The day went on without faults, maybe a few minor mishaps here and there, House points won and lost, and whatnot. Then Hermione was hit with a sudden feeling of Deja vu. It happened as she walked past a group of Slytherin girls on her way to the Griffindor tower, and she overheard the words 'Myrtle's,' 'hair,' and 'surprise,' among other unintelligible things. For some reason she felt like she'd heard those words before in another conversation somewhere, and for the first time in that day, she suddenly felt uneasy and quite anxious.
Hermione frowned, and thought. 'Why does that sound so familiar? Myrtle's bathroom? I haven't been there in ages... And this deal with hair...' as she continued walking, not wanting to confront the girls just yet. For all she knew, they could have been talking about a makeover thing they were planning for some girl. Makeovers were apparently quite popular nowadays. She frowned some more as she absentmindedly touched her own hair, a tangled up mess... And she walked into some thing quite solid.
At first, she reddened because she'd thought that she'd just walked into a wall or a pillar. Then she reddened a bit more when she realized she had bumped into a person. And not just any person. Malfoy.
'Well, if it isn't the Weasel's bitch,' a blonde someone sneered. 'Watch where you're going, mudblood, or I can't be held responsible for what happens at your end of my wand.' Hermione face neared a red the shade of Ron's hair, and she cursed inside for being so clumsy. She finally looked up, and said heatedly, 'I'm so fucking sorry, Malfoy.'
And with that, she strode off and up the stairs, still fuming.
Taken way aback, the Slytherin Prince stood, mouth agape for a moment. It quickly passed. He grinned. He'd get back at her for that, and he knew just the perfect way.
A snap towards Goyle.
'Yes, master Draco?'
'I want her tonight. Do what you can to lure her. I'll take it from there. And tell Montague he can have tonight. Just not her,' he grinned maliciously. The massive boy bowed, and left his counterpart and master to move on to the next class.
'Dingbat Drops,' she mumbled to the Fat Lady, who thankfully had a sore throat and was unable to sing at all. The Fat lady glared at Hermione, and begrudgingly opened the doorway to the tower.
She walked up to the boys' tower, quite used to the stares by now. The rule wasn't quite fair. It was placed so that the boys wouldn't be able to come up to the girls dorm and do the forbidden. In her opinion, there was no point. Nowadays, girls had become bolder, more revealing, more conceited, and just as bad as the boys. Sometimes she would wonder what would happen if she brought up some courage and walked over to the boys dorm for something other than prefect duties or something to do with..V-voldemort. If she walked over to a certain redhead while he was sleeping...
She blushed furiously at the thought of Ron. She decided to get ahead in charms and re-read the textbook again. It would definitely help her get these images off her mind. She started back down the stairs, and up to the girls dorm instead.
later...
the textbook had not helped. she was still unintentionally imagining herself and Ron in some abandoned closet, bodies pressing... she needed fresh air. Hermione started to walk out of her room when she noticed her hair brush on her desk. That's odd, she thought, hadn't Ron borrowed that weeks ago? she didn't remember him returning it or retrieving it herself. She frowned, and a strange feeling at the back of her neck persisted something was off, but she shrugged it off and continued walking out of her dorms, brush in hand.
As she reached the mouth of the stair case, she spotted Ron and Harry, sitting at a table near the fire. Starting to blush again, she told herself there was no way either boy knew of her secret fantasies. Walking towards them, she greeted the two with a smile.
'Hey boys, what have you been up to?'
Suddenly, Ron grinned and so did Harry. They both stood up and said,
'Leaving you where you're needed.' and rushed off to the entrance of Griffindor tower. Hermione watched them go, confused the hell out of her mind. Then she looked at what they'd been doing, and was somewhat surprised. It was their essays she had promised to edit, and what appeared to be two little clay models of Ron and Harry. They were bowing flourishing bows down in her direction. This was pretty good enchanting, she thought, probably done with Fred and George's help. The clay models, undeniably made by Ron, had overlarge heads and hands like mittens. Their robes resembled tiny mountains, with splotches of blue on each for ties. they looked like they were made by muggle children, and yet, they were endearing to look at. She smiled as she sat down, and sighed. She guessed, this was what best friends were for.
Hermione picked up an essay, and began to edit.
A huge boy maneuvered through the hallways, seemingly bare without his counterpart or his master. he spoke to many as he walked, getting information on people and things, events and rumours. He enjoyed the freedom for several moments, then moved onto business. He continued walking, but this time chose the right people to speak to, to make them understand. Afterwards, he was satisfied with his work, and started back to his master, waiting for the inevitable event to occur.
For the thousandth time, the tiny Ron and Harry bowed, stood straight, and bowed again. Hermione was almost done editing the boys' chicken scratch essays, and rubbed her eyes. why'd they have to write so messy? it was nearly the witching hour, and neither boy had returned. Every other Griffindor had retired to his or her dorms, leaving Hermione alone in the common room, alone with the fire and the boys' papers.
She stretched, and yawned excessively, like she did when she'd been an ordinary muggle girl... how long ago that had been... she thought nostalgically when she noticed something at the corner of her eye.
It was a paper airplane. At first glance one presumed it a normal paper airplane, often designed and redesigned by muggle boys to annoy their teachers. But a closer look told otherwise. The paper was off-white and very crisp, with no oil marks on it left by human hands. The tip of the plane was silver, as were its wingtips. She picked it up, intrigued, and opened it in her hands. It was beautiful stationary, folded precisely so that the lines were very clear.
Pansy Parkinson invites you to a surprise gift party. Bring your hairbrush and 6 sickles. Everything has a price, you know. Myrtle's bathroom, midnight sharp
The note was followed by a delicate caricature of the Slytherin girl, winking suggestively.
Hermione frowned, read the note through again, and sighed. Where was Ron when you needed him? ...On second thought, maybe that wouldn't be such a great idea... The way Pansy was winking at her told her that this wouldn't be any surprise. Some sort of surprise maybe, including the coming together of the opposite sexes or something... That must be what the girls in the hallway were talking about. A surprise set up by Pansy for tonight... Involving hair and money? That seemed odd...
But it was a curiosity nonetheless, especially with that whole hairbrush gimmick. What in Merlin's beard was that for?
Hermione picked up her hairbrush, and examined the faded varnish on the handle, the mess of tangles on the bristles. She paused, imagining Pansy's sneer at the ancient thing if and when she ventured out to the party. She'd probably be escourted out unkindly, by some Slytherin brutes.
It was a mission for one, and she would have to deceive before catching anyone red-handed. She took the essays and the two bowing figurines, and climbed up the stairs to her dorms. Once there, she set everything down on her desk neatly, and shrugged out of her robes, her simple blouse and knee-length skirt. She put on a bright green billabong t-shirt and her pale green pajama bottoms. One would think that a Griffindor thought the colour to be revolting, but Hermione found it to be soothing and exciting at the same time. Finally, she pulled out the tangles still on the hairbrush, threw them out, and pulled out her wand from her discarded robes.
She shivered when she felt the egg trickling down her back, and carefully placed her wand halfway into the waistband of her pajama pants.
She walked out of the entrance slowly, as to not wake the Fat Lady. She snorted and shifted in her sleep, and Hermione held her breath for a full minute, retreating quickly into the darkness in the hallways before letting it out silently.
Her steps were clumsy; she hadn't done any sneaking around since, well, since DA. And that was a whole summer ago. She walked as fast as she could without making a huge racket, and reached Myrtle's bathroom within minutes. She'd forgotten to wear a watch, and she wasn't sure anymore of the time. Had midnight passed yet?
Anxious, she stepped into the washroom, clean but still eerie from its disuse. She took of the camouflage spell, and braced herself.
Myrtle didn't seem to be in at the moment, since Hermione wasn't being attacked verbally by the ghost. She'd developed a particular fondness in the Boy Who Lived; followed by a particular hatred for one of his best friends. Namely Hermione. And from then on, Myrtle had used all the words she picked up from the vile students in Hogwarts to verbally abuse Hermione, sometimes almost as annoying as Peeves. But no insults seemed to be coming her way now; in fact there wasn't any sound coming from the washroom except the drip, drip of a faucet not closed quite tight.
She sighed, supposing her chance to expose forbidden parties was gone since midnight was over.
Drip, drip.
The other girls must have already come and taken their surprises, whatever that may have been.
Drip, drip.
Or maybe-- no, she had nothing. Her ingenuity failed her, as it never had done before.
Drip, drip.
Damn it, that stupid faucet was keeping her from thinking clearly. Hermione stalked her way toward the far end of the washroom, to where the dripping sounds originated. Finally having located the annoying faucet, she twisted and twisted at the knob until it stopped dripping. She sighed contently, her obsessive-compulsiveness driven away, for the moment.
The she became aware of another noise. Something.. like the music from an ice-cream truck. How odd, she thought, that an ice-cream truck be out here, all the way out in Hogwarts... She moved toward the new sounds coming from behind her, in a stall. She carefully opened the door, wand at ready, and,
nothing. There was nothing there except a tiny sign on the square bit of the toilet. and a small box with a hole on its lid, seemingly into an abyss. The sign read, 'insert brush and six sickles.' in cursive. Oh. was she supposed to put her brush in this hole? But, there was no guarantee that she'd receive the brush back and.. oh what the hell, she thought, dropping the brush into the hole with 6 sickle pieces.
Then she waited for her surprise. or whatever was going to happen, to happen.
And something did. The floor came from underneath her feet, and she only had time to say, 'oh,' before she fell into the dark.
A/N: apologies to everyone. it got hectic with midterm exams and all... This is just a chapter to get the plot going, so that everything makes sense later on... all comments are appreciated.
