Chapter Three
There's no time like the present.
Well that is what she was once told, but Hermione had a difficult time living like that. The future was always unknown to her, bringing too many disasters that had caused her to turn her back from it. Therefore, she dwelled in the past.
It could be a lovely place sometimes. Not all of Hermione's memories were dark and miserable. She could often recall many wonderful events she had participated in along side Harry and Ron. Just thinking of her two friends was satisfying enough.
However, it seemed to Hermione that the darkness of her past always had a knack for overpowering and shadowing the good times. It was absurd, how she lived in a continuous cycle. Each time she found something worthwhile, it was connected to her parents' death and therefore abandoned.
Ron and Harry tired so hard to bring her back to them. As awful as it may sound, they'd rather her just completely forget about her parents' death and move on as if nothing had happened.
Of course they had never mentioned this to her.
Thoughts of nothing buzzed in her head as she drifted down the corridors of the ancient school. Hogwarts fascinated Hermione to no end. She loved creating her own miniature adventures of wandering down unknown hallways and discovering new statues and paintings. There was always something weird and vibrant she had not encountered yet, and the thought of finding it thrilled her.
Classes had begun some odd weeks ago. Hermione had created her schedule during last school year. Now looking at her choices, she hadn't the spark anymore to attend them. She had by no means dropped in her academic reputation and was still the top student. However, being so advanced gave her the opportunity to slack off, and that she did. Class just no longer seemed relevant.
And neither did the direction of her travel.
Choosing to not pay attention could have its downfalls. It didn't occur to Hermione that she was heading to a part of the school that Gryffindors were not accepted. She never realized exactly how far down the dungeons of the school extended, nor the lack of light that accompanied them.
Soft pitter patters were made with each connection between her feet and the stairs she traveled on. Before long, Hermione found herself standing in front of a large painting of something she didn't recognize. Figuring it preposterous to have a painting this size in such a random part of the school, she came to the conclusion that this was the Slytherin house. A sudden chill flew up her spine, causing an unpleasant tingle at the base of her neck.
She shouldn't be here.
Before Hermione had much time to react, a loud crack followed by a piercing squeak filled her ears. The painting was opening.
Looking around, Hermione damned her situation. There was absolutely no where to hide. She could always turn and run for it, but the chances of that working were slimmer then the passage she now stood in.
"May I help you?"
The words were lazy yet sharp to the point. Hermione cursed herself even more. She had indeed slacked off in class, but this was just ridiculous. She made a mental note to get her head out of the clouds more and think about what she was doing. Facing her interrogator she tried her best to play it off.
"No," she said as if nothing was abnormal.
"You know people like you in situations like these are typically killed on the spot," Malfoy drawled. This is that stereotypical point where one would casually look at his or her finger nails, or check their watch out of boredom. Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, merely leaned himself against the wall with an amused expression on his face.
"I honestly doubt that anyone would kill me for being down here," Hermione huffed.
"What makes you so sure?"
Hermione paused. He had a point. Finding herself unable to answer that question brought a whole new feeling of panic and fear. She really shouldn't be here.
"Well I guess I'll just leave then," she snapped and turned to leave. She found herself locked in Malfoy's grip before she got to far.
"I can't just let you leave like that," Malfoy breathed into her ear. He wrapped his arms around her and pinned her close to his body. Normally, Hermione would retort with something sarcastic, but being in the place she was and the person with, the thought seemed unappealing and rather stupid.
"Now, what are you doing down here?" Draco asked again. Hermione didn't answer for she really didn't know. Draco chuckled at her silence. "Does somebody need some… assistance… from me?"
"Oh good Merlin no, that's the last thing on my mind!" Hermione choked. She could have slapped herself. Draco clicked his tongue three times and began tightening his embrace on her. He had her close enough now to his body to where he didn't need a deep breath to get a whiff of her scent. Closing his eyes, Draco let himself indulge in the pleasant smell of cinnamon emitting from her hair. He wondered if she tasted as lustrous as she smelled. Suddenly, the truth of what he was thinking hit him like a brick, breaking his train of thought, and bringing him crashing back into reality.
He hated reality.
He gave Hermione a little shove, sending her away from his body. Regretfully, the coldness of the dungeons swarmed him a measly second later. He almost wished he could have her back in his arms to fill the void.
Almost.
"Leave," he bit out.
Hermione turned and left without looking back, leaving Draco alone to ponder the event that had just taken place.
"No, I'm telling you that's wrong!" Ron hissed.
"Look in your book, it's in there!" Harry argued back.
"I don't need to look in the bloody book! I know you're wrong."
"I am not!"
"Are too!"
"Hermione!"
The two boys had been bickering on the subject for some time now. Hermione guessed she must have tuned them out about ten or fifteen minutes ago. Gazing at her book, the words printed on the pages weren't strong enough or important enough to penetrate her mind and make any sense.
"Hermione!" Harry prodded again, poking her with a finger.
"What?" Hermione asked annoyed with the interruption.
"Isn't it true that by adding moth wings to jellied goat's milk you can achieve a stronger effect for a typical pain killing potion than by just putting in the wings by themselves?" hr asked completely missing her annoyance.
His voice madeher wince.
"By adding what to what you can do what?" she asked flabbergasted.
"He's wrong isn't he?" Ron asked before anything could be thought of none the less said. The slight headache Hermione was feeling was beginning to grow into a much larger one. She rubbed her temples and squeezed her eyes shut.
"I don't know…" she said in frustration.
Where had her mind wandered off too?
"What do you mean you don't know?" Harry asked.
"You know everything!" Ron stated bluntly.
"I mean I don't know!" Hermione snapped. She flipped the book in front of her shut rather forcefully and began packing her bag. Without a second thought, she got up and stormed out of the library. Harry and Ron remained seated, completely baffled as to what had just happened.
"Was it something I said?" Ron asked dumbfounded to his best friend's actions.
"No, Ron," Harry sighed. He knew something was up with Hermione. He also knew it had to have something to do with her parents. However, rushing to her side was the last thing she wanted him to do, so Harry had to fight back the urge and continue with the studies that lay before him.
Keep walking…
Hermione struggled to concentrate on breathing correctly as she made her way to nowhere in particular. Her brain screamed at her that something was wrong, but she couldn't think for more than five minutes at a time to figure out what it was.
She felt dizzy with all the anxiety stirring in her. Where was it coming from? Why was she so edgy? It was as if the ticking clock inside her had shut down and the lack of movement was slowly driving her insane.
Fresh air… that's what she needed… fresh air.
Hermione fled to the nearest door and threw herself outside, gasping for a decent breath of that fresh air she longed for. Tears came crawling out of her eyes and she didn't know why. The troublesome girl took off and ran as fast as she could towards the giant body of water that rested on the school grounds. Running completely on compulsion, she dove into the dark lake.
Night was beginning to arrive and she knew she should be inside starting on her Head Girl rounds, but she couldn't care less. The water was still in a swimmable state of warmth left over by the summer. Refusing to come up for air, Hermione's head began to swirl. She continued to keep her head under though her lungs started to burn.
Every fiber of her body ignited. So this was what it felt like to drown.
The splash next to her was unnoticed by any of her senses. She felt her body engulfed by a pair of strong arms and drug to the surface of the water. The lack of oxygen in her body had weakened her to the point of slowly slipping into a state of unconsciousness. Hermione felt herself being carried onto solid land. A gasping body fell beside her and sputtered incoherent words of anger.
"No," Hermione whimpered. "Put me back, please. Put me back in the water, Harry." The air around her was foreign, locking her in a repulsive state of rejuvenation. She didn't want to revive, she wanted her lungs to fill with water and die.
"What the hell are you trying to pull, Granger?" Draco heaved.
Wrong voice. Wrong person. But Hermione blacked out before that thought could process.