Chapter 2

An Unforeseen Reaction

TAP! TAP!

The room was silent. Except, of course, for the exceedingly irritating tapping on the window. Hermione, who had been sleeping soundly in her bed, slowly reached for a pillow and wrapped it around her head as a sound barrier.

TAP! TAP! TAP!

Clutching the pillow with a firmer grip, she forced it as close to her ears as possible, causing her face to be rammed into the mattress.

TAP! TAP!

"Argh!" She cried, tossing the useless pillow aside. "What do want?"

Hovering at the window was a beautiful snowy white owl; Hedwig, if Hermione's eyes were not deceiving her. But what did she want?

Hermione groggily got out of bed, slipping into a pair of red slippers and throwing on a matching red robe before crossing the girls' dormitory to the window. She pushed the window open, allowing Hedwig to soar inside and land cleanly on the nearest bedside table.

"What's so important that you had to wake me?" Hermione demanded angrily as she untied a scroll of parchment from Hedwig's leg. She gnawed affectionately at Hermione's finger as the parchment was released, but Hermione was too annoyed to recognize the affection. Instead, she hastily unrolled the letter and read it before carelessly tossing it aside.

Hermione,

Where are you? We know you were sick yesterday, but we figured you'd be feeling better by today. Why aren't you in class again? Ron and I are going to stop by the common room during lunch to see if you're alright. And in case your wondering, Hedwig was at the window during History of Magic with a letter for me from Lupin, so that's how I managed to get this letter to you. Just in case you were wondering. See you in an hour or so.

With love,

Harry and Ron

Hermione fell onto her bed and dropped her head in her hands, then looked down at the crumpled letter that was now just a dirty heap on the clean floor. If only she could tell them. If only Harry and Ron could know …

Of course she wasn't sick the day before. Of course she wasn't sick now. Well, not physically sick. Mentally sick was another story. It was only two days since she had been raped in the Forbidden Forest, but to her it felt like a century. A long, grueling, miserable century that no decent female should ever have to endure. Every second of every day, the only image in Hermione's mind had been that of that night. The shadow in the library … being chased through the school … being cornered in the Forbidden Forest … being brutally raped against a tree … it had been less than 48 hours since the callous attack had occurred, and Hermione had done nothing since. Absolutely nothing. The entire evening was a blur to her, yet the ruthlessness stood out so vividly in her mind. She had been raped. And by who? She couldn't say. Someone cruel. Someone heartless.

For what felt like the thousandth time in two days, Hermione's eyes began to fill with tears. She felt so … helpless. How could she have let something like that happen to her? She was a witch! A powerful witch, nonetheless! Why couldn't she handle the situation? Why did she just cower before such a vindictive being without so much as a defense?

The night of the attack, she had dragged herself back to the Gryffindor Tower as though nothing had happened. Everyone was asleep, of course; Parvati and Lavender had looked so peaceful as they slept. Hermione had felt nothing. Her insides felt empty. She had changed to sleeping attire without a sound and crawled into bed, then shut her eyes in hopes that she would awake only to realize that it had all been a nightmare. That, of course, did not happen. She had awoken the next morning with the only difference from the previous night being the sunlight shining harshly through the window. She had not gone to class, nor did she care if any of the professors inquired as to her whereabouts. She had lied to Harry and Ron, using the 'ill excuse' to remain in bed all day. She hadn't eaten, she hadn't emerged from the dormitory; Parvati and Lavender steered clear of it only until light's out because they were afraid of catching the sickness. That gave her the entire day to reminisce about what had happened, and it was driving her mad. It was like a sink dripping one drop of water every three seconds, but she could not shut it off; the memories drove themselves to the front of her mind, flashing sharp gruesome images of the sexual attack.

Hermione arose from the bed, then reached down for the letter and tore it up into tiny pieces. She could not bring herself to speaking to Harry and Ron, whether it be about the incident or a simple Charms essay. She did not want to be in the common room when they returned for lunch, that was certain. So, she brushed her teeth, carelessly threw on clean school robes, hastily ran a brush through her bushy brown hair, and slipped into a pair of black shoes before leaving the empty dormitory. From there, she did not know what to do. Classes were taking place, so the corridors were eerily empty. Filch crossed her mind for a brief moment; what if he appeared out of nowhere? But as that moment passed, she realized she didn't care. So, she continued to walk, going wherever her feet took her.

Soon enough, she found herself to be in a dark, deserted corridor, without any recognition of making her way there in the first place. Torches were not lit, and the passageway looked forbidding and unwelcoming. It did not take her long to realize that she shouldn't be there. She turned, preparing to journey to perhaps the Owlry, or –

CRASH!

A sudden collision and a pair of strong hands grabbing her arms caused Hermione to scream with terror.

"Shut up, Granger!" A voice hissed angrily. The hands grasping her removed themselves immediately. Looking up, she could clearly see Draco Malfoy's handsome, foreboding face contorted into a look of irritation.

"Why did you grab me!" Hermione demanded furiously. Her entire body shook with fear.

"Because you turned around and banged into me!" Malfoy replied. "Why are you screaming and talking so damn loud?"

"Because you snuck up on me!" Hermione retorted. "What the hell are you doing wandering the corridors during lessons?"

"Well, I'm skiving off class." Malfoy answered carelessly. "Now, I could ask you the same question."

"It's none of your fucking business, that's why." Hermione spat.

Malfoy grimaced mockingly. "Now now Granger, such foul language coming from such a well-respected role model of Hogwarts. You wouldn't want McGonagall overhearing that tongue, would you?"

"I don't care." Hermione muttered under her breath.

Malfoy looked at her skeptically for a few moments. She returned his stare with blazing eyes of defiance. "Why are you out of class?" He asked suspiciously. "Bad language and skiving off lessons. Something must be wrong."

"Why do you care?" Hermione shot back, crossing her arms across her chest.

Malfoy snorted. "About a filthy little muggleborn? I don't. I just want to know so I can imagine the bullshit that you're going to feed McGonagall once she catches you."

Hermione shook her head. "You're a heartless bastard, you know that?"

"And you're a disgusting mudblood. Did you know that?" Malfoy retaliated. "Why don't you spare us all your existence and crawl off into the Forbidden Forest and let the monsters in there eat you up?"

The Forbidden Forest. A sudden flash jerked Hermione's mind like a fish latching onto bait; being slammed against a tree, clothes torn off, someone brutally thrusting into her …

Hermione suddenly lost her balance and fell over onto the cold stone floor. Tears began to slide uncontrollably down her cheeks; she pulled her legs towards herself and buried her face into her knees.

Malfoy stood glued to the spot, shocked at her reaction. Why was she crying?

"Granger … what the hell?" He managed to say.

"Just go away." She whispered through tears. She felt weak and childish breaking down in front of her enemy. She wished he wasn't there; she wished she was anywhere but there.

Malfoy just stared at her. He couldn't understand it. He'd said loads of things to her that had been much worse in the past; why was she crying now?

"Let's go." He finally said.

Hermione looked up at him, her cheeks blotchily patched with tears which continued to cascade down her face. She shivered uncontrollably, but could not help but feel shocked at his unexpected statement. "Wh – what?" She asked through trembling lips.

"You heard me. Let's go." He repeated.

"To – to where?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"To my common room." Malfoy answered. "The Slytherin dungeons."

To her own astonishment, Hermione considered it. Her first thought was no. Hell no, actually. But when it came down to it, she had nowhere else to go. Harry and Ron would be at the Gryffindor tower soon to check in on her, so she couldn't go there. And if she continued to wander the corridors, then a professor was bound to discover her and her ill excuse would be useless.

She nodded.

He offered a hand to help her up from the floor, and she took it. Without a word, they walked silently to the dungeons, thankfully not coming across anyone except Mrs Norris and a soundless ghost.

Malfoy uttered the password to the tapestry ("mudblood") without any worry to Hermione's presence, then crawled through the rather large hole that the tapestry revealed, Hermione following close behind.

They emerged into the fortunately empty common room, and Hermione's eyes were attacked by an invasion of green. Everything was green, from the pine green sofas down to the tropical green Kleenex box resting on the wooden green side table. Snakes decorated the common room, bordering the doors and windows in a beautifully crafted pattern. Hermione did not take the small details into consideration, though; instead she immediately threw herself onto the nearest sofa, burying her head into the armrest. She had stopped crying, but she still felt repulsed inside, that same repulsion that she had felt every since being dirtied by that cold, heartless, evil piece of –

"Why did you agree to come?" Malfoy finally asked. He stood near the entrance awkwardly; he had been wanting to ask that question the entire walk to the common room, but he had refrained. Curiosity made it difficult for him, though.

"Because Harry and Ron are going to the Gryffindor common room for lunch to check up on me and I don't want to be there." Hermione shot back defensively. She glared at him, as though daring him to ask why she had been crying.

All he could do was look at her. For seven years now, she had been the Gryffindor mudblood; little miss perfect. Perfect marks, perfect attitude, a high level of respect from all those around her; she always seemed to hold a source of power in her palm that Draco had envied since the first day of Hogwarts. But now, now she appeared helpless and frail. If it had been anybody else, Malfoy would have glared at them with disgust and thought they were weak and pathetic. But for some reason, his thoughts were as far from that as possible; Granger always wore a resolute façade, whether she was angry, upset, thrilled, or insulted, she never showed her true colors to any Slytherin. As much as he hated to admit it, that was one of the few things that he admired about the muggleborn. Witnessing her so distressed must've meant that something terrible had happened to her, and seeing her cry, Draco felt some sort of pity, though he loathed himself for it.

After several moments of silence, Malfoy finally said, "I can't guarantee you that I'll fully listen or even care, but if you want to talk, you can."

Hermione lifted her head from its spot on the armrest and looked at Malfoy. He looked so awkward in his own common room, and it was so obvious that he felt somewhat sympathetic. But he was actually making an attempt with her, which was by far the most shocking event of the day.

"Don't pity me, Malfoy." Hermione finally said.

"Pity?" Malfoy smirked. "Far from it. The silence is bothering me, that's all."

"Well, I don't want to talk about it, so drop it." Hermione snapped.

Malfoy put his hands in the air as if to say 'Whoa, calm down'. "Fine, whatever. I don't want to listen to it."

"Fine!" Hermione exclaimed before throwing her face back into the couch.

Malfoy furiously picked up a cushion and tossed it at Hermione. Stupid mudblood. I try to help, and she makes me look like a fool!

Hermione lifted her head immediately. She gaped at the cushion, then switched stares to Malfoy. Her jaw was dropped in disbelief. "Did you just throw a pillow at me?"

"So what if I did?" Malfoy retorted stubbornly.

He turned to walk towards his dormitory, fed up with this mudblood nonsense. However, as he turned his back, a cushion hit him square in the head. He quickly turned back around to see Hermione standing defiantly with another cushion in hand.

"You did not just hit a Malfoy." He exclaimed, immediately reaching for the cushion that had just been thrown at him.

As he bent over to retrieve it, Hermione raced towards him and continuously thumped him over his hunched back with her cushion. He hastily glared up at her with a look of astonishment before lifting his cushion from the floor and speedily whacking the back of her legs with it. Soon enough, a full-blown pillow fight began, with relentless hits to the head and ruthless whacks to the midsection. After countless beatings against each other, Hermione stood at one end of the room with her cushion raised while Malfoy stood at the other end with his. Both glared at each other, as though daring the other to attack.

Finally, Hermione lowered her cushion. "This is silly." She said; instead, she withdrew her wand from her robes and cast a spell directly at Malfoy's cushion, causing it to transfigure into an adorable little kitten.

He stared at it, first with shock, then with disgust. He held it at arms length as though it were going to attack him at any moment.

"It's a kitten." Hermione said. "It won't bite."

"It looks like its contemplating assassination." Malfoy replied, staring at it with repugnant suspicion.

Hermione giggled, despite herself. She pointed her wand at the kitten and cast the spell that set it back to its original state.

"I should be going." Hermione said, infuriated with herself for laughing at anything that Draco Malfoy had to say. "Harry and Ron have probably left by now."

"Are you going to lessons for the afternoon?" Malfoy asked, making sure to use a tone that suggested he could care less about her response.

Hermione thought about it. Somehow, incredulously, she felt slightly better than she had felt for the past two days. She looked at Malfoy, stunned that he had been the cause of it. "Maybe I will." She answered. She wasn't sure whether she should thank him for his hospitality; she did not have the stomach to do it though. So, she turned towards the exit, prepared to leave.

"Hey, Granger?" Malfoy called.

She turned back around.

"Nice transfiguration."

Without replying, she turned and crawled out of the entrance with a tiny smile on her gloomy face; a smile that she truly believed she would never feel again.

A/N: Hello esteemed readers. How are you liking the story so far?
Please review, I adore your thoughts :)

Six days til Christmas (for those of you who celebrate)!
Merry Early Christmas!

Jessica (JJLove28)