Disclaimer: All hail Jo Rowling for giving us Harry and his world.
Come What May
Chapter Nine
"Hermione, you look terrible."
She looked up from the dregs in her cereal bowl and shrugged as Harry, Ron and Ginny sat down on either side of her.
She had crawled out of her bed at dawn, as her room began to turn grey with light. She had taken a blasting hot shower and dressed and made herself presentable before Malfoy even woke up. She had come down to the Great Hall an hour ago, and slowly made her way to the bottom of the cereal bowl alone. Only now did the Great Hall really start to fill up.
"I'm all right," she heard herself answer them.
"No you're not. You look like the walking dead."
"Thanks, Ginny."
She heard them muttering next to her and found that she didn't want to put up with them. She got up from her place, swinging her bag over her shoulder.
"I'll see you later."
She ignored them as they called for her to come back, and brushed past Malfoy at the doors when he attempted to ask her how she was feeling. She had no other intention other than making her way to Madam Pomfrey for a draft of that damn potion. . .
She had noticed, as she crammed her books into her bag in the common room, that Draco had stayed true to his word and finished her Arithmancy essay for her. She had read over it hastily, and found that it was exactly what she needed. But when she heard his bedroom door open from upstairs, she quickly escaped to the Great Hall. She had no intention of coming face to face with him so soon after last night.
"My dear child, you look terrible. What's wrong?" Madam Pomfrey cried when she saw her.
"So I've been told," Hermione said rather shortly. "I'm fine. I just need my potion."
The nurse cast her a rather suspicious eye as she pulled out a bottle of the potion and poured some into a goblet. Hermione drank it down in one gulp and left the hospital wing without another word. She picked her way down to the dungeons for Potions and found herself sitting there, staring at the table in front of her for the next twenty minutes as she waited for Harry and Ron to join her.
"Hermione, what is the matter with you today?" Ron asked in an undertone as Professor Slughorn began to take the roll, albeit loudly.
She shrugged. "I'm not entitled to a bad day every once in a while?"
Ron leaned in. "Hermione, in your case, there is no such thing as a bad day every once in a while. Every day is a bad day."
He struck a nerve.
"For your information, Ronald Weasley, I have had some good days since it happened. Yesterday wasn't as bad as the others. Today I just don't feel spectacular. Is that okay with you? I didn't know I wasn't allowed to have a bad day. I'm sorry if I've offended you in any way. Perhaps from now on I'll just let you know what kind of mood I'm in when I first wake up, shall I? Maybe then you'll have a better idea as to how I feel and whether or not you should feel like speaking to me, since I'm not allowed to be a bitch around you!"
And with that, Hermione grabbed up her bag and moved to an empty table. Slughorn didn't notice.
Hermione thought privately that she would be lucky, very lucky indeed, to close out the day without throttling someone first.
Draco didn't know what the hell was wrong with him.
Honestly, what was wrong with him? He was suddenly being nice to Granger? Where the hell did that come from? And since when did he think it was okay to call her Hermione?
'Damn it, damn it, damn it!' he cursed to himself as he walked along by himself from the hospital wing, where that crazy nurse and Potter and Weasel had ganged up on him.
He was not supposed to be nice to her. At all costs. It could ruin everything. He was absolutely not supposed to get chummy with her. It was very, very bad. How could he afford to be nice to her when he had that damn spy, that Nemesaris woman, breathing down his neck? His father would see to it that he and Nemesaris had a cozy little chat before long, and when they did, dear God, heads would roll.
'God damn you, Draco. This is not cool! You're supposed to be the one to murder her, dammit! And here you are being all buddy-buddy with her. What the hell is the matter with you?'
For the rest of the day, and most of the next, he continued to yell at himself every given moment; that is, every moment that wasn't spent attempting to learn the stupid and useless things they were trying to cram in their heads in class.
And then, she was at dinner that night in the Great Hall. Madam Pomfrey had released her, and she looked much better than she did. Her face had lost that awful chalky color from the previous day, and her lips were no longer dangerously white. She looked like her old self again.
So beautiful. . .and her long silky brown hair. . .sad almond eyes. . .
"Draco!"
"Shit!" he muttered, snapping out of his trance and tearing his eyes away from Granger, but not before noticing that she had seen him looking at her.
"God damn it, Pansy, what do you want?" He said, his characteristic smirk playing about his lips for God knows why.
He automatically tuned Pansy out as she rambled on about something or other that was definitely not interesting to him.
". . .so I was just wondering if the rumors were true?" Pansy finished.
"What? Rumors? What are you talking about?"
Pansy sighed and took on a look of pained patience. "Well, there's been rumors floating around that the Head Boy and Girl are going to be planning a Christmas ball. Is it true?"
Draco snorted. "This is the first I've heard of it."
Pansy looked slightly crestfallen. "So they aren't true?"
"Pansy, how the hell should I know? Like I give a rat's ass about that kind of stuff anyways. If it is true, then whoopity-fucking-doo. I don't care. Now go away."
She pouted. "Well, if it is true, I want to be the first to know what you're planning. I want to be able to get a dress and stuff way before hand. And I want to go with you. Wouldn't that be fun?"
He growled low. "Goddamn Pansy, what part of get the fuck away from me do you not understand? I am not telling you a goddamn thing about it when I do find out, and I certainly am damn well not going with you. Find someone else who wants to get herpes from you, won't you?"
From the severely affronted look on her face, he could tell he had struck a nerve. With a strangled sound something like a shriek and snarl, she whipped up out of the seat next to him and flounced off down the table, casting him a very nasty look.
Feeling slightly pleased with himself, he went back to his steak and kidney pie.
Later, he decided he would head down to the old common room for some fun with his friend, Blaise Zabini. It had been awhile since he had been to the old common room, and he missed it slightly, with the dark, closed in feeling it brought about, and he missed torturing the little first years.
He whiled away the hours down in the Slytherin common room, laughing it up with Blaise and ignoring the searing looks Pansy kept shooting at him every so often.
Finally, when the clock struck half past ten, he got up and said good night to everyone before making his way up to the Head tower.
When he walked in, he knew immediately something was wrong. The strangled sound of screaming was coming from the dark corner over by the bookshelves, and Draco knew immediately who it was.
Hermione had fallen asleep over a book and was now twitching and screaming in her sleep. She was thrashing about, as though trying to get away from some unseen source of terror, and tears were streaming down her face.
He shook her awake as carefully as he dared, fearing she would go crazy on him. She finally awoke, but despite her assurances that she was okay, he knew immediately by the frightened look she gave him that something was not right and she was severely shaken up about something.
Everything was fine and dandy when she allowed him to help her up the stairs and to her room. But once she collapsed onto her bed, she flinched every time he tried to brush the hair out of her face. And then again when he patted her hand in a comforting gesture before he left her alone.
He smacked himself on the head now, as he watched her stomp down the corridor after brushing past him. How could he be so stupid? She had been having a nightmare about his father, and now, her mind made a direct connection between him and his father. They looked so much alike, it was scary. And now, because of his father, he was the one person she feared the most at Hogwarts.
"If only she knew the truth about that Nemesaris woman," he muttered.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around to see none other than Nemesaris herself.
"I was wondering, if time permits, if I could have a word with you?" She asked quietly, her eyes telling him that he had no choice but to agree.
He broke eye contact and nodded, casting his eyes downward. They landed on that bizarre brooch she used to fasten her silver cloak around her neck. Now that he looked at it closer, he saw it was made of some strange glass. The inside of the brooch swirled and gleamed menacingly, but it was oddly entrancing at the same time. For a moment, it was as though time stopped, and there was nothing but him and this curiously bewitching brooch.
"If you'd follow me, please, we don't want to be overheard," she said shortly, placing a hand on his shoulder and steering him out of the Hall.
He remained silent as he followed her up the stairs and into her office.
"Sit," she said, pointing at the chair in front of her desk.
He sat down and kept his eyes fixed at a point near the middle of her desk.
She made a show of making sure the door was securely fastened and muttered a complex charm to make the door Imperturbable.
"Now, I believe you know who I am?"
He nodded, refusing to look up.
"Look at me, boy! I know you are not the weak and foolish boy that you try to play on. I'm a sufficient enough Occlumens to know when I'm being led on. Enough of the charade!"
His head snapped up, and inwardly he groaned as he forced himself to stare into those cold grey eyes.
"That's much more like it. Now, from what your father tells me, you have indeed promised to terminate the Granger girl, am I correct?"
Feeling slightly sick, he nodded.
"Do you have a plan as to how to accomplish this?"
Knowing she'd be reporting to his father, he again nodded, though he had no clue as to what the plan was.
She could tell he was lying.
"Do not lie to me, Mr. Malfoy. You seem to be forgetting who I am reporting to on a daily basis. You're father won't be too pleased when he finds out that you haven't been trying your hardest."
"Bloody hell! It's only the third fucking day of school and I'm supposed to have the whole damn year planned out? What the hell? Can I not attempt to lead a normal life while I'm plotting against her?"
Her eyes flashed dangerously. "You had best watch your tone, Mr. Malfoy. You don't know who you're dealing with. Why do you think the Dark Lord brought me into the inner fold? To play games with foolish boys such as yourself? I should think not. How do you think I managed to procure this job? By bullshitting my way into it? It took months of preparation and a damn good amount of Occlumency to be able to pass the security measures the fools have placed as requirements to the job. I will not be lied to!"
Draco gulped. "I. . .I guess the only way I saw fit was to figure a way. . .a way to. . .get close to her. . .make her feel like she could trust me. . .maybe use some of my, er, skills, if you know what I'm talking about."
She surveyed him through those merciless eyes.
'Goddamn it, it's like having Snape here all over again. Can't I get the hell away from him for once?' He thought.
Nemesaris suddenly smiled. "Yes, I suppose I am rather like Severus Snape. At least, I've been told so, you're not the only one."
'Shit.'
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, I can enter your mind at will. Believe me, it's not hard. I'd learn a little Occlumency myself, if I were you. But yes, the plan. I suppose it will have to work. And from what I've seen of the little Mudblood, it shouldn't be that hard."
"If you only knew," he blurted out before he could stop himself.
She tilted her head. "Oh?"
"I'll only say this: Tell Father to go easy on that damn curse he placed on her. He's going to strong on it. She's going to go fucking crazy before I can finish her off. And he wouldn't want that, would he? He wants me to finish it, so I can get back in everybody's good graces, doesn't he?"
Before he could blink, Nemesaris leaned forward and slapped him with all her might across the face.
"What the hell was that for? God I'm getting tired of you beating on me all the time!"
"How dare you speak of your father and your master that way!" She shrieked. "He was good enough to buy you time with the Dark Lord, and this is how you repay him?"
Draco shrank back in his chair. 'Goddamn, this is not someone to piss off.'
"You had bloody well think it's a bad idea for someone to piss me off! Nobody gets away with pissing me off without paying the price! You're lucky I didn't kill you!"
"I'm sorry. I was merely venting some frustration, that's all," he said hastily as she drew her hand back again.
"Get out of my sight, Mr. Malfoy!"
Draco leapt from his chair and ran out the door as it flew open magically once he neared it. He sprinted down the corridor and down the stairs, leaping them three at a time. He ran flat out towards the dungeons, hoping to make it before the bell. He had one foot inside the door when the bell finally rang.
Wiping his sweaty face and clutching the stitch in his side, he walked towards the tables set up around the room. Slughorn began taking roll, and Draco was sweeping around one of the tables when he heard a slight commotion. Looking up, he saw Hermione get up and storm to another empty table, leaving Weasley gaping after her and Potter trying not to look so surprised.
Stopping for a second, Draco thought about what had just happened with him, and what he had just seen.
'The plan, Draco, think of the plan!' His father's voice sounded in his head.
'Oh great. Now I have to listen to him as my guilty conscience. This is just great, just fucking great. Screw the plan.'
His feet made the decision for him. He walked over to her empty table and set his books down. She looked up at him, her eyes frightened once more, but she tried to arrange her face in an unreadable expression.
"What happened to your face?" she whispered as Slughorn began to dish out the day's instructions.
Draco's hand went to his cheek, which was still stinging from the slap Nemesaris planted on him.
"It's nothing. Just a slight disagreement between two people. And speak for yourself, why were you in such a hurry to get out of the Great Hall earlier?"
She shrugged. "I needed some alone time. It just happens."
He gave her a disbelieving look. "Alone time? From Weasel and Potter? Since when?"
"Look, just because I'm letting you sit here doesn't mean that we have to play twenty fucking questions. Can we not talk about me for once? I'm sick of everyone fawning over me! I'm fine! If I need to talk to someone, I'll talk! Just leave me the hell alone!" She whispered furiously as Slughorn turned to face their direction.
"You two back there! Have you got what I said?" He said jovially.
"Yes, Professor," Hermione said dully before getting up and walking to the storage cupboard, where everyone else was now gathered, getting ingredients.
Draco stared after her, wondering how on earth this was going to work.
Hermione came back with the ingredients she needed, and with a haughty toss of her head, sending her hair flying over her shoulder, she sat down in a huffy silence.
Draco, deciding to be his usual insufferable self, leaned in close to her ear.
"Got anything for me?"
She shivered as his breath tickled her ear. "Malfoy, go die."
He leaned away, disappointed. "What, that's the best you've got for me?"
She smirked. "What, you like when I get pissed?"
"Perhaps," he said with a smirk to rival her own.
She leaned in sweetly. "Maybe I've been sending the wrong message. You, and me, it will never, EVER work. As much as you think you can flirt and be your usual jackass self, it will never work. You can try your very hardest, but I'm sorry to say, it will not work. Oh, and Slughorn looks ready to kill you."
Draco whipped around to see Slughorn's great belly looming in his face.
"You had best get to work, Mr. Malfoy. Or it'll be no marks for you for the day, I'm afraid."
Slughorn squeezed his way over to the next table. Draco turned around and looked furiously at Hermione, who was now measuring out some armadillo bile with the measuring cup in front of her eyes, though she was smirking most severely at the moment, her tongue between her teeth, feigning a look of utmost concentration.
"You knew he was there the whole time! Didn't you?"
She smiled innocently. "I wasn't holding you up. You were perfectly capable of getting up and walking out of the conversation at any moment possible. It was your choice."
Draco got up and stalked over to the storage cupboard. When he returned, he was looking very irritated.
"Help me. Please? I'm behind."
Hermione set down the hemlock root she was slicing. "And why should I do that?"
"Because you love me."
She snorted. "Is that what that feeling of wanting to strangle you every waking moment is? Huh, I would have never thought."
Draco turned to face her full on. "Please? Hermione, come on, I said please. I never say please."
She paused, thinking. "This is true."
He could see it was working. "Please? You owe me one, I finished that Arithmancy essay for you."
She frowned. "I thought you were doing it out of the kindness of your heart."
It was his turn to snort. "You obviously haven't learned yet, Hermione. I never do anything out of the goodness of my heart without expecting something in return."
She turned to face him as well. "Then I guess you haven't changed. No."
With that, she turned back to her cauldron and began tipping some of the hemlock root into it. The solution hissed viciously and turned a horrid shade of orange, precisely what it was supposed to look like.
"You'll regret that, you know," Draco said as he put his cauldron over the flame he conjured.
"Ooh, I'm so fucking scared. What are you gonna do, hand me to Daddy?"
'She knows. Dammit.' he thought. "No, but I'll figure something out. And you won't like it."
She laughed as she stirred the potion three times clockwise, then once counterclockwise. "Please, Draco, if you threaten me any more, I'm going to run from the room screaming. Really, I'm terrified."
He could see he had no effect. Well then, desperate times call for desperate measures. He'd just have to resort to something stupid. Something he knew his father would never approve of, and something he didn't really want to do, but she was so damn hot now. . .
The rest of the day passed smoothly for the two Heads. Draco learned his lesson about daydreaming in Nemesaris' class, and Hermione didn't feel the need to rush from the room and slash herself. All in all, one could say it was a very good day for them both. That is, until the end of dinner, when Professor McGonagall came sweeping over to them separately and motioning for them to follow her out to the entrance hall.
"I've been meaning to pull you both aside. There's something that I've been meaning to tell you so you can begin planning."
Draco gulped, remembering what Pansy said to him earlier.
"This year, as a morale booster, the rest of the teachers and I have decided that the school needs to have a Christmas ball. However, we will not be doing the planning. We're leaving it up to our Head Boy and Girl."
"You're kidding, right?" Draco said desperately.
McGonagall turned to face him, her eyebrows knitted close together. "No, Mr. Malfoy, I am not kidding. You and Miss Granger will be in charge of planning the ball. No exceptions. Once you have come up with the plans, I wish for you to write them down and bring them to me. I will take care of getting the supplies you need."
Hermione nodded. "When do we need to have the plans done by?"
McGonagall thought for a moment. "I would say no later than the first of December. That gives you about two months. Take your time, think about it. We want this to be that ball that Hogwarts remembers."
With a wave of her hand, McGonagall dismissed them. Side by side, they walked silently up the stairs and down the corridors to their painting.
"Unity," Hermione said, walking in ahead of Draco.
For the next two hours, the common room was completely silent as the two did their homework, albeit, not without the occasional smirk in the other's direction.
"So, Hermione, tell me, why are you so pissed off at Weasel and Potty?" Draco said finally, as the clock over the mantel struck nine.
"Why should you care, Draco?" she asked, not looking up from her Transfiguration essay.
"It's unusual for you to be pissed at both of them, I was merely inquiring," he said, shrugging.
She sighed and set her quill down to roll up her essay. "I'm not mad at both of them. I'm mad at Ron."
"Why?"
"He made a rather hurtful remark about how I no longer have good days, and that I am more or less a constant bitch to him."
Draco looked up. "You're not a bitch. You just have, er, issues."
She laughed. "A nice way of putting it, I suppose. But, it's your father's fault."
"Duly noted."
The next couple of minutes were silent, except for the scratching of Draco's quill and Hermione's shuffling of papers.
As she headed up the stairs, Draco called to her.
"You're going to bed already?"
She shook her head. "I was just putting my things away. I was going to come back down and sit by the fire and read for awhile. Why?"
He muttered something along the lines of, ". . .just curious. . ."
She shook her head and continued her way upstairs. As she was about to reach the top of the stairs, she thought she saw something dark and small flitting around out of the corner of her eye, but quickly dismissed it as a trick of the light.
She opened the door to her bedroom and walked inside and over to her desk, not bothering to turn the light on. She set down her books and her quill, and was about to turn to leave the room with the book she planned on reading when she remembered something to add to her Transfiguration essay.
She finished adding what she thought of and corked her ink bottle. She rolled the essay back up again and turned towards the door with her book in hand.
She never made it out of the room and downstairs. What she saw standing there, in the doorway, made her heart stop. The book fell to the floor with a hard thump, and she let out a terrified scream before a muttered charm silenced her voice.
It was Lucius Malfoy.