Charming

Chapter Two – From the Library to the Lake

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything to do with it. Unless you count a copy of all seven books and the three JK has written for charity etc... ;)

~oOo~

Classes started the next morning, after everyone received their timetables at breakfast. Hermione was taking eight subjects, with Transfiguration, Herbology, Ancient Runes, Potions, History of Magic, Arithmancy, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms. Harry and Ron were taking six; the same as Hermione but without Ancient Runes and Arithmancy.

The eighth-year classes ran the same as all the other years', and everybody soon found themselves caught up in the rhythm of their schoolwork once more. After just a month everyone was already beginning to feel the pressure of their renewed workload... except perhaps Hermione.

While Harry and Ron were sitting at a table in the library on Sunday afternoon, working hard at the four-foot History of Magic essay Professor Binns had set them for Monday, she was sitting alongside them, simply reading. Every now and then Ron or Harry would ask her a question about their work, which she'd answer before turning back to her book.

"How come you're not writing yours, Hermione?" Ron asked, annoyed after having thrown aside his seventh failed attempt at his essay.

She looked up from her book to roll her eyes at him. "Maybe if you spent less time playing games and stuffing your face when you should be working, you wouldn't have four feet of History still to come up with." She pointed at herself. "Like me."

"Be fair, Hermione, we were at the Quidditch tryouts," said Harry.

She almost laughed. "And why, exactly?"

"Well, it's Quidditch, isn't it?" replied Ron, in a tone that clearly implied he wanted to add, 'DUH!'

"But it's not like you could actually try out! You know eighth-years aren't allowed to be on the school team, just like we're not a part of our old houses anymore," she shot back.

"But we had to go, didn't we, Harry?" said Ron.

Harry nodded vigorously in agreement. "Team spirit and all that."

"Oh, come off it. You think Quidditch is more important than school – and you don't have a work ethic."

"That's what we've got you for," supplied Ron. "Who needs a work ethic when we've got you? Now, can I borrow your notes on those ruddy goblin riots so I can actually get this done?"

Both boys looked at Hermione expectantly.

She looked disbelievingly from one to the other and back again, but then a decisive frown creased her brow and she closed her book with a snap. "No."

"What?" said Harry, while Ron looked as though he'd been slapped in the face with a limp fish.

"No, I said," repeated Hermione. "I won't keep spoon-feeding you. If you're this disorganised and uncommitted to your schoolwork only a month into the year, I shudder to think about what you'll be like at N.E.W.T. time. I can't help you on your exams, so it would only be cruel to help you now. Everyone else manages their schoolwork without me, so why can't you?" And with that she picked up her things and strode off.

Harry and Ron looked incredulously at each other. "Must be that time of the month or something," said Ron.

Hermione heard his comment just as she walked out the door, and it only served to make her more peeved with him. How could she be expected to do Ron's education for him? Or Harry's, for that matter. But it was Ron's attitude that really got to her – it was like he took her and her constant help for granted!

And that, she told herself, is exactly why a relationship between us would never work.

She decided she'd go for a walk to clear her head, so she made her way past the greenhouses and out to the Lake with her bag slung over her shoulder. The air was crisp and cold, but Hermione was glad because it made a nice change from the stuffiness of their corner of the Library.

She decided to go and sit down beneath one of the trees near the Lake... but suddenly she thought she heard someone crying. She slowed her pace and tried to pinpoint the source of the noise, but then it stopped, as though whoever it was had heard her coming and had stifled their sobs. She walked slowly from tree to tree for several minutes, but couldn't find anyone.

Just when she was about to give up and go sit down herself, she spied a dark form under an oak about a hundred metres away. She made her way over to the figure and was very surprised to find that it was none other than Draco Malfoy.

Huddled in his cloak much like he'd been on the train, his schoolbag, books and parchment lay scattered around him, and he was very much alone.

Normally, Hermione would have taken one look, realised it was Malfoy, and left, but for some reason she approached him rather than leaving the former Slytherin – and Death Eater, though she didn't think of that until much later – well enough alone. She walked up to him and wondered what she should say; he clearly didn't want to talk to her. But she was spared the necessity of thinking of something by his next words.

He let his cloak fall, looked up at her with cold, faintly red-rimmed eyes and spat, "What do you want, Granger?"

What a good question, she thought. What am I even doing here? "Well, nothing," she answered honestly. "I was just walking and I found you here."

He turned away from her and picked up a few of his books, sitting with his back to her for a few long moments. Then he turned and fixed her with a cold glare again. "What? Is there something you wanted to say?" His tone was venomous.

"Um," said Hermione. She felt confused. Why am I even trying to have a conversation with him? "No. Not really."

He stared at her for a moment longer, as if not quite believing that she'd just turned up to waste his time. "So piss off. I don't want to talk to you."

The funny thing was, Hermione could – again – see through his contemptuous act. Beneath that sneer hid the same miserable expression she'd seen on the train, and she wondered what caused it. So instead of pissing off like he told her to, she stood her ground and asked him another question.

"What's that you're working on, Malfoy?"

He seemed to answer purely out of surprise that she was still there and being civil to him. "History of Magic."

It had to be the same essay that Ron and Harry were still working on. "Oh, I've finished that one," she said, then surprising even herself when she continued, "I could let you borrow my notes if you want."

His response was the exact same as what Hermione was internally yelling at herself that next moment. "What?"

"Um, well, it's due tomorrow, and you've clearly got at least three feet of it to go, so I thought, maybe –"

He cut her off savagely. "I don't need help! Least of all from you, Mudblood!"

She took a step back.

"Didn't you hear me the first time? I said piss off!"

Somewhat taken aback, Hermione only said, "Okay, fine. I will. Bye." Then she turned on her heel and started the lengthy walk back to the castle, her thoughts in a mess. I should have expected that reaction. But what was that all about? Why did I offer him help? Why did I even talk to him?

But even much later when she was back in her dormitory, she still didn't have the answers.

~oOo~

Author's Note: Ah, you just gotta love Moody!Draco... he's so cute when he's angry, lol! Thanks for the reviews, people! Keep 'em coming - tell me how much you love or hate this... :P