No fanfare forewords this time…I'll just get on with it, yeah?
Malfoy, meanwhile, had been heading off to his own dormitories, slightly dazed at himself for actually bidding her, the best friend of his education long nemesis, a goodnight. He stopped suddenly as the entirety of the realization washed over him like a much unwanted glacial tidal wave.
"Shit."
There was simply no other way to sum it up as to his actions. They were absolutely inexcusable. He knew full well he was entitled to meltdowns every now and then—even if he wouldn't outwardly exhibit them—but this was an all-time low for him. His internal, evil subconscious told him he could spit it all right back at her and pretend he was playing a joke on her the entire time and how she believed it and whatnot, but then that fleeting thought died.
"First of all, that's an ass-backwards plan to begin with," Malfoy started, talking quietly to his own mind and pacing in the empty corridor. It helped if he voiced it aloud…maybe then it'd really suppress that inner voice. "Second…okay, well, I just don't think it'd be a good idea to do for a plethora of reasons…just forget it. And stop bothering me! I look like a lunatic talking to myself!"
"Can't argue with that, Malfoy," came a voice from in the shadows a bit ahead of him.
Malfoy had flinched reflexively, but then recognized the oh-so-dulcet tones of his somewhat friend (when you were in Slytherin, you couldn't really be sure who were your friends or who weren't). "Shut up, Blaise."
"Oh, not very happy, are we?" Blaise continued, completely oblivious as to Malfoy's annoyed warning.
Malfoy attempted to get past Blaise's nonchalantly standing body, but he'd underestimated the size of his frame, effectively being stopped. Malfoy sucked in a breath. "Let me through, you disgrace of a wizard," he snapped, knowing full well he'd be in for retribution later.
"Well, jeez, Malfoy, who stuck their wand up your ass?" Blaise asked, slightly annoyed.
"I said shove off, damn it!" Malfoy retorted angrily, shoving past the dark-eyed sixth year with palpable frustration. "Leave me alone, will you?"
It was hardly a question, but Blaise, being the, to Malfoy, most infuriatingly immature person on the planet, decided to continue with his torturing. "No need to yell," Blaise said calmly, his arms crossed smugly over his chest.
"Would you just get out of my way, Zabini?" Malfoy seethed, Blaise having been planted firmly in front of Malfoy, the smirk never leaving his lips.
"Where were you this morning?" Blaise asked interestedly, ignoring Malfoy's comment. "Crabbe was snoring so loudly I'm surprised Ravenclaw Tower didn't hear it, so I got up but you weren't there. Which begs the question…with whom were you meeting?"
"Who says I met anyone?" Malfoy countered smoothly, taking a collected sip from his still-warm tea. Vaguely, he wondered if the spell Hermione had cast on it made it stay indefinitely hot. A twinge of guilt swirled up through a fissure in his mind, admonishing him to the point where he felt he might have thanked her more for it, but it was soon quashed quite violently, a worm of wonder replacing it: why had she done it? Seemed the question of the day.
"Oh, please, Malfoy. I'm not so dense I can't put two and two together," Blaise said, affronted. At Malfoy's raised eyebrow, he rolled his eyes. "I heard voices, right before you came over here. Yours and a girl's. Who was she?"
Malfoy shifted his weight, pondering his response. The way he saw it, he had two options. He could tell Blaise and endure merciless taunts until the rare occasion would arise that Blaise would shift his mocking. Or, he could lie convincingly and hope Blaise really was as dense as he claimed not to be. He decided the second was the better option.
"One of those damned portraits," he lied easily, though part of him kicked himself; a portrait? Draco, really… his inner voice said. Shut it, Draco responded angrily. "She was bitching at me for apparently awakening her."
Blaise narrowed his eyes; he obviously didn't trust what Malfoy was saying, but whether it was because he was naturally suspicious of anyone or he really was dubious of Malfoy's proclamation, it wasn't made clear. "A portrait?" Blaise questioned skeptically. "Funny portrait casting spells…which was this one again?"
Malfoy sighed. "You should consider a career in surveillance, Zabini," Malfoy muttered, though it was half-honest. He finally conceded…Blaise would find out sooner or later by some means, and Malfoy knew it wouldn't bode well for him. "Granger. It was Granger," Malfoy said through gritted teeth. He awaited Blaise's reaction with trepidation. "But please spare me the smug smirk. I already feel like crap as it is."
Malfoy could clearly tell Blaise was enjoying this, but he had to admire his restraint; the grin was well-contained, considering the circumstances. "Oh, you two just happened to meet? You sure there isn't some Romeo and Juliet thing going on here?" Blaise asked, but Malfoy let it slide. After all, he sure as hell wouldn't let Blaise get off easily in a similar situation.
"Oh,please, Zabini. Granger? Hardly." Malfoy took a sip of his tea again, wincing at the high temperature. "It was a chance meeting that I'd really like to forget if you don't mind."
"You two seemed rather civil for being mortal enemies."
"So what?" Malfoy retorted in as non-childish and scathing as he could manage. "It's early, I had no sleep, neither Potter nor Weasley was with her, and she was being nice enough. Forgive me for wanting to spare my energy. It was simple civility…nothing more. So please stop making a big deal out of it."
"All right, all right, don't get yourself in a tizzy," Blaise mocked, starting to follow Malfoy's quick stride towards the Slytherin dormitories. "I'll let you off this time under the strict excuse that you had a huge lapse in judgment. But know that if it happens again, I swear to you you'll be under deriding duress for the rest of your miserable, half-assed life."
"I can just feel the love, Blaise."
Blaise managed a laugh as they finally came upon the rather ominous-looking embossing of a serpent. "Mudblood," he said soundly, feeling his pureblood pride swelling up inside him—he had to admit the pleasure of how ironic the password was. It was perfect.
He looked sideways at Malfoy, and frowned at the faraway and distracted look on his face, but didn't think much of it. He was a damn male Slytherin for goodness' sake…not Malfoy's shrink. He'd give Malfoy a hard time occasionally, but he wasn't about to delve into things obviously more complicated than they seemed. Malfoy would just have to deal with it alone. Somehow, however, Blaise guessed that wouldn't be too much of a hardship.
Hermione awoke the next morning—technically a few hours later—leisurely, but then quickly noticing the lack of something in the room. Or, rather, the lack of six other people normally resting comfortably in their own respective beds. She sat up straight, the last dregs of sleep harshly draining from her mind, as she observed Lavender's and Parvati's carefully made-up beds, two of the other girls' looking as much in disarray as she knew Ron's to be, and the other's indiscernible from all the wizarding gossip magazines, clothes, books, and an array of miscellaneous other items. Were she not completely worried about what was going on, Hermione would have wondered how the girl even found her way to where the sheets were.
She got out of her bed in a remarkably quick fashion, discarding her sleepwear and exchanging it for her robes in a matter of seconds, and using a handy spell she'd picked up from an idle conversation of Lavender's that caused her hair and teeth brushed, her face splashed with water and made up (in Lavender's case…Hermione hadn't cared much for that "customizable" part of the spell, and so it passed over that portion), allowing for Hermione's morning ritual—when she was running short on time—to go exceptionally faster. For which, today, she was grateful.
She ran downstairs, wary of what the time on the clock said and so choosing to avoid it. When she reached the common room, however, she noted with a slightly embarrassed relief that Lavender and Parvati were rapidly gossiping to each other, one of the girls was sitting by the fire writing something Hermione couldn't decipher, and Seamus and Dean were busy discussing animatedly what sounded exasperatingly like a soccer versus Quidditch comparison, Dean seemingly losing judging by Seamus's increasingly confused frown.
"Hey Parvati. Lavender," Hermione greeted awkwardly, only including Lavender because she didn't want to cause suspicion with Parvati. She had a shrewd but unwanted idea that Lavender was still trying to figure out the reason behind Hermione's clipped departure from a few hours ago. She only hoped Parvati hadn't heard about it.
"Oh, hello, Hermione!" Parvati said happily, to Hermione's internal sigh of respite; either Parvati hadn't been told, or she was covering up to a suspiciously adept level. "Did you have a good rest? You're up later than usual."
"What? Oh, yeah, it was fine," Hermione said distractedly. She was trying to subtly gauge Lavender's opinion, but her face was strangely impassive. "Have—Have either of you seen Harry and Ron lately? And why is everyone down here? Aren't classes going on?"
Parvati exchanged a glance with Lavender, the former's expression slightly concerned. "Are you feeling all right?" Parvati questioned. Hermione raised an eyebrow in response. "It's the weekend, I thought you knew that?"
Hermione wracked her brain, a few seconds later coming to realization—she hadn't known that consciously, but now she thought on it, she wanted to smack herself for being so neglectful. She comforted herself by reasoning that she was still thinking it was yesterday, as the few hours of sleep she'd gotten since her encounter with Malfoy hadn't really done much to make the change from Friday to Saturday.
"Yeah, I guess I had a lapse in date. Sorry," Hermione added, more out of trying to stave off Parvati's worry than actual apology. "So Harry and Ron—?"
"Hmm? Yes, I believe they're at breakfast still. Or, rather, lunch I think," Parvati said. "That was a while ago, though, so I don't know if they're still there."
"It's okay, thanks," Hermione replied, already on her way to the portrait hole and determinedly avoiding eye contact with Lavender. She had things to discuss with Harry and Ron first. Issues with Lavender could wait.
"Ooh, Draco!"
Malfoy groaned audibly as he and Blaise walked towards the Slytherin table. Blaise had been down there earlier for breakfast, but Malfoy hadn't quite felt up to it; that and the fact that he ended up awakening around eleven. Apparently Pansy felt that his relative lack of being near her exempted her from the decibel and squeak limit that Draco had force-pressed upon her a while ago. He'd figured that was not only a benefit to him ,but to anyone else who crossed her path as well.
"Pansy, not now." Draco said as they got closer to her, and her face instantly scowled, a look not very attractive, especially considering the not-so-model-worthy way it was usually.
"Yeah, I wouldn't mess with him, Parkinson," Blaise mock-whispered to her, loud enough so Draco could hear. "He's a bit grouchy this morning. Kind of like you, actually, a certain few days each month if you catch my drift."
Draco's face morphed to one of frustration, anger, and wanting to defend himself as he landed a hard punch on Blaise's arm, smirking at the veiled wince Blaise put on. He felt the primal need to go off on either Blaise or someone else, but he felt Blaise really didn't do anything heinous to deserve it. All the same, his hands twitched with anxiousness, and he was unable to stop them.
Pansy scowled even further at Blaise's comment, glaring at him with an expression of utmost loathing. "At least I, unlike you, Zabini, actually have feelings, you overdressed pig," she huffed, barely able to conceal her self-pleased smirk.
"Touché, Parkinson," Blaise replied smoothly, looking down carelessly at his attire. "I think I am overdressed. However, at least I can be next to Malfoy here for more than thirty seconds without salivating lasciviously. Now I wonder who can't do that, Parkinson?"
She flushed an odd combination of crimson and fuchsia; the effect wasn't very aesthetically pleasing, to say the least. She opened and closed her mouth a few times as if to retort back to Blaise, but for some reason or another, she couldn't manage to form words around one. So instead, she merely turned on her heel and stormed out of the Great Hall in a frump, leaving both Blaise and Malfoy behind, each trying his hardest not to grin.
"I think you really hurt her with that one, Zabini," Malfoy said a few seconds after Pansy had so obviously left them. "You do realize what you've done, right?"
"A favor?"
"No, you idiot," Malfoy replied, socking Blaise again in the arm—judging by Blaise's dark wince, it was in the same spot as before. "She'll be ranting and raving for days! This is all your fault. Great job."
Blaise rolled his eyes, deciding to attribute Malfoy's loud musings to lack of sleep as well as a tarnished conscience. One that owed to actually being civil to someone they normally wouldn't even ponderto being civil. Despite the qualifying, however, Blaise had a feeling this afternoon wouldn't be anymore enjoyable than the morning was.
"Hey, look who it is!" Ron exclaimed gleefully (through a mouthful of soup) to Harry upon seeing the third member of their trio.
Harry's head snapped over to where Ron was looking, and was unable to contain the grin that spread across his face. He'd sensed something had been bugging Hermione—especially since she hadn't shown up for breakfast—but here she was looking just as Hermione-ish as he'd hoped. Granted, there was still an off look in her eyes, but he passed it off as mere fatigue. He didn't want to be paranoid over something that was probably nothing.
"There you are, Hermione!" Harry expressed, unnecessarily gesturing to a place setting across from him for her to sit. "We missed you this morning."
Hermione flushed shiftily before clearing her throat and sitting down. Ron was too occupied in his food that he didn't notice, but Harry's expression morphed into an unwanted frown.
"Yes, I'm sorry about that, Harry," Hermione said, shooting a quick, disdainful glance towards Ron's atrocious eating habits. To her credit, she sounded sincere. "I just—I just had a lot on my mind is all."
Harry of course, having no idea what kind of things plagued her mind, accepted the answer. By no means was he convinced that was the extent of it—he recognized all too well the too-carefully-veiled cover-up for something bigger, as he'd done it many times himself—but he let it go for now. If something were seriously wrong, Hermione would tell him. He hoped.
"You missed out on an excellent meal, though," Ron interjected, and Hermione's nose wrinkled as he viewed Ron's very uncovered mouth. "House-elves really outdid themselves this time."
Her lips set into a fine line, but she didn't say anything. She was too tired, but also was smart enough to realize Ron would never give it up. "Yes, well…" Hermione settled noncommittally. "I'm glad you enjoyed your morning."
Harry caught the unintended emphasis on 'you,' as well as the stiff way in which Hermione responded, and he tightened his jaw in concentration. He didn't want to look like the friend with the overactive imagination, but he also didn't want her to get hurt or feel like he wasn't perceptive enough after all this while to pick up on her moods. All in all, it was a quite precarious situation in his point of view.
"So, er…what did you do this morning, Hermione?" Harry tested, carefully watching her expression, which, for the moment, remained impassive. He continued guiltily. "Seamus heard from Parvati that you'd disappeared sometime early, and that's why you woke up late."
Her gaze turned dark and icy for a minute, but then shifted so suddenly that Harry was almost convinced it was a trick of the light. Almost. "Gossiping, hmm?" Hermione said, uninterested. "Hadn't pegged Seamus as that type."
Her evading his question was almost frightfully obvious, though apparently not obvious to Ron, who continued eating like Harry and Hermione were merely discussing the weather, not the former desperately trying to decipher her every facial twitch.
"Things change," Harry prompted subtly, slightly inclining his head towards her, beckoning her to continue.
The indecision in her eyes was unmistakable, as well as the ensuing sigh. "I—I went for a bit of a walk," she said carefully. It was true—it just wasn't the only thing that'd happened on the walk. "I got back late. Early, as it were."
"Right." Harry said. "He, er, he also mentioned something else…"
"Well you've just had a fine job of talking behind my back, haven't you!" Hermione interrupted, flushing angrily. Harry was surprised to say the least, and Ron even interrupted his chewing to look at her, alarmed. "Why don't you go get third-hand information some more, why don't you!"
She dropped her fork onto her plate with a loud clatter, storming out of the Great Hall and leaving a very mystified number of people behind. Ron and Harry exchanged glances, both wondering what exactly had tipped her over the edge. Unfortunately for the two Gryffindors, it was something that, as of yet, she wasn't ready to divulge. At least not with them.
There you have it. Granted, it was a bit later coming than I'd hoped, but this story is technically already done, so I figure "updates" don't really need to come as soon after one another, right? I realize this is shorter than the previous chapters, but I figured it was as good a place as any to stop.
If you have any suggestions, modifications, errors, or compliments, I'd be glad to hear (read, rather) them, either by PM or review.
Thanks a million, and I hope this massive revamping is to your better satisfaction!