Chapter Three
Hermione felt eyes on her as she followed Ron to the Gryffindor table before the Sorting Ceremony. She began to ignore the feeling: She figured it was Harry looking at her from the Slytherin table. Although, she didn't feel the usual cold hatred she felt from his stares. The brunette turned her head to have her eyes lock onto deep grey ones.
Those eyes didn't waver as she continued to the table. They weren't cold as she had suspected them to be. They were as fierce as she had figured; however, they weren't fierce in a negative way. Actually, Hermione found herself not wanting to turn away. She was held by that stare. Those grey eyes seemed to plead with her, to ask her to believe.
Her focus broadened to include the entire face in her view. Hermione turned away quickly and hurried to the table to sit next to Ron.
"What took you so long? You were right behind me," Ron questioned.
"I got distracted."
"By what?"
Malfoy. "Nothing important."
Ron's face displayed a questioning and concerned look. "It was Harry, wasn't it?"
"It wasn't Harry…Don't worry about it, okay?"
Ron went to argue, but Hermione stopped him with a hand as she saw the doors open.
All the students were standing to leave the feast when Hermione heard her name being called form the faculty table. She walked to Professor McGonagall who was beckoning Hermione with a finger.
"Yes, Professor?"
"Follow me, Miss Granger," McGonagall instructed, turning.
"But I'm a prefect."
"Mr. Weasley will take the students, and you can tell him what happens later. Come on, follow me."
Hermione followed the professor into a side room where Professors Dumbledore and Snape sat waiting.
"Am I in trouble?" Hermione asked nervously.
"No, no, not at all," Dumbledore reassured. "We're here to discuss Mr. Potter."
"Is something wrong? Has something happened?"
"No, no. Have a seat, Miss Granger." Dumbledore gestured to a large cushioned chair across from him. He spoke as she sat. "We noticed Mr. Potter sat at the Slytherin table this evening."
"Yes. I suppose he figured it would be better for the mission if he sat there."
"But he is a member of the Gryffindor House, not Slytherin," Snape sneered.
"Well, I can't control him, Professor."
"That is why we have discussed the idea that Mr. Potter be moved to Slytherin," McGonagall explained.
"Why? Just because he sat with them tonight?"
"The decision to sit with them instead of those he has been with the past six years is quite a difference. It seems to us that he has chosen a new path to follow; therefore, we must assist him and guide him along that path," Dumbledore said calmly.
Hermione looked at them with wide eyes before asking, "Why are you telling me this? Why not tell Harry first?"
"This is an unprecedented occurrence, and we are not exactly sure how to handle it. We need a student to know what has happened to prevent rumors," the headmaster clarified.
"But why can't you tell the students? Why tell a student? I don't understand."
"We aren't going to make this a big deal. We're just going to move Mr. Potter and alter his schedule, and when students notice this change, there needs to be someone with them to explain," McGonagall stated.
Hermione eventually agreed. "Okay."
"Thank you, Miss Granger."
"You're welcome." The seventh-year witch left the room still confused about everything. "Why did you change your decision, Harry?" she whispered to herself.
She walked through the Great Hall occupied only by the house-elves cleaning the tables. She smiled as she passed them and continued to Gryffindor Tower.
"Hermione!"
She screamed as a body forced her against the wall of the corridor.
She let out an uneasy breath when she realized who it was. "Harry."
"Hey, girl." He placed a kiss on her lips.
"Harry, I told you we can't be seen together."
He ran his hand through her curls. "I know, but I can't stop thinking about you, especially while I'm stuck in the dungeons with those slimy Slytherins and not a bit of warmth that compares with you."
If you weren't turning evil, I'd find that sweet. "Well, now you get to not only hang out with them, but you also get to live with them."
"What?"
"They're moving you to the Slytherin House; I don't know when, but it'll be before classes start, because they're changing your schedule, as well."
"Great…just great!" Harry exclaimed. "Now how am I going to deliver news to you?"
"You'll figure something out. You have the slyness and tongue of the snake now."
Harry's face displayed amazement, and fire was in his eyes. He was about to speak when footsteps were heard down the hall. "You filthy little Mudblood!" he yelled, following the exclamation with a slap across Hermione's face.
She screamed in surprise and pain and stared in amazement at Harry as he winked at her and walked off. She fought to keep back the tears as she clutched her throbbing cheek. Malfoy hadn't even hit her before. Why did Harry feel he had to do that?
Hermione took a deep breath to steady herself then continued to the tower.
"Granger!"
She ignored the call and kept walking.
"Granger!"
The footsteps behind her quickened into a run. A hand grabbed her arm and whipped her body around. She turned her face so her hair covered he left cheek, and she was looking at the floor. Hermione pulled her arm and tried to get it free from the grip, but the hand around her arm just tightened.
"Granger, stop struggling, so I can talk to you."
Hermione stopped and looked through her hair to see Malfoy holding her right arm. "What do you want?" she demanded.
"I just want to talk."
"And I'm supposed to believe you?"
"You do. I know you do. You know you do."
The two stared into the other's eyes, searching for answers in the black holes of emotion. Hermione stared into those stormy eyes and found herself lost in the wind of lies in Malfoy's eyes. But as she was drawn deeper into the storm, into the center, the eye, the calmness, she found it: The truth.
"Let's go somewhere more private," Malfoy suggested, seeing he had won.
Hermione numbly allowed Malfoy to take her hand and lead her to a deserted classroom. She sat into a chair and barely noticed Malfoy pulling a chair over to sit across from her.
"Granger?"
She blinked to help bring herself back to reality.
"You okay?"
"Yes…What do you want to talk about?"
"Potter."
Hermione looked away. "I don't want to talk about him."
"Yes, you do. I can tell you want to talk about it. You just don't know how."
Hermione turned sharply to look at Malfoy. "How would you know? How would you know anything about me? How is it you suddenly seem to know everything? How can you know my thoughts, my feelings?"
"Because they're in your eyes. Your eyes always show what you're thinking and feeling. It's a weakness all of you have. That's how I could tell Potter changed. I could tell he was just joining us to spy—Potter couldn't lie—but no one believed me. Then, I saw the change in his eyes, and I knew he was serious about becoming a Death Eater. He's trying to rise to the top, Granger. Your plan backfired."
"It's true," Hermione admitted grudgingly. "It's all true," she asserted more freely. She found everything falling out of her mouth, relieving her shoulders of the weight the plan had placed upon her. "The Minister wanted someone on the inside. Harry spoke of how Voldemort had tried to turn him, and he volunteered to go in. Everyone agreed. I tried to change their minds, to convince them to not send him in. I knew something would go wrong. I knew something would happen…But I didn't think it would be this bad."
Malfoy pushed her hair back from her face. "Has he ever hit you before?"
Hermione pulled back, eyed him cautiously, then she shook her head no.
"Has anyone ever hit you before?"
Again, she eyed him before shaking her head.
"Good."
"What?"
"Good that no one's hit you before. That's the lowest thing any man can do."
There was an uncomfortable silence as the two sat.
"Here's a plan."
Hermione jumped at the sudden interruption of the silence.
"We get evidence against Potter, and we get him out of the Death Eaters, and we can go back to normal."
"So, a temporary alliance to bring down Harry? Why?"
"Because I don't want Potter to beat me to the top. He's been better than me in everything else: I'm not going to let him take over my destiny. And you don't want to get hurt anymore, do you? If we get Potter away from the Dark Lord, all will be better…for everyone…'cept maybe Potter, of course."
Hermione sat and thought. Do I trust Malfoy? Is he really concerned about getting rid of Harry? It makes sense…"Okay…Let's do it."
"Meet me here tomorrow night an hour after dinner."
