, what should they know? Perhaps this has been bothering you for a while, and it's part of the reason you think you're falling out of touch." He spoke as one describing the weather, though she was astonished at his comprehension of what she had been feeling.
"It was hypothetical, Malfoy," she said after a pause, and though he wasn't fooled in the least, he let the topic drop.
"Yeah, sure... I've just ruined enough lives, I don't need to rip yours apart as well," he said genuinely, looking at her. For a moment she simply stared blankly at him, wondering whether he had actually mean what he just said.
"You haven't," she said certainly. "Ron and Harry like to be stubborn in what they believe. I'll just give them a few days and they'll be back to normal again," she assured him. He raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. "Now, I'm hungry," she said later, breaking the uncomfortable silence, and walked out, leaving Draco to ponder what he had gotten himself into.
It seemed, however, that Harry and Ron would not return to normal within the day, because they were ignoring her throughout, and hurriedly left the breakfast table as she approached. She sat down in a huff, and struck up a conversation with some fifth years. She didn't notice when Draco walked in and shot her a meaningful glance, and neither the frenzied conversation down the table from her.
She sat listening to the anxious discussions about Halloween. Hermione had never been one to care a lot about the holiday. In her mind it was nothing more than an excuse for young children to parade around as various monsters and beg for free candy. At least she had thought when she was younger.
As a child, Hermione enjoyed dressing as a witch or vampire, though once she got her letter everything had changed. No longer did she have meaningless daydreams about performing magic skills, with princes and dragons. She took a long look around the hall, taking in all of her peers and teachers who were still eating their breakfasts.
She laughed aloud at the thought of what she might have said to the person who told her ten year old persona that she would be sitting in a school for magic in just seven years, preparing for graduation, and possibly war. The fifth years sent her a concerned glance, and continued with their conversation; she had tuned out politely.
What she wouldn't have given to be back as a young child, imagining herself somewhere exotic with a simple thought. Though she had taken her apparition test the summer previous, she had used her new skills for no reason as such. A sigh escaped her lips, at her lost childhood; her lost innocence, so to speak. There had been more than one time that she wished this was all a game; that she could wake up and put it away as a happy but confusing dream. Perhaps to dwell on, though this was the present.
Three summers ago, one of Hermione's young Muggle neighbours had asked Hermione if she wished to play a game involving dragons and witches with them. She had laughed at the irony of it, but declined the offer. She had no interest in seeing her old point of view reincarnated in someone else. If only they knew...
She was jolted back to the present as she noticed Snape and Dumbledore in frantic conversation at the head table. She tilted her head to hear better, and found herself wishing she had some Extendable Ears with her. She looked around and saw she wasn't the only one with her attention focused entirely on the two. Dumbledore, usually quiet and reserved, was looking alarmed, and speaking at a higher volume than usual. Hermione strained to hear as McGonagall walked over to join in the conversation.
"...not entirely proper..."
"...possible meaning..."
"...alert several of those..."
Snape stopped talking immediately as he noticed the hall was nearly at a level of silence except for the three talking heatedly at the top. He sent a heavy glare across the room which would have been enough to send most of the people into shock and fright, scrambling away like mice. But Hermione, as well as most others, knew this was something of great importance. And what else was so important these days as news of war?
They fell into silence at the sharp voice of McGonagall and the students hurriedly returned to their discussions. She saw several Slytherins smirking, and fell into a bout of rage, she wanted to smack each of them, who dared to consider this something good. The day Dumbledore fell was the day the light side would crumble.
The old man glanced around the room, and upon spotting her, beckoned a single finger, and quickly put his hand back down, as she stared into his usually twinkling eyes, dulled with worry. He gave the slightest nod, and she stood. Under the pretense of leaving for her dorm, she walked towards the doors past the head table. Dumbledore quickly turned around and headed out into the entrance hall, and Hermione had to veer wildly to avoid hitting a group of Hufflepuff second years.
Dumbledore walked purposefully towards his office, and Hermione saw McGonagall hurry towards him, and broke out into hushed conversation. She didn't bother trying to listen; she figured she would know enough soon. Probably more than she would have wanted to know under normal circumstances.
Hermione slowly ascended the stairway as she entered the office, pondering why Dumbledore stepped out of his comfort zone, so to speak. He sighed heavily as he sat down in a chair, and peered at her over his glasses.
"Ms. Granger, I cannot tell you why you are here," he began and she jumped to attention, focusing on what he was telling her. "But I can tell you that you, as well as many other students on our side in their top years will be going to Headquarters over Christmas break to begin your training for the war," he said with a sigh.
She stared blankly; she had been sure that her training would begin soon, though she hadn't quite expected less than two months away. It made everything seem so hopeless.
Numbly, she stalked out of the office minutes later, wondering what could have happened to make the Professors so anxious for them to begin training.
Her thoughts turned to who among the sixth and seventh years would be adequate enough to visit the Order to receive information. Many of the Hufflepuffs, she was sure, as well as most of the Gryffindors, and some Ravenclaws. A pang hit her as her thoughts floated away to who wouldn't be there, and she had a sudden image of Draco Malfoy. How dare he pervade her mind like that, when she wasn't even meaning to think about him.
With his hair falling in his eyes like that... she shook her head, noticing how strange it could seem to passers by. In all truth, she didn't want to oppose him. But seeing as there was no way he would join their side, and Hermione felt no inclination to betray her best friends and join his side, it didn't seem likely.
Draco walked slowly down the hall, head held high, gaze full of malice. He had seen the incident at breakfast and Granger hauled away by the Headmaster. Though he was only remotely curious, he had never before seen Snape riled, and truly wished to know the reason.
He was still slightly angry about Hermione, though he almost understood why she had done it. Not that it really concerned him, but those two could be royal bastards if they didn't even try. So if they tried... he could only imagine. What bothered him the most was getting too close to her, and then having to fight against her on the opposing side. He knew that neither of them would be able to show mercy, so it would be much easier. He was positive he wouldn't rase a wand to her, but all the same, anyone else could.
He walked straight into someone, eyes filling with anger, as he continued on, not worried about who he had been on a collision course with.
"What the hell, Malfoy?" The person said, and he turned around, sneer planted on his features, eyes burning with hatred.
"Don't stand in my way, Potter. As much as it pains you to be lower than me, wiping your pathetic germs all over me won't help you," he muttered maliciously, as he continued to walk.
"Stay away from Hermione," Harry said in a voice covering as calm, stopping him once again in his tracks.
"Where the fuck do you find it in your own matters what I do or what I say to my roommate, Potter," he said in a deadly soft voice, causing Harry to shudder against his will.
"If you hurt her..." Harry muttered angrily.
"I think you've been doing enough of that for the both of us," Draco cut in, knocking him off guard as he looked at his enemy curiously. "Yes, I talk to her, thus she told me what you said, maybe think about being less of an ass to your supposed best friends. By the way, your girlfriend, told me what you said as well," he said in almost a whisper, before shooting Harry a look of pure loathing and stalking off.
"Wait, Malfoy!" Harry shouted and jogged to catch up to him, before Draco spun around and glared at him tiredly, as if he was wasting his valuable time. "What did Ginny say?" Draco stared into his bright green eyes, laughing inwardly at his naivety and belief. In the moment when his worst enemy was begging him for information, he wasn't going to let it go too quickly.
He let out a cold laugh, causing Harry to back away in apprehension. He pondered for a moment what he could use against him, silver eyes glowing with mirth. He shook his head slightly, trying to get Harry to become angry by wasting time; perhaps he'd even draw his wand.
"I don't think you need to know information such as that Potter," he said with an evil grin, but continued before the other could utter a syllable. "However, I think maybe you should watch what sort of scathing remarks you might make to me, in case I could use a bit of information I know to my advantage." He muttered on as if having a rather pleasant floo conversation.
"What information would that be, Malfoy?" Harry asked, voice raised slightly.
"Control your anger, Potter," he scolded, thoroughly enjoying himself as the other boy grew angrier. "I'll ask you if a certain cold, desperate night with Cho Chang last year rings a bell? Perhaps, after you'd already admitted your feelings for one Ginevra Weasley?" He said, smirking widely at Harry's discomfort and quickly rising blush.
"How the hell do you know that," Harry muttered under his breath, unable to face Draco.
"I'll just say that wasn't the only case of pre-NEWT nerves she had worked up that year, and you weren't her only... correspondent. Odd how she never went back to you, isn't it?" He asked darkly. Harry seemed speechless, as he opened his mouth several times and shut it again.
"If you ever tell her, I won't hesitate..." he said after a while, before Draco dismissed him, shooting a glare at him.
"You'll what, Potter? Avada me? You and I both know you don't have enough hatred in you to kill someone, especially someone who can actually kill if provoked, so I think I'd stay clear if I were you. And now I've talked to you long enough to last a lifetimeof distaste, so get the fuck away from me," he said and strode off, leaving a very perplexed Harry in the corridor.