Chapter Six: Oh, Insanity
When the commotion about Draco's hair had died down, Parvati glanced at Hermione.
"So, where are we going next? You never really said."
Hermione smiled joyfully. "Canada."
Canada was beautiful. Snow whipped around them, falling and spraying in a light shower. The huskies in front of them panted, tongues lolling in what Hermione thought was the most adorable way. She was sitting in a sled with Dean and Malfoy, for Neville had turned pale at the suggestion of him riding with the Slytherin; who had helpfully given him one of his best smirks at that point, and hence paired up with Parvati and Lavender.
They rode, enchanted, in the flurry of white snow for awhile, then headed back to a cosy, homely mountaintop cafe for hot chocolate.
Their group, Sapphire, had sat down together at a table, beneath the eye of the preppy ship captain. "Sit with your group!" he had exclaimed eagerly, gesturing cheerily. Then he had brought them all their drinks, smiling widely, and honestly freaking everyone out till they sipped obediently and mimicked Barney and Elmo's clever talking styles and happy, happy grins.
When the captain finally went away to preppify some others, Parvati and Lavender immediately abandoned their hot chocolate with hysterical cries of ' -Insert screech here- Oh god, the calories!' and went to the bathroom the freshen up. Dean had dragged Neville along to inquire if they served tiramisu, after Hermione's point-blank refusal to accompany him.
That left Draco and Hermione alone, in a quiet corner of the sweet, warm cafe. Hermione drank silently, watching Draco stare at his hot chocolate over the rim of her cup.
"It's not poison, you know," she said when he continued to stare, raising an eyebrow.
Draco remained mute, sighing and closing his eyes, leaning back in his chair. Hermione 'tched' and turned her attention back to her mug, but realised it was almost empty, excepting some horribly thick residue at the bottom. She set the mug down.
After a few moments, Draco apparently decided he was tired of sitting and immersing himself in himself, for he made to stand up. But one of his legs accidentally knocked against the rickety table, causing Hermione's mug to overturn onto her resting hand.
Hermione let out a disgusted groan, turning to give Draco a fleeting scowl. She reached for a napkin to clean up, but a hand stretched out and took hold of it first. The next thing she registered was the feel of Draco's long, cool fingers wrapped around her wrist, his other hand wiping off the traces of hot chocolate from her palm and forearm.
Hermione tried to suppress the greater of her shock, mouth open slightly in disbelief. Draco had a faintly annoyed look on his face, as if she had been the one who had split the blasted drink over herself. He finished up silently, tossing the used napkin back on the table. Then he looked up into Hermione's stunned face, and seemed to grasp the unreality of the situation. He dropped her hand as though burned, avoiding her eyes, and walked away quickly.
Hermione could do nothing but stare. She ran a finger cautiously over the area of skin that he had touched, and felt a fire that had nothing to do with the cold flash through her veins.
On the way back to the ship – they had just dropped by Canada for a day – the captain allowed them to stop at a secretive wizarding gift shop, invisible to Muggles. The place smelled like Honeydukes, and carried a range of Canadian-made sweets, amongst other unnecessary trinkets and things that tourists never seemed to be able to resist buying. Hermione perused through the shelves, pausing to laugh at some odd unbreakable cymbal monkeys that emitted sparks at three-second intervals. Then, something caught her eye.
"Mood rings," Hermione read aloud from the box. She knew what they were. They had been invented by a Muggle in the 1970's, but had eventually blown over to the wizarding world. Hermione skimmed through the rest of the text printed on the box.
'Let your special someone know exactly what you're feeling with these wizarding mood rings! Really work! (Unlike those stupid Muggle ones that can be thwarted by the weather and stress-related vasoconstriction!)'
Below that was a list of the colours and their connotations. Hermione gave a faint smile. She picked up one of the rings and examined it. It was set in silver, adorned with a pattern of beavers and maple leaves upon its surface – symbolic of Canada. It was now currently black, waiting quietly for a user. She slipped it on. Almost immediately, the its dark skin brightened to a deep green. She consulted the colour list. It represented calmness.
Hermione smiled. She was feeling calm. Slipping the ring off her finger, she paid for it at the cash register. The sales clerk encased it in a small, handsome black velvet box, and gave her a list of the colour codes along with it. Hermione took the ring out again and looked at it fondly again, putting it around the middle finger of her left hand. It was now a light purple. She checked.
Happiness.
Back on the ship, Dean suggested going swimming again. Everyone except Draco – who said nothing – agreed. Dean apparently wouldn't settle for that.
"Malfoy! Why don't you come?" he said.
Draco looked at him in disbelief. "Shouldn't you know?" Dean simply stared blankly. Draco sighed and jabbed his finger into his chest. "Slytherin," he said slowly. Then he pointed at Dean. "Gryffindor." And then he went through everyone else in the room. "Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor. I rest my case."
Dean tugged on Draco's forearm. "Come on! You haven't been as big as an asshole as you usually are!"
Parvati rolled her eyes. "You have such a way with words, Dean. He'll really want to come now." She moved forward and grabbed hold of Dean's arm. "Let him do what he wants!" She stole a glance at Draco's haughty, annoyed features, and for some odd reason, was unable to stifle a giggle.
Draco tipped his head up to face the ceiling, groaning frustratedly. He put a hand on Parvati's shoulder, a travesty of genteel politeness. "Would you mind not giggling so often?" He had an extremely forced smile on, looking very strained. Of course, that only caused Parvati to giggle even more.
Hermione looked at them, Dean gripping Draco's arm, Parvati yanking Dean's, Draco's hand on Parvati's shoulder. To Hermione, Neville and Lavender watching, they looked like an impromptu ring-around-the-rosy.
Suddenly, Hermione felt someone tug at her sleeve. It was Lavender.
"Malfoy looks so cute when he's angry, don't you think?" she whispered, breaking out into giggles.
Hermione was taken aback. She had never thought of Draco that way before. Haltingly, she studied his face. His steely grey eyes, his windswept blond hair falling into them, his pale, accentuating skin ... So ... so ... beautiful.
Then, of course, Hermione slapped herself mentally for the forbidden notion. No, no, no! she thought fiercely. That settled, she opened her mouth to tell Lavender exactly what her perception of Draco was – stupid, evil, pureblooded little cockroachy ferret. But she found herself answering in an entirely different tone.
"...Cute?" she said hesitantly. "I ... I really don't know."
They ended up going without Draco. Lavender and Parvati were slightly disappointed; apparently, they were 'enamoured' with him, and enjoyed the prospect of seeing him shirtless. Neville, however, was thoroughly content without the Slytherin, and was currently displaying his joy by doing cannonballs into the pool. Repeatedly. Hermione shook her head amusedly and laughed as she watched Dean pretend to drown.
"My heart must go on!" he gasped, clutching his chest frantically, gulping for air. The others, who were pureblooded and didn't get the reference, simply shrugged at each other.
For the rest of the night, they had water fights and played Marco Polo until they were ready to drop unconscious. After heading back to the suite to find Draco asleep in his bed, everyone showered and settled in the rec room, chattering happily over tiramisu ice cream. Of course, they started playing the traditional game everyone plays when they're feeling all gigglish and magicky.
"Truth or Dare!" Parvati squealed excitedly.
"How do you know about that?" Hermione asked confusedly. "Isn't it a Muggle game?"
"Oh, please, Hermione, everyone knows about this fantabulous game!" Lavender answered, giggling.
"I want to go first!" Neville yelled uncharacteristically, so that everyone stared at him. He flushed. "Sorry."
"Whatever, Neville, just ask!" Lavender said, bouncing hyperactively on the couch.
"Er, okay ..." Neville surveyed the room. "Um ... Dean! Truth or dare?"
Dean had a manic, reckless gleam in his eyes. "Dare."
Neville, coincidentally, also had a manic, reckless gleam in his eyes. "I dare you ... to toss out all of your tiramisu ice cream!"
Dean froze. "No," he whispered.
"Yes!" Neville said, grinning madly. You could practically hear the 'bwahahaha's.
Dean looked like he was going to cry. Tearily, he snatched everyone's ice cream out of their hands – causing many glowers at Neville – and then walked over to fridge, emptying it of the rest of his stock of ice cream. Then he headed to the rubbish bin, where he stood in silence for several long moments.
"Dean's backing out, Dean's backing out!" sang Parvati, giggling.
Dean seemed to stiffen.
"No. I'm. Not."
And then, with a majestic sweep, the ice cream fell dramatically into the bin, spilling their contents into the black abyss of Trash Bag. Dean dropped tragically to his knees, facing the ceiling, hands held aloft.
"Noooooooo!"
When Dean had regained his composure, he sat down again, eyes faintly red.
"Oh, you gonna pay, brother," he said to Neville in a high, insane voice. Narrowing his eyes, he leaned forward, causing Neville to gulp and scuttle backwards. "Truth or Dare?"
Not willing to risk it, Neville swallowed and chose the safer option. "-Truth."
Dean scoffed and muttered under his breath, but still loud enough so that China could hear, "Wuss."
Neville flared indignantly. "Fine then. Dare."
Dean smiled evilly. It was really quite frightening, actually, and Hermione, Lavender and Parvati found themselves shuffling away in alarm.
"I dare you to kiss Malfoy."
Neville looked stunned, Lavender and Parvati gasped, and Dean emitted an aura of evil.
Pale, Neville stood up shakily, and walked into the boys' bedroom. For a few moments, there was silence. And then -
" - What the bloody – aahhhhhhh!" Draco's yells were soon joined by Neville's, and Neville ran out of the room - spitting violently - soon after. Then, Draco appeared in the doorway, hair and clothes disheveled from his sleep, looking furious, disgusted, stunned and fearful all at the same time.
"He kissed me!" Draco fairly screamed, jabbing a hysterical finger at Neville.
"On the lips?" Dean enquired placidly.
"No, the cheek, you goon!"
"Then you're overreacting," Dean replied. "I, however, will not be overreacting when I hex Neville into oblivion for cheating on a dare."
"I didn't cheat!" Neville protested, still spitting. "You didn't specify where I was supposed to kiss him!"
"Yeah, Dean, you didn't, really," Parvati said.
"Fine!" Dean scowled and folded his arms grouchily, turning his back on them. "Be that way."
Meanwhile, Draco was swelling in anger in the background. "You're using me as a dare?" he yelled, then letting loose a stream of curses, but nobody was really paying attention to him. After a few moments of them ignoring him, he gave up and stormed back into the room, still swearing.
After awhile, they got Dean back into his joking mode by promising him more tiramisu ice cream, and played Truth or Dare until they got to that agonising point where nobody could think of anything good. Parvati was forced into parodying Richard Simmons – the gay aerobics dancer – and Lavender was made to sing a song entitled, 'You Are My Chilli Dog', the chorus of which went, 'Covered in relish and sour cream, I consume your essence, oh my chilli dog, oh my chilli dog, flourish, flourish, flourish'. They all affectionately went easy on Hermione though, and her toughst dare was to stay away from the ship's library for six hours, seventeen minutes and forty-three seconds.
At twelve, they bid each other goodnight and retired to their rooms. Half-asleep, Hermione overheard Lavender and Parvati gossiping in the next beds over.
"Oh, didn't Malfoy look simply gorgeous just now?" Parvati exclaimed, giggling.
"I know! With his hair all mussy and his eyes so clear and so grey!" Lavender sighed dreamily. "Too bad he's Slytherin, though..."
"Hermione," said Parvati. "What do you think of him?"
"I've already told Lavender," Hermione said sleepily. "I just ... don't know."
And in the light of the silver moon, Hermione saw the mood ring on her finger. It had morphed to a whirling, light green, of turbulent, churning, undecided emotions.
A/N: Oh, the randomness. I'm sure that wasn't what Queen of Duct Tape meant when she said the thing about the hot chocolate, but nyeh. :) I quoted some stuff from the show Whose Line Is It Anyway? Hilarious sitcom, I might add. Crap, I should have written everything down. T.T It's the awesomest, really. I remember the first time I saw it ... reruns on an airplane. Ah.
I'll be away in Malaysia for the next three days, by the way. And if I find a nice, big, squishy inbox full of reviews when I get back, I might just put in some Star Wars quotes. (Muahahaha!) Actually, I'll do it anyway, because I can't resist.
Well, cheerio! -waves lightsaber- (The red kind. Join the dark side! Because we have cookies. I scoff at the light side. They only have lemon drops. Pfft.)