A/N: I know it took a really, really, really, really, really long time and everyone who reads this has been waiting. I'm sorry. I'm not going to feel guilty, though. I'm pretty sure I already mentioned that I write these chapters as I get to them. I only got to the end of this chapter today. Hopefully the four page apprx. extra length will make up a little for how long it took to post.
I hope the readers of this story realize that the entire thing is about Draco/Hermione interactions and romance. It's just different because they have a romantic past. Don't worry, a few more chapters will have things heated up a bit. And I'm sure you'll all enjoy this chapter... It's choc full of crucial plot points. It's one of those VeryImportant!Chapters that I was talking about before. So I don't continue to ramble, I'll just let you read the chapter.
The Negative Side
Worried Eyes
Hermione hoped that the effort she and Anthony Goldstein had put into planning the Halloween Ball would not go to waste. They had gone to great pains to come up with creative and novel ideas. It had taken many hours of their precious studying time, and it would be a shame if it had all been for nothing. She voiced this sentiment to Ginny, who was putting on her costume in Hermione's room for privacy.
"Hermione, I can't believe you're even talking like that," said Ginny reproachfully. "You couldn't possibly disappoint the entire school. I know you wouldn't. You'd kill yourself first."
"That's likely to be true," muttered Hermione. She was busy applying makeup that would be fitting for a lady of the seventeenth century. "Thanks, Ginny. It helps to have some reassurance once in a while."
"You should never worry, Hermione. It causes wrinkles." Ginny was putting a spell on her hair that turned it black. "Are you going with Ron?"
"Yes. He's still in a strop with Harry over the whole Draco thing, but he said he isn't mad at me. Even though I told him that I'm involved with the arrangement as well. I simply cannot comprehend him."
"You still don't know?" Ginny asked. Hermione paused in her costume application to look at the younger girl. When Ginny only stared at her incredulously, she shook her head and turned back to the mirror. "He's been in love with you for years."
"What?" Hermione dropped the makeup brush onto her bureau, whipping around to face Ginny. "Ginny, you can't be serious."
"Hermione, you have to know it's the truth. Why do you think he fights with you so much?"
"If he loved me, he would try to be nicer."
"Many people are afraid of love," Ginny said knowingly. "I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have told you. But now you can just tell him that you don't feel the same way, and you can both get on with your lives."
"How do you know I'm not in love with Ron?" Hermione demanded.
Ginny turned a bit, her hands on her hips. "It's the difference in the way you look at him, and the way he looks at you. You care for him, yes, but you don't love him. As for Ron… I think the entire school knows his feelings."
Hermione stood still, shocked into silence for a minute. "Why didn't anyone tell me, then?" If the entire school knew Ron loved her, someone should have had the decency to tell her.
"Hermione," Ginny answered witheringly, "we all thought you knew. I might have told you if I thought you needed to be told." She drew a long, red leather coat on over her black lacy dress. She wore an elaborate black and red necklace, black, old-fashioned boots, and black fishnet stockings. Her face was paled with makeup, and her lipstick and eye shadow created a sexy, sophisticated effect. Her now-black, shiny hair had been crimped into elegant waves. "What do you think of it?" she asked Hermione, twirling to show off her costume.
"It's stunning, Ginny. But what are you supposed to be?"
"A vampire," Ginny said. "Before you say anything, I know that not all vampires would look like this, but you should know that I once saw a vampire dressed similarly. Besides, look at the teeth." She opened her mouth to reveal very realistic fangs.
"It's a good costume," Hermione admitted. She had been thinking of Erik the moment Ginny said vampire, and what he had told her about stereotypes being incorrect. "Now that you've finished, will you help me lace up my corset? There's a spell, but it's been known to go wrong and break ribs. I don't want to risk that."
In no time, Ginny had the corset done, and Hermione slipped into the mid-seventeenth-century dress. "Why do you need a corset anyway?" Ginny asked.
"I want this costume to be as accurate as possible. We're having a contest, to be judged by the professors. Besides, it looks better." The dress was silk of two colors. The main part was white, and the skirt was split, opened in front to reveal the layer underneath of blood red. The sleeves were flared from the elbow, as was the style in that time, and the neckline lower than she had always worn, until a couple of months ago.
"You're right about that," said Ginny. "You're absolutely gorgeous."
"Thanks," Hermione smiled. She styled her hair with a spell, piling it regally on her head, and then pinned a glittering ruby-colored stone in the shape of a rose into it. She grinned at her reflection. "Let's go," she said.
"So, who's your date for the ball?" Hermione asked as they descended to the common room.
"Blaise," Ginny replied, half-smiling in a way that showed off her vampire fangs. It was sinisterly attractive.
"Are you two a couple? You spend an awful lot of time together."
"No. We're not that serious. I would describe us as… two people who like to spend time together. In empty classrooms."
Hermione shook her head. "You're terrible."
"Thank you." They both laughed, and then they had reached the common room. Ron was waiting for Hermione, dressed in a Chudley Cannons uniform. Ginny and Hermione exchanged glances. "How original," Ginny whispered to Hermione.
Hermione shushed her, then went to join Ron. "Ready?" she asked.
He nodded, his eyes wide. "You're so… different."
"I suppose I'll take that as a compliment," she said with a smile as she slipped her arm into his. "I like your costume, too. It's very you." She was not about to point out that the purpose of Halloween was dress up in something completely not you.
Ron blushed and cleared his throat. He mumbled something, too garbled for Hermione to make out. They passed the rest of the journey to the Great Hall in relative silence, glancing at the variety of costumes as younger students ran or strolled past them. Hermione noticed that there were some very original costumes among them.
The Great Hall was beginning to fill up when they reached it. Music was playing, and refreshments were being consumed. Hermione's name was called. She and Ron turned toward the sound. Harry was weaving through the crowd toward them. Ron cleared his throat again, this time angrily. "I think I'll get us some drinks," he said. He left her standing there, rolling her eyes at him.
Harry said to her when he was within speaking range, "Is he still mad?"
"I guess," she shrugged. A quick appraisal of Harry allowed her to see his scruffy leather-ish, other-worldly clothing and the sword at his hip. What gave his costume away were the ring, necklace, and hair. "So, Aragorn, how are you enjoying it so far?"
Harry grinned and scratched his head in quite an unkingly manner. "What about you? You look amazing. Did you make it?"
"Oh, of course not. I bought it. I'm not that talented. But that isn't the point, is it?"
Harry shook his head. He leaned in closer, and murmured conspiratorially, "Wait until you see what Malfoy's dressed as. You'll hardly believe it."
"What?"
"See for yourself." Hermione scanned the crowd. Though his hair in its unique shade of blonde usually made him stand out in a crowd, she did not see him. Not that she really wanted to, as she told herself firmly. "Ron's coming back, I'd better go. I'll see you again in a while, all right?"
"Yes, Harry. Have fun."
Ron was by her side, handing her a glass of pumpkin juice, in a moment. "Everything looks great here," he said. He peered over heads to find Harry. His eyes narrowed when he spotted him. Hermione opened her mouth, but Ron spoke before she could. "What did he want?"
"He?" Hermione repeated. "Ron, you're talking about your best friend. How can you be so angry with him and not with me?"
"He's associating with Malfoy. And Zabini," Ron growled.
"So am I!" Hermione told him loudly, trying to make him understand. "We all have to be in this together, Ron, or we'll all end up failing. You don't know the whole story because Draco and Blaise haven't had a chance to talk to you. I have a feeling you wouldn't believe them even if they did. Maybe it's better that you're not involved in this."
"You don't understand, either, Hermione," Ron burst out, and looked at her darkly. "You think you know everything, but you don't understand at all."
"Why don't you tell me, then?" Hermione asked in a patient but clearly offended voice. Ron downed his pumpkin juice and set the empty glass on a table nearby.
"You've heard Malfoy insult my family more times than anyone could count. If I accept this alliance thing, I'm betraying their honor. I'm not worried about the things he says about me, but I can't forget the insult to my family. I don't know how you can just disregard all the times he's called you a Mudblood." He sighed very heavily. "I've got to go to the loo," he said. "Be back in a few minutes."
Ron left, and Hermione immediately felt bad that she had judged Ron for his feelings. Still, she hated when Harry and Ron were fighting. Trying to forget his plight in favor of having fun, she worked her way into the mob. She stopped to talk to Anthony, Ginny and Blaise, Parvati and Lavender, and a group of fifth years, in that order. They all assured her that her costume was incredible and they were enjoying the ball. Ginny said the latter with a mischievous wink before she and Blaise made for a more private setting.
"Those two are going to get each other into so much trouble," Hermione said to herself. She laughed slightly. "I hope they have fun."
"So do I," said a voice next to her. She turned to see who it belonged to.
"Harry, there was no need to sneak up behind me," she admonished.
"A thousand apologies, milady," he said with a bow. That voice was not Harry's voice. And the person standing beside her was not dressed as Aragorn, but as Harry. He was wearing old blue jeans, a green sweater, and sneakers. He had on Harry's glasses, and his hair was Harry's as well. His eyes, however, were a familiar grey.
Hermione's mouth fell open. "Draco?"
"Ah, no, she's guessed my true identity! I must away."
At that point, Hermione was bent a bit at the middle in laughter. She felt water forming in her eyes from her ardent mirth. She sucked in a few deep breaths in order to talk. "That costume- ahaha- oh, gods, it's so great! Ahahahaha… are those actually Harry's clothes?"
Draco nodded. "I had to alter them a bit to fit me properly, but they came straight from his wardrobe. If you could even call it that," he added, looking down with an expression of slight distaste. "I suppose it's all right for most people, but Malfoys never dress in such a way."
Now that she looked more closely, Hermione could see that he did not really look like Harry. His face was his own, and those eyes could only belong to one person. It was probably a good thing, because otherwise no one would be able to tell the difference. With Harry dressed as Aragorn, most people would approach Draco when meaning to find Harry. It would be most confusing.
"Can I ask you a question, Hermione?" Draco asked.
"You did," she said. He rolled his eyes. She lifted her eyebrows at him expectantly. He seemed like he was considering whether he should speak. "I was joking, Draco. You can ask me anything. That does not guarantee that I'll answer, but…"
"Hermione, it's time for the Head Boy/Head Girl dance!" Anthony called to her from about twenty feet away.
Hermione glanced at Draco, suppressing a groan. He had insisted on practicing, convinced that they had to look good in front of the rest of the school. She had not wanted to argue, so she had gone along with it. Now, she took the arm he offered, and let him lead her to the space that was clearing in the middle of the floor.
Just get it over with.
A song began that had something to do with love and caring and sounded very pretty, but annoyed Hermione. "Did you pick out this song?" she asked.
"Yeah. I thought it would create a nice effect, and then others would start dancing." He looked around them. "It seems to be working."
They talked a little, about trivial things. Anthony mentioned the decorations, Hermione revealed how many people had told her that they did well with the Halloween Ball. She held back innumerable yawns while they danced. She thought this unusual, because she very rarely yawned at all, but never when she was bored. He must be the dullest person she had ever known, she decided.
Wanting a distraction, Hermione tilted her head upward to look at the ceiling full of stars. She smiled at the sky's beauty. I wonder if I could ever enjoy flying. It would be such a wonder to fly close to the stars.
Her dance partner slowed in the monotonous circles he was cutting. She looked down just in time to see Draco/Harry standing by them. "May I cut in?" he asked, the very picture of politeness. Anthony relented.
"Thank you for the dance, Hermione. I'll see you later. We should meet later in the week to start planning trips to-"
"It was no trouble, Anthony," she responded, interrupting. It was not the time for duties, as far as she was concerned. She nodded to him, and he left. She may have imagined a tinge of reluctance in his step.
"Lady Granger?" Draco prompted, holding his hand out to her.
Feeling confused, she took it, and they began to dance. She could not deny that he had quite a skill in that area. A smile sprang up unbidden after a few minutes. "Tell me, Monsieur Malfoy, whose idea was it for you to dress up as Harry?" She laughed.
"It was mine," he answered simply. "And now I will ask you something. Where did you get your costume?"
"I found it in a store in London, this summer," Hermione told him. "Why?"
He pursed his lips for a moment. "Are you at all familiar with the name Darla Malfoy?"
"I think so," she said slowly. Her brow furrowed as she struggled to remember. "She died in 1658, didn't she? Along with all the guests at her birthday celebration. She was married to-" she stopped herself, looking up into his eyes.
"Lucius Malfoy," Draco finished. He proceeded to explain. "It's a family name. Many of our ancestors have shared it."
"Why do you ask?"
"You remind me so much of Darla Malfoy in that costume."
Hermione waited a moment, then asked, "How do you know what she looks like?"
"I saw a picture of her in one of the Malfoy history books. Her eyes were pale green, but otherwise you look almost exactly the same."
"…Is that a good thing?"
"Well, she is beautiful, if that is what you're getting at." He avoided her eyes. "She was poisoned, supposedly by her husband."
"Supposedly?"
"I personally could not prove he did it. They lived hundreds of years ago. But I'm not saying I don't think it was him. I really, really do. Malfoy women are not the luckiest you could name. Many of them die prematurely."
Are you trying to tell me something? she asked him silently.
"I want to ask you something else," Draco said with a half-smile. "Has Harry ever looked better?" He Posed with his face.
Hermione snorted. "I happen to consider Harry to be a very attractive person."
"But you've never kissed him. That means you saw something in me that you-"
"Shh! Draco, if you ever say anything of that nature again, I swear I will make it so that all sexual thoughts have completely distanced themselves from your mind." She smiled sweetly. "Understand?"
"I promise never to say… things like that in front of other people," he said. Hermione knew that she would have to be satisfied for the time being.
"Anyway, how do you know if I've ever kissed Harry?"
"Because it was obvious to me that it was your first time." He meant that he knew he was her first kiss. "You haven't had much time to kiss anyone else since then."
"I would say that two months is plenty of time, Draco Malfoy," she weighted her words with implications. "For all you know, I may have kissed every boy in our year, and some of the girls. I could have threatened them with hexes as well, quite easily."
"Not the Slytherins," Draco countered dismissively. "Aside from that, I know that you are the opposite of promiscuous. And you're a terrible liar."
"I'm fine at lying!" protested Hermione.
"Hmm. You may have a point. I must just be so good at it myself that I can see through all the lies of others. Either that, or I know you too well."
Hermione stopped letting him lead her, and they were the only couple standing still on the floor. "Do not for a minute think that you know me," she hissed at him. "You don't know a single thing about me."
That was not true, of course. He knew how she kissed, and he knew all her looks. He now knew the reason behind the change in her appearance. His eyes told her that he knew her. "But we've been through this before, if you'll remember. The same old Hermione," he said the last part in a whisper. His hand came up, near her cheek, but she drew back.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"You've got an eyelash next to your nose," he told her. She let him take it off for her, but wanted to end their talk.
"I need to step out of this crowd for a while. I'm feeling hot," she said to Draco. She saw the eyebrow he raised and clucked her tongue impatiently. "It has nothing to do with that. It's packed in here." Now that she thought about it, she was feeling warm. She fanned herself for a moment.
Draco gestured toward the back of the hall. "I see Harry back there. Poor kid, he's stuck with Ginny and Blaise."
"When did they get back?" Hermione wondered aloud. Draco answered with a grin.
"Why don't you go relieve Potter of vomit duty, and I'll get you a glass of pumpkin juice." He started for the refreshment table.
"It's really not necessary-"
"Granger, just let me do something for you this one time. I promise I won't be polite ever again." She nodded to him with a smile, and lifted her skirt in her hand as she left the dance floor to find her friends.
"So, fair lady," Blaise said to her with a suggestive grin, "how are you enjoying this ball which you have planned?"
Ginny hit him in the shoulder. "Let her alone. She spent hours with the dullest of the dull to plan this for us. She deserves all the fun she can have after that."
Hermione glanced between them. "What are you talking about?"
Harry shook his head at the others. "They think that something is going on with you and Malfoy."
Hermione stepped back in indignation. "Excuse me?! Is that true, Blaise?"
The dark-haired teen, who was dressed all in leather at that moment, adopted an innocent look. "Why would I think such a thing? Just because you were all over each other, dancing with your faces inches apart, is no reason for- what?" Hermione was glaring at him with certain hate, or so she hoped.
Hermione looked away from the three who were laughing silently. "You've all gone mad," she muttered in annoyance.
"Hermione, I never knew you cared what other people thought," Harry said.
"I don't. I care what you think."
"Oh, thanks. We're not people."
"You aren't other people, Harry. You're my friends. It's all right to care what your friends think. Especially if what they think is wrong." She crossed her arms. It was just at that moment when Draco joined them with two cups of pumpkin juice. He sipped from one and handed the other to Hermione.
"It's a battlefield over at the refreshment table," he remarked. "I may have poked some people in the eye fighting my way up there for your drink. But it all worked out in the end." He watched her over the rim of his glass while he sipped.
Gritting her teeth, Hermione accepted the beverage. "Thank you," she nearly growled. Blaise was coughing conspicuously while Ginny and Harry distorted their mouths, trying to hide smiles. Hermione shot them all dark glowers, the darkest reserved for Blaise.
It took the ball-goers a few minutes to notice that Dumbledore was standing patiently at the head of the staff table, which was the only one of the long tables still in its normal place. They quieted when they did notice, and soon he had the undivided attention of the students.
"Thank you for your attention," the Headmaster smiled. "It is time to announce the winner of the costume contest. Before I do, however, let's have a hand for Miss Granger and Mister Goldstein, who worked very hard to plan this special occasion for their classmates." Applause followed, then died off. "And now for the costumes. The three honorable mentions are Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Janis Lepoint."
The third runner-up was a fourth year, who was dressed as a pirate. She had fake scars and tattoos, an eye patch, very authentic pirate boots, and a hip holster for a fake gun. Hermione smiled toward the girl, who could not see it, being half a room away. Beyond that, she was distracted by the small jack-o-lantern figure that appeared before her. Hermione and Harry each received one as well. If you pressed on the top, it would say "Honorable mention, Hogwarts' Halloween costume contest."
"And the winner of the contest," Dumbledore continued once the cheering for the runners-up had ceased, "Is Draco Malfoy. The judges found his costume to be the most… surprising." His mouth twitched, and his eye twinkled. "Mister Malfoy, please come and claim your prize."
Draco made his way up to the front of the hall, holding his head high and walking gracefully. Many people were confused; they saw only Harry Potter, at first. Harry Potter did not walk that way, and Dumbledore had just called for Malfoy. When they realized exactly what they were looking at, murmurs of shock and amusement broke out. No one could quite fathom why Draco Malfoy was dressed as Harry Potter for Halloween.
Hermione, Blaise, Ginny, and Harry all burst out laughing at the same moment. Draco looked deliberately at the four of them when he took his prize from Dumbledore. When they had calmed down later on, they would learn that he received a slightly larger jack-o-lantern and some Honeyduke's chocolate. While they were laughing, though, they were unaware of anything but their mirth.
Hermione was wiping her eyes when Ron approached. He walked somewhat dejectedly, like he did when he felt guilty about something. He right up to her, nodding to Ginny briefly before speaking. He might be able to ignore his best friend, but not his sister.
"I'm sorry I lost my temper, Hermione. I never have any right to yell at you. I can't help being upset about the whole situation, if you know what I mean." The last was said in an undertone, not needing further explanation.
"Don't worry about it," Hermione responded as she wiped the last traces of laughter from her cheeks. She noted Ron's increased tension as Draco made his way toward the group. He sat with them at the small round table.
For a while, some awkward conversation bounced among them. After a high point in discomfort, Ron said, "I wish they would have let us have alcohol tonight. Maybe I can get Fred or George to send me a bottle of Firewhiskey."
Hermione looked up. "That sounds like it could be fun. If we pitch in some money, do you think they would send a bottle for each of us?" The others seemed to be surprised by this, and she knew why. But that would not stop her from speaking.
Ron slammed his hand down on the table. The others brought their gaze to him in an instant, wondering what was coming. He looked around at them, then stood. "Hermione, I need to talk with you privately." He took hold of her arm and led her outside.
"Ron, what is wrong with you?" she wrenched her arm from his grip.
"Me? What's wrong with you?" He started to pace. "I just told you I wanted to drink, and you said it sounded like fun. That's not the Hermione I know. You worked for six years to become Head Girl, someone who's supposed to be a role model for the younger students. What are you trying to do, just throw all your hard work away?"
"I can't help it if I want to try new things," Hermione said. "And no matter what you may think, I will not shirk my duties. I can mix work with play, Ron, and you're no one to tell me what to do."
"I'm not trying to give you orders, Hermione. I just want to help you."
"I don't need any help! I've actually never been better, and if you knew anything about me, you would know that much."
"What, are you saying I'm not a good friend?" Ron was looking at her with a combination of anger and desperation. She huffed at him.
"Maybe. I can't deny that there have been times when you were wonderful, but lately you've been nothing but a prat, Ron. You won't even speak to Harry, but you keep telling me that you aren't mad at me. Well, I can't divide my time between you and him, even if it does mean I'd have to choose. It's too difficult, Ron. So please, either hate me or forgive him."
"I can't do either, Hermione. I already explained why I can't accept that Malfoy has changed."
"I wouldn't say 'change' is the right term, but you did explain. So, why aren't you as angry with me as you are with Harry? What makes my part any different?" Hermione put her hands on her hips. "Tell me now, or I will make the choice. And you probably won't have too much trouble guessing whom I'll pick."
Ron opened his mouth, but at first silence reigned. At last, he found his voice. "Even if I could hate you, Hermione, I wouldn't want to. You… I don't know what to say, really. I never wanted to tell you because I was afraid of what you would say. But now, I guess I just don't want to lose you. I love you, Hermione."
"Ron…" She remembered what Ginny had said. She was not in love with Ron. They could both get on with their lives if she told him.
He took her arms and looked her in the eye. "You know how I feel now. All I want is not to hear that you don't feel the same way. Please, Hermione. I think I know how you've always felt, as well. Just tell me, as I told you."
Hermione shook her head. "No, Ron." She stepped back a few feet, meeting his confused gaze. "I don't know how you got the idea that I felt more for you than just friendship. I don't; I never have. I care for you, Ron, but I don't love you."
He looked like he had just been told that his entire family was dead. He would not look at her anymore. She reached out, trying to comfort him. "Ron, I'm sorry. Just…"
He pulled away. "I can't be around you," he told her, his voice thin and choked. Hermione knew he was trying not to cry. Her arm dropped. Ron turned and went back into the castle. She followed slowly, knowing she would not find him when she entered.
Instead of looking for Ron, she went back to the Great Hall to see what Harry and the rest were up to. They still sat at the table, laughing, unaware of what had just happened. "What was wrong with Weasley?" Draco asked.
Hermione shrugged. "Nothing. He just wanted to talk."
"About…?" Harry pressed.
"About me, to put it simply," Hermione said. Ginny seemed understand, but said nothing. "I don't think he's going to be coming back to the ball. He was a little upset."
"He's too sensitive. You've got to be gentle with a boy like that," said Draco knowingly.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. He gave her a sorry-but-I-know-I'm-right look. She returned one that said mind-your-own-business-because-it-does-not-involve-you-at-all. His next look replied, I-think-I-am-more-involved-in-this-than-you-are-admitting. Before she could respond, Blaise spoke.
"Forget the firewhiskey. If you want to drink, I've got a wide selection, that actually does include a bottle of Ogden's. It isn't full, but nearly. We could make a night of it."
"You have a collection of alcohol in school?" Hermione repeated.
"Well, yes. I promise you I've never been drunk or hung over in class, though. Oh, come on. Stop looking at me that way, Hermione. If you were in Slytherin, you'd be the same way."
She grimaced across the table. "I highly doubt it."
There was a bustling at the entrance as a group of unusual people entered. None of them looked like anyone from Hogwarts, but they were all in costumes, so Hermione was not exactly sure. Every one of them was dressed as a zombie, a person raised from the grave. Hermione had seen pictures of necromanced humans, and from what she could see the costumes were scarily accurate.
Terry Boot, who was standing with his friends by the door, said to one of them, "What a costume, mate! You really do look dead."
"Boot!" Snape, who was chaperoning, called as he fought toward them. Hermione's eyes narrowed at his warning. Draco's head snapped up and around. He appeared to understand that Snape knew something. "Stay back from the-"
The zombie had limped toward Terry as Snape spoke, and grabbed him. With one swift movement, Terry's neck was broken, and he slid to the floor in unexpected death. Hermione realized that these strangers were not wearing costumes.
Everyone backed away as quickly as they could, eager to escape the reach of the intruders. The teachers rushed forward. McGonagall stopped by Hermione. "Get all the students out of the Great Hall," she said. She then continued to rush, catching up with the others.
Hermione climbed up onto the table. "Sonorus!" she declared. "Attention, everyone! You are all instructed to leave the Hall at once! Upper years, help the younger students! Return to your dorms, and stay there until you have been notified by a teacher to leave! Go now!"
It was not until after the last of the students were on their way out that Hermione looked up to see how the professors were faring against the undead enemy. The majority of their spells up until that point had been cast to protect the students. "Quietus!" Hermione said, pointing her wand at herself. She jumped off the table.
None of the professors' spells were hitting, though some of them were incredibly powerful. "They're protected," she whispered. "The spells won't affect them."
Ron was approaching them. "Hermione! What are you still doing here?"
"Potter, the sword!" Draco ordered, holding his hand out. Harry drew it and tossed it to Draco, who caught it by the hilt and charged forward.
"Draco, no! Come back!" Hermione cried, beginning to chase after him. She was restrained by arms much stronger than hers, at the very least. Ron was holding her back. "Get off of me!"
"I won't let you put yourself in that kind of danger, Hermione. Especially not for Malfoy. I'm taking you out of here." He tried to lead her out, but she fought him.
"Where I am at this moment is not your decision to make, nor is it for you to determine for whom I will risk my life. Now let me go! Do it, or I'll make you!"
"How? Are you going to cast a spell on me?" His voice was right in her ear.
"Ron!" Harry's voice interrupted. "Stop this! Let Hermione go!"
"If it is necessary," she said to Ron. "And it seems right now that it may be." She began to reach for her wand, but Ron pinned her arm to her side. "Ron!"
"You're coming with me," he said. About fifty feet away, Draco lopped off the head of one of the zombies. It hit the floor limply. Hermione felt her feet slide on the stone. She began to struggle more violently, screaming at Ron. All at once, something hit them, and his grip loosened. Hermione was knocked off her feet.
"Ow," she said. Hands helped her up, hands that she saw belonged to Harry and Ginny. She looked around as she brushed off her dress. Ron was on one knee, holding his jaw as though he had just been punched. Blaise stood over him with his wand drawn, glaring.
"Blaise, don't," Ginny pleaded. With a severe look, Blaise covered the seven feet of floor to where the rest of them were standing.
A shout from the behind made Hermione turn. When she did, one of the monsters gripped her by the throat. The strain to draw her breath increased as her feet slowly left the floor. Harry and Ginny's efforts to free her did nothing.
Her brain started to loose its ability to function. Dimly, she knew that she had to get more oxygen. Her hands, not feeling like her own, feebly scratched at the arm holding her neck. She looked over the thing's shoulder, where Draco had just dispatched another of the loathsome bodies. He seemed to be getting larger. Hermione was sure that meant he was coming closer. Her vision swam.
The head of the zombie came off abruptly, and the body fell. The hand grasping her was tugged off by someone else - she thought it was Draco - and she drew a deep breath. She nearly fell, but was caught.
It seemed that all the zombies were defeated. It was the only logical conclusion, since a few of the teachers were hurrying toward them, and Draco threw the sword aside. It seemed to be his arms that were holding her up.
"Miss Granger, are you all right?" She knew the calm, relaxing voice. It was Dumbledore.
She nodded slowly. "I think - I -" She rubbed her neck a bit. A cough emerged, paining her lungs. "I think I need to go to the hospital wing." She looked up at Draco's worried eyes, and fainted.
…TBC…
