Chapter 17: Like Being in Limbo
By Callisto Callispi
Disclaimers: I give up on these things. From the next chapter on, no more disclaimers because I obviously don't own Harry Potter. :p
Author's Note: Quick update, eh? Wrote this in two days thanks to fireworks of inspiration! Ehh...I hate formatting for fanfiction dot net. No more asterisks! :(
You read my eyes just like your diary,
Remember, please remember,
Well, I'm not a beggar, but what's more
Is if I hurt you, then I hate myself, I don't wanna hate myself, don't wanna hurt you
Why do you choose that pain?
If you only knew how much I love you
"Your Winter" by Sister Hazel
.
.
Hermione had thought that they were truly more than friends. She had thought that she had sealed that hesitant confirmation with her kiss. But when she faced Draco again at detention that evening, she was once again proven wrong.
"Do you need help with that?" she asked him quietly in the darkness of the slimy underground chambers of the school. Draco was struggling with a particularly stubborn goop of slime that seemed ready to rear up from the ground and attack him. Draco took out his wand and did not answer her.
Hermione stared at him for a few moments in silence, wondering why he was suddenly so cold. Right before Filch had entered the room at the beginning of their detention, Draco didn't even offer her a smile or a simple "hello." Did he feel awkward about professing his care for her? Hermione looked away as Draco stared coldly at her. Yes. That had to be it. Awkwardness.
She was convinced that until he could fully absorb his feelings for her, he would be like this. And when he did resolve whatever was going on in that head of his, he would come back to her. Hermione decided to leave him to himself until then.
However, even after a few days passed, Draco still refused to utter a word towards Hermione and grew continually colder. At times, Hermione could not bear standing next to him for she felt as if she were facing the cold of a bitter winter alone and without the warmth of a certain somebody that had occupied her mind for the last month.
"How are you?" Hermione once inquired when the silence stretched unbearably between them.
They were in the library again, looking into microscope-like instruments used to count the specks of a rare sugar-textured powder for a potion. It was for Professor Snape's class and they had to make sure that exactly one hundred grains were gathered in the tiny bags for the student's use. How low they have fallen, counting specks of dust.
Draco shrugged as he stared into the microscope and replied nonchalantly, "All right."
Hermione didn't not know what to say. How she desired to speak with him...even argue until her throat became sore. If only he would look at her, at least. Just stare and then smirk as he usually did. She stole shy glances at him when he wasn't looking from across the vast table, trying to quell the desire to sit next to him and lean against his shoulder.
Then, unexpectedly, Draco looked up from his work and glared angrily at Hermione. "Why the hell aren't you contributing? At this rate, we'll be stuck here until noon tomorrow."
Hermione stared, shocked, at Draco. He shook his head with disgust and stared down into the microscope. Then Hermione glanced down at the small pile of sugary grains guiltily, wondering how she had let her thoughts wander.
"Sorry," she whispered and began her work.
From across the table, Draco jerked as if he had been slapped. His hands clenched into fists as he forced himself to remain still and keep his thoughts from straying towards Hermione. He had to maintain the cold, hateful facade. He had to make her see that he found her mere presence annoying. He had to make her feel that he did not want to bring her close to him and kiss her softly. No, he had to tear them apart, even if his very soul cried out with unimaginable pain.
But he was doing a good job. Hermione's heart ached. And he could feel it ache as well. He stifled down a sob as he tore his eyes away from Hermione. She did not even notice that he had been staring at her.
-x-x-
"You look so sick, Hermione!" Harry cried when he saw her the next day.
Hermione stifled a dry laugh as she stared at Harry's bed-ridden form. Her? Sick? He was the one to talk. His "mild" flu had not been mild and at all and earlier, he had been sent to the hospital wing. Hermione got out of lunch hour early to pay her ill friend a visit.
"Do I? I suppose it's because I'm not getting enough sleep."
Harry was about to open his mouth to ask why but restrained himself. He took off his glasses, rubbed the lens clean, then settle it back down onto the bridge of his nose. "Detention, huh?"
Hermione shrugged.
"How much longer?"
"Three more days." Hermione sighed and rubbed her face. "I am so relieved. Now I can put everything that has been happening behind me, you know? I just wish it would end more quickly." But she bit her lip, trying to keep it from trembling. Did she really want to leave everything behind? No, she didn't. Not everything. Not Draco. Dear God, why wouldn't he talk to her?
"Well, it's all for the best. You look dead on your feet." Harry attempted a small grin. "Are you sure it's because of a lack of sleep? You look like you've gotten below ninety-five percent on a test."
But Hermione did not share in his amusement. She stared dismally out the window and into the gray winter sky, wishing that the gray that she stared at were Draco's eyes. "There are more important things than tests, Harry."
The grin slid off of Harry's face. "What?"
Hermione shook her head and held her breath. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. But not in front of Harry.
But her self control fled when she felt Harry's hand clasp over hers. She stared down at her friend, unshed tears glimmering in the corners of her eyes. Harry's green eyes widened.
"What's wrong?"
Hermione gave Harry's hand a small squeeze before pulling away. She looked away, biting her lips so as to keep her tears in. She barely succeeded, as the stress and confusion that she kept bottled in her heart began to pour out in oceans. Hermione turned her back to Harry and gripped her forehead with a hand, trying to force the sobs down her throat.
The blankets rustled. "Hermione..."
Hermione clenched her teeth then shook her head. Harry remained in his bed.
"I-I'm sorry...Harry."
"For what?"
She struggled to maintain control of her shaking voice. "You-you're sick. I shouldn't have come and..."
"Oh, Hermione, for someone so smart, you can be dumb sometimes."
She felt the tears that she managed to keep down flood her eyes again. You're right, Harry. If I were smarter, I would have been able to keep him. Why am I so stupid?
"I don't mind at all. Just...don't keep crying by yourself. Tell me what's wrong. Or do so when you are ready to talk. Just don't cry by yourself." Harry's eyes behind her lowered. "Loneliness isn't the best companion."
She nodded, unable to speak. I don't want to be lonely. I want Draco with me. God, I don't want to be lonely.
They remained in silence. Hermione wiped the few droplets of tears that escaped her eyes with a small gesture of her hand. She stared at her reflection in the window, wondering desperately if there were spots of red on her face. She couldn't tell. God, her heart hurt.
"Harry, please do me a favor."
"Anything."
Hermione turned around slowly to grab her bags and books. She could feel Harry's eyes scrutinizing her every move, trying to piece what was wrong with her. "Please don't tell Ron...what happened here."
Harry's dark eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Does this have to do with him?"
Hermione shook her head. "No."
Harry hesitated. A brief look flashed in his eyes. He was wondering over the validity of her answer. Finally, he nodded his head. "All right. It's our secret."
She stared out the window again and stared at the stormy gray clouds. Her whole insides felt numb. "Thanks," she said softly then exited. "Feel better, Harry..." she said as she closed the door.
Hermione just barely managed to catch Harry's reply: "Yeah. You too, Hermione..."
X
Draco leaned against a random wall in a shadowed corridor, his face in his hands. He felt like collapsing from sheer exhaustion. Too much to drink in too little time. His head spun like mad. God, he was surprised that he was even able to nibble on something for lunch after that drunken fest last evening.
And, despite the hazy stupor in his mind after that wonderfully toxic casket of Dragon Fluid that he got from Blaise, the image of her face became clearer and brighter in his mind. No amount of Dragon Fluid could erase the memory of her laugh and the sensation of her lips against his.
"You look the fool like that, Malfoy. Go to sleep. Here, let me take you to your room."
He looked up to find a smile that he remembered in his sweetest dreams. She held out her hand to him, looking almost like an angel, glowing in an ethereal white light. Was she real? Was she there? Or was this the side effects of Dragon Fluid?
He stared at her in wonderment as she walked closer to him, her voice whispering in mind like a lost lullaby.
"Draco," she seemed to say. "I miss you."
He felt something gather in his throat. "I miss you too," he whispered hoarsely. "God, I want you."
But then, just as he reached out to touch her, she disappeared. He stood there with his arm outstretched, his face twisted in hurt and horror. The pain shooting through his body barely allowed him to stand. And this pain originated from his heart, not the wretched mark on his back.
Dragon Fluid. Too much. Now he was hallucinating. He gripped his head again, his hair wild and spiked from vicious tugging as his mind spun from the Fluid's after effects and the vision of Hermione's smile. Maybe he should have stopped his zealous drinking after Hermione's last kiss. But he kept drinking and swearing for the next three days, trying to rid the accursed smile of hers from his mind. He had resorted to turning to Blaise and hitting him up for the Fluid.
He smirked hollowly, recalling the shocked look on Blaise's face when he demanded if he had the fluid.
"Eh? Dragon Fluid? What the fuck's the matter with you?" Blaise inquired calmly despite his words.
"Just stress," Draco replied wearily.
"It's not the best thing to bathe yourself in."
"Cut the moral crap. Do you have any or not?"
Blaise shrugged nonchalantly. "I am one of the few who does. You owe me though."
Hell if he owed Blaise anything.
Draco felt as he were about to hurl. He gripped his throat and swallowed down whatever was coming back up. He then moaned raggedly and held onto the wall. God, he had to stop drinking. He wasn't like Crabbe who drank anything down like water. Or Blaise who preferred not to drink at all.
Shit. He rubbed his eyes and struggled to maintain his composure as he walked to the infirmary. He needed some sort of potion to clear away this haziness. And dull this damn stabbing ache in his head.
Shadows danced around him like haunted specters as he stumbled through the darkened corridors. Draco closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them again to find himself #upon the brink of grief's abysmal valley. His feet kept moving in this tumbled wasteland that his mind illustrated, taking one step at a time deeper into this forest of darkness. And while he walked, he choked back tears of loneliness and pain. He hurt so badly...something deep inside and not from the Dragon Fluid. He felt as if his soul was being slowly starved to death.
He kept his bleary gaze down at the dull red carpet below him, trying not to hurl his sparse lunch of a single carrot and a spoonful of chicken noodle soup. Flickers of candle light jumped and pranced along the dusty wooden walls with demonic livelihood. Charcoal storm clouds offered no relief from this crestfallen darkness.
Light. Oh, how he wished for light -- the bright, white, heavenly light that always seemed to engulf him whenever Hermione had been near him.
"Help me," he whispered to no one as he looked up into the fading blackness of the high ceiling.
But then, Draco felt something pulling him through his hallway. His pace quickened as he ran towards the infirmary. Why? Why did he suddenly feel the rush to arrive up at the hospital wing? Draco reached the staircase and bounded up three stairs at a time with this new, unbidden energy. Why?
He speedily walked through the hallways, nearly running in this new madness that gripped his brain. He heard a howl of torment in his ears. Draco breathed raspily. No, he didn't hear that howl. He felt it. Was that his own voice?
The crescendo of his pace rose and rose, like a crazed pianist rushing to complete his masterpiece. Just one more story until the hospital wing. What will I find? What is waiting for me there?
He ran until he could feel sweat bead on his forehead. His breaths came in gasps. Why?
Draco swerved around a sharp corner and arrived at the base of the last staircase leading to the infirmary. Why did he rush?
And Draco found his answer.
Complete, utter silence. The hammering stopped. His feet ceased to move, as if they were glued to the floor. He even held his breath as he stood shakily and stared up to where the broad staircase led to like a flared fan. He almost wept; perhaps he did. But Draco felt his face and his cheeks were dry. He swallowed the sob bubbling up his throat.
Hermione.
She stood there on the next floor, just right before descending the stairs. She stared down at Draco with wide eyes. He took the smallest step forward then stopped himself. Coward. Ignore her, he mocked himself angrily.
But he heard that small voice, that meek voice of reason in the back of his head, protesting in a dying whisper: Just tell her. Just take her in your arms. Arrogant ass. Do you think that doing this to her will protect her? Send her home? You're just hurting yourself and worse...you're hurting her...
But he couldn't speak, much less move. And as much as he wanted to, he couldn't form the smirk that would have made its way to his lips already so many other times. All he could do was struggle to stand, hoping that this dizziness would not engulf him and make him collapse unceremoniously onto the floor in front of the woman he was beginning to love.
But as he stared at her face, he wanted to drop to his knees. Her cheeks glistened with tears -- tears, obviously for him. Her whole composure shook like a dying leaf of autumn. Please forgive me, his mind begged.
But then, she suddenly turned her head and quickly wiped the tears from her face. Draco stared and saw two Ravenclaw first years chattering animatedly and walking down the stairs. The haunting spell of her presence broken, Draco up-rooted his stump-like feet and dragged them up the stairs. Hermione began to walk down the stairs with her casual elegance.
He stared at the burgundy carpet as he moved up, trying to ignore the feeling of warmth as he approached her. The twittering first years had made their way on through the hall and away from where he and Hermione stood. And as much as he would have liked to stop and stare at her face, he kept ascending as she descended.
He rudely shoved away the cry of his heart. His fingers tingled with anticipation as he neared her.
Then, without thinking, as they both met at the middle of the staircase, Draco's arm shot out and grabbed hers, twirling her to him.
Draco's heart wrenched as he stared upon her face. She was so, so pale. And her eyes. Oh, they were so dull and dark! What were those smudges under her eyes? They looked like bruises. Draco felt anger bubble in his heart. Bruises? He would kill the bastard that -- but no. He knew. She couldn't sleep. Neither could he. And her cheeks. Her once plump cheeks were now pallid and gone, leaving nothing but a layer of skin wrapped around her bones. God, how he changed her. And he hated himself for it.
Her arm was limp in his grasp. She turned from him quickly. But not before he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes.
Forgive me, Hermione he silently cried. But she didn't return his stare.
"What are you doing?" she whispered so softly that he almost missed her voice. But he heard.
Draco, however, could not answer. His hand feebly tightened around her arm again, unwanting to let her go.
Just lean into me. Just tell me you miss me. And all of my defenses will fall. Just touch me and tell me that you love me. And I will take you back, damn the consequences. Just embrace me, and I will be yours. Do anything, but please don't speak to me so coldly.
But she didn't do any of those things. Draco fought down his tears of exhaustion. Why in God's name was he doing this?
"Hermione...I..."
She slowly turned her head towards him at the sound of her name being spoken. Her eyes seemed to gain a fraction of the sparkle in them when she and he had kissed together for the first time in the library. Draco felt his knees shake. Just let her go, and this will be over. But his fingers clamped on harder.
"I...I'm..."
Damn it all, just say that you're not able to love her! Simple as that!
"I..."
"Draco..."
He felt his throat close. She called his name. His very name. How could she make him crumble with just one word? Draco's eyes widened. His mind tried to register the pouding emotions storming in his head. But while his mind was busy, his body responded. He stroked her soft cheek with his hand and kissed her forehead gently. Hermione sighed moved closer to him.
What are you doing, Draco? Stop this! Stop this!
He ignored his own protests and moved his face closer to hers. Her eyes closed, and he watched with slight wonder at how dark her lashes were against her pale face.
You stupid fool. You stupid fool!
But he ignored his mind and moved his face closer to hers. Never mind that they were standing in the middle of the staircase where anyone could see them. Never mind that he was to become Voldemort's heir and...and that killing her would be his future ambition. His lips just barely met with hers -- it was the softest kiss that only a butterfly and a passionate lover could give.
Yes, his inner voice snarled. Kiss her then kill her. I'm sure would adore you then. Do you think that she'd still love you when you cast the Crutatius curse on her? While you watch her die slowly and painfully?
The thought froze his blood. Abruptly, Draco let go of Hermione's arm and rushed up the stairs, hating himself and her for putting him through this.
"Draco!"
Draco stopped in mid-jump and looked over his shoulder. She still stood there, her books and bag abandoned on the stairs. Her face was twisted, her eyes glistening, her jaw clenched.
"Why, Draco?"
His eyes grew cold. She looked as if he stabbed her in the heart with a knife. "Don't call me that."
She seemed shocked at his words. But still, she did not turn and walk away. No. She froze Draco with her gaze. "Then, Malfoy," and Draco struggled not to cringe, "why are you doing this to me?"
"I'm not doing anything."
Hermione's hands clenched into fists. How Draco wished to see her angry -- she was so full of spirit and life when she was angry. Especially at him.
But that anger was short-lived. Her eyes dulled and her hands went limp. She looked fatigued and tired enough to collapse. "Am I not pretty enough? Is that it?"
"What?" Draco asked, genuinely surprised.
"Maybe I'm just not pretty enough to satisfy Draco Malfoy's vanity." Her barb would have been a good one if not for the tired, crestfallen tone in her voice.
Draco shook his head. "It's nothing like that. You know that."
"Then what is it?" she demanded. "Why do you keep drawing me in then shoving me out? I'm so tired, Draco. So, so tired. Please...make up your mind."
Draco shook his head again. "No more," he whispered. "No more of this." And he whipped around and ran to the infirmary. And he couldn't help but think of how much of a coward he was.
Draco felt like shit. He was just so God damned tired all the time. He couldn't get any sleep at night. He wondered whether broken hearts led to insomnia. Arg! Broken heart? Hell if he had a broken heart!
But, he had to admit, it hurt him to see Hermione for the last time in detention. Their final night of this detention had been quiet, civilized, and utterly cold. She barely said anything to him and he hardly said anything to her. And when midnight struck, she turned to him, straightened her spine, and faced him with an expression of utter professionalism.
Then she nodded to him and said without the slightest waver in her voice, "It has been enlightening to work with you."
And Draco nodded back with equal professionalism (he hoped).
He laid down in his bed and watched the white snow fall gently down on the frozen Hogwarts grounds. Outside, he saw that oaf, Hagird, mulling about with one demented creature or another. The giant had an idiotic grin on his face. Draco's eyes scanned the surroundings, wondering if Hermione was nearby.
"Fuck! Stop thinking about that...that mudblood."
He turned away from the window and stared up at the ceiling, wondering if he would get some sleep this night. His eyes flickered over to the calendar. Five days until the Yule Ball. Bah. Stupid, cheap-ass, sorry-excuse-for-a-cocktail-party ball. Maybe he would feign sick and just not go. He smirked. And what would sweet Marie say about that?
His eyes strayed to the snowfall outside. Hoping for a blizzard so that his beautiful escort's arrival was delayed was too much. And besides, the ball was the last school day before holidays. He wouldn't get to see Hermione for a few weeks.
He covered his face with his hands. Was forgetting her impossible? Yes. It had to be if he kept torturing himself like this.
He flopped over on his bed and sighed. Just one dance with her would be nice. It would be too much to ask for two. But just one.
Hermione buzzed through her classes with such an enormous amount of efficiency that even Harry and Ron, who had witnessed most of her study-crazed day, were shocked. She grinned far too much, her hands quivered with (or what Harry and Ron hoped was with) suppressed energy, and a skip was present whenever she walked.
"She's on it. I told you."
"Eh? She's snorting?!"
"Nah. She's too neat. Probably smokes it."
"Why is she grinning at me so much?"
So many whispers surrounded her. And still she didn't hear much less care about them! Harry and Ron were so suspicious that they forcefully sat her down in the Gryffindor commons and began interrogating her.
"You don't have to lie to us. Really," Ron insisted as Hermione shot him a one-thousand watt smile. He flinched.
Harry bent down and collected Hermione face forcefully between his hands. He stared piercingly into her eyes, trying to spot any cloudiness, noting the dark circles under her eyes. "She doesn't seem high..."
Hermione giggled. "High? Oh, Harry. You think I'm on drugs?" She giggled again and rocked on the chair.
Harry and Ron shot each other worried glances.
Her mad giggles followed. "You two boys are so, so, so, so silly! Silly, silly."
"Hermione," Harry said soothingly. "We're only trying to help. We'll still love you if you are on drugs."
"But I'm not!" she wailed.
Ron nodded. "We're only trying to help."
"But --"
Harry turned back to Ron. "Should we take her to Madame Pomfrey?"
"Oh, stop. You two are --"
Ron shivered at the thought. "What can we say to her? That Hermione's started to snort? Damn. She'll get into heaps of trouble."
"Ron --"
"Eh...you're right. Maybe we should --"
Hermione stood up so suddenly that Harry almost fell back. Then, she shouted so loudly in her usual patronizing-and-definitely-not-high voice that Harry did fall back onto the floor. "What is wrong with you two? I am not on drugs!"
Harry and Ron stared at her form for a few seconds, trying not to wither under her sharp glare. Then Ron spoke up carefully.
"But 'Mione...why are you so...giddy?"
"And why did you lose so much weight?" Harry added. "And those dark circles under your eyes."
Hermione sat back down on the chair, rubbing her temples. The artificial burst of energy had worn itself away, leaving a completely-and-utterly-shitty-feeling Hermione. She might as well have taken a snort or two.
"Coffee," was her blunt answer.
The two boys stared at her, their intense gazes demanding an explanation.
She shrugged. "I guess I'm stressed out lately. No sleep. Almost like insomnia. But I'm sure it'll pass," she said quickly as Harry opened his mouth. "So I just started drinking a lot of coffee in the morning to stay awake. I guess the caffeine really hit me."
"Hell yeah, it did," Ron muttered.
Harry's eyes narrowed in concern. "Just...how much sleep are you getting?"
She smiled thinly. "Virtually none."
Harry's eyes widened. "How long has this been going on for?"
Ever since Draco started ignoring me, she thought. "Almost a week now."
The two boys' jaws dropped.
"But it's a passing thing," Hermione insisted. When she saw that the two didn't completely believe her, she brazenly added, "And I've gotten this before. During middle school once. Passed in eight days. Afterwards, I slept like a baby."
Though Harry didn't seem fully convinced, Ron nodded, relief washing over his face. Harry stared at her still, perhaps wondering what he would say next, then sighed. He stood up and ran a hand through his already messy hair.
"Okay. Whatever you say, Hermione. But if you aren't over this in a few days, tell us, all right? Or at least tell your parents."
She smiled sweetly, feeling guilty beyond all imagination for lying to her closest friends. "All right."
Ron shrugged to Harry. Harry only stared suspiciously at Hermione.
Draco received the letter with his dress robes the day before the Yule Ball. He read as his father's sharp penmanship declared Marie's arrival at the Malfoy manor then crumpled the parchment up and tossed it into the fire. Draco rubbed his eyes and yawned. Damn it all. He needed sleep. He smirked wickedly. She did too. He could tell by the dark purple stains underneath her eyes even as she tried to valiantly cover them up with powder.
He leaned his head back onto the bed and closed his eyes, mulling over the image of her face. How he wanted to sleep! And, Draco thought longingly, what a sleep I would get with her body next to mine.
Draco had come to accept and relish in the thoughts of her for now. For the thoughts of that girl, Hermione Granger, offered him the only relief from the torrent of thoughts inside his head. When he couldn't sleep, he would close his eyes and imagine her smile. He would wonder for the briefest moments what it would feel like if she lied next to him in this bed. Not unclothed or in a heat of passion...just under the covers with him. He sighed. Well, he'd feel a hell of a lot more peaceful than he did now.
Which made him wonder: why couldn't he sleep?
Was it because his dreams were riddled with images of her, her crying, her screaming his name? Draco winced as his heart gave a painful little jolt. God, he missed her.
Hermione fingered the silk of her gown and stared at herself in the full-length mirror.
"And doesn't the head girl look beautiful this evening?" a ghost in her mirror cooed.
Hermione smiled a weary smile and twirled around half-heartedly for show. And despite her disposition, she did admire the reflection that stared back at her, even if her reflection looked fatigued.
Her curled hair was up with an elegant twist and pinned together with small snowflake barrettes. Whenever she turned her head, those snowflakes glittered like diamonds. Her gown was a prize as well. The brassiere stitched inside the gown lifted her rather small breasts to give them a more full appearance and the multi-layered skirts flared out elegantly at the waist so that it looked as if her stick-like figure had shape.
She twirled around again, allowing herself a small smile, and watched her triple-layered skirts flow upwards like gentle waves of an arctic sea. The tiny crystal shards imbedded into the black and silver silk glimmered like night-time stars. She sparkled. Even the thin straps were beaded with miniature pieces of platinum and crystal.
"I am the winter night," she whispered to herself.
"You are so right, dear!" the mirror said with an appreciative nod.
"Hermione! Are you dressed yet?"
Hermione blinked then said loudly, "Yes, I am. Come in, Parvati."
And with that, the door slammed open. Parvati held in her arms an intimidating array of bottles, brushes, and powders. She paused for a moment, kicked the door shut, and stared at Hermione with admiration.
"I love your dress!" she breathed.
Hermione allowed herself a little grin before motioning Parvati to settle the cosmetics onto her bed.
"You look good too," Hermione replied as she watched Parvati begin to apply some blush onto a brush. Hermione had dared not touch her face with cosmetics. She hardly used any make-up except for lip gloss and was terrified at the dizzying array of multi-shaded eyeshadows. "But isn't that slit a little to...erm..."
"Too high up?" Parvati asked with a wicked grin as she began to apply the blush on Hermione's face with gentle butterfly strokes.
"You had better be careful. You don't want it to ride up too much."
Parvati laughed. "Oh, Hermione, you make me laugh. It's all right. I'm careful with those things. Anyway, I can't let this tan I've gotten over the summer go to complete waste. And my date's going to appreciate it."
Hermione laughed. Parvati grinned. "Close your eyes. Let me apply some shadow... Honestly, Hermione! I can't believe you don't know how to apply this stuff!"
Hermione shrugged. "I've never been interested."
"Yeah. Well probably because you haven't found a man who's caught your eye yet. You see, if there is no one you want to impress, you don't make an effort you make yourself up. No offense. You're naturally pretty without all of this muck. But some of this stuff does help, you know."
Hermione opened her eyes as Parvati began to apply more concealer under the bottom of her eyes. "Is that true, Parvati?"
She stared at Hermione. "What? That you're pretty? Of course. You're one of the prettiest girls in --"
"No, no. I mean if you want to impress someone...you wear make-up and...you know, look...prettier."
Parvati stared at her suspiciously as she took out the mascara and instructed Hermione to look up. "Why? Do you like someone?"
Hermione could feel her face flush weakly. "I -- I'm just wondering. It's...never mind. I just --"
"No," Parvati interrupted. "I mean, I just make myself up because it's what I do. But I suppose if a guy really liked you, he wouldn't care how you looked. And that he'd love you for yourself. Anyways, that's what I'd like to think. Look up please."
Hermione obeyed. "And...and if someone did truly like you, do you think that he'd -- he'd ignore the girl that he liked? For some particular reason? I mean, if this guy truly liked this girl, would there be any reason for him to ignore her? I mean, I can tell that he's restraining himself. Really. And --"
Parvati stared at Hermione, wonderstruck. "You do have someone!"
Hermione shook her head. "No. I'm just curious. Really. Oh, just please answer the question, Parvati. You know much more about this than I do."
"Why is he ignoring you?"
Hermione felt the warmth around her eyes -- a warning before the tears would well up in her eyes and ruin the painstaking appliance of powder and mascara. "I don't know. But I can tell that he wants to be with me. Why is he doing this?"
Parvati hesitated. She rubbed a bit of body glimmer on Hermione's bare arm. "Maybe...he's afraid something might happen to you if he remains close to you."
Hermione's eyes widened. "But that's ridiculous! Nothing would happen to me."
Parvati shook her head. She took out a lip brush and applied rouge onto Hermione's lips. "Not in his mind. Does he keep secrets?"
Hermione thought about Draco's cold eyes. Yes. He kept secrets. Many.
"A man's mind is complicated, Hermione. They keep too many things to themselves. Even their true feelings. And they act foolishly, even if they are hurting their loved ones. Trust me. I've had quite a few nasty break-ups because of this. There was this one guy. He was really tall and handsome, right? But he kept --" Parvati paused. "But you don't want to hear about that. Sorry. Anyway, just give him time. Back off a bit. But be pretty about it. Don't bitch at him. Just smile a bit, back off, but look irresistible while you are doing it."
Hermione grinned. Parvati scolded her for making the rouge run off of her lip. Parvati was a regular Mati Hara.
"And Hermione...if you don't mind me asking...just who is this mystery man?" asked Parvati after she finished applying the rouge. She backed away and nodded, satisfied with her work.
Hermione shrugged and stood up, feeling so much prettier after that touch-up. "It's...it's no one."
Parvati eyed her quizzically. "Not anyone in Gryffindor. I know that at least."
Hermione giggled and twirled around. "How do I look?"
"Like one of those Grecian goddesses," Parvati sighed wistfully. "I love those frills. And that lace. It's so you. Is there a slit?"
Hermione shook her head. "I sort of wish there was, but the skirts are loose enough so that I can run in them."
Parvati stood and smirked. She stared at her own form-fitting dress with a tinge of distaste. But she recovered when glimpsing her slender leg from the slit. "Well, you look beautiful tonight. Whoever that guy is, he'd be blind not to notice you."
Hermione's heart gave a hopeful flutter. "Really?"
"Look for yourself. There's a mirror right there."
Hermione bit the inside of her lip (because her outer lip was covered with shimmery goop) and stared at her reflection. Her eyes widened. Was that girl in the mirror her? Hermione stared at her newly sculpted eyebrows, her thickened lashes, her seemingly pouty lips. Parvati was a master. Her eyes were painted with shimmering white, dark silver, and black.
"See how the dress now flatters you, not the other way around?" Parvati asked a bit nervously. "How'd I do?"
Hermione smiled brilliantly despite her incredible fatigue of sleeping a total of three hours for twelve days and looped her arm through Parvati's. "You're so good! Let's go."
Draco couldn't help himself. He was just too damned tired to resist her. Amazing that he had lasted so long. He supposed sex did bid a sort of mystical energy for him to act with. But afterwards, he just collapsed on top of her body in utter exhaustion. He was paralyzed with fatigue. Would he be able to move at all?
The girl under him whispered sweet nothings into is ear as she stroked his lean body with her elegantly slender hands. She had lazy, pampered hands. He couldn't even summon enough strength to tell her to shut the hell up.
After a few minutes, Draco sighed and pulled himself off of this veela with a crooked smile and started fixing the buttons of his robe and pants. She did the same, pulling down the skirts bundled around her waist and smoothing down the silk.
"You were wonderful," Marie drawled.
Draco went to the mirror to smooth down his hair.
"But you did not have the passion from before. You disappoint me."
Draco suppressed the urge to chuckle. Well. That was the first time a woman had ever been disappointed in him regarding...
"You are preoccupied."
Draco turned around and offered his arm to her. She accepted it with a pout.
"Is it another woman?"
Draco did not answer but by the tightening of his lips, Marie fully knew that it was.
The Great Hall was, and Draco grudgingly admitted this, decorated rather nicely. Flakes of glittering snow fell gently down onto the wooden floors then shattered into little dust-specks of light before completely fizzing out. Light was provided by the numerous crystal lanterns hung about the Great Hall. Entrapped inside those glass lanterns were little pixies glowing blue and white light. Even they had partners and danced graciously in their glass prisons.
Many Slytherins greeted Draco with smiles of astonishment. Their eyes trailed enviously at the beauty strolling next to him. Draco nodded haughtily at his peers and stole a glance at Marie. She was obviously basking in this attention.
I feel like I'm going to throw up, he complained silently. But who could he tell that would care? Certainly not Marie. She would look at him sourly and warn him not to retch on her gown. What a wonderful wife she was to make for her cousin.
"Draco!"
Draco paused at the sound of that voice. He turned around and saw Thomas Wellington walking towards him. Draco noticed conveniently that Hermione was not with him.
"Oh. Hello, Marie," Thomas said with a polite smile towards the seething woman.
"Thomas," she snarled with a nasty smile on her lips.
"Oh. So you two are aquatinted," Draco said casually. Then, he wondered, "Where is your escort?"
"Hermione? She's to say the welcome. With that Hawkings boy. They are the heads, after all." Thomas seemed a bit displeased to have his date snatched away from him, but he shrugged it off. "Ah, well."
"Draco. And...Marie."
Draco whipped around to find Blaise smirking at him. Again, he quelled the urge to punch the bastard's face in. In his arms was a very beautiful-looking blond with heavy eyeliner and sultry lips. Was she a student of Hogwarts or one of Blaise's notorious imports?
Then the blonde whispered something in French into Blaise's ear. He nodded. She strutted off towards the refreshment stand. Yes, definitely an import.
Thomas grinned. "Hello, Blaise."
And, very bluntly yet with irresistible charm, Blaise asked, "Where is your lovely lady?"
And Thomas explained Hermione's heads situation. Draco did not listen to the two. Instead, he let his tired eyes wander around the darkened hall, watching beautified girls smiling and flirting with their escorts. He wondered what Hermione would look like. He wondered what her dress looked like. Would she be made up like all of these other girls? Draco sighed quietly. The degree of his desire to see her again was outrageous.
"And how are things in the royal palace?" Blaise asked with a little smirk.
Thomas replied in a mocking voice, "'Thomas, you will be the worse duke in the history of the Wellington family' and the like."
"That witch of a step-mother isn't dead yet?"
"Apparently, she will live longer than me. After all, she's only ten years my senior and devestatingly beautiful. Has me drooling sometimes."
"What are you doing here, then?" Marie demanded.
Thomas raised an eyebrow in her direction. "Why, studying. I'm still a student, after all. Well, a student at heart."
"Do any of these...Hogwarts students know that you are a duke?"
"I hope not. I think not. At least, Hermione doesn't seem to know. I'm not princely enough, you see."
Draco's eyes grew wistful at her name. Blaise, Thomas, and worse off, Marie, noticed.
"Who is this...Hermione?" Marie spat.
Thomas grinned. "She's the head girl. And I am her escort."
Draco suddenly felt that wave of nausea from sleep-deprivation again. He dropped Marie's hand and said, "You three squabble on your own. I need a drink."
Draco walked off, Blaise's voice fading in his ear: "Poor bastard. Too much stress..."
Draco held up his middle finger in Blaise's general direction, earning a laugh from the cocky rascal.
Draco arrived at the punch stand and gripped the table cloth to keep from spinning. When his vision cleared, he poured himself a glass of punch and took a deep swig, wincing at the sweetness.
"Looks like you haven't gotten much sleep either," a familiar voice said from his side. Draco swirled around and faced the owner of that voice. His eyes narrowed. His smile grew more crooked.
"It's nice to know you care, Potter," he sneered, leaning against the punch table.
Harry's eyes flashed angrily. He drank down his punch, those green eyes still not leaving Draco's. "I still amazed at how stupid you get every time I see you."
Draco allowed this barb graciously with a small smirk. "And my, doesn't that scar grow brighter every time I see you. Tell me: have any nightmares these days?"
Harry smirked. "Actually, no. But I know Hermione does have them."
Draco jerked, almost spilling his punch on his dress robes. He swore under his breath and focused his steely gaze on Harry, the humor absent from his eyes. "And why do you think I would care about her?" he asked harshly.
The nastiness in Harry's smile was gone. He stared at Draco for a long moment, perhaps trying to piece together what all this meant. "It's something like insomnia," Harry said carefully. "And it's draining her. I was surprised when I saw her again. She looked like a skeleton. And she can hardly keep her eyes open anymore...but she doesn't sleep."
Draco listened, the breath slowly choking out of his body. But his face remained stoic. He would give nothing to Potter!
"She lied to me. And Ron. She told us that she had these spells before. You know, the whole insomnia thing."
Draco sneered. "Smart girl. She's beginning to learn."
Harry ignored Draco. Instead, he stared at the elevated platform where the two heads would appear in a matter of minutes. "But I don't believe her. Not a word. She just says that so we won't worry about her. You're the one who did this to her, aren't you?"
Draco opened his mouth angrily to protest but Harry spoke up quickly. "Man, you I know I fucking hate your guts," he started.
"Likewise," Draco snarled.
"But know that I'm doing this for her, not you. Whatever happened during your detentions, whatever you two did..." and Harry paused, perhaps trying to absorb what he was saying, "it caused some sort of a curse that won't let you two go."
Draco felt his temper flare for no apparent reason. And he succumbed to it. He walked up to Harry and jabbed a finger in front of his face. "You have no fucking idea what you're talking about, you stupid prick."
"Well, dumbass, obviously it's something mutual between you two," said Harry calmly. "She can't sleep and you can't sleep, by the looks of you. So...think back. Resolve whatever happened."
Draco felt weak suddenly with his anger burned out. He rubbed his eyes. When did Potter become so damned speculative all of a sudden? And he asked him so.
Harry smiled thinly. "Just observation."
Draco glared. "There is nothing between Granger and me. You got that?"
Harry nodded obligingly. "Didn't say anything like that."
Draco stared at the platform, a certain longing gleaming from his eyes. Am I that transparent? So transparent that Potter can see through me? "Screw you, Potter."
"Yeah. You too."
"She really can't sleep?"
Harry looked annoyed. "Did you see how wired she was for the last few days? Obviously, she's on drugs or consuming too much coffee. Now I wonder why she would do that."
"Who else knows about this...ridiculous curse hypothesis?"
"Just me. And now you."
"Aw. That is so heartwarming, Potter," Draco said with a smirk. "We should have more of these man-to-man conversations."
Harry looked truly detested by the idea.
Draco turned away and stared at the platform. He could not help wondering if Potter was right. Did he end things so abruptly, with so many loose ends, with so little explanation and finality that this was some sort of a...curse? Was that even possible?
"Well, I can't be seen loitering around with the likes of you any longer, Potter. It'll tarnish my reputation."
"Likewise," Harry commented dryly.
And Draco began walking away, his forehead scrunched in thought.
X
Excellently handled.
Can't you leave me alone for just one blessed hour? Harry demanded angrily.
Now where would the fun be in that?
You're a sadistic bastard.
Is that Malfoy child truly infatuated with the mudblood?
Please. This is Malfoy. Not a snowball's chance in hell. Now shut your godamned mouth and let me enjoy my evening.
You show such disrespect to the dark lord?
In case you haven't noticed, you aren't Voldemort. You're just an annoying voice in my head probably implanted by one of his followers to drive me mad.
A high-pitched cackle rung through Harry's head. He bit back a groan and closed his eyes. When the thing stopped laughing, Harry found his hands shaking. But he gasped for breath, knowing that the voice had left him alone. For now.
"Oh, there you are, Harry!" Amelia, his date, said with a bright smile.
Harry managed a weak smile back and took her arm. Damn. Why wouldn't those death eaters leave him alone? He was nearly up the wall now. Just a little more and he'd be happily drooling in a loony bin.
"Did you see Hermione yet?"
Harry shook his head.
"Oh...she is so pretty! Oh, look! There comes the headmaster. He'll introduce them."
And Harry watched Dumbledore approach the platform with a slight grimace, feeling hate radiate from his head and from the depths in his brain where the voice slept. He wrapped his arm tightly around Amelia (who giggled beautifully in return) and listened with distaste as Dumbledore began his welcome speech.
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# quote taken from Dante's Inferno -- featured in the first Canto as Dante finds himself in Limbo.
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End Notes: Sorry it had to end there. AHHH! Please don't kill me if this chapter wasn't that you expected! ((dodges rotten bananas)) Really. ROTTEN BANANAS?!
And I promise: more Hermione and Draco content in the next chapter! I just thought that Hermione and Draco deserved a whole chapter reserved for themselves without all of this mundane preparation. :)
As always, please review. And until next time, I bid you: adieu. Kisses!