To all of y'all: I had exam week, and I've been getting back into school. I'm sorry for the delay. Due to it, I am giving you an extra long chapter.
I love ya.
"You disgust me. You're worthless. You're ugly. And you think you're better than every one. You fit the bill of your average bookworm virgin. Know-it-all, Granger. Mudblood princess of the lion's den. The only woman in the boy-who-is-too-important-to-die's life. The yield sign. The bird. The background noise."
Hermione stared at the sheet of paper in front of her, willing her eyes to stop prickling. She couldn't exactly explain WHY Malfoy's long ago uttered words stung her so much at this very instant. She forced her head to look back up at the front of the classroom.
"Does anyone understand this?" McGonagall sighed, looking tersely at the class, which was sleepily and mindlessly copying the notes that she'd charmed to be scrawled across the board.
Hermione thought hard, concentrating, ignoring the harsh whisper of Malfoy receding slowly into the depths of her mind.
Transfiguration…Invertebrate…Mistake…
"Oh!" She said quietly, nudging Harry awake accidentally as her hand shot for the ceiling.
"Ms. Granger?"
"Uh…The most common mistake that invertebrate transfigurators make, is remembering the body stance that the creature had before the change. It would be impossible for a lion to turn into a fish mid-leap, because a fish can't get that form. Therefore; most African witches and wizards under lion, or tiger attack forget that they cannot turn their opponent into a fish, or harmless rabbit." She recited, not fully understanding what she was saying at that point in time, but not having the energy to find out.
The professor awarded her the house points, and set about talking again.
Hermione tapped her foot on the stone floor of the classroom, chewing her lip and staring up at the clock.
4 minutes until they were finished for the day, then she would have to go and finish homework. Charms, Arithmacy, Ancient Runes, Herbology, Potions, and Transfiguration needed definite attending to.
"Ms. Granger, is there somewhere you need to be, other than on this planet, in my classroom, learning things you will need for life?"
Jolted, the student stared dumbly at the elderly woman standing over her.
"Ms. Granger?"
Hermione drew a blank.
Tick, Tick, Tick…
"Ms. Granger! I require an answer."
Faces were turning to look now, curious, and amazed.
The clock on the wall banged with loud, thunderous seconds.
Tick, Tick, Tick…
"Ms. Granger? What is the meaning of…"
"I need to find Draco Malfoy." Hermione said suddenly. The silence in the classroom was deafening.
"Whatever for? You are supposed to wait until after my class for your social interactions, two points from Gryffin- Ms. Granger where are you going?"
Hermione had packed and swung her bag up, and was walking down the class towards the doors. She was dead-set on finding Malfoy, and stopped in front of Blaise Zabini. Not many Slytherins had made it into the advanced Transfiguration class, and Malfoy had chosen another class over this one.
"What class does he have?" she said, addressing Zabini.
He looked at her calmly, as if calculating what was in it for him. He was a quiet person, answering when asked, and obviously had brains. He was sought after for his olive skin, and deep blue eyes. His muscled body, and curly hair.
"What's in it for me?" he asked.
Bugger. She'd been right.
How very Slytherin.
Hermione had to stop and think, spontaneously. Her heart was pounding, waiting for the professor to get over her shock and start yelling.
"You'll find out. Come with me."
He stared at her, his blue eyes questioning.
"He's got Herbology. I'm not going with you." Blaise said tonelessly, looking back down.
Hermione had to question WHY she felt the unexplainable urge to run off and find Malfoy at this point in time.
The point was, she'd just realized WHY he'd given her that potion. Why he'd wanted her to look at herself.
She was gonna tear a strip off his high and mightily rubbed ass.
"Ms. Granger!"
Slam.
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"YOU! Malfoy!" Hermione hollered, catching up with him. He turned to face her face livid.
For a brief second, she got caught. Stuck in the swirling storm with crackling electricity that was his eyes.
She shook her head.
"You foul, evil, digusting, vile little cockroach!" she hissed, prodding his broad chest with her pointer finger to emphasize her words.
He stared, his anger diminishing in shock.
"I figured it out! You baiting, crouching, decrepit animal!"
"What the HELL are you talking about, Mudblood! Quit touching me!" He hissed, slapping her hand away.
"The potion! Why did you do that to me?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
"DO WHAT?" he cried.
"You know what!"
"I DON'T! If I knew WHAT the HELL you were HOWLING about, I'd be SMIRKING instead of YELLING BACK!"
Hermione stood back and glared at him.
"You wanted to knock me down!"
He rolled his eyes.
"Oh my merlin! You caught me Granger! My diabolical plan! Ruined!" he said dramatically, crouching beside an empty spot on the ground, and rocking back and forth, shaking his hands in despair at something that wasn't there. He straightened and cocked an eyebrow.
"Moron." Hermione seethed.
"Gullible female."
"So, it was your plan?" she asked victoriously.
"No."
Hermione ground her teeth as Malfoy stood there looking immensely proud of himself. He tapped his chin, raising his silver eyes to the ceiling to try and look thoughtful.
"Actually, I did it…Come to think of it, I don't know why I did it." He said outloud, looking surprised as he revealed that tidbit to himself.
"Kicks?" Hermione asked sweetly.
"If I wanted kicks I would have vanished your clothes in the middle of a class."
She looked mortified. He smirked sadistically.
"You're sick."
"I prefer twisted."
"Malfoy, act your age. Not your shoe size."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
Hermione scowled as she could practically hear the sound of the scold fly over Malfoy's head.
"So…there's…"
"Nothing." He said flatly.
Hermione stood silent. What the hell? Why had she come rushing down here? It was a hunch, and trying to figure out why Malfoy had given her the potion was ruining her brain. Why had she run out on McGonagall? Why had the feeling of victory been so strong?
Malfoy was watching her lazily.
She shifted, thinking furiously.
If Malfoy didn't give the potion to knock her down a few notches, why had he done it? Obviously, he'd been acting on impulse. But why her? Why not give it to Pansy? Or someone?
She had more problems?
She was uglier?
She was the nearest?
He sighed impatiently. Like he was waiting for something.
…
Because she was the only one who would learn from the experience. The answer hit her like a brick in a sock being thrown at her head. She looked up at him with her serious brown eyes.
"So, I'm the only one who would learn? What did you learn from traveling back?" she asked quietly, as if he'd heard her thoughts as well.
Malfoy didn't show any signs of confusion. In fact, he looked as if he had heard her thoughts.
"That's for me to know, and no one to find out." He said with a devilish grin.
"Fine." Hermione said shortly "I'll see you later then, muffin."
"Muffin?"
She had to laugh to herself as she climbed the stairs out of his view, while he stood down there trying to figure out why the hell she'd called him muffin.
Problem solved? No. She'd find out why he gave her a potion. Subconscious ulterior motive, she was sure. Maybe some veritaserum would make him spill? No.
That worked on conscious thought.
Maybe she should just settle on confusing the hell out of him with random nicknames.
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Dinner is always a fine affair. With candles, and chatter. Food, and laughter. Twinkling eyes and rich beverages.
Harry laughing, and Ron snickering.
Malfoy absorbed in a discussion with Crabbe, probably teaching him ho to write an 'O'.
Ginny was laughing with her friends from her year.
The hall was brimming with clattering and the glow of floating candles. Grapes and fruit piled high next to mounds of mashed potatoes, and thick slices of meat. Carrots, peas, biscuits, butter.
Pumpkin juice, milk, tea, water.
All Hogwarts students ate richly, their plates laden with steaming food.
Hermione Granger, however, forked a trail through her food with a spoon. Her head rest in her hands, and her brow was crinkled with worry. Her dark eyes stayed trained on a dancing candle flame, teasing her with it's wild fun.
Her brain was a tired, numbing, blank.
"Eat Hermione." Harry said, his hard tone breaking into her thoughts.
Her spoon scooped an interesting array of gravy, potato and chicken into her limp mouth, her eyes not leaving the flame.
Harry watched, his green eyes questioning, while Ron turned to another Gryffindor to talk.
She went back to trailing, chewing and swallowing absently.
"Eat more Hermione." Harry said, watching as she did so, and wondering if he placed a silverfish on her spoon and told her to eat it she would.
Suddenly, her eyes turned full blast onto him.
"Harry. I was wondering. Are you aware of ulterior motive to any subconscious thought during you conscious hours of aberrant cogitation?" she asked hollowly, her eyes now studying him.
"You lost me after 'aware'" he replied, shoveling food into his mouth.
Under Harry's surveillance, Hermione obediently ate her food, some dessert and had two cups of tea.
By the time she was done, she was ready to render the food back onto the table.
"Urgh." She groaned, picking up her bag.
"Where are you going?" Ron asked.
Hermione had to remind herself not to snap at him for always questioning her like she was 4.
Deep breath.
"I'm going to the library Ron. Your mom sent stuff for you earlier. It's on your bed." She told him dryly. She'd figured it wasn't nice to leave his sewn pajamas in the common room for him to find.
Plus, she liked her ass just fine, and having the wrath of Ron inflicted on it was more than her tired and oil-needing brain could handle.
She slipped out of the hall, and noting the temperature drop in the rest of the school, tightened her cloak around her.
On swift, silent feet, she robotically slipped up to the library, and pushed on the heavy oak door.
It smelled of must, books, and the lingering aroma of a girls perfume.
The floor uttered familiar creaks and groans as her feet swiftly stomped over the ancient planks, to a reference section.
Viciously, she ripped open the catalog, and stared browsing.
Muggle…D…Muggle…D!…Dr…Drugs…Drugs…Potions…
Her mind watched and commanded as her fingers ran expertly over the tabs, processing the words faster than the librarian herself could.
Wizard…Drugs…
HAH!
She pulled an ancient and withered card out, and studied it. A grand old tome. She memorized the numbers, found it in her head, pictured it. Stuffing the card back into place, she slammed it shut and walked smartly into the looming figures of bookshelves. At the dark shadows, she picked up a library lamp, lit it, and confidently marched into the lines. The black slipped away from the invading yellow, and Hermione vacantly scanned.
Finally, she stopped, reached up, and plucked at the book. It teetered.
Hissing, Hermione put the lamp down, and caught the book in her arms as it fell, uttering a muffled groan and bending her knees to absorb the shock.
She then had to put it down, because the storm of dust was threatening to kill her.
Coughing, hacking and sputtering, she calmly fanned her face, and performed a smart charm to clear the air.
Determination. Mechanical determination.
She looked at the faded blue leather stretched across the book like a sick skin, the fancy gold writing impressed upon the cover making her cock her eyebrow.
Where Muggles and Wizards cross, the dark mixtures of death and defiances.
Sounds pleasant, she thought absently, ignoring the error on the cover and flipping it open.
She scanned the index of muggle drugs.
Meth.
There it was.
Running a finger along the line, she blinked at the number of potions that had Meth in them.
Sitting on the cold wood floor, she flipped the pages, her eyes scanning.
Habitually, Hermione and stopped and listened to her surroundings.
Nothing.
None of the lamps were lit either, aside form hers.
She bent back over the pages, checking her watch for the time she was going to go meet Ginny.
It was 6 now. She had an hour. Nodding to herself, she quickly hefted the tome onto her hip when she stood, and picked up the lamp.
Not bothering to sign the book out, she blew out the lamp, put it back, and left with a resounding creak, bang, click.
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"And where are you going?" Ron asked. Hermione's shoulders slumped in anger, and her eyes closed in a moment of exasperation. She didn't turn to face him.
"Out." She grunted through her teeth.
"Out where?" Ron quizzed, putting his nose inches form his chess game again, now not really paying attention.
"Out. Of my head." She muttered, continuing on her inconspicuous sprint for the door.
When Hermione banged the portrait hole shut, neither of the boys playing chess noticed, having reverted back to throwing the pieces at each other.
Hermione stomped down to meet Ginny, gathering herself, confident in the book in her bag, and the head on her shoulders.
Preparing herself for what she didn't know, but was fairly confident wouldn't be pretty.
Okay. This was more of a story filler, but I needed to work on the characters, and get some confusion going…and…get my ass out of procrastinating after exams.
Thank you! Review!
