I haven't read these chapters over in a good couple of years
but I found them pretty recently and thought why not
continue reposting. I am hoping to continue with this but
in the meantime, here goes …
Sorry for the typos …
CHAPTER XV
In the Gryffindor common room, Hermione relaxed, sinking low into one of the armchairs. She was aware of the voices of her fellow Gryffindors growing louder as they got closer but, sinking even lower, Hermione hid from view. the voices began to disperse around the room as pairs and small groups of students positioned themselves in various parts of the large common room.
"Hermione?" A soft voice interrupted her thoughts, "Professor Dumbledore wanted me to give this to you at breakfast. You weren't in the Hall." Lavender looked down at her Head Girl, waiting for a reply. She got none, however, and hander the envelope silently to Hermione and walked back to where Parvati stood with Ron. Hermione watched her leave, allowing her eyes to make contact with Ron's. He looked down at the floor instantly and she sighed, annoyed with both herself and with her best friend.
Taking the envelope with her, Hermione climbed the stairs to her dormitory. She sat herself on the bed, drew her knees up to her chest and opened the crisp white envelope. Inside was a single sheet of parchment. In the top right corner was a image of the Hogwarts crest and filling the page was Dumbledore's tidy handwriting.
Dear Hermione, she read, the Yule Ball is to be held within the next two months. Please finalise any plans with Draco Malfoy over the following week. I expect to hear of the final details no later than November 7th. Thank you for your co-operation. Professor Dumbledore.
Hermione wracked her brains; today was the first of the month, she worked out quickly, that gave her and Malfoy exactly a week to plan the Ball and let Dumbledore know. Hermione relaxed; she didn't have anything to worry about; she was meeting Malfoy that night and she could easily spare another few hours during the week; they would be finished by the seventh.
She left the common room to go to the library. Settling down quietly at a desk at the front, Hermione pulled out her Potions book and unrolled a piece of parchment. She licked the end of the quill, dipped it into a pot of ink and held it poised above the parchment. She chewed the end of the quill lightly, thinking about what she was going to write. Snape had given her and Neville extra work to do because of their mistakes in the lesson. She bent her head low and began to write.
She was so immersed in her writing that she didn't notice that the library had begun to empty. Sighing in content, Hermione lifted her head to re-read what she had written. She had finished her essay and it had filled three large rolls of parchment. She finished reading it and smiled, happy with it's content. Suddenly, Hermione was aware of the silence in the library.
She looked around and realised with a shock that everyone had left. Gathering her books together, Hermione ran out of the library and hurried towards the Astrology classroom. The class was still waiting outside the room for the lesson to begin. Hermione sighed breathlessly; she wasn't too late after all, she thought relieved.
The lesson passed slowly; Ron still sat with Parvati and Lavender, although he sent her frequent glares. Hermione sat at the same desk as Dean and Seamus but didn't talk to them; they spent the whole hour discussing Quidditch. Hermione spent the lesson working on her own, not talking to anyone, feeling thoroughly sorry for herself. She was convinced, however, that she was not going to be the one to apologise to Ron.
The lesson eventually drew to a close and Hermione walked back towards her dormitory. She was planning on visiting Harry in the Hospital Wing before lunch, which left her with about ten minutes. She was aware that Ron was walking directly behind her; she had heard Seamus call to him.
"You and Hermione still not talking," Seamus asked Ron, in his thick Irish accent. Ron replied, shaking his head. Hermione pretended not to hear them, although she was sure that they knew she could. She rolled her eyes and sped up. Seamus and Ron's voices grew quieter as she got further away from them. Reaching the portrait hole, Hermione murmured the password and ran immediately up to her dormitory.
Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, looking around the tidy room. The top drawer of her bedside table was slightly ajar. She leant over to close it and stopped. Her eyes widened in surprise, she walked around to the drawer. That was the drawer she had put the letter she was writing to Dumbledore in, she thought, where was it? She opened the drawer completely and rifled through the scraps of parchment that had been placed in there.
The letter she had begun to write was nowhere to be seen. Hermione could have kicked herself; why hadn't she thought of that? she thought angrily, anyone could have seen it, she should have thrown it away when she had the chance before. Hermione forced herself to think of the night before, when she had been writing it. She had decided that she would burn it later, then she had gone to see Harry and then Malfoy had come into her room. Malfoy, she repeated in her head, it had to be him.
Hermione frowned; she had to leave to visit Harry now; she'd get the letter from Malfoy later that night. Descending the stairs, she passed Ron who ignored her. She sighed and continued on her way. She pushed her way through the group of students loitering by the portrait hole and stepped out into the corridor.
She reached the Hospital Wing quickly, greeted Madam Pomfrey and settled down next to Harry's bed. He turned to face her instantly, meeting her gaze. His eyes were narrowed as if he had been deep in thought. He tried to sit up but was obviously having trouble. Hermione jumped up from her seat and tried to make Harry more comfortable. She held his head and positioned the pillows underneath him. Harry was satisfied; he wasn't sitting but he could see her better.
"Harry," Hermione spoke gently, deeply concerned for her friend, "are you okay? How are you feeling?" Harry groaned and looked down at his shoulder. His arm was held in a cast which ran from his wrist all the way to his armpit. He shuffled uncomfortably, barring his teeth.
"I'm alright," he spoke breathlessly. Hermione frowned, Harry was obviously in pain but either didn't want to admit it, or had more important things on his mind. "Hermione, we need to talk," he continued. He looked at Hermione, expecting a response, but she only sat silently opposite him, looking down at her hands. "I'm not sure if I should be the one to tell you this … but Ron found a letter in your room."
Hermione froze; Ron? Ron had found her letter? After a moment, she spoke; "The one to Dumbledore?" Harry nodded slowly, "Ron? But I … I … no, Ron?" Hermione was shocked; she wouldn't have expected Ron to have sifted through her belongings. Suddenly the real problem hit her; the contents of the letter.
She looked up at Harry, questioningly. He nodded again, "Yes, Ron told me what was written; he told me that you knew what happened, and he also told me that you had screwed up the parchment; you weren't going to give it to Dumbledore?" Hermione lowered her head again, blushing furiously. "Hermione? What happened?"
Hermione raised her head and took a long look at her friend. He was still squirming slightly from the pain of his wound and his face was contorted with a mixture of pain, despair and interest; he evidently wanted to know what Malfoy had done at the match. Hermione didn't know what to say; she couldn't admit what she had done, nor did she feel that she could pin the blame completely on Malfoy. Not knowing what else to do, Hermione stood quickly, knocking the chair from under her, and ran for the door. She could hear Harry calling her name but she didn't turn around; she didn't want to see his face.
She ran from the Hospital Wing, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. Her face was flushed, both with misery and anger. She muttered Ron's name under her breath. "What gives him the right … the right to do that … and tell Harry?" she spoke to herself, shaking angrily as she walked. She was storming back to the Gryffindor tower and when she reached there, she almost pulled the portrait of the wall, in her rage. She ran up the stairs, two steps at a time, and stood outside Ron's dormitory.
She burst into his room without knocking. Ron, who had been lying on his bed, sprung up immediately. His mouth fell open at the sight of Hermione. She looked furious and, although they were not strictly talking at the moment, Ron knew better than to provoke her when she was like this. He shuffled over on his bed, motioning a spot for her to sit.
Hermione glanced at where his hand lay on the bed but ignored the gesture. Instead she stomped to where he sat and stood over him, looking down at his face sternly. "Ron!" she spat at him, "why are you going through my things?" She glared at him, daring him to deny it. Instead, she was shocked to discover that he looked straight back at her, not even blinking.
"That, Hermione, is not the point," he said, standing up so that he stood directly in front of her, "the point is that you know what Malfoy did, and you weren't even going to tell Dumbledore." He had caught her out, and she knew it. Hermione lowered her eyes, thinking quickly. "Don't even try to think of an excuse," Ron added as if he knew what she was doing, "what you have done is about ten times worse that whatever I have done."
Hermione turned to walk out of his room. She couldn't think of anything more that she wanted to say to him. In a desperate attempt to find out the truth, Ron reached out and grabbed her arm forcefully. Biting his lower lip painfully, he spun her around and forced her to look at him. Hermione looked up into his eyes; she stood straight in an attempt to look strong, but her eyes betrayed her. In her eyes, Ron saw fear.
Ron tightened his grip on Hermione's arms and held her still. Hermione started to say something but he interrupted; "Hermione, tell me what you were going to write." Hermione moved her head to the side avoiding his stare. "NOW!" he shouted, startling both himself and her. He pushed her away from him and she fell in the opposite direction of the door.
Sprawled on the floor, Hermione looked up at her friend desperately. Any remaining ounce of dignity seeped out of her and she whimpered, genuinely afraid of what Ron might do. He advanced towards her, aware of her vulnerability and wanting to use it to find out what he needed to know. He stood above her; "Hermione, I need to know."
He bent down so that he was squatting in front of her and wiped away a few tears that had begun to roll down her cheeks. She jumped slightly at his touch but didn't move her head away. "Oh, Ron," she fell forward into his chest, burying her face in his black robes. She shuddered as she sobbed, "what have I done?" Harry sighed and put one hand on her back. He stroked her hair with his other hand and tried to comfort her.
After a while, Ron drew back and nudged Hermione's face up by placing his hand underneath his chin. He looked at her silently; her face was flushed and her eyes were puffy and red. She wiped her eyes tentatively, removing the last few drop of moisture from them. Ron spoke again; "please Hermione; for Harry's sake, please tell me what you know."
Hermione slumped against the edge of the bed and, facing Ron, told him a brief account of the events that had happened. "Malfoy … Malfoy pulled me into a classroom," Hermione looked up at Ron as she spoke. She could tell that he didn't want to interrupt but was silently cursing the Slytherin, "he had a plan." Ron nodded, encouraging her to continue, "he wanted me to, he needed to …"
Hermione paused and looked away from her friend. How could she tell him? she wondered, how could she say what she had done? She took a deep breath; this is for Harry, she repeated again. "Malfoy's dad … I mean, Lucius; Lucius hits Malfoy." Hermione took another pause.
Ron took this opportunity to speak. "Come on Hermione, I don't care about that lowlife's family problems; tell me about the match." Hermione glared at him, indicating that Lucius Malfoy was important in the story. "Okay, okay; I'm sorry, please carry on," Ron apologised.
"Well," Hermione began again, haughtily, "Malfoy needed me to do something for him. He needed to get onto the Chudley Cannons team." Ron opened his mouth to speak again but was cut short by the stare Hermione gave him. "He told me everything; Lucius wants Draco to be a Death Eater."
Ron tried hard to dissolve a chortle. It didn't surprise him in the least that Malfoy was destined to be part of Voldemort's inner circle of dark wizards. No doubt Lucius had been teaching him the Dark Arts all these years, he thought, narrowing his eyes in hatred. Hermione seemed to know what her best friend was thinking and continued speaking before he could make a comment.
"Draco doesn't want this." This time, Ron couldn't hide his amusement and laughed loudly. He looked at Hermione with his eyebrows raised in disbelief. Hermione sighed and poked her friend sharply in the ribs; "Ron," she moaned, "if you're going to laugh, I'm not going to tell you. I mean it."
Ron stopped laughing and held a hand over the area she had poked him in. "Malfoy doesn't want to be a Death Eater? You expect me to believe that?" Suddenly the smile was gone from his face; "and don't call him Draco - that … that's just wrong." Hermione blushed, she hadn't even been aware that she had begun to call him by his first name.
"Anyway," she said pointedly, obviously eager to finish her account, "He needs to get onto the team if he's going to be able to get away from his father. The only two things he really excels at are his Dark Art studies and Quidditch." She paused, looking at Ron, for any sign of a reaction. She got none, so just continued; "well, if he gets on the team, his father will stop pressuring him to become a Death Eater."
"What? So, you're telling me that Malfoy would do almost anything to get onto this team?" Ron looked at his friend as he spoke, Hermione nodded; "he would even harm his opposition?" Hermione nodded again but slower this time. Ron suddenly registered this information in his mind; "Oh my god," he said breathlessly, "but Hermione, what did you do?"
Hermione lowered her eyes again wanting, more than anything, for the ground to swallow her up. "I, err …, I, kind of …" she stammered. She saw Ron place his hand over hers, reassuring her and urging her to continue. "I gave him the knife … and I let him … I let him stab my best friend."
Hermione dissolved into tears, not even noticing that Ron had lifted his hand off hers. She turned away from him, ashamed of herself and not wanting to hear anything that he might say to her. Still without even glancing at Ron, Hermione sprang to her feet and ran for the door. She reached it within moments and, without a second thought, opened it and ran to her own dormitory. When she reached her room, she flung herself onto her bed, covering her face with her hands, trying to control her ashamed tears.
Ron remained sitting at the base of the bed. He couldn't believe all that Hermione had just told him. After she had run from his room, Ron had wondered whether he should go after her. He decided against it, realising that she needed time alone. He raised himself, so that he now sat on the end of the bed. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He would have to tell Harry, and Dumbledore, he realised, but how could he do it without making Hermione lose her position as Head Girl?