Disclaimer: All hail Jo Rowling for giving us Harry and his world.
A.N. Thanks to all you guys who have reviewed so far. I love how interested you guys are in this fic, and your support means a lot. Hopefully, I'm still writing up to all of your standards, and I hope to finish this one out strong. If you're interested in the whole aspect of Draco, I have two other fics out there, "My Father", and "Imperfect" for you guys to go check out. Happy reading. . .and keep up the reviews to let me know what you think!
Come What May
Chapter Twelve
It had been two weeks since the attack, and slowly, Hermione was getting back to normal. Well, as normal as she could possibly get. It had been almost unendurable torture for her to resume her classes once she felt better. It seemed that everybody knew what had happened to her, despite Draco, Harry, Ron, and Ginny all keeping the unspoken agreement of silence.
There had been an outburst of muttering and stares when she walked into the Great Hall that morning with her head held high, trying to keep the last of her dignity in tact. She sat down with the boys and Ginny at Gryffindor table and ignored what was going on around her, including the ignorant wankers who were actually standing up to have a better look at her.
It also seemed that Draco was a newfound celebrity once more at Slytherin table. It was common knowledge that he and Hermione shared the same common room, so he was bound to know all the juicy details.
"Draco, darling, tell us what happened to Little Miss Mudblood over there. Is it true your father attacked her?" Pansy Parkinson simpered while hanging onto his left arm.
He turned to face her slowly. "So help me Merlin, woman, if you do not get your hands off me, I will hex you to all hell. What happened to Hermione is none of your business, and if it involved my father, that certainly as hell is not your business either. Get the fuck away from me, and stay the fuck away from me. Don't talk to me again."
She glared at him for a moment, then removed her hands. "Well," she said with a half laugh, "it doesn't really matter anyway, what you say. Everyone is talking about it. Everyone has their own tale to tell. So I guess even if you did tell the truth, there would still be, rumors floating around. Wouldn't you say?"
He stood up so quickly the whole table turned to stare at him.
"Go fuck yourself, Pansy. Merlin knows you need it."
He walked over to Gryffindor table to where Hermione and the others were sitting. The whole table glared at him as he approached.
He tapped Hermione on the shoulder. She turned around and looked up at him, a tiny smile on her face.
"Good morning. How are you feeling?" he asked.
"I'm getting there," she said, deciding to be somewhat truthful.
Harry and Ron were looking up at him, wondering what he wanted. They weren't glaring, but they weren't smiling either.
"Erm, can I sit with you guys? The Slytherins are being assholes, and I'd prefer not to keep their company today." Draco said.
Hermione scooted over without a word and allowed him to sit down.
When the rest of Gryffindor realized this, it was as though someone had pushed a mute button. The whole table went silent.
Harry noticed. "You all can go back to what you were doing. He's not going to contaminate you," he called down the table.
People instantly went back to what they were doing.
Hermione looked down at her plate. She was suddenly not very hungry anymore. She took a sip of her pumpkin juice.
"I don't suppose I want to know what they're all saying, do I?" she asked lightly.
They all shook their heads.
"It doesn't matter anyways. I know someone's bound to come up to me sometime today and ask me about it," she said bitterly.
Draco placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry about it. We'll take care of it, won't we guys?"
Harry and Ron nodded vigorously, then glared around at the surrounding people, looking menacing.
"I suppose I should be used to ignoring these things by now," she said softly, her eyes filling with tears.
She brushed at them impatiently. They kept welling up on her when she least expected it. Professor McGonagall had summoned her to her office a few days after it happened to talk to her and ask her if she needed anything. Though Hermione had said no, the meeting more or less had turned into a mini therapy session, and it had helped. McGonagall had told her it would be natural for her to cry at random moments. It was her way of healing, she had said.
The day, and the rest of the week for that matter, had lasted a lifetime, it seemed to her. She was enormously relieved when Saturday arrived, feeling she could just hide away in her common room all weekend and hide away from the rest of the school population.
She awoke Saturday morning feeling profoundly happy for the first time since the attack. It was as though someone had decided that life was going to go uphill for her suddenly. True, it had been good news when Draco told her that Nemesaris had mysteriously disappeared from the castle and was no longer teaching DADA, but Hermione was almost wary of believing things were going to be better. So she just decided to take things one day at a time.
The sun had only just risen, she decided, as she stretched and peered out of her window. The grounds were frosty and chill, the grass sparkling in the light. She smiled to herself as she surveyed it all, wondering what it was about something as simple as the beauty of the morning light that made her happy.
She went to her armoire and pulled out her favorite fuzzy robe. Slipping it on, she opened her door and padded softly downstairs to make herself a mug of hot chocolate and sit in front of the fire for awhile.
Ever since the attack, she had been waking up right after dawn, refusing to sleep any more. She didn't mind really, it was better than lying there, having terrible nightmares, like she did almost every night. She tried to empty her mind every night before she fell asleep, to try and prevent these dreams, but it did her no good. Try as she might to get rid of the horrible images that would flash through her mind when she least expected it, they would always haunt her sleep.
But for now, she was happy just to be alive and breathing. It was the simple little things like the morning light and the hot chocolate she was making herself that kept her going. They were the things that reminded her of the old days, when her parents were still alive. The hot chocolate they would all drink Christmas morning as Hermione opened her presents from her parents, the times when she was a little girl and would wake up at the crack of dawn just to run into her parents' room and give them a big hug, eager to start the day.
Hermione smiled to herself as she sat down, remembering how her mother would always be so happy to see her when she would get up so early in the morning, always running into their room with a smile on her face. She remembered how it was her father who always made the hot chocolate for them on Christmas morning, always adding a little cinnamon and nutmeg to the steaming chocolate to make it taste better.
She sipped at her hot chocolate now, almost tasting the nutmeg and cinnamon. She closed her eyes, savoring the memories she would always have to remember them by.
'I promise you, I will find a way to make things right. I'll find a way. I'll get my revenge. You won't have died for no reason at all. I will get you justice, I will get myself justice. And then, only then, will I have peace,' she thought to herself.
She hardly noticed that the sun had really risen by the time Draco came downstairs. He came down to find her sitting there, on the couch, smiling to herself as she stared into the fire. She was not aware that he was in the room.
He smiled as well. 'She's remembering the good times. That has to be a good sign.'
He sat down beside her on the couch. She looked over at him slowly, still smiling softly.
"What were you remembering?" he asked.
"Christmas times in the past," she said softly, still smiling.
He looked into her eyes. She was still wounded, he could see it. But there was something else there as well. What was it?
"Speaking of Christmas time," she said suddenly.
He looked at her inquiringly.
"We have a Christmas ball to plan, sir," she said happily.
He had completely forgotten about their task of setting up a ball for Christmas. "How do you remember these things?"
She grinned. "Someone has to remember. Thank Merlin they put me in charge around here. You'd never get things done," she said teasingly.
He realized what he was seeing in her eyes. Hope. She had the faintest glimmer of hope somewhere inside her. That's why she was smiling so much lately. She was finally seeing the light.
"A Christmas ball it is," he said cheerfully, suddenly much happier.
She turned to sit cross-legged, facing him. "Okay, so what I was thinking. . ."
Draco could only sit there and watch her as she launched into her ideas, talking animatedly and gesturing wildly.
"Draco? Draco, are you listening?"
He quickly focused back on her. She was grinning at him, knowing full well that he hadn't heard a word she was saying.
"You should probably take some notes on this," she said, curiously watching him while conjuring parchment, quill, and ink from nowhere.
"Right-o," he said hastily.
"What were you thinking of, just out curiosity?" she asked, still watching him.
"Erm, well, just that. . .you, you look so happy today, and I'm happy that you're happy," he said truthfully.
She blushed slightly. "I feel great today. Like everything's finally going to settle down."
He could only smile, but inside, he knew that it wouldn't settle down.
For Professor McGonagall summoned him to her office a few days ago to tell him some news. The Minister had listened to him when he had requested that his father be given some Veritaserum to force the truth out of him as to what the plans were when it came to Hermione.
The Aurors had given him the Veritaserum all right. But it hadn't been much help. Lucius could only say that he had acted on information given to him to come up to Hogwarts the night he attacked Hermione. He also told them that it was, indeed, Professor Nemesaris who had given him information that Draco was not going to follow through with the plan to kill Hermione.
But it had been the last bit of information that they had gotten out of him that scared Draco the most. Lucius revealed that there was another plan in place, but he could not reveal it, because he was not the Secret Keeper for the plan. Nor could he reveal who the Secret Keeper was of the plan, because he, Lucius, was the Secret Keeper of the Secret Keeper, so to speak.
And then, there was the Nemesaris business. Professor McGonagall had dismissed her from the castle, and she just disappeared. Nobody knew where she went. And by the time that they had gotten the information from Lucius that it was Nemesaris that had tipped him off, it was too late. She had gone from the castle and nobody knew anything of her. It became apparent then, to the Aurors, that she was Secret Keeper of the other plan in place. They were doing everything in their power to track her down and place her into custody, but in Draco's opinion, they were going about it ridiculously slow. It had been almost two weeks since she had left the castle, and almost a week since they found out the information from Lucius.
So now they could only wait until the supposed plan took place, unless the damn Aurors found her sooner.
"Draco? What is it?" Hermione looked suddenly concerned at his silence.
"Nothing, it's nothing, I was just thinking of some stuff for the ball, that's all," he lied quickly.
"If you're sure. . ." she said uncertainly.
"Positive. Now, what were you saying about the ball?"
They spent most of the morning coming up with things for the Christmas ball. It was going to be the best ball Hogwarts had ever seen. The Great Hall was to be decorated lavishly, with live fairies all over the place, innumerable Christmas trees decorated in everything from tiny golden owls to miles and miles of everlasting icicles. The food was to be extravagant, ranging from exquisite French cuisine to the spicy flavoring of Mexican edibles. The entertainment was to be provided, of course, by the ever popular Wizarding band, The Weird Sisters. Dress robes, dresses, or tuxedos were to be worn, and nobody under the third year was allowed to attend, due to the lack of maturity in the younger years. To attend, you must have a partner, and so forth and so on (much like the Yule Ball of the Triwizard Tournament).
"Okay, so, I think we have a good start so far. What do you think?" Hermione looked up from the notes she had taken away from Draco and added her own stuff to.
Draco laughed at her face. She had ink spattered on her nose from her speed note taking.
"What?" she asked indignantly.
"Nothing, it's just, you have ink all over your face," he snickered.
She frowned at him. "Where?"
"Everywhere," he laughed.
She reached up and attempted to get it off, but she was missing most of the spots. Finally, Draco couldn't stand it anymore. He conjured a wet cloth and leaned in to wipe it off for her.
She stayed unusually still while he wiped it all off. She was shocked by his behavior, but it wasn't all too surprising. He had been so sweet to her since the attack. She knew he wouldn't let anything bad happen to her again. She was starting to trust him. And in the back of her mind (the one safe place she could hide stuff from that damn voice), she kept going over the conversations with Ginny, and with Draco, when he said he cared for her way too much, and when Ginny had told her that there was something there.
In truth, she knew now that he was the only one left who could save her from self destruction.
"Well," she said, snapping out of her thoughts once Draco had finished wiping away the ink, "I think we should wait a few more days before we give these notes to McGonagall, in case we think of something else. What do you think?"
"Sounds like a plan. I'm really liking what we have so far," he said truthfully. "Now when Pansy asks me about it again, I can tell her that ugly trolls such as herself are not invited, due to the fact that all trolls are banned. Add that one in there, will you?"
Hermione giggled. "That's horrible."
He cocked an eyebrow. "You do realize this is Pansy we're talking about, right?"
"Yes, but it's still horrible. I may hate the girl with an undying passion, but it's still horrible."
"Still got a soft spot in that heart of yours, eh?"
"Always will."
She sighed and rolled up the parchment, which had grown to an alarming length, due, in part, to her meticulous note taking and making sure everything was explained in detail. She was not going to let this ball be a failure. She had to put all her efforts into something.
"Well, I'm off to get dressed," she said, standing up and walking up the stairs.
"Need any help?"
She froze halfway up and looked back. Sure enough, the characteristic Malfoy smirk was on his face.
"Gee, I don't know. After all, I'm a brainless git who has no idea which way the shirt's supposed to go on and if the zipper's supposed to go in the front or the back on my jeans. You idiot! Of course I don't need help. Perhaps, if you try hard enough, then maybe, one of these days. . ." she trailed off, realizing she was letting this go down a very dangerous road.
His face was froze in a look that suggested he was about to dive from a springboard. He too realized where she was going with this.
She cleared her throat and hurried up the rest of the stairs and all but threw herself into her room to hide her now crimson face.
She leaned against the closed door, breathing heavily. Did she just almost admit out loud that she felt something for Draco?
She smacked herself on the forehead. 'You idiot! You just came dangerously close to revealing that you love the guy! You have to wait until you're absolutely certain that this isn't just some game he's playing to get closer to you. After all, what proof is there that he's on our side now?'
She shook her head. 'Just because there's no proof doesn't mean he isn't.'
'Ah, yes, but since when can a Malfoy be trusted?' The Voice was back once again.
She groaned. 'Can you ever keep your mouth shut?'
'Nope. Especially when you think to yourself. It's not a good idea, you know, if you don't want to hear from me.'
'You should learn to keep your nose out of my business. It isn't nice.'
The Voice snorted derisively. 'My dear child, I reside in your head! Consider that for a moment, if you will.'
Hermione realized that she was once again conversing with the Voice. 'You know, I'm getting really tired of having conversations inside my head. Shut up and stay the hell out of my head, will you?'
'Ah, but if you haven't noticed-'
'SHUT UP!'
'Fine,' the Voice said sulkily before going quiet once more.
"Thank Merlin," she breathed in relief, stomping into the bathroom and slamming the door behind her.
Meanwhile, Draco decided he'd go find Harry and Ron and have a little chat with them, knowing full well that he was probably the only one that McGonagall confided her information in. They had a right to know, after all, Hermione was just as important to them as well.
He glanced at his watch as he walked along. It was lunch time, and knowing Weasley's stomach, they were bound to be in the Great Hall.
Draco strolled over to their table upon sighting them once he walked into the Hall. He sat down next to Harry and watched, with an amused expression, as Ron shoveled down what appeared to be his fourth helping of steak and kidney pie.
"Was there something you wanted, Draco?" Harry asked, careful to be civil.
"Funny you ask, Oh Chosen One," Draco replied, grinning. "As a matter of fact, there was something of a delicate nature that I wished to discuss with the two of you."
Ron looked over at him, his mouth stuffed to capacity.
"Well? Let's hear it," Harry said rather impatiently.
He took a deep breath and launched into the explanation of everything that had happened.
"So, to make a long story short, we're screwed because the Aurors are moving too goddamn slow to find Nemesaris, and there's another plan in place to take care of business, since I adamantly refuse to do anything anymore," Draco finished, looking at Harry.
He looked livid. "I knew it. I goddamn fucking knew it. Didn't I tell you that there would be a loophole in giving your bastard of a father Veritaserum?"
Draco looked rather apologetic. "Harry, I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault. You had no idea your father would be that big of a prick and come up here and, well, yeah. I don't blame you."
Draco looked over at Ron, who had remained silent so far. "Well Ron? I know you probably have something to say."
"I'll see if I can't get any information out of Dad. He'll know more about it than what McGonagall's letting on about. He'll be able to tell us something. And in the meantime, we stay close to Hermione. Keep letting her know that we're here to talk if she needs it, and don't let her listen to that damn voice," Ron said, attempting to sound more sure of himself than he did.
They got up and left the Great Hall. As Draco turned to go back to his common room, Harry caught his arm.
"Just remember, you're her only chance at getting better. Don't fuck it up," he said in an undertone as Ron continued walking.
Draco nodded curtly and wrenched his arm out of Harry's grasp.
"I'll make sure she gets better if it's the last fucking thing I do, Harry, trust me."
"Funny, I don't. But I'm going to have to, now, aren't I?"
"If you want Hermione to be around for awhile, yes, you do. I'm her only shot, remember?"
He sighed and turned to catch up with Ron. Draco watched them disappear around the next corner, thinking to himself.
He rubbed a hand across his face tiredly and continued on to the common room. 'Merlin, this is wearing me down. What I wouldn't give for a good hard shag,' he thought, but instantly regretted it.
'The only goddamn way she's going to realize that she needs you is not by you dragging her off to bed. Like she would even fucking consent. Look what your blasted father did to her, you idiot.'
He sighed gustily, wishing that, by some miracle, he was someone else, with different parents, a different life, and one Hermione Granger by his side, not having to worry about staying alive, or only having memories to remember her parents by.
Voldemort screwed them both over, royally. But, with any luck, he, and Harry, and Hermione would all get their revenge.
Because paybacks were most certainly a bitch.