Boathouse Chapter 2: Books, a harry potter fanfic

Books

"Harry! Ron!" Hermione did her best to shout, turning the corner to meet up with her two best friends in between classes. The two boys turned in her direction, smiles on their faces. "How was Ancient Runes?" Hermione started as soon as the three met. Harry gave out a quick laugh, looking at Ron, who's face turned a light shade of red.

"Ron set fire to something," Harry shook his head, eyeing his red-headed companion, "We weren't even supposed to be using magic in this class, and somehow, he still managed to set the place on fire."

A giggle escaped Hermione's lips as she turned to walk to her next class with her friends. Her eyes on the ground in front of her, she imagined the scenario as if she was there. As much as she might like her skills, she sometimes wished her advanced classes didn't make her miss stories like this one.

"At least I didn't set anything of importance on fire," Ron mumbled from beside her, causing another laugh to come falling out of her mouth. She looked at the two and sighed.

"Well, we're definitely you're definitely not going to have as much excitement in the next class, Harry," Hermione cautioned, remembering who taught their Advanced Arithmancy Studies class - Professor Vector. She shuddered. The woman was disciplined.

She looked away from her friends towards their closed classroom door to see two students standing outside of it. Theodore Nott had grown since her first unfortunate meeting with him. He was just another pureblood with the belief that he was better than everyone else. His Slytherin tie suited him very nicely.

If only it was a little bit tighter.

A groan was heard awfully loud coming from Theo, "Why do you even bother to show up to class? You know everything anyways and all you are is a distraction to the rest of us trying to learn."

Hermione glared at him, attempting to hold her tongue. As much as she wanted to snap at him, she knew that if Professor Vector came strolling down the hallway right as things escalated she wouldn't take too kindly with excuses. Besides, other students were already lining up behind them waiting for their class to begin.

"Bugger off," Ron barked, annoyed already with Theodore's belittling words, "Where's your wanker leader – playing catch with Chief Death Eater?" Theo's fists clenched at his side, tempted by his anger.

"Why don't you fucking-

"Draco's been feeling ill," Blaise interrupted, shooting the golden trio a small look of apology. Harry and Ron always had issues trusting Blaise's kind words due to his being a Slytherin, proving to Hermione that the serpent house was not the only one plagued with being persuaded by prejudices. It almost made Hermione mad. Blaise seemed gentle and honest most of the times, and despite being best friends with dickhead number one, he is still a person who deserves a living chance. Hermione accepted his small gesture of apology, giving him a nod.

"What, has the ferret been sick for four weeks now?" Ron moved forward, almost snarling the words as they left his mouth. Theo was becoming increasingly angry and it was only a matter of time before he did something. Harry put a hand on Ron's shoulder; telling him to back off. He was treading on thin ice.

Abruptly, a flurry of red robes and a tall witch hat came rushing down the hall and Professor Vector walked in between the group to unlock the classroom. Not noticing the tension, she turned around to look at the group quizzically.

"What are you all doing standing around?" Her eyes narrowed at us all, her voice dipped in authority. Finally, her eyes fell onto Ron, "And shouldn't you be at your Herbology class, Mr. Weasley?" A smirk grew on Theodore's face and Hermione felt her impulse to give him a good wallop increase. Ron huffed out an apology, a look of pure annoyance gracing his features, and started down the corridor after giving Harry and Hermione a final nod. Vector looked at the rest of the group, "Well, hurry on, then," ushering for everyone to get to their seats.

When the students had settled and class had begun, Harry turned in his seat to look at Hermione and nudged her form. She was taking notes quietly and listening intently. He nudged her again.

"What Harry?" Hermione looked at him incredulously, miffed by his attempts to steal away her attention.

"I just wanted to let you know," Harry whispered, "that Ron asked me to tell you about something…" His voice trailed off and he started to look incredibly guilty. Hermione's eyebrows twitched, a feeling of worry settling in her stomach. She didn't want it to show on her face, but a sentence like that could really distress her.

"Well?" She questioned after Harry let what seemed like minutes pass by. Harry's mouth tightened and soon fell.

"Ron's been getting a lot of attention for his accomplishments in Quidditch," Harry initiated, looking worried for Hermione's reaction, "And a certain girl in particular has been regarding him."

Hermione felt her heart drop in her chest and her body stiffen. Of course a girl would pay attention to him. He was worth it. She payed attention to him, right? If he was good enough for Hermione to pay attention to, he was certainly good enough for some broad to pay attention to.

Hermione just always had this thought that Ron wouldn't give any other girl the time of day. Hermione was wrong. And Hermione was never wrong.

"Oh," She let out, not allowing the emotions to show on her face, "Who?"

Harry sighed, looking contrite, "Lavender Brown."

"Oh."

Time passed, and Hermione found she couldn't pay attention for the rest of the class. She would just have to ask someone else for their notes later.

Walking down the empty corridors while classes were being held gave Draco a feeling of advantage. It had been about a week and a half since he settled into the boathouse and he was consistently missing class, despite what his elder mentor said about blending in. He didn't want to wear a mask and blend in. He didn't want to pretend like he hadn't changed drastically. Everything was different.

This mark made him different.

And, as he walked towards the library, he took note of something else. This mark felt draining to him. Every time he attempted to repress the burning feeling the mark violated him with, Draco felt himself growing more fatigued. If even on a minuscule measure, he felt the intensity of the magic between his hand and his wand lessen. And that scared him.

Draco numbed those thoughts away and focused on the task at hand. He knew he would have to start attending classes soon enough – if he didn't, Snape would probably have a pissy fit – so here he was, at the library. He noticed that, although his bookshelf was full to the brim with learning materials, it only held two of the six books he needed for the year. He needed to round up as much as he could so he could catch up on what he has been missing out on.

If he wanted to defend himself someday, he would at least need to listen in class.

And class never seemed to be a chore to Draco anyways. His father's needs for him to be the best of the best pushed him towards becoming a studious pupil, and his rivalry with Granger for the top pushed him even further towards success.

He had taken up a habit of calling Granger by her last name, if only in his head. He found himself dissatisfied in constantly referring to her as a mudblood. The word had become spoiled, putting the taste of rot in his mouth. He had already condemned her for life and he felt enough pity for her. And he was tired of feeling pity.

He just wanted this whole thing to be over.

He went to the front desk of the library and listed the books he needed. With a flick of her wand, Madam Irma Pince had the books flying over students' heads and nearly knocked someone out. She was cold-blooded, the old hag. The books slammed on the table in front of Draco and she gave him a dreary look. He rolled his eyes and grabbed the books, annoyed with how exaggerated everyone in this infernal place could be. He turned to leave.

Unanticipatedly, his eyes dropped on a book resigned on a table with a familiar name on it.

Percival Pratt.

This dead varmint was clearly following him.

Draco picked up the book to inspect it. The book was made out of a warn-down chocolate brown leather with small inscriptions on the back and spine. It had a bound green silk bookmark, and it felt warm in his hands. With the small book in hand, after deciding he would keep it for entertainment's purpose, he left the library.

Walking down the corridors, back towards his boathouse, he opened the book to the last read page where the bookmark was softly laid.

There is no silence upon the earth or under the earth like the silences under the sea;
No cries of birth, no fires to burn,
No wars are there to flee.
There are no silences anywhere like there is under the sea;
No peace can compare, not earth, wind, or air,
A place where you can be free.

Hermione decided it wasn't worth her time. After realizing no work could be done during her last class, Potions, she decided to tell Professor Slughorn that she just hadn't been feeling well and wanted to head back to her dorm for a little bit of rest as to not miss more school later from something as little as a common cold. Slughorn quickly agreed, patting one of his favourite students on the back, and told her that all she needed was a little snooze. Slughorn had taken a liking in Hermione for her natural flair in Potions, and had invited her to become a member of his Slug Club. Hermione happily obliged in her professor's wishes.

She looked at Harry and Ron. This was a class the three shared together and Lavender Brown seemed to stalk the corners of the classroom, waiting to congratulate him on his every move. It sickened her. Pushing the thoughts away for only a moment, she turned to Harry and gave him a hasty sorry before she retreated for the rest of the day, leaving him alone to be pursued by Slughorn. She knew he would understand, though. She just needed the evening to get over her little feelings and be on with it by tomorrow. She wouldn't be in distress over a little crush.

So, she left the classroom and headed towards the stairways. Keeping her eyes to the ground, she let her feet take her away as her mind started turning.

Lavender Brown. What did she know about this girl? She was in Gryffindor and resided in the noisy room, where three girls would listen to music constantly and talk quite loudly.

So, she was a cocky, obnoxious little twit?

No, Hermione couldn't allow herself to get carried away. She couldn't let her jealousy turn this girl into something she wasn't. Until she truly met and got to know her, Hermione promised herself she would not hate her.

Dislike her a little bit, sure. But hate? She simply couldn't.

Hermione reasoned with herself. Hadn't she seen Lavender in Dumbledore's Army last year?

Hermione focused much too hard on the ground, for she suddenly felt her body smacking into another and her books dropping to the floor, mixing with the other person's books.

"Isn't anyone competent in this fucking place?" She heard a familiar voice growl and her head snapped up to look at the culprit.

Malfoy.

When he looked at who he had just insulted, he almost froze. Draco immediately felt his heart pounding, and bloody fucking Salazar, why was his heart pounding?

"Well, it's not like you were watching yourself either," Hermione quickly snapped, eyes narrowing at her aggressor. If his own thoughts weren't going to make him react, Hermione's retort swiftly did the job for him.

"Fuck off," the words came shooting out of his mouth like daggers, annoyed at himself for not reacting sooner. Hermione's jaw clenched as she looked at him and felt herself getting angrier. Huffing, she turned her gaze to the fallen books. After a day of complete shit, she just didn't have the time or energy to put up with Malfoy's bitter disses and scrutiny. She just wanted the day to be over already. She bent down to pick up the books.

And for some reason, that pissed Malfoy off.

He didn't want her to go through his stuff. He had finally just gathered what he needed for the year – this year of school that he would be having so much trouble just trying to attend. He had a shitload on his mind, an assassination to execute, and a family counting on him to fulfill his duties. He was shoved out of the comfort of his life, out of the comfort of the manor, all to perform illegal acts in which he knew the entirety of the world was going to hate him for. He didn't want her to even glance into his life, especially knowing that she was the enemy in this situation. Or was he the enemy? He didn't even fucking know.

And maybe it wasn't just her touching his stuff that annoyed him; maybe, for once in her dull, sad life, he wanted her to react to him. He wanted her to cuss him out and tell him he's worthless just as he told her countless times throughout the past five years. He wanted her to tell him he's pathetic, to go to hell and to fucking rot there. He wanted more reason to hate her than just her blood.

Why couldn't she just fucking react?

What was she so fucking afraid of?

He reached for his wand, almost wanting to slaughter her right there. She was pathetic and the reason for what he was going through right now. If she was a pureblood, he wouldn't have such a filthy fucking conscience about making her feel like nothing. He would have no problem letting her know her place. If she was a pureblood, he wouldn't have to kill her someday – just the thought of it twisting his insides.

She wouldn't be condemned, and in turn, he wouldn't be condemned.

"Didn't I tell you to fuck off, mudblood?" Malfoy's words stung both himself and his victim, poison being transferred from him to her. He did the best he could to feel as if those words belonged coming out of his mouth, just as they felt so right to say less than a year ago. The vulgar slurs were a comfort to him until he understood the intensity of what they meant – and now he can't stand himself for not being able to say them with dominance.

Hermione dropped whichever books he could tell were his back onto the floor and sneered up at him. He just didn't know where to stop, did he?

"Fine, pick them up yourself," she said, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. She had a stressful day and this encounter had only made her feel worse. She couldn't help it that for once she let that word break her barrier. She was tired and emotional and wanted to disappear – and that's exactly what she planned to do.

Getting up from the floor, she found as much grace as she had to brush off her robes, turn around, and get out of there; leaving Malfoy stranded with his books at his feet.

He knew he had hurt her. He could see it in her eyes. As much as she tried to hide it away, her eyes betrayed her. They poured out her secrets to the world for him to collect.

And he hated it.

Draco looked at the pendulum clock hanging high in the corridor. The final class would be soon over and he didn't want to be in the middle of the sea of students that come rushing out. Looking to the untouched books, he bent down to grab them.

Fuck. Where was his Percival Pratt book?

Hermione awoke with a grunt and a textbook in her arms. After making it back to her room, she took a shower to calm her nerves and changed into a pair of pajamas, already tired of what this week had brought upon her. Attempting to keep the intruding thoughts at bay, she tried her best to submerse herself in her studies, reading two chapters ahead of her Transfiguration class. Soon, she found herself growing tired and had repositioned herself on her bed to feel comfortable. The alluring exhaustion from an emotionally tiring day had seduced her, and there she was, waking up at nearly half-passed eight to the shuffling of footsteps outside her door - in the Gryffindor Girl's Dormitory. She had missed dinner.

A knock was heard at her door and she shot up in her bed. Placing the textbook on her side-table, she called to the unknown person.

"Come in!"

The door slowly opened and in came Ginny with a concerned look on her face. Hermione self-consciously ran her hands down her pajama pants, smoothing any creases.

"Hey, I missed you at dinner," Ginny started, sitting down at the edge of Hermione's bed, placing her bag on the floor. She unzipped the bag and wiggled her hand into it to pull out a chocolate bar and a pumpkin pasty, wrapped in a clear sandwich pouch. Hermione gave Ginny a grateful look, "Is it about my witless brother?"

Hermione wished it were that simple. Thinking that it would be easier for Ginny to understand, Hermione stuck to that story and let out a sigh.

"He's just…" She started, giving her bottom lip a tug. She decided to give a half-honest opinion of what she was feeling, "He has every right to date people. I don't know why I'm bothered at all."

And the truth is that she wasn't really that bothered. After giving it a good thought or two in the shower, Hermione realized that Ron was just a little crush. Nothing more.

What had really bothered her was another issue altogether – just this time with platinum blonde locks.

"Ron can be a total prick at times," Ginny continued, handing her brunette friend the sweets she brought back, "Oblivious, really."

After a moment of silence, a sudden flash of excitement crossed Ginny's features and her hands shot back into her unzipped bag. Hermione's eyebrows furrowed, intrigued by whatever caused such excitement.

Out of her bag, she held two items that she knew the owner would be searching for:

Harry's mysterious copy of Advanced Potions Making and the ever so exciting Marauder's Map.

During the previous week, Hermione had noticed Harry's intense interest and attachment to an old copy of their Potions textbook. After Harry asked about a certain unknown spell and Hermione's lack of answer, Harry grew hostile when Hermione asked him about this nameless Half-Blood Prince.

Harry didn't know, but Hermione was willing to bet she could find out.

So, she asked Ginny if she could put what Fred and George taught her into good use and get her that book. She clearly had succeeded.

"The map is just an add on," Ginny explained, handing the items over to Hermione, "I had Dean ask Ron about Quidditch, and Harry became so engrossed on the debate between the two that I just snuck my hand in his pocket and voilà."

Hermione shook her head at the scenario, never imagining it to be that easy.

She felt the book in between her hands, it's rough edges caressing her fingers. She peeled open the book to the first page, running her fingers over the written annotation.

This book is the property of The Half-Blood Prince.

Smiling down at the book, another knock at the door sounded and, not even waiting for an answer, in came Romilda Vane.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt guys," Her eyes darted between the two other Gryffindor girls, "But Cormac McLaggen is here to see you, Hermione."

Before Romilda could even finish her sentence, a groan was heard leaving Hermione's lips.

Why couldn't this guy just leave her alone?

A pompous Gryffindor boy, year seven, who was unwelcomely infatuated with Hermione. He was arrogant, and she even overheard him talking poorly about Ginny and Ron.

If you're trying to get into someone's undergarments the least thing you can do is be polite.

Hermione huffed again and stood up, patting down her pajamas and throwing a house coat over top. Annoyed, she left her dorm to see multiple Gryffindor girls waiting patiently outside in the entrance hall of the girl's dorms to see what she would do. She shook her head at them and they watched her as she walked to the door.

Before he could say anything, she stepped out and closed the door behind her.

"What?" She asked, almost in an abrasive tone before he could even let a word out. He gave her a look, then started.

"Hello Hermione," A smirk appeared on his features and she just wanted to give him a good wallop, "I just came by to ask something from you, if you don't mind."

She breathed in, not allowing herself to get too frustrated. The day was already too hot then cold for her to handle and she did mind.

"Okay," She urged him to continue, trying her best not to sound too sharp around the edges.

"Well, Slughorn had invited me to his Christmas party this November, and-

She tuned him out quickly. She had no interest in being asked by a boy to a party she was already invited to, much less McLaggen. But, then again…

It would absolutely astound Ron, wouldn't it?

"Fine," Hermione snapped, interrupting Cormac before he could even ask, "I'll go with you."

Cormac blinked as though he couldn't understand what was happening. Hermione gave him a final nod and asked whether or not he had anything else he had to say or ask of her. He said no, so she said a quick goodnight and walked hastily back to her dorm before any of the girls could ask questions.

"What was that about?" Ginny, who had slipped her bag back over her shoulder, asked.

"Cormac asked me to Slughorn's Christmas party."

"He asked you?"

"Well… I guess I asked him."

"You did what?" Ginny questioned, eyes wide with surprise. Hermione threw her hands into the air.

"Well, it's not like I can ask bloody Ron now, can I?"

Time passed for a moment, and Ginny gave it a second. Maybe this could bring Ron back to his sanity.

"Okay, sounds good," Ginny concluded with a devilish smirk, nodding at Hermione, "Well, I've got to get to bed, love," She continued, walking over to give Hermione's cheek a quick peck, "Feel better in the morning." Hermione said her goodbyes and shut the door behind her, walking back to the bed and grabbing her bag to put her textbook back in preparation for tomorrow. Before she could close it, something caught her eye.

Percival Pratt.

What was this doing in here?

Her mind raced from class to class, wondering whether or not she had taken someone else's book by accident. She was in a bit of a daze all day after Harry had told her about Ron's budding relationship and could have possibly stolen this book from someone. And then she remembered bumping into Malfoy and oh no, this is Malfoy's book.

What was he doing with a poetry book?

She noted the green silk bookmark and opened the book to it's last read page, giving it a read for herself.

Sighing, Hermione grabbed the chocolate bar and opened it, munching on what food she had. Two new books had come to her on what was possibly the most stressful day of the year so far. She looked from the book in her hands to the items Ginny brought this evening and began to flip through the pages of Harry's mysterious Potions book. As much as she wanted to dwell in Malfoy's life and bring answers to her many questions, she had to keep her head on straight and her eyes on the goal.

Just who was The Half-Blood Prince?

A/N: Hello, my lovely readers. I try my best to make every chapter as full and detailed as possible in order to create a world for you all that is worth diving into. No matter how short or long, every piece of information always drives the plot forward and know I will never have 'filler' chapters. Everything has its purpose – this is especially true as a creative writer. I will try my best to create chapters that are at least 5,000 words long but please, bear with me for shorter chapters.

Again, if you want a chapter up faster, please leave a review. I am doing this purely for pleasure but if I don't get reviews it is hard to keep motivation and momentum! Review, review, review!

Love always, Elle – your author for this story.