Chapter 4: The Part Where the Witch Comes Back

Draco threw his arm around her shoulders and said, "I think that's a capital idea. Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get your arse in gear, Sweetheart. We don't have all day."

Hermione sighed, frowned, and then groaned aloud. This was some type of black magic she was under and she had to find a way out of it. It had to have something to do with the conversation she had with her friend at work a couple of weeks ago. She had told the woman that she loved the movie, 'The Wizard of Oz' when she was younger, and then proceeded to tell her who each of the characters reminded her of, and she had to mention that Draco reminded her of the tin man, and now it was all coming true. Why did she have such a big mouth?

So either this was a product of her own mind, which meant she was going mad, or it was some sort of illusion spell, or she was under some sort of dark, evil magic. However, who would hate her enough to place her under such a dark spell? The only person would be the man who stood beside her right now, but he wouldn't know about her fondness (now hatred) of this beloved childhood story.

He still had his arm around her shoulders, and he was smiling like a loon. She hunched her shoulders, moved from his grasp and said, "Listen here, Malfoy, if we let you come with us, there are some ground rules, do you understand?"

"Who's Malfoy?" he asked.

The Scarecrow leaned forward and said, "She likes to give us new names, so I assume that's her name for you. She named me 'Harry', even though I told her my name was 'Scarecrow'. Nice to meet you." Harry held out his hand to Draco.

Draco tried not to sneer as he reached out and shook the scarecrow's hand. He shook it and said, "Charmed, I'm sure." He looked back at Hermione and said, "And what's your name, Sweetheart?"

"That's rule number one," she spat, tapping his hollow chest with her finger, the sound echoing in the air. "You may not be condescending to me, to Harry, or to anyone."

"How was calling you Sweetheart being condescending? I don't know your name yet, Sweetheart, so I was merely calling you 'Sweetheart', Sweetheart." He smiled.

She snarled again. "My name is Hermione, and you may call me that or Granger, because frankly, that's what you usually call me."

"I usually call you something?" he asked. "Bloody hell woman, I just met you, how could I usually call you anything?" He looked at Harry and asked, "Are you sure she's not the one in need of a brain?"

Hermione stepped between Draco and Harry and said, "Rule number two, I'll call you whatever I please, but it will probably be Malfoy, but it might be Draco, and I'll do it because I want to, and I don't have to explain myself to you!"

He held up his hands in defense and said, "Fine, fine, call me whatever you please."

"Rule three," she started only to have him put his hand over her mouth.

"How many more rules?" he asked. She placed his wrist in her hand, pulled his hand away from her mouth and stared at him with daggers in her eyes.

"Don't touch me, rule three." She dropped his hand. She turned and started walking. He and Harry followed. "Rule four, don't call me Mudblood."

"What's a Mudblood?" Harry asked.

"Never you mind, Harry," she said, looking over her shoulder. "Rule Six, I'm the boss. You do as I say no arguments."

"You forgot rule five," Draco said, running to catch up with her. He was soon standing beside her.

"No I didn't," she argued.

Harry came to her other side and said, "I think you did."

She faced him and said, "I thought you didn't think, hence the reason you need a brain. And I didn't forget five." She stopped and thought for a moment, closed her eyes, placed a hand over her face and mumbled to herself, "Damn, I forgot five."

She started walking backwards, the men following her, and she said, "Fine, omitted rule five, don't bother my cat. I mean it Malfoy. If you had just left my cat alone in the first place, and not tried to take it from me, none of this would have happened. I know he bit your finger, and I'm profoundly sorry for that, and if you had just been reasonable and let me apologized in the first place, then none of this would have happened."

"I thought you said none of this would have happened if I had just left your cat alone. Now you say none of this would have happened if I had just accepted your apology. Which is it, Sweetheart? Frankly, you're confusing me. I don't even know what in the blazes you're talking about, and I don't even see a cat." Draco stopped walking and looked around. Where was the stupid cat?

Hermione, who was still walking backwards, facing the men, stopped as well. Harry ran right into her. "Have you seen my cat?" she asked Harry.

"Not since we started picking up the apples," he answered.

She started to run back to the small grove of trees, calling her cat's name. "Crookshanks! Where are you?" She continued to run. "Great, this whole thing started because I didn't want to lose him, then I come here and lose him. Crookshanks!"

They came upon a small shed, and the cat was in front of it, hissing, staring up at the roof. Hermione didn't notice the witch on the top of the shed. She ran right toward her cat, as did Harry. Draco stopped in his tracks, because the ugliest thing he had ever seen was on the pitch of the small shed: A green Dolores Umbridge in a black witch's garb, holding a broom in one hand, and a fireball in the other.

"Watch out!" he warned.

Hermione scooped Crookshanks into her arms, just as Harry pulled them both away from the shed. Umbridge shouted, "I'm going to give you one chance, you little Mudblood, to give me those sapphire slippers, or watch your little straw friend go up in smoke!"

"Don't do it, Hermione," Harry said, pulling her toward him. "I'm not afraid of that old wind bag."

Draco ran toward the pair and said, "Why are the shoes sapphire?"

Hermione looked at him and said, "I know! Everything is all wrong! The road is green brick, the city is Ruby City, and the shoes are sapphire!"

"Stop talking!" Umbridge shouted. "Just give me my shoes, or I'll torch the dumb one!"

Hermione pushed Crookshanks into Draco's hands, (he quickly dropped him) and she approached the shed. "Listen you stupid, horrible, ugly, old witch! You'll do nothing of the kind! I already told you, I know how this story ends, I could kill you with one little Augamenti spell, so go away and leave us alone!"

The old witch screamed and threw the fireball at the scarecrow. His sleeve quickly began to burn. He took off his hat and began to beat at the flame. Hermione dropped the basket, pulled out her wand, and said, "Augamenti," toward his sleeve, so that water would come out of her wand to put out the flame, but nothing happened. She wondered why. She tried again, and still nothing happened. Had she performed any magic since she had gotten here?

She couldn't think of that now, because Harry had started to scream, and he seemed to be in pain. Without thinking, she dropped her wand and with that hand, she too began to beat at the flames, but she quickly burnt her hand and she cried out in pain.

Draco pulled her aside, pulled off his hat, and snuffed out the flames on Harry's arm. The witch was already gone from the roof. Harry, who was made of straw so he wasn't hurt, walked over to Hermione and said, "Don't cry, Hermione, I'm okay. She didn't hurt me."

"You idiot," Draco leveled, pushing Harry aside. "She burned her hand trying to put you out, wanker." He pushed her toward a fallen tree. She sat down and he knelt beside her, took her injured hand in both of his and said, "It's not too bad, just red." He put the burnt hand against the coldness of his tin chest, then looked over at Harry and said, "I know you're a witless wonder, but do try to do something constructive, like go find some water."

Harry ran off to find water. Draco continued to hold her hand against his cold chest. He looked up at her face and a single tear was tracing its way down her cheek. He couldn't stand to see her cry. It was one of the worst things he had ever witnessed – watching her cry when they were younger. He used his free hand to wipe the tear away. She looked up at him. He smiled at her.

He said, "Being a cold, tin man comes in handy once in a while." He looked down at her hand on his chest, still being held there by his hand.

She nodded, but didn't respond.

"Why do you want to call me Malfoy?" he asked.

"You look like someone from my home, and his name is Malfoy," she answered.

"Is he missing a heart, too?" he asked.

"Some would say," she answered lightly. "I rather think he has a heart, it's just buried so deeply in his chest that he's forgotten how to use it."

"He's a bad man, then?" he asked.

"No, not really, not any longer," she said slowly.

"He's not evil?" he asked.

"Not evil, not at all. Not bad. Not even completely heartless. Just without the capacity to feel, I think, though who am I to make such assumptions?" she wondered aloud. "Too bad he's not here with us. Harry could get a brain, I could go home, you could get your heart, and he could learn to feel again."

"I gather he's not a friend of yours?" he said lightly.

She looked up at him and said, "No, not at all. I've known him most my life, but we've never been friends. The truth is he hates me."

"Oh really? Why would anyone hate you? You're such a loving, sweet sort of girl," he said with a sarcastic grin.

"Shut up," was her only response, though she smiled back.

He moved to sit next to her on the fallen tree, moving her hand slightly to a different spot on his chest, but keeping his hand on top, and he said, "No really, why does he hate you?"

"Because he thinks my blood is inferior," she said plainly.

Draco knew that the real tin man wouldn't know what that meant, but he did, and he wasn't going to ask her to expound on that. Instead, he asked, "And why do you hate him?"

"I don't hate him. I suppose I dislike him because he hates me." She waited a few moments and then mumbled, "What the hell, this isn't real." She looked at the tin man and said, "Truthfully, I don't hate him any longer. Occasionally, he really makes me laugh. He'll walk by my desk at work and say something insanely witty and I'll laugh. Sometimes I'm the only one that gets what he says, or I'll say something in response, and he'll laugh, and no one else will, and I like that. I like that he understands my sense of humour, and that he's intelligent enough to understand the small things that escapes others attention."

"He sounds like a wonderful chap to me," Draco decided.

She laughed and said, "Oh no, don't get me wrong, he's still haughty and arrogant and a bigot. He still looks down on me because in our world, if you aren't what's considers a pureblood, some people, like Draco, thinks you're a second-class citizen. The thing is, even though I have a boyfriend, and I love him dearly, I've had a slight crush on the stupid ponce, Malfoy that is, for a while, and that alone makes my skin crawl."

Draco laughed. "You don't want to have a crush on him?"

"Heavens no! And I can't really tell anyone, although as a lark I mentioned it the other day, when I mentioned this stupid movie to a coworker. It doesn't matter, because I have Ron, and Draco would never like me anyway. As I said, he hates me."

"And you're in love with someone else nonetheless, right?" Draco said, pulling her closer. She was practically on his lap. He had his free hand around her waist, his other on her hand, and his face was right next to hers.

She looked up into his eyes, so like her Draco's eyes and she said, "I love Ron, but I've decided long ago that it's more a friendship than a romantic love, but I haven't the heart, or ironic enough, the courage, to tell him that. As for Draco, well, it would never work. Never."

"Never?" he asked. He leaned even closer.

"Never," she repeated, slowly, softly. His lips were so close. He looked so much like Draco, though he had on a tin suit. She leaned her head upwards slightly and placed her lips next to his.

"I found the water!" Harry shouted, holding a bucket and some water.

Hermione flew away from Draco as if he was scalding her. Draco clenched his fists and cursed the day Harry Potter was born. It was an every day curse, so it was something that came easily for him.

She knelt by the bucket and placed her burnt hand inside. Draco stood up and said, "Well, after you take care of your hand, we should be on our way. I want us to find some sort of shelter by nightfall." Especially if neither of them could do magic here…wait, he just remembered, he had performed magic! He levitated the other tin man into the cottage, and changed his Armani suit into a tin suit. He wondered if he could heal her hand somehow without her knowing.

She was still by the bucket; hand in water, Harry by her side, speaking to her softly. He took out his wand, pointed it toward a small bush and watched as it exploded. Good, he could do magic. He wondered why he could and she couldn't? He pointed his wand at the bucket of water and said a silent healing spell toward her hand. He only hoped it would work. He wasn't the best with silent spells.

He walked toward the pair, after hiding his wand, and asked, "How's the hand?"

She lifted it from the water and seemed shocked that it was all better. "Good as new," she said.

"Let's go, then," Harry urged. He picked up the basket and put it in the crook of his arm. He offered his other arm to Hermione. She placed her arm through his.

"Coming?" she asked Draco.

"I wouldn't go anywhere else, Sweetheart," he said. "Oh, sorry, I just broke a rule. I can't remember which one."

She smiled, offered her free arm to him, and said, "That's fine. You can call me Sweetheart. I just decided. Come along, Crookshanks!"

Draco hooked his arm though her offered arm, and walked along her other side, down the green brick road. He smiled as they walked along. This had been a very informative little scene. He found out that she was no longer in love with Weaslebee (that she loved him only as a friend and she merely didn't know how to tell him), that she liked being called Sweetheart by him, that she didn't really hate him, oh…and they almost kissed, and would have kissed, if not for stupid scarecrow boy. Even though she thought she was kissing the tin man, he knew otherwise. Yes, this was a good little part of the story after all.

He couldn't recall what came next, but at this point, he didn't really care.