Chapter Five: Miss Trelawney
"What was that for?" Hermione gasped as Zabini released her from their intense snogging session.
"Can't I snog my girl friend?" Zabini asked, a huge, dopey smile plastered all over his tan face.
"Girl friend," Hermione whispered deftly. No, no, he shouldn't even be up here, it's summer time, and I'm not his girl friend! Hermione thought desperately. She took a couple steps away from Zabini, not wanting to be scoped up in his arms again for any reason.
"Yes, since this summer, remember. No one is in the room, so I thought you wouldn't mind," Zabini sounded a little more sober now, his voice taking on a defensive tone. Hermione backed her way into a chair, and felt safer standing several meters away from Zabini. If he pulls anything on me, I swear I'll hex him; Hermione steeled herself for the worst and gripped her wand so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
"Why don't you leave me alone?" Hermione tried to sound threatening, but her voice came out in soft whisper. Zabini's brow furrowed as he looked closely at her, which sent Hermione's heart thundering. Just think, Hermione, you can figure it out, she told herself.
"I thought it would be romantic if I waited for you to come down to breakfast. I thought you'd consider it, well, thoughtful," Zabini spoke slowly to Hermione, as if trying to decide something. I should just hex him and run, Hermione thought, but then realized she didn't understand what was happening, so where would she go?
"That's nice," Hermione spoke quickly and tried to fake a smile. Zabini took two cautious steps towards her, and Hermione thought of a couple non-verbal spells that she wanted to use, but stopped herself to study his face. He didn't look smug or indifferent, like the Slytherin Zabini she'd seen before, but deep concern and genuine caring echoed in his chocolate eyes.
"Are you feeling okay?" Zabini asked her gently, taking another step towards Hermione. Hermione swallowed her fear, trying to figure out this boy who seemed completely transfigured from who he was when she'd seen him last.
"I think we should go to breakfast," Hermione found her voice a tad more steady. Zabini frowned and scrutinized her for a few moments before nodding his consent. She let him lead her towards the portrait hole and followed him docilely into the hallway.
Don't let your guard down, Hermione told herself. This is all too strange to just let this boy just take you somewhere Hermione thought as she followed Zabini a couple steps down the hallway, which she clearly recognized as the seventh floor corridor.
I need to do something, Hermione thought desperately, standing in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, unable to decide how to move. Should I follow him? She wondered as the tall boy strode down the hallway.
"Zabini?" Hermione called to him. Instantly, he spun around on his heals, his black school robe billowing behind him as he practically ran back to Hermione.
"Impedimenta!" Zabini shouted as Hermione went to ask him something about the time of year. However, all thoughts of what day or month it was disappeared from Hermione's mind as she froze, unable to move.
"What are you doing!" Hermione shrieked, unable to get her wand. ACCIO WAND! Hermione thought. ACCIO BLOODY WAND! Hermione shouted non-verbally, since she couldn't move. This is too much like that place, Hermione thought as her breathing became shallow and frantic.
"When do friends use surnames?" Zabini spat as he approached Hermione. He studied her, his eyes now steely and calculating. "I think you've had a jinx put on you, Trelawney."
"No, I'm fine, just let me go!" Hermione hollered, absolutely confused. She tried to fight the spell, but as she thrashed around, hopelessness began to dawn on her. Hermione felt her chest constrict, and her vision blurred. However, before she began to sob, Zabini released her from the spell, but in an instant, her legs locked up, and she fell forward, but to her surprise, Zabini caught her, straightening her up the best he could. However, he conveniently nicked the wand out of her hand, also.
"We're going to the hospital wing," he announced firmly. Damn, he used a non-verbal on me, Hermione realized. Then, Zabini waved his wand and lifted her above the ground. He walked beside her, and kept her floating, her legs firmly bound together.
"I'm not under a curse," Hermione told Zabini once she'd gotten over the initial shock and frustration of being put under a set of spells and toted off as if she were a criminal. "Also, since when do you pull the Leg Locker Curse on your girl friend?"
"Shut up," Zabini muttered. Hermione noticed he wouldn't meet her eyes, though. She stared at his head of thick dark hair, which glistened healthily in the light that was streaming through the tall, ornate windows along their particular corridor.
Ron, Harry, where are you? I need you right now to believe me, Hermione pleaded mentally. What I wouldn't give for anyone remotely normal, Hermione wished silently as she watched the other youth as the silence grew between them.
"Blaise," Hermione said soothingly, deciding to use his name, since that's what seemed to have sent him off. "I'm sorry, okay, I wasn't feeling myself."
"Yeah, and curses and hexes do that to you, especially the Imperious Curse" the boy replied, trying to keep his voice hard and indifferent. Hermione frowned slightly, wondering what he was getting at. Does he seriously believe I'm under the Imperious Curse? Hermione scoffed silently, but then, a sickening thought occurred to her. It doesn't go from summer to winter overnight, and I am back at Hogwarts, which could mean I've been under the curse for roughly five or six months, Hermione thought as her stomach dropped out.
"I-I didn't mean it," Hermione whispered an apology to no one in particular. She felt horrified at the thought of being commanded to do someone else's bidding. But that still doesn't explain Zabini in Gryffindor, or for that matter, him calling me Trelawney, Hermione rationalized out a couple more facts to comfort herself.
"Sorry, Mione, but I got to check," Zabini muttered as he took her down to the third floor. They walked alone through the chilly, deserted hallways, and Hermione caught a glimpse of his downtrodden looking face. It's so different from how he looked when he met me, she thought as Zabini knocked on the door of the hospital ward.
"This early?" A plump warlock answered the door. He wore a white robe, but underneath Hermione caught sight of flannel blue and white striped pajamas. He looked at Zabini and motioned him to bring Hermione into the ward.
"I want you to check her for any curses, hexes, or jinxes," Zabini told the balding male healer, whom Hermione thought looked like the twin of the Fat Friar. The healer nodded as Zabini brought Hermione over to a bed and laid her down.
It looks the same Hermione mused as she lay on the bed, waiting for the healer to make his way over to her. I've been in here so many times, Hermione realized as she lay in the bed that one of her friends or even she could've lain in before. At least once each year I've made a visit here, if not at least three times or more, Hermione mused as she looked up into the slate gray sky, flecked with falling snow, through one of the windows that let an ample amount of light into the ward.
"Okay, Miss Trelawney, this will only take a couple moments, if Mr. Zabini doesn't get too picky," the healer said with a quick smile as he handed Hermione something to drink. "Take that spell off her or else I won't be able to discern anything!"
Hermione felt her legs become limp again, and she knew Zabini had listened to the Healer, who began to prod Hermione with his wand. He whipped the curtain around Hermione's bed shut as he began to examine her. He gave Hermione a few things to drink, most of which seemed to soothe or at least relax her mind.
"Name? Age? Grade? House?" The healer asked casually after he'd gone over her several times.
"Hermione, seventeen, sixth year, Gryffindor," Hermione replied before she realized she'd done so. The healer gave a slight nod as he gave Hermione another drink and probed her with his wand again, muttering slightly under his breath.
"Do you remember being attacked since the beginning of the school year?" The healer asked casually as he stopped prodding Hermione, who was becoming slightly uncomfortable with the wand jabbing into tender parts of her body.
"Blaise attacked me," Hermione said and remembered to use his first name. "Nothing major since then, I suppose," Hermione said, deciding this wasn't a lie, since she hadn't been attacked here at Hogwarts since she returned this morning, to her knowledge.
"Any thing else?" The fat healer jabbed her with his wand a couple more times.
"No," Hermione replied wearily, ready to leave the hospital ward now.
"Drink this, it'll calm you down and help counteract the potions I put in your system," the healer thrust a huge glass into her hands. Hermione drank greedily, finding that the liquid tasted not too sweet, sour, or tangy. Thank gods that's over with, she thought as she finished the drink.
"Nothing is wrong with her, Mr. Zabini. Whatever happened between the two of you, well, it's something normal, and you'll have to talk it out," the healer told Zabini, and his words made Hermione pause before pushing the curtain aside. Normal, yeah right, but at least now he believes somebody hasn't gone and used me, Hermione tried to reassure herself. In the back of her mind, she tried to bury the thought that she could've been under the Imperious Curse, but the thought of Madam Rosmerta came unbidden into her mind.
"Sir Chumway, are you sure?" Zabini asked in a strained voice. However, the healer just laughed merrily.
"Yes, I'm sure," he chuckled as Hermione drew the curtain aside. Both wizards looked over at her, and she gave them a convincing smile. Zabini looked ashamed and avoided Hermione's stare, but Sir Chumway gestured for her to come over. Hermione walked across the ward and gave the healer back his cup.
"Thank you, Miss, and I don't want to see you back any time soon," he said as he winked at Hermione. "If it isn't you getting cursed, it's him falling off his broom."
"I've only fallen off my broom twice," Zabini said defensively. However, he grinned up at the healer. "Does Draco hold the record, yet?"
"No, not yet, and you tell Miss Pettigrew and Mr. Malfoy to keep out of this ward. I haven't missed all work they conjure up for me," the healer chastised Zabini, but his tone was lighthearted and Hermoine could tell he didn't really mean anything hurtful.
"I'll tell them you miss us," Zabini joked around with the healer. Hermione felt relieved to see the smiling, genuinely good-natured boy that she'd met this morning come back. He reacted very fast when he thought I was an imposter, Hermione mused as the healer opened the door to usher the two of them out. However, I'm not his girl friend, well, at least I'm not who he thinks I am, Hermione tried to separate the strange situation into pieces to analyze it.
"So, I guess I'm the one who owes you an apology," Zabini said quietly, still refusing to meet Hermione's gaze, as they ambled away from the hospital ward. "I just was concerned, Mione. I didn't want anyone to get hurt."
"It's okay. That, well, it was ingenious, actually, and I bet people who've been under curses," again, Hermione thought of Rosmerta, "would want someone like you being extra careful."
"Yeah, my thoughts exactly," Zabini said quietly, but then, he turned around and looked at Hermione again. His eyes held the depths of a deep, night covered forest, and Hermione read the melancholy look of love mingled with guilt.
Hermione removed her eyes from his intimate stare, forcing herself to watch where she moved. They walked down a staircase, and Hermione assumed they might be going to breakfast, but they could just as well wander aimlessly around the castle for all Hermione cared, right now. She needed time to chew the information in her head and develop something that made remote sense or at least didn't make her feel like her life had fallen out from under her.
I'm in Hogwarts, in the winter, in my, what year, seventh? Hermione wondered as they trudged along the second floor. Anyway, Blaise Zabini is in Gryffindor and believes I'm his girl friend, Hermione remembered the awkward, yet surprisingly gentle, snog they'd shared. The thought of snogging someone she didn't really even know made Hermione flush a soft pink.
Anyway, the healer is Sir Chumway, not Madam Pomfrey, and he called me Miss Trelawney, Hermione felt repulsed as she thought of being related to any Trelawney. Anyway, I'll deal with that awkward name thing later, Hermione decided, but then, speaking of names, she'd heard a couple others that didn't sound right. Pettigrew and Malfoy, Hermione remembered the healer had talked about them, too. Malfoy made sense, but Pettigrew? Miss Pettigrew?
"Oi! Where have you two been? You missed breakfast!" Hermione blinked out of her contemplation to see Draco Malfoy shouting down the corridor at her. He looks the same with that slicked hair, except, oh gods, he's wearing a Gryffindor badge on his robes, Hermione realized with horror as she looked Malfoy over.
However, beside him walked one person Hermione saw that comforted her slightly, although seeing her beside Malfoy equally disturbed her. Luna walked down the hall beside Malfoy, and Hermione saw she also sported a Gryffindor badge on her robes, too. She looks different, Hermione realized as Luna approached them. She still looked the same height, but soft, honey blond curls replaced her enormous mane of frizz that made Hermione's old hair look straight. Her gaze also seemed more relaxed, and Hermione realized she had lovely emerald eyes, which was very different from the Luna she'd known.
"I need help, mates," Malfoy began talking quickly as he and Luna reached her and Zabini. The four of them turned around and headed back up to Gryffindor Tower, and Hermione assumed breakfast was over. "Snape assigned that five page essay, and I don't think I'm going to get a break on it."
"Of course you aren't," Zabini said off-handedly. "No one ever does, and I don't care how many times your parents invite him over to dinner or if they were old school friends. If he fails me, he fails you, too."
"My dad will kill me," Malfoy groaned. What's he talking about? Snape loves him, Hermione wondered as Malfoy continued to moan about essays and gripe about unfairness.
"Draco, you can cheat off me," Luna sighed as they walked through the deserted hallways, only meeting the occasional wondering ghost. "You always do, but I can't guarantee miracles on this essay."
She doesn't seem as ditzy or, well, insane, Hermione thought as she observed Luna carefully. No, Luna wasn't wearing her usual eccentric clothing, jewelry, or insane glasses that made her look like an owl. Luna seemed, contrary to the girl Hermione witnessed before, quiet relaxed, a bit more social, and even a slightly poised.
"Really? Luna, you're amazing. Maybe you could suck up to Snape!" Malfoy exclaimed. Hermione suppressed a bout of giggles at the thought of Luna brown nosing anyone, especially Snape, whom Hermione tried putting out of her mind quickly. She didn't want to bother thinking about why he was still teaching here, yet.
"Nope, sorry, I don't come with the special talent of conveniently getting a good grade in every class. Let me put it to you like this: at least Snape doesn't loathe us like Meadows," Luna told Malfoy what sounded like a fact, but Hermione frowned, trying to swallow information that seemed like lead. She honestly never remembered a day when Snape didn't loathe them or vica versa.
"I barely got into N.E.W.T. Potions! Let's not forget I got five O.W.L.S. and my dad thought I'd get ten, like him," Malfoy complained the entire way up to the Gryffindor common room. "Thanks, Blaise, for telling him 'I got eleven Outstandings.' Big help, there."
"Not my fault," Blaise shrugged. Eleven? Hermione thought helplessly. No wonder he kept me from pulling anything, the boy is a genius, Hermione thought. She felt awestruck, if not more than a bit jealous, at meeting someone whom had gotten eleven Outstandings.
"You're just lazy, Draco," Luna said casually as she gave the password 'toadstool' to the Fat Lady. The four entered into the common room, where a couple students now sat, pouring over homework. "I'm going to run up and get my books and some parchment. If we start this monster load of homework now, we might finish it before tomorrow."
"When it's bloody due," Malfoy mumbled as Luna bounded towards the girl's dormitory. Hermione followed her, her head swimming. This is awkward, Hermione thought as he followed Luna into the dorm room. Everything around me appears the same, but the people are so different; that must be the trick here, wherever here is, that all the people are different, Hermione concluded, which put her mind in an position of assurance. Hermione didn't feel safe, but now, she realized that by hanging around with Malfoy and Zabini, she might not be in danger.
"You picked a good morning to skip," Luna said as she went over the bed with the scarlet blanket and opened the worn, nut-brown trunk. "Draco whined all morning about just about everything, even going home for the holidays in two days."
"Really?" Hermione asked. Christmas is already here? Hermione thought as she rummaged around in her trunk. She grabbed her copy of Advanced Potion Making, along with several rolls of parchment and her quill. "Where are you spending the holidays?"
"The Malfoys gave us our official invitations to their third annual Malfoy Holiday Gala. The great thing is, it's at their house this year," Luna told Hermione as she handed the other girl a little green envelope addressed to Miss Hermione J. Trelawney. Hermione cautiously opened it, and pulled out a little card decorated in glittering snowflakes that moved down the card like real snow. She opened it to find the official invitation, which read:
Dear Hermione,
We'd be overjoyed if you'd spent the holidays at our house this year again, dear. We've got a room reserved for you and Luna, so study hard and keep safe for a couple days. We'll pick you up at King's Crossing on the 22nd of December.
Until then, much love,
Narcissa Malfoy
Hermione almost laughed at the absurdly of the entire situation. I'm going to the Malfoy house over Christmas, and his mum wrote this to me, Hermione felt her mind unravel like a ball of yarn, but it seemed almost hilarious now, as if it wasn't actually happening to Hermione. They called me Trelawney again, too, Hermione thought with disgust.
"I just can't wait, I love the holidays at Draco's," Luna sighed as she slammed her trunk lid shut with a loud bang. Hermione studied Luna carefully again as she stood there, staring dreamily out the window at the drifting snow, as if it mesmerized her.
She's still Luna, but she looks thinner, Hermione realized. Luna always had been short, but she seemed more thin, almost anorexic, and her features held a petit, but yet, not a delicate quality to them. She is shorter than I am, but my, she looks pretty, with those beautiful emerald eyes and that tiny frame of hers, Hermione mused, as she looked Luna over again.
"I suppose they'll be wanting us down stairs," Luna said as she tied up her spiraling locks in a ponytail. Then, Hermione got a good look at her soft facial features and the fair, ivory skin around her neck and face that her hair kept hidden.
She's got, oh my, she's got the scar, Hermione realized and stared shamelessly the nape of Luna's neck, just above the top of her turtle neck sweater. Even over the top of the plush, gray sweater, Hermione could now plainly see the lightning bolt shaped scar that used to be engraved into Harry's forehead.
"Hermione?" Luna asked Hermione tentatively, which snapped Hermione out of her trance. "What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Well, I-I like your sweater," Hermione stammered. Luna frowned and her brows furrowed as she obviously thought Hermione's actions were strange.
"I've had it forever," Luna replied with a slight frown, but she shrugged Hermione's behavior off and turned to exit the room, paper and books tucked under her arm.
However, Hermione couldn't bring herself to move for a couple moments. Luna has Harry's scar, so what does that mean? Is she Luna Potter? If I can be bloody related to Trelawney, then Luna certainly can be 'the-girl-that-lived' Hermione thought. I guess I'll have to play this out, Hermione decided as she followed Luna downstairs to do homework.