"Weasley," snapped Professor Snape, "What are you doing?"
Weasley looked up in surprise at the Professor. "I'm just setting up my stuff, Professor," he answered.
"No you're not, not there." said Snape, shaking his finger. "I don't want any mischief from you or Potter." Snape's eyes darted around the room for a moment. "Swap with Theodore," he barked, jabbing a bony finger at Nott.
Etean looked sideways at Nott. He didn't imagine that having to spend the class sitting beside Potter would please him much and it didn't. Etean clearly heard him mutter several nasty words under his breath as he hefted his cauldron and made his way between the tables to Potter's table. For his part, Weasley seemed no happier about the swap. He muttered something which Etean only half caught as he bundled his ingredients into his cauldron and picked it up.
"That's enough of that language, Weasley!" Snape bellowed, though Etean was sure that the Professor hadn't actually heard what Weasley had said any better than he had. "Five points from Gryffindor," Snape snarled as he turned round to the board. The Gryffindor side of the classroom sighed while the Slytherins let out a not too well concealed hiss of joy which Snape chose to ignore.
THUNK! Weasley set his cauldron down hard beside the worktable and began arranging his ingredients, still muttering his barely audible grievances. Etean smiled and shook his head, turning his attention to the board. Snape had written the instructions that they were to follow in order to brew the potion known as Pax Cogitus. Etean scanned the board quickly and memorised the steps.
'Step 1:' he mused to himself in an attempt to ignore the tedious nature of the procedure. 'Shred three good sized Banton leaves.' He picked up his knife, selected a leaf from the jar on the table and started to cut. He forced himself to suppress a sigh. There were times when playing the student really sucked. Etean no more needed to know how to brew the Pax Cogitus potion than he needed flying lessons, but he had to play along nonetheless. 'Still,' he thought as he glanced at Weasley beside him, 'We might have some fun yet.'
Professor Snape started to walk amongst the students, lecturing as he went. "The Pax Cogitus, or Peace of Mind, potion is as difficult to prepare as it is powerful, though its use is somewhat rare nowadays." Snape's voice droned as he stalked around the class, observing people's progress. "Its origins date back to the sixteenth century when it was chiefly used as a truth serum." He scowled at something. "Finer Finnegan!" He stopped to criticise Seamus Finnegan who jumped at being addressed and dropped his knife. "You must shred the Banton very finely indeed." Snape turned on a heel and continued his lecture. "The principal effect of this potion is to relax the mind of the drinker and slow all of their conscious thoughts to a standstill, thereby rendering them unable to concentrate enough to lie. Now," he turned at the head of the room and washed his gaze across the class, "who here can tell me why it is no longer used for this purpose?"
The class was silent; nobody seemed willing to venture an answer. On instinct, Etean rolled his eyes slightly to the right, bringing Granger into his periphery. He had expected her to be hopping on the edge of her seat with her hand up in a desperate attempt to answer, but she wasn't. Etean was surprised to see her sitting still and quiet. He turned to get a better look at her. She was staring straight ahead into space, looking for all the world as if she hadn't even heard the question. Etean turned back to the Professor as Snape's roving eyes settled on Granger. For a moment, he seemed slightly disappointed that she wasn't trying to answer. Etean recalled how Snape seemed to take immense delight in asking questions of the class and then blatantly ignoring Granger's attempts to answer and display the extent of her knowledge. He smirked slightly as he remembered how much Snape's treatment had annoyed her. The Professor scowled, "Anyone?" he asked.
Etean scanned the room again – still no hand in the air. Nobody it seemed knew the answer. 'Do these people ever do their schoolwork?' he asked himself and shook his head as he raised his hand. "Sir!" he said.
"Ah, Mr. Etean." Snape seemed somewhat pleased that a Slytherin was willing to answer. "You know the answer?"
Etean nodded. "Actually, there are a couple of reasons why." He cleared his throat as everyone turned to look at him. "The first reason was its effectiveness. It was never a guaranteed method of extracting the truth. While it may work on a person one day, it may very well not work on them the next day, or ever again. Its effectiveness depends on the current mental condition of the drinker. For example, if someone were ill or overtired, then the odds were that it would work quite well. Whereas if they are in full health and are making an effort to resist, it proved all but useless nine times out of ten. Also, it has a number of harmful side-effects. It has been known to cause permanent memory loss in a small percentage of people and has even been known to cause irreparable neural damage to some. I have read about extreme cases where it even caused paralysis or even…death." Snape smiled slightly as Etean continued. "The only reason it was so popular for so long was that there was simply no better alternative available. When Veritaserum was invented by Pierre Mendez in 865…1896 by the muggle calendar," he added on seeing the strange looks from several students, "it pretty much made the Pax potion redundant, though it is still sometimes used as a sedative."
"Excellent." Snape clapped his hands together in satisfaction. "I am glad to see that someone has come to class prepared. Well done Mr. Etean, five points to Slytherin."
The Slytherins let out another, louder sound of joy. "Five points to Slytherin!" whined Weasley in a mocking tone, "Shithead," he finished.
Etean honestly wasn't sure if Weasley was insulting him or Snape. In either case it didn't matter, the Professor heard him. "And five points from Gryffindor," said Snape. "For your unsporting attitude Weasley, and ten more for your foul language."
Etean forced himself to hide a smile of enjoyment as he watched Weasley's ears glow pink with anger. He somehow managed to keep the majority of his rage from his face as he looked at Snape, but it was clear that he was fuming. Etean returned his attention to his preparations. He waited until Snape was occupied on the other side of the room before he turned to Weasley, "Well done," he said quietly. "Keep this up and they'll be awarding us the House Cup before the end of the day."
Weasley glared sideways at him. "Shut it, you," he hissed in a barely audible voice, "I don't want to hear it."
'You don't want to hear it eh?' Etean thought to himself as he finished shredding his Banton, 'tough!' He dropped his knife and reached out for his wand to fill the cauldron, deliberately taking up Weasley's instead.
"Hey!" Weasley shouted when he saw what he was doing. "Put that down."
"Weasley!" Snape roared, turning round so fast he seemed to blur for a moment. "I will not have that kind of disruptive outburst in my class." He started to march forcefully between the desks towards Weasley. "Twenty points from Gryffindor, and if I hear another word from you, it will be fifty."
"But Sir," said Weasley hotly, "Etean is trying to steal my wand!"
Snape's eyes darted to Etean. He looked down at his hands and put on a surprised expression. "Oops," he said as he dropped the wand. "Wrong wand." Etean picked up his own wand from the table and looked up at Snape. "It was an honest mistake, Professor," he said innocently.
"Honest mistake my foot!" said Weasley. "You did it on purpose."
Etean didn't rise to the bait. Instead he just looked at the Professor and shrugged. "Why would I do that? I just wasn't paying attention to what wand I was picking up, that's all."
Snape nodded and turned back to Weasley. "Right, well be more careful in future," he said, "Mr. Weasley, do you feel you are capable of continuing this class without further disruption?"
Weasley fumed. Etean was forced to retreat behind his mask to stop himself from smiling as he watched him out of the corner of his eye. In the end he managed to nod. "Yes Sir," he said curtly.
Snape nodded again and turned round, noticing that the whole class was staring. "Back to work, the lot of you," he stalked away, "and the next person that disturbs my class will be doing detention until hell freezes over."
Etean let his mask on, internally laughing his head off. Weasley wasn't hiding his rage very well. He picked up his knife and started to chop his Banton leaves.
THUNK! THUNK!
The knife pounded into the chopping board over and over, harder each time. Etean felt sure that if he continued like that, that he would chop his finger off before long. Finally he allowed himself to smile as he added the last shred of Banton to the water and brought it to the boil, 'If this weren't so damned easy it'd be fun,' he thought. 'Let's see if we can get him a detention before the end of class!'
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The bell rang at the end of class. The sound hit Hermione like a sledgehammer. She jumped and looked around, momentarily confused about where she was.
"Everyone collect a sample of their potion and bring it forward to be graded," Professor Snape said over the clamour.
Hermione panicked. She had to collect a sample of her potion? She looked in terror at her cauldron, expecting to see a complete mess. To her surprise the potion was fine. A soft golden mist was drifting off the gently bubbling surface. 'Did I do that?' she asked herself as she dipped her sample jar into the warm potion. Her mind rewound the last two hours, trying to remember brewing the potion. 'I know I added the Banton leaves and I remember crushing the kneazle tooth but…did I…' Confused, she stood up. She must have done the rest, how else could the potion be ready? She made her way to the top of the room and handed her potion to Professor Snape then returned to her desk to pack her things. All the while, her mind was running in circles, what had she been doing that so distracted her that she had no memory of the class?
The question vanished as soon as she opened her bag to stow her textbook. She saw the bundle of blue cloth and her other problem hit her: Draco. Before she could stop herself she started to think about what she was going to say to him when she saw him and got stuck. 'What the hell am I going to say to him?' she asked herself. She had no idea, that was the honest answer. Maybe she shouldn't go… 'NO!' she had made up her mind and that was it. 'But,' she thought, 'I had better go now before I think up some reason not to.' Her mind was made up. Whether he wanted her to or not, whether she could or not, she was going to help him. She had to at least try to before she really did go nuts worrying about….everything.
Hermione shut the flap of her bag, not bothering to do up the straps as her mind wandered. She replayed the last conversation with Draco for the thousandth time, bringing back the dull ache of pity to her stomach. He didn't want her pity but he deserved it. Thinking about him hurt but at least it was a way to stop her from dwelling on her own problems. She was almost glad to have him as a distraction for her mind. 'Fuck,' she scolded herself. 'That was a horrible thought to have.'
She reached the door of the classroom and found her path blocked by Ron. He wasn't looking at her, but was talking to Harry and Seamus,
"…stupid, stuck up, arrogant git!" he spat, getting a round of nods from the others. "He cost us forty-five house points and got me a detention, the bastard."
"Did he really switch your ingredients?" asked Seamus.
"He must have," answered Ron. "How else could it have happened? Not that Snape believed me."
"He did have a point, Ron," Harry added carefully. "You didn't actually see Etean do it did you?"
"What does that prove? I know I put the kneazle tooth powder in that pestle. I hadn't even opened the Moon Flower pollen yet."
"Still," said Harry pensively, "I don't see how he could have switched the jars, not when they were right in front of you like that."
"Nobody else saw him either," said Seamus. "You'd think that someone would have."
"Well, even if any of the Slytherins saw him, they wouldn't say, would they?" said Ron angrily.
Hermione had no idea what they were talking about. She made to move past them when Harry stopped her. "Hermione," he said. "Did you see Etean mess with Ron's stuff?"
She frowned at him. "What?"
"You must have seen him," said Ron, turning to face her. "You were sitting right behind him."
"What are you talking about?" said Hermione.
Ron frowned, "Etean swapped my ingredients on me," he said, "he made me add the pollen too early and the whole thing evaporated. Snape gave me a detention for causing a 'ruckus'." He spat the last word.
"Don't you remember?" asked Harry, frowning.
Hermione shrugged. "No," she said, trying to sound unconcerned, "I was paying too much attention to my own potion to notice, I suppose."
"You didn't even notice?" asked Ron incredulously. "How could you not notice? Snape tore strips off me for Merlin's sake."
"Well sorry," grumbled Hermione. "If I don't spend all my time watching you get into trouble, Ronald."
She burst past him and stormed off down the corridor. Her mind buzzed. 'Ron got into trouble less than five feet from me and I didn't notice?' she asked herself. 'What the hell was I doing?' As she made her way through the end of day throng, Hermione was still struggling to remember any concrete details about the preceding class. It was nothing but a vague haze. 'Focus on an event, something concrete,' she willed herself to remember. 'Snape berating Ron…you must remember that!' She pictured Snape, an unpleasant mental image at the best of times, and tried to remember. 'Concentrate, Hermione, what did he say?'
She threaded her way through the crowd toward the Hospital Wing, dodging left and right to avoid the herd of students that seemed to be paying no attention to where they were going. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shift the fog in her head. Before she knew it she was back at the dead end corridor, the hidden entrance to Draco's room. A lump came to her throat as she stared at the wall, her eyes following a small crack in the plaster. What would she say to him? What would he say to her?
'This is a mistake,' she decided. She turned on her heel but only made it a half a step before she stopped. She stood there staring at the empty corridor and listening to the sound of her heart in her ears. The sound nearly deafened her before she spun back to face the wall, "Honey Bee!" she said quickly before she could change her mind again. There was the tiniest sound of stone grinding against stone as the wall swung inward to reveal the small staircase. The lump in her throat grew larger and she got the urge to turn back again. Hermione ground her teeth and stepped forward. The wall started to close again as she set foot on the bottom step. She turned to watch it swing closed, leaving her in the dark. Her pulse pounded in her ears so loud she was sure it was echoing off the walls of the narrow staircase. She made her way slowly up the staircase and gently knocked on the door.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Draco sat on the floor with his back to the wall, staring at his hand. The sight of the metal filaments glinting in the late afternoon sunlight turned his stomach. He bit down hard, crushing his teeth together and shaking with the effort of concentration as he slowly clenched and unclenched his fingers.
"One hundred and ninety six…eh…one hundred and ninety seven…one hundred and ninety eight…one hu….one hundred and ninety nine….two hundred!" He let out an exhausted sigh and let his head fall back onto the stone. His breath came in ragged, harsh gasps. The effort to concentrate and exercise his hand like that absolutely exhausted him. When he caught his breath he looked down at his hand and laughed. Two hundred reps and he was beaten? Damn! Why did life have to be so blasted hard? How could even a simple exercise like that take all his strength? He shook his head and dismissed the question as he stood up. He didn't need to start on that road again, he was depressed enough as it was. He turned to look out of the window as he reached inside his cloak with his good hand, searching for his gloves. Draco sighed, covering the hand was still necessary, even here. He never knew when Dumbledore was going to just stroll in unannounced. Not that he really minded. Draco could barely stand to think about his hand anymore, much less look at it.
Draco was surprised when his fingers closed on something a lot harder than leather within the folds of cloth. He grasped the object and drew it out. He looked down to see an elegant silver dagger, an object he had never seen before. It was beautiful and terrible at the same time. The blade was six inches from tip to guard and carved into an intricate pattern. Draco had to turn it sideways to make out the shape of a dragon in flight. Its head with its teeth bared was etched into the steel of the blade just below the tip, ready to strike with the blade. Draco's eyes followed the pattern of the beast down the blade and into the dark wood of the handle. It was a powerful image, fitting the elegant weapon. Elegant, but dangerous, the blade looked razor sharp in the pale sunlight. Draco was confused. He focused his mind and reached out to his cloak,
'Why did you give me this?' he asked it. A stream of tiny emotions flooded back in response – fear, sorrow, grief and then anger and rage, accompanied by a sense of determination. The feelings were faint, almost transparent, if that word can be used to describe a feeling, yet they still touched Draco in a way that he couldn't quite understand. He closed his eyes as an image drifted into his mind and solidified. A hand, his bare right hand, clenched tight holding the dagger. The image changed and was replaced by one of him holding the weapon aloft, brandishing it defiantly at an unseen foe. The sense of determination grew stronger. He heard a voice, well almost a voice in his head,
'Never give up, never give up,' it repeated over and over. He smiled and opened his eyes.
'I get it,' he sent to the cloak, 'I'm not beaten yet…we're not beaten yet!' The response was another tiny surge of joy, which despite Draco's best efforts, actually managed to lift his spirits a little. A knife! A point, a blade, a handle…a simple and strangely elegant weapon. He switched it to his right hand and squeezed the handle. It felt awkward holding it while not being able to feel it properly but, he reasoned, that wouldn't stop him from using it now, would it? It didn't take a great deal of skill or imagination to use a knife.
"Pointy end goes into other person. Simple!" he whispered to himself. He laughed quietly as he stabbed the air a few times.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
Draco froze, rooted to the spot, when he heard a quiet knock at the door. He spun to look at it and frowned. 'Who the hell is that?' he asked himself as he straightened up, then another question occurred to him. 'Who the hell would knock?' He slipped the dagger into the folds of his cloak and fumbled about for his gloves as he extended his senses to the door, and to the person beyond. There was definitely someone there, but who was it? Dumbledore? He usually just strolled in without a care in the world. Etean? Draco laughed as he found the gloves and started to pull them on. The thought of Etean showing that much common courtesy was positively hilarious. That left only one person. He reached out to touch his visitor's mind gently and felt a surge of uncertainty trickle into his mind from theirs. 'Yep,' he said, 'that's her.'
"Come in Hermione," he said.
The door clicked open and swung inward. Hermione stood in the doorway, looking embarrassed and more than a little confused. "How did you know it was me?" she asked.
Draco's mind raced. 'Oops,' he thought to himself. 'Well done, idiot!' He shrugged. "Lucky guess," he said, turning round to hide his face until he could get himself under control. "Besides," he added. "It's not like I get a lot of visitors. Who else would it be?"
"Oh," she said. "Right…em…How…how are you?" she hissed slightly after she said the question.
Draco turned round to look at her. "How am I?" From the expression on her face, Draco was certain that she realised just how dumb that question had sounded. "I'm fine," he turned away again. "How are you?" he asked in a sarcastic tone.
Hermione sighed. "Tired," was her answer.
The flatness of the tone she used surprised him. "Tired? That's it? You're tired?" She didn't answer. Draco looked at her for a moment. She seemed lost, adrift. She was looking at him, but he got the idea that she wasn't really seeing him at all. Draco jumped when she suddenly shook herself and snapped out of whatever was going on inside her head.
"Sorry," she said, blushing. "What was I saying?" she asked.
"Nothing." Draco shook his head. He stepped toward her, round the corner of the bed, and sat down. "You kinda tuned out there for a second," he said.
"I did?" she asked nervously. She stared at the floor, avoiding his eyes. "Erm…well…like I said," she shrugged, "I'm tired."
'And a hell of a lot more besides,' he thought to himself. 'Something is up in your head Hermione, but what?' He decided it would be best not to push her too hard. "Ok then," he said. "So," he added brightly, surprised at just how cheerful he managed to sound. "What brings you to Chez Draco?" he waved at the walls of the tiny room. "Not lost again I hope?"
"No," she smiled slightly, "I'm not lost, I…" her voice trailed off into silence.
"You what?" he asked, standing up. Hermione looked at him as he approached her. Her mouth opened to speak, but no words came out. Instead she just stood there, shifting her weight nervously from foot to foot. "What's the matter?" he smiled at her. "Cat got your tongue?"
Hermione stepped back a bit and drew herself up to her full height. "No," she said firmly through a fierce blush, "I just…"
"Just what?" he urged gently, stepping forward to close the distance between them again.
"I just," she paused again. Draco could almost see her thoughts flutter and buzz behind those beautiful eyes. Hermione shook her head and seemed to regain control of herself slightly. She reached into her bag. "I just wanted," she said as she pulled out a bundle of blue cloth, Draco recognised the robes he had conjured for her at their last encounter, "I wanted to return these," she said as she held them out to him.
Draco drew back from her, the room seemed to grow suddenly colder. The sight of the robes brought the crushing lump back to his gut. "Keep them," he whispered and turned away from her. "I don't want them."
"Oh," she said quietly, as he walked across the room to the window, "I just thought…"
"I can guess what you thought," he snapped, cutting her off. "But like I said, keep them. Think of them as a present, a gift from me to you," he reached the window and pressed his forehead into the glass, "an apology." He whispered to himself, too quietly for her to hear. Behind him he heard the sound of Hermione dropping the robes onto the bed. He heard footsteps as she walked over to him. He raised a hand to stop her. "Don't," he said, "I know what you're going to say so you can just skip it."
"What was I going to say?"
"That everything will be fine," he turned round to look at her again and sat on the window ledge. "That none of this is my fault. That I'm not doing myself or anyone else any good by staying locked away in this…place. I've heard it before."
"You have?" she asked.
"Yes," Draco nodded. "Dumbledore says it to me every single day, no matter how often I tell him that I don't want to hear it."
"Oh," she bit her lip again before she spoke. "Did you ever think that…maybe he's right?"
Draco ground his teeth and shut his eyes. "Maybe," he said. "Maybe he is," he balled a fist and punched the window ledge. Hermione gasped in fright at the sound. Draco looked up to see her backing away slowly. He took a breath and tried to get his temper under control. "Like I said," he managed to sound slightly calmer than he felt, "I don't want to hear it. Let's just say that I'm better off in here and leave it at that."
"But alone?" she asked, stepping forward again. "Locked away like a prisoner? How are you better off in here?"
Draco stood up and walked past her. He wanted to get away from her without answering her question. He made it two steps past her before his brain caught up and he remembered that he had nowhere to go. He stalled mid-step. "I said I don't want to talk about it, Hermione. What part of that didn't you understand?"
"I understand what you said. But I am just trying to help you."
"Well I didn't ask you to," he spat over his shoulder. "My problems are mine alone!" The comments took on a life of their own as he spoke. They came out far harsher than Draco had really intended, but they were said and couldn't be unsaid. Several moments of silence passed before either of them spoke again. Draco kept his back to her, wishing she would just go away without another word.
She didn't. "You don't want to talk…fine then. I just thought…" She turned and walked round him. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter what I thought, does it?" Hermione reached the door and picked up her bag from where she had dropped it. "I don't know why I came here, I really don't. Stupid Granger!" she berated herself. "Forever going out of your way to help people who don't want…or deserve it. It's not like you don't have enough to worry about at the moment. When will you learn to mind your own business? First Harry, then Ron and now…" she turned on her heel. "See you round Mal…" Draco grimaced involuntarily. Hermione paused on seeing his face, then continued. "I mean Draco…of course your name is Draco, I didn't forget so don't remind me," she shook her hair back over her shoulders, "but like I said, see you around. If you ever work up the courage to leave here that is."
She turned to leave. Draco turned to look at her, he found that he couldn't watch her walk out again. "You don't know what's waiting for me out there," he called after her.
Hermione stopped at the door and sighed. "What is?" She turned back to him. "What is waiting for you that has you trapped in here?"
Draco lowered his head. "Nothing," he said quietly, "I see it my head, the world outside that door. I see a void, a black, empty void where my world once was." He turned and started to wander in circles around the floor. "I haven't got a home anymore Hermione…or a family. This place is all I have left. This…school and the people in it." He shut his eyes and willed the images away. "I see them, too, the people out there. I see myself surrounded by their pity, their sorrowful looks and it disgusts me." He paused and took a shaky breath. "Other than…other than that, there's nothing left for me out there."
Hermione dropped her bag and stepped toward him. "Your life is out there, Draco," said Hermione. "Your friends…people who care about you."
"Friends?" Draco laughed. "People who care about me? Like who? Name one!" He jabbed a finger at the door. "Just one person out there who actually gives a damn about me."
"Well…" she started, then foundered.
"You can't," he spat. "Can you? And do you know why you can't?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "I'll tell you why. You can't name anyone because there isn't anyone for you to name."
"But the Slytherins…"
"Slytherins? Please! They are a bunch of self-centred fools. Not one of them gives a flying fuck about anyone else, not one." He laughed harder than before. "I should know, I'm one of them, aren't I? The Slytherins?" He let out a hollow chuckle and wagged a finger at her. "You really are naïve sometimes. So who does that leave? The staff? At best they tolerate me and at worst…well just forget about the staff. And while we're at it, let's not even bother to mention any of the other students. I think it's safe to say that I have pissed most of them off enough over the years that they hate me too."
"Nobody hates you, Draco." Hermione shook her head. "They…"
"Finish that sentence and I swear by any god that you care to name that I will rip your patronising tongue out of your head where you stand. Of course people hate me and why wouldn't they? That's the way I wanted it."
Hermione frowned. "It is?"
"Of course it is," said Draco, "where have you been for the last five years? I have gone out of my way to be a colossal prick at every available opportunity so that they would hate me."
"But," said Hermione, frowning, "why?"
"Because," Draco let his eyes drift closed, "I had to." He tried to fight it, but her question triggered a memory, a lecture that his father had given him a thousand times.
Lucius' voice filled his ears. 'The only way to ensure that people respect you Draco is to make them fear you. You must make them believe two things: First that you possess or can acquire the kind of power that truly terrifies them. And second that you are capable of using that power. That you are willing to do horrible things to them, the kind of things that they can't imagine anybody doing to anyone. The first part is the more difficult and…is clearly beyond you, but the second is another matter. If you are competent enough in achieving the second part, the lack of the first will never arise. If they are to believe that you are to be feared, then they have to despise you, to believe that you are the kind of person that could do such things without a moment's pause or hesitation…' Draco shook himself and pushed the sound of his father's voice out of his head. He looked over at Hermione.
"I don't understand," she said.
Draco smiled, "I know you don't," he said. "Believe me, you don't want to. Right now my head is a place I wouldn't send my worst enemy."
"Nor is it a place that I particularly want to go, Draco," said Hermione calmly. Her tone somehow managed to take any sting out of the remark.
"What do you want then?" he asked. "Why are you here? You didn't come just to return those." He pointed at the bundle of blue robes on the bed.
Hermione followed his look and shrugged. "Believe it or not, I did," she looked back to him. "At least, that was the only reason I could think of that made sense. I…wanted to help you."
"As you said, but you haven't said…why?"
She shrugged again. "I figured I owed you I guess."
"You owed me? For what?"
"The last time I was here, you…you helped me. I wanted to return the favour and…" she trailed off and avoided his eyes again.
"And?" he asked, closing in on her slowly. "What?"
"And I wanted to apologise."
"Apologise?"
"Yes," she looked up at him. "For when we…I mean for when I helped Harry and Ron…when they…set you up."
"What?" Draco asked, honestly confused. What was she talking about? Then he remembered. "Oh!" was all he could say. His mind replayed the events of that night. It seemed like it had happened years ago, in another lifetime. Draco turned and sat on the edge of the table. "I had forgotten all about that," he said, more to himself than anything else.
He looked up. Hermione was shifting from foot to foot, looking at him nervously. She was waiting for an answer, a reaction one way or the other. She deserved an answer. It had to have taken a lot of courage to come here and say that the way that she had. Draco paused to replay the incident one more time, searching for his emotions amidst all the crap in his mind. Finally, he gave up. "Apology accepted," he said simply. As he said it, he waved his hand as a gesture of dismissal. His elbow collided with the stack of books on the desk beside him, sending them tumbling to the ground. "Shit!" he exclaimed. He dropped to his knees and started to gather them up.
"Here," said Hermione. "Let me help you." She knelt beside him and started grabbing at books and parchment. The situation seemed bizarrely familiar to Draco. It took him a minute to remember why. When he did, he rocked back on his haunches, then rolled onto his backside as a fit of laughter overtook him. Hermione stopped what she was doing and stared at him. "What?" she asked.
"Well," said Draco when he could catch his breath. "It's just you got me thinking, remembering things, and it occurs to me that whenever you and I are alone together lately," he waved a random bit of parchment in her face, "we seem to end up on our knees, surrounded by books that one or other of us has managed to scatter on the floor."
Hermione looked at him blankly for a moment before she sniggered and sat back too. "It does seem that way I suppose." She dropped the book she was holding and sniggered again. "What is this, the third time?"
"Something like that I think," he said, rising himself up onto his knees again. "Maybe someone is trying to tell us something."
"Like what?" she asked.
"I don't know." He smiled. "Maybe that the books are evil, that we shouldn't try to read them." He delighted in the look on her face as he spoke. "Maybe," he decided to push one step further, "they belong on the floor in tatters."
Hermione's face twisted in horror. She scooped up an armful of parchment and clutched it to her chest. "Blasphemy!" she exclaimed, "I think you had better apologise."
Draco laughed harder than he could remember laughing before at the sound of her pretend indignation at his remark. He recovered himself and set his face before placing his hand on his heart and looking her dead in the eye. "I am sorry, Hermione," he said in as level a voice as he could manage.
Hermione shook her head. "I am not the one that needs an apology Draco."
"Huh?" He was confused.
"The books," she hissed, gathering more of them into her arms. "They heard you insult them." Her voice changed to a plea. "Tell them you didn't mean it."
Draco's face went slack with shock. For a moment, just a moment, he actually thought that she might be serious. After the moment, he laughed. "You really are going crazy, do you know that?"
Hermione looked even more shocked. She cradled the bundle of parchment to her breast even tighter. "Shhhh," she cooed to them, "he doesn't mean it. He's being mean!"
Draco shook his head at the babyish sound of her voice. "Fine." He stood up. "You want to talk to them, go right ahead. You can tidy them too while you're at it…ouch!" he yelped as a rather heavy volume bounced off the back of his skull.
"I am not here to tidy up after you," said Hermione sternly. "Now help me clean up your mess."
"Alright, alright," he said, rubbing his head. "Just don't throw any more of them at me." He knelt and started to clear the mess up with her once more, making a point to pick up the heavier books first, no sense in leaving her with any ammunition.
Hermione picked up one crumpled piece of parchment and examined it. "Two scrolls of parchment on the relative difficulties of inter-species transfigurations?" she looked at Draco. "But this essay was due in over a week and a half ago. Professor McGonagall has already marked them and given them back." She sat back. "You didn't even start it?" she asked.
Draco shook his head. "To be honest, I haven't even read that assignment note." He reached down and grabbed another one, an assignment on healing potions set by Snape. It was even older than the one Hermione held. "Or this one," he balled it up and tossed it onto the pile, "or any of those. Schoolwork hasn't exactly been a priority of late."
"Yes but," her jaw dropped. "You mean you haven't done anything, read any lessons, done any assignments since…since you've been here?"
"Nope," he shook his head again, "not one."
"My god!" she exclaimed. "But that's terrible…I mean…you're so far behind…I mean…I…"
She sounded like she was stuck in some sort of loop and she didn't look like she was going to get out of it anytime soon. Draco smiled and laid his left hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, Hermione," he said, trying desperately not to laugh. "I don't care, really."
"How can you not care?" Her voice kept getting higher and higher with each word. "I mean…you've been here for weeks…weeks! The work you've missed, the lessons…important lessons. How are you going to catch up?"
"I haven't actually thought about it, to tell you the truth." He shrugged. "I suppose I'll manage somehow. I mean how many 'important' lessons can I have missed?"
"Loads!" she almost screamed. "I mean…Professor McGonagall has been teaching us about large animal transformations…they lead right up to human transformations. Professor Snape has been working on teaching us how catalyst controlled ingredient property interactions can be used to take advantage of recessive properties in certain ingredients. He says it's a necessary skill to master if we are to understand any seventh year level potions. And don't get me started on Arithmancy…Professor Vector has been lecturing us on quantum level energy conversions. You have to watch the extra dimensional variables very carefully at every stage to avoid error."
Draco had been nodding along with her, his smile growing wider all the time. "Is that all?" he asked, barely able to stop himself laughing at the look on her face.
"NO!" she yelled, oblivious to the level of amusement he was finding in her actions. "Professor Flitwick has been exploring locator charms to track down and find things that have been lost even from miles away…and….but…but I mean that's only the beginning. I've just been summarising, the amount of material you've missed is…"
"Ok, ok," Draco said, making a gesture of surrender. "I get it. So I've got a bit of catching up to do."
Hermione jumped to her feet and dumped the piles of parchment she had been gathering onto the table. "A bit?" she exclaimed. "A bit of catching up to do?" She shook her head. "That is an understatement and a half. You're at least three weeks behind…on everything." She started to rummage and sort through the sheets and books on the desk. Draco stood up and turned to watch her. Gradually, amidst the chaos on the table, several discernable piles started to emerge. Draco tried to follow her actions. Several times he thought that he understood whatever organisational system she was using to sort them, only to be confounded by her actions.
"What are you doing?" he asked her, reaching out to lift one of the piles. "Ouch!" he yelped when she slapped at him hard.
"Don't," she ordered. "Just give me the rest of them will you?"
Draco rubbed the back of his hand where she had hit him. He bent down and gathered up the rest of the pages and handed them to her. Hermione took them with only a grunt of acknowledgement before she turned back and started to add them into the piles. "Do you intend to answer my question or do you want me to guess?" he asked. Hermione ignored him and continued to work. "Hermione," he prompted, taking hold of her shoulder.
"What?" she rounded on him. For a second, Draco thought she might actually hit him or something. Then her face softened. A flash of recognition spread across her face. "What?" she repeated in a calmer tone.
"What's gotten into you?" he asked. "I asked what you were doing."
"I'm trying to help you," she answered, turning back to the table again.
"But what are you doing?"
"Sorting these out, now shhhh!"
"Sorting them? Looks more like shuffling to me. What's the point in that?" Hermione grumbled under her breath. "I'm just trying to understand, that's all," said Draco in a placating tone.
She grumbled again. "If you were paying attention, you'd see that I'm sorting these assignments and notes according to their importance and difficulty."
"Why are you doing that?"
Hermione didn't pause or slow down. "Because," she said, "I have to. We need to plan your studies if we are ever going to get you back up to date with your work."
Draco paused, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. The word that really hit him was… "We?" he asked, getting no response. He took hold of her arm again. She turned to him. "We need to plan?" he asked her, in a slightly amused tone.
Hermione paused, then chewed on her lip before answering. "Well…yes…we do." She paused again. "Unless….erm," she shook her head slightly. "Unless you want to try and catch up on your own that is?" she sounded slightly nervous, as if she was afraid that he might not actually want her help. Draco thought about it, his eyes returned to the table and to the stacks of parchment and books that covered it. Looking at it now, there was a lot of work to do if he was going to catch up. What was worse was that the pile would only continue to grow unless he did something about it. He laughed quietly inside his head, given the choice he would prefer to burn them. But, he reasoned, that would cause more problems than it solved and, realistically, it wouldn't solve any problems at all. Draco looked back into Hermione's eyes. She wanted to help him? He had no idea why and, when he looked into her eyes he didn't care. It was enough that she did.
"Ok then," he said. "Where do…we start?"
Hermione sighed in relief, "Right," she said, then looked back to the table. She chewed her lip again. "I…suppose, the first thing we should do is sort out exactly what we need to cover. I think that I've done a good job prioritising the important ones," she pointed to two of the piles in particular, "So we can start there. We need to organise your time too, properly, so you can start to get things done. What we need is a study planner, a guide to follow we can keep track of what we have done and what we need to do." Hermione started to count off points on her fingertips. "We need to divide your time equally amongst the subjects. You're really far behind in all of them so we need to start right away."
She kept going. Draco followed for a while then tuned out. The words no longer registered, just the sound remained. Her tone sounded to him like a tutor he had had during the summer after his first year, Mr. Abeline. That man had spent the whole summer barking orders at him and ordering him to follow dizzying study plans that no one could ever hope to keep up with in a thousand years. Draco had despised him, especially the way that he had assumed that he had the right to control Draco's entire life. It surprised him profoundly that now, seeing the same behaviour in another could inspire such a different feeling. As he stood there, pretending to actually listen to her rant on and on about study schedules and work timetables, it occurred to him that she could just as easily be lecturing him about troll droppings. The words didn't matter, the fact that she was mostly talking to herself didn't matter, all that mattered was that she was here, that she was talking.
It happened fast. Draco didn't remember how, no thought, no memory of the action stayed with him. It was as if he wasn't really himself, more like he was watching himself as he stepped forward. He didn't care that she would be angry. He didn't care that she would hate him for it. He had to taste her again.
"The study journal is important, it must be done right. I had better make it for you. I'll do it later on ton…" was all she managed to say before he kissed her. The sound of her voice died away as Draco moved his hand from her shoulder up to the back of her head. He didn't want her to pull away from him before he could enjoy the kiss as much as he wanted to. He felt a bolt of surprise shoot through her as their lips met. Draco deepened the kiss, wanting to experience the taste of her before she stopped him. His mind simply shut down, all thoughts frozen in place as she yielded to him, her mouth opened with only the slightest resistance. The taste of her that he was pursuing filled his senses, and then overloaded them, leaving him drifting in a blissful void. The only thing he was aware of was the kiss; nothing else existed but the kiss. It made his heart pound against his chest so hard that he was certain that it would punch a hole in his ribs at any moment.
Part of Draco's head started up again. A voice from the back of his mind screamed out at him, urging him to stop. Begging him to break the kiss now before it went too far, before she ended it for him. Draco gathered up all his will and pulled back. Their lips parted and the kiss ended. The first inch was the hardest for him. It seemed to take forever before the gap between them was wide enough so that the scent of her no longer filled his nostrils. The taste remained, there was nothing he could do about that except force himself not to think about it. He took a deep breath to clear his senses before opening his eyes.
Draco looked at Hermione. She was standing there with her eyes closed and her lips parted. She didn't move except for her mouth. Her lips opened and closed slightly in a slow, rhythmic pace. It occurred to Draco that she wasn't even aware that he was no longer kissing her. Something, a massive thought exploded in his mind. He had expected her to resist his kiss, she hadn't. He had expected her to struggle, she hadn't. He had expected her to be angry at him, but she…was she?
Hermione's eyes opened slowly, then widened suddenly in realisation of what had just happened. "What?" she asked in the tiniest of whispers.
Draco looked into her eyes. He didn't know what he saw there, but it wasn't anger, of that he was certain. She wasn't angry at him…she didn't hate him! She knew that he had kissed her and she wasn't angry…so what was she? As he looked into her honey coloured eyes, Draco suddenly felt lighter and happier than he could remember feeling. He smiled, an idiotic grin and he knew it but he didn't care. "You were saying something about a study journal?" he asked her, more curious about her reaction than about the answer to the question.
Hermione blinked at him. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it. Based on the look in her eyes as she looked at him again, it didn't really work. She shook her head again, harder this time. "Yes, em," she cleared her throat and stepped back, bumping awkwardly into the table. She caught her self and stood up straight again. "Yes…I was s…saying that you need a…a journal to…" she lost track of the sentence again. Draco couldn't remember ever seeing her so muddled and confused before. The fact that he was the cause of it made him positively giddy. Hermione stepped back again and balled her fists at her sides. She took a deep breath before she spoke again. "Well, yes…study journal. I will…make one for you. But…I'd better go, I need to work out what books and things that you…you need to…erm see you l…later Draco." She spun and ran out of the room, barely pausing to grab her bag from the floor. Draco watched her leave, only the sudden certainty that she would come back made it bearable.
"Yes," he laughed to himself. "She'll be back."