Evaluate This

Chapter 5

Stupid Questions and the Great Escape


Blaise Zabini ran from the room screaming the door banging closed behind him with a crack. Harry grimaced as he watched the poor boy run. Glancing at Miriam she caught his eye and winked.

"I'm guessing it didn't go so well for him, eh?"

Harry shook his head. "Poor guy. I kind of liked him."

"Ruined for life, no doubt."

"He'll never be the same."

Miriam grimaced. "Two guesses who is next." she smirked as the balding head of Mr. McGale popped into the hallway.

Stupid git, Miriam thought, big pompous head thinks he knows everything.

"De'Lunic, Miriam."

Harry grinned widely as Miriam skipped, flashing him a white teethed smile…he got a subtle impression of fangs. She hopped inside the room, full of energy, leaving a rather ruffled Mr. McGale in her wake. It hadn't taken them long to see that the tactic he took was Intimidation before Examination…and from the results, examination was more akin to being beheaded…and that was putting it nicely.

Harry ticked the results off mentally. Lavender walked out white as a ghost, complete zombie and Blaise…Harry chuckled and wondered briefly if Mr. McGale would get the better of Miriam. He seriously doubted it.


Darkness enfolded the room. The single lamp tried but failed to light the expanse. Ms. Danna sat in the darkness a slight glow on her skin, her back ramrod straight in the most uncomfortable looking chair Draco had ever seen. Beside him he could feel Hermione shift uncertain. It had been a full three minutes since they'd been called in together and not a word had passed.

Finally, the psychiatrist leaned forward. "I will put this simply. Each of you will answer each question I ask. If a problem arises and persists, I will not hesitate to hex you." The woman's eyes gleamed maliciously. "The questions I ask and your answers will be posted outside the Great Hall after each session next to your name. There will be no secrets. To make sure you are not lying, I have been given permission to use my own homemade truth serum."

Standing she walked around her desk, two vials in hand. She handed one to Hermione and one to Draco.

"Drink."

Draco could remember how Pansy and Weasley had looked upon exiting the office. Dazed, confused, and utterly humiliated.

Go figure they'd crack easily.

That wasn't going to happen to him. He hated to admit it but he was glad at the pairings. If there was one person in his 'family' who he didn't mind getting paired off with, it was Hermione.

He knew her thoughts on this particular subject, she'd been very vocal about how stupid the entire thing was—and for once, her opinion mirrored his perfectly. Neither of them were happy and if he knew anything about Granger, he knew that she was stubborn.

This was going to be like pulling teeth.

And he was looking forward to it.

Under the woman's fierce gaze, Draco upended the vial and drank the foul contents.

"Merlin! What did you put in that? It tastes like cyanide."

"And I'm sure you know what cyanide tastes like, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco frowned, but Hermione also seemed to agree with him as she sputtered, coughing.

"Wretched stuff!" she exclaimed, before clamping her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide in shock. Draco smirked.

Ms. Danna's scowl deepened which only made Draco's traditional sneer cross his face.

"Mr. Malfoy. Is there something you find amusing? And if so, would you share it so that we can all laugh at your idiocy before we continue as adults?"

Hermione had to stifle a chuckle and masqueraded it with a hard, loud cough. Ms. Danna turned with what Hermione presumed was her most evil look on her, which only made her have to laugh harder.

"And you, Ms. Granger, do you have a problem?" The glare was steely.

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand—trying desperately to stifle the giggles. "Of c-course ck-not. Just a bit of a c-cough." She gave her best 'I really am innocent smile'.

Ms. Danna could only glare.

"Now that this amusing episode has passed. I want you to introduce yourselves to me and answer each question as I ask it. Am I speaking clearly enough?"

Why no! Hermione thought sarcastically, holding the urge to roll her eyes, I just happen to be too stupid to understand English, Hermione sighed. What was this women's problem anyway?

"Mr. Malfoy. State your name, age, and birth date."

Malfoy took his time, examining his fingernails, scooting forward on the couch, resting his hands on his knees and finally looking up. "Come again?" He asked in the sweetest voice he could manage.

Beside him, Hermione broke out in another fit of laughi—ahem—coughing.

Ms. Danna took out her wand, and set it on her lap. "I do believe you heard me Mr. Malfoy."

"My name, lady, is Draco Malfoy. I am seventeen. My birthday is January 17, 1988.

"Please state your middle name."

Draco scowled. "What the hell do you need to know that for?"

"State your middle name." Ms. Danna said firmly.

Hermione shifted slightly in her seat. Must not be something he's proud of. His middle name, hmmm…oh do tell. She shifted again in anticipation.

"Herbert." Draco mumbled. His parents made one mistake, one! In a moment of delusion, they'd decided on Herbert. He'd never live this down.

"Come again." The irony of it made Hermione feel a notch of respect for Ms. Danna.

I guess she is paying attention after all.

"My name is Draco Herbert Malfoy." Draco said slowly through gritted teeth. Ms. Danna nodded and looked down at her clipboard, Draco ground his teeth. One moment of delusion!

"Ms. Granger, the same applies to you. Do I need to repeat myself?"

It wasn't a question and Hermione knew it. "Hermione Bella Granger. Seventeen years old as of the 3rd of July, 1988."

"Now Ms. Granger, answer these three questions. They are questions about your current feelings towards friends and fellow students." Ms. Danna smoothed the paper across her desk. "First, who is the person you loathe most, two, who is your best friend, and third, your current 'crush' is?"

Hermione paused.

"The potion has taken affect Ms. Granger. You may answer the questions now."

Draco rolled his eyes—all this was giving him a splitting headache.

"Well to be truthful Ms. Danna, loath is a very strong word. To loath you must be either as stubborn and stupid as the one you loath or you don't look for the good in people, which makes you stupid anyway." Hermione swayed slightly. It was hard to think clearly. She would have said Malfoy right off the bat. But did she really loath him? She detested him, no doubt. He made her life miserable, yes. But did she hate so much that she wanted to see him dead every time she caught site of him? The answer was no.

"Ms. Granger, if you are confused by the question, I will restate it using simpler vocabulary."

"Oh, you really need to shut up." Hermione snapped, feeling pleasure at the shocked expression she received. "I don't loathe Malfoy here, that gives him too much credit. He makes me miserable. That's why you paired us off like this. To make me miserable. Well, guess what? I am. And I don't need ferret boy over there to help me out!" Hermione stood, grasping the pillow she'd been leaning against and swung it at Malfoy's head.

His fingers caught the pillow an inch before it would have connected with his face, his mouth dropped open in shock.

"You just tried to hit me!" What the hell was in that truth serum?

Hermione glared at him, her face flushed. "Stop whining." She turned back to Ms. Danna.

"Enutiate!"

Hermione blinked.

"Sit down Ms. Granger." she penned 'anger management' in her notes and looked up. "We'll come back to you in a minute." she glanced at Draco. "You know the questions Mr. Malfoy. Answer them."

The words slipped from his mouth without thought. "I hate Potter. Harry Potter that is, incase you have your head stuck too far up your ass to know who scar head is. I hate him cause I have to. I hate him cause he actually isn't ugly and all the girls swoon over that fucking scar of his, I hate him because he has everyone in this castle ready to defend his skinny ass at the drop of a hat." He paused then turned to Hermione, who had certainly looked better—she looked doped up at the moment, her eyes wide and glassy. "And I really didn't appreciate being hexed to hell on the train. You know how long it took to find the anti-boil charm? I had those damn painful boils all over my body for days!" Draco was silent now.

"The second ques…"

"I know what the freaking second question was you bitch. Yeah, that's right. Well, you give people a truth serum, what the hell do you think is going to come out?" Draco was panting. He knew now why Hermione had started charging about like a rhino…he felt empty, raw, no morals, nothing was standing in the way of his mouth. He couldn't control any of it. He wasn't in control.

Draco shivered.

Ms. Danna stared at him expectantly.

"I don't have a goddamn best friend!" Draco shouted. Standing up he started pacing back and forth, mumbling. "Another reason to hate Potter. Got his own goddamn golden trio and they do it cause they like him. I'd have to pay for that. Crabbe and Goyle hang around 'cause they are my bodyguards, doesn't make them friends. Blaise, I don't know if I trust him enough yet. I have trust issues."

"Oh and before you ask. I have a crush on Hermione Granger." I do? News to me…Draco thought for a second. Oh fuck, I'm going to regret that. Then he realized he didn't have the energy to care. Later, later he'd have to deal with the repercussions of his extremely loose mouth.


"Miriam? Is it okay if I call you Miriam?" Mr. McGale glanced at the stoic girl as he went over his notes. Shuffling a few papers he lowered his glasses.

"My friends call me Mira." They used to.

"Ah, yes. Your friends, lets start with that." Mr. McGale folded his hands and peered at her. "You transferred here from your school back in the states. How do you like it here? A big change?"

He took a different approach to this one. She was different. She wasn't used to nice. This one wouldn't crack with hard words and threats. No, what she needed, what would break her, would be soft, caring, thoughtful conversations. And he was right. He watched as Miriam stiffened.

"I know you have just transferred to Hogwarts. But it seems you've already made friends. Am I right?"

Miriam nodded.

"You make friends easily?"

Miriam leaned back. "My cousin, Ron Weasley, goes here."

"So your cousin helped you make friends?"

"No…"

"But you have made friends?"

"You could call them that." she called them acquaintances. Not friends. She didn't have friends.

"You feel you can't have friends, you fear for their safety?"

Miriam looked up in shock. "Exactly what do you know about me, Mr. McGale?"

"Well, Mira. I have here several articles of which I am sure you know the nature of." He gently laid several clippings from newspapers on the table between them. The girl's hands shook as she reached out, lightly trailing her finger down the worn print.

"Yes." She said coldly. "I do."

Mr. McGale nodded, slowly watching her. "I understand, Mira, the trauma you went through. However, I don't think you have ever told anyone the story, the true story. If you had…I wouldn't need to help you. Would I?"

Miriam glanced at him and shook her head, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest. "I've already been to a shrink. Thanks but no thanks."

"I am not a muggle Miriam." Mr. McGale said firmly, looking her straight in the eye. "What happened to you was a nightmare, but it didn't come in the dark, it didn't come at a time when you would feel unsafe. No, what happened to you happened in broad daylight, in plain sight, in front of your sister and best friend…and they didn't make it." He let this sink in. "To a muggle, this may look like an accident, but…" He pulled out a folder filled with clippings from wizard newspapers. "But in this world, Mira, what happened to you—was no accident."

Miriam looked at the folder, her eyes filled with a desperate hunger, a dark rage. "It wasn't an accident." She whispered, her voice hoarse.

"I know." Mr. McGale tucked the folder back into his pile. "What I don't know is how you feel. What do you feel?"

Miriam, her eyes glued to the folder in the pile, looked up for a brief second—the air buzzing with uncontrolled magic. "Hatred. I feel hatred."


Hermione gaped at Malfoy. He…has…a…crush…on…me? She let the thought twirl in her head for a moment before she tossed it out. No way in hell.

Draco was sitting on the couch, thoroughly miserable now. Ms. Danna had excused herself as the fireplace called her. So he sat there, his head in his hands, hoping to god Granger wasn't staring at him. But she was. He could feel it. Sighing deeply, he looked up. "Got something to say Granger?"

"You like me?" she asked in wonder.

"No, I was lying."

"Since when?"

Draco looked at her worriedly. "I don't know Granger, wasn't something I planned on. It was as much news to me as it was you." He smirked. "Why, do you like me too?"

Ruffled, Hermione stalked toward him. "As it so happens I…" she didn't get to finish. Draco gripped her wrist tightly and tugged, pulling her closer.

"Let go."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Ms. Danna is going to come back, please Draco, let go." She tugged, but his grip only tightened and she was suddenly pulled a lot closer to him.

"Now, now Granger, you must like me, you just called me Draco." He lowered his head and brushed his lips across her forehead.

"No, I don't, one slip of the tongue does not constitute liking Malfoy."

Draco shrugged. "Whatever you say."

"I'm serious."

"Oh, I believe you."

"You're mocking me!"

"Possibly."

"I'm going to…"

Draco paused, but she remained silent. "Let's get out of here."

"What?"

"I don't want to be here. And I know you don't either. Let's go before she comes back."

"We can't do that!" Hermione whispered indignantly. "We'll get in trouble."

"That never stopped you before." Draco tugged on her wrist as he stepped toward the door. "We can still make a break for it. It's not like we'll be missing anything important."

"But…"

"Granger! Now is not the time to play goody goody. Come on. You hate this as much as I do."

This time when he pulled on her wrist, she came and together…

Together, they made their escape.


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