A/N: New chapter for you guys. Enjoy!
"There's a fire starting in my heart
Reaching a fever pitch
And it's bringing me out the dark." - Rolling in the Deep, Adele
Chapter 6 - Fever Pitch
Professor McGonagall stood at the front of the hall waiting for the Prefects, her expression stern. Thin silver spectacles were perched on her nose, grey streaked hair pulled up in a tight bun. She was an elder woman, her face lined with wrinkles and worry. Her eyes were a cloudy grey, shining with intensity.
"As you know, this is a new order," Professor McGonagall began through pursed lips. "I trust you all to behave up to the standards we hold you accountable for here at Hogwarts. There is to be no riff-raft or inappropriate behavior of any sort. Do I make myself plain?"
The Prefects muttered a sense of agreement but all Hermione was capable of was a nod. She was still unable to grasp the concept of living with Draco Malfoy. For entire school year. And this was supposed to be for the greater good of uniting the houses? It felt more like a punishment she did not deserve.
McGonagall looked pleased. "Your things have already been brought up, so if you will follow me, I will show you to your new living quarters."
Without another word, the Prefects and Heads followed the professor in silence out of the Great Hall and up the moving spiral staircases. The only sounds besides shuffling feet were the snickering of portraits. No doubt fully aware of the situation and finding it greatly amusing.
See whose laughing when I tilt your portrait, Hermione thought bitterly.
They reached the 7th floor and took an immediate right, followed by another right, entering a large dimly lit corridor Hermione had never seen before. Several lanterns provided a dimly gold light and the walls had an array of moving portraits.
The stopped in front of a large oil painting that was completely empty, aside from one occupant. The man standing in the portrait was tall, pale, with striking features. His electric blue eyes glowed against the dim light. He was pacing back in forth gracefully, as if anticipating their arrival, his body lined with hard muscle. The man looked up and smiled, his teeth too straight and white to be a human's.
"Professor!" Hermione gasped. "Is that…is that…a vampire?"
"Yes, Miss Granger, he certainly is," said McGonagall. "His name is Vladimir. He has been at Hogwarts for nearly three centuries and is a most effect guard. Once spoken the password, you shall be permitted to enter. As for now, the password is Blood."
Hermione frowned; Blood did not seem to be a very appropriate password to give to a vampire. Judging by the looks of her fellow Prefect's faces, they thought along the same lines.
As Professor McGonagall said the password, they followed her through the portrait to find the largest common room Hermione had ever seen. She took a deep breath and smelt the familiar scent of new parchment, oak, books, and smoke. Where Gryffindor Tower was draped in crimson and gold, this common room was filled with all four house colors.
Two large velvet couches—one a deep scarlet and the other a rich black— sat in the middle of the room, covered with silver and gold pillows. A fire blazed in the corner, two cushy emerald chairs sitting in front of it. Books lined the walls, wooden desks sat unoccupied. Hermione felt a strong urge to check out the books, curious if any would not be found in the Hogwarts Library.
Professor McGonagall walked straight across the room to a portrait painted with the Hogwarts crest. A shield was quartered into each color of the houses, embedded with their mascot: a red lion for Gryffindor, a yellow badger for Hufflepuff, a navy blue eagle for Ravenclaw, and a green serpent for Slytherin.
"Beyond this portrait you will find sleeping quarters," said McGonagall, indicating the portrait. "There is no spoken password, but you must present your wand to enter. The portrait will recognize you by your wand, and only you will be permitted. Miss Bell, kindly demonstrate by touching your wand to your house."
Katie shuffled out her wand and touched it to the red lion. The picture dissolved, like rippling water, into a magnificent golden lion that took up the entire frame.
"Once you are all inside, I will seal off this portrait, and only you lot will be permitted to enter," said McGonagall. She cast everyone a stern look. "Friends and other students will not be permitted—"
"What if, say, a friend steals our wand and tries to get in?" Pansy interrupted. She threw a triumphant Aren't-I-cute at Malfoy, as though this question merited her a genius.
"Not really a problem for you, is it?" said Ron. "You don't have any of those."
Hermione gaped at him, shocked. His expression clearly indicated that he himself was just as surprised, like someone had forced the words from his mouth.
"Mr. Weasley," McGonagall warned.
But Pansy didn't seem to hear her. "Oh, and how many friends do you have?" she said maliciously.
"I'm his friend," Hermione said, voicing her thought outloud.
"You don't count," said Pansy. "You're not even a proper witch."
Hermione stared at her, face blazing red. "Well, then, you should feel very foolish that a less-than-proper witch beats you in every class, you ignorant cow!"
"Miss Granger! Miss Parkinson! Now, that is enough!" said McGonagall, stepping furiously between the feuding girls. Hermione recoiled at the volume of her professor's voice. "Ten points from Slytherin and Gryffindor. And five more points from Gryffindor for you, Mr. Weasley. I will not tolerate this sort of behavior from Prefects!"
Hermione flushed, mortified she had lost her temper. Much more, she had done so in front of a teacher she respected. Ignorant cow? That was probably something she had heard Ginny call Fleur over the summer. Definitely not in her repertoire of insults. There was no way Hermione could even look at McGonagall when the moment finally blew over.
"Now then," said McGonagall, huffing a little in annoyance, "you may invite fellow students to join you in your main common room, but they are required to return to their own before curfew. No exception." She waved her wand and the portrait swung open at once to reveal a long hallway with doors on either side. "You will find your names engraved on your proper door, where you will be sleeping."
The Prefects and Heads shuffled into the hall. Pansy bumped into Hermione as she passed, but Hermione ignored her. She wouldn't lose her temper again. At least, not in front of McGonagall. Ten points she had lost for Gryffindor already. Fifteen, if you counted Ron. Ugh.
"What's this door?" Padma asked, stopping at the end of the hall, a golden door with no engraving attached.
"The room was designed for, well, dueling," McGonagall said dryly. "For better preparation for your N.E.W.T.s, but it seems we may have overestimated your sense of maturity."
Even without the incident between Hermione, Ron, and Pansy, it was clear she did not seem so keen on this idea. Her lips pursed, eyes narrowing to slits at each of the students, as though daring them to challenge her.
"We can handle it," said Eddie, "I will make sure it is used purely academically and appropriately."
The Prefects stirred with excitement. Hermione didn't share their enthusiasm. She saw it as a perfect place for Malfoy or Pansy to 'accidently' hex her.
"Very well, Mr. Carmichael," said McGonagall, a little resigned. "This is not just a normal classroom. It will transform itself to be as needed. Whatever you require, it will appear."
Hermione was reminded of the Room of Requirement from her previous year. What if there were two of them? Harry had created "Dumbledore's Army" and taught a bunch of students various spells in the secret room that would transform into whatever the occupant needed. She'd definitely have to remember to tell him about this room.
"As a Prefect and Head Boy and Girl, you are privileged above others," McGonagall went on, all business. "Your N.E.W.T. examinations will be harder than anything you have faced previously. It is advised you have actual practice for the practical portions. However, heed my warning: Any student caught using an Unforgivable Curse or Illegal Hex will be expelled and possibly sent to Azkaban." The Prefects and Heads stiffened. "There is a portrait in the room. Tobias will monitor your practice sessions to make sure all is fair and safe. This is a privilege that will most certainly be taken away if abused." Her gaze met every student, hard, unyielding. "That is all. Please find your rooms and make yourselves at home and prepare yourselves for tomorrows classes. Good night."
Hermione felt the blood rush to her cheeks, as the anxiety started to settle in. She felt sick to her stomach even thinking about Malfoy. She couldn't do this. She quickly turned to McGonagall, catching her lightly by the arm.
"Professor…" Hermione started, eyes pleading. She found her mouth oddly dry, the words hard to form.
"I'm sorry, Miss Granger. This is the wish of the Headmaster," answered Professor McGonagall gravely, appropriately interpreting Hermione's silent plead. She said no more on the subject, but gave Hermione a reproachful look that was not in the slightest bit comforting. "There is nothing I can do."
Hermione stood there, unable to process what was happening around her. So there was no more to have with it, then. She had to live with Malfoy for the year. The thought was so disconcerting she swayed a little.
"Are you okay, Hermione?" Padma asked, steadying her.
"Fine." Hermione looked up and locked gazes with Malfoy, just over Padma's shoulder. His expression was blank, completely masked of emotion. There was a hardness to his face she never noticed before. Maybe it was because he wasn't smirking, smiling, or laughing. He turned without a word and vanished down the hall.
Hermione couldn't help but think—not for the first time—that something was definitely off with him. During most of McGonagall's instruction, his gaze had wandered away. Not like he was rudely blowing her off, but like his mind was somewhere else. Did no one else notice this?
Harry, a voice said. Harry had mentioned some kind of, what was it, mission for Malfoy? Something like that? She'd have to ask him again and report this distant, strange behavior.
"Guess this is where we part ways, then," said Ron, shuffling his feet and looking down.
"Guess so." Hermione managed a small smile. "Wait for me in the morning and we'll go to breakfast together."
Ron said his goodbyes and shuffled toward his room, his shoulders drooped incredibly low. Hermione looked in the direction that Malfoy had gone and decided that was the last place she wanted to go right now. Instead, she followed Padma and Hannah toward the Dueling Room.
"Mind if I join you?" Hermione asked, a little too hopefully.
"Of course not," said Hannah, smiling. Her face was round and soft, a sort of kindness in those blue eyes that was hard not to like. "We're sorry you have to live with Malfoy, Hermione."
"Me too," Hermione agreed.
"We wanted to check out this room," said Padma, pushing the door open. "I can't believe we're allowed to duel."
As soon as the three stepped into the room, it transformed into a cozy sitting room. Three large pillow cushions, a blazing fire, thick carpeted floors. If Hermione was allowed, she'd stay in here instead. Her eyes found the portrait of Tobias hanging across the room. He was a scruffy little man with a thick, golden mustache. His expression implied he was bored, as he continued to shuffle a deck of cards in his portrait.
"We should practice dueling sometime," Padma said pleasantly. "Harry taught us loads last year. Be a shame to stop now."
"Maybe next week?" suggested Hannah.
Hermione nodded vaguely, her mind elsewhere. She'd be lucky to live to next week, now that she had to live with Malfoy. She should have asked to see Dumbledore. Tried harder, convinced them to change their mind. Perhaps in the morning, she'd do just that.
Hannah gave her a sudden shake, snapping her out of her misery. "You were brilliant back there, Hermione!"
"Yeah, did you see Pansy's face?" Padma giggled, covering her mouth.
Hermione blushed. "She just gets under my skin."
"Agreed," both girls said in unison.
"So how are you and Michael?" Padma asked. Hermione turned to look at Hannah, who was obviously addressed the question. (Last time she checked, she wasn't dating Michael.)
"Fine, I guess," Hannah replied, shrugging. "I didn't get to see him much over the summer. Mum's been busy at the Ministry and needed me to watch my sister a lot."
The talk of school romances nearly brought a smile to Hermione's face. She had almost forgotten about them. Hannah had been dating Ginny's ex, Michael Corner, since they split last year. But now Ginny was with Dean, even though Hermione was sure Ginny still liked Harry…
She shook her head. Not wanting to get involved in the never-ending love issues that circulate around the school, Hermione made an excuse to leave, saying she was tired and needed a good night's rest.
She found her new 'home' minutes later, but couldn't find the courage to walk inside. So instead she simply stared at the door, as though it might bite her. The plague was by far frightening enough to bite. Written in shiny, silver letters were: Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. Hermione practically threw up in her mouth.
It was the plague that did it. She threw open the door, unable to stare at the taunting letters another moment. Inside was a circular room with a doom shaped ceiling, set a deep greenish blue with painted silver and gold stars. A fire was already crackling, the armchairs that sat in front of it looking as inviting as the ones in Gryffindor Tower. Two desks made of dark wood. An emerald couch, the walls painted a soft gold.
Hermione thought vaguely that it looked like Gryffindor and Slytherin had puked all over it.
At that moment, Malfoy walked in the room. Hermione gave a mental grunt of frustration. The whole point of her going into the Dueling Room was to avoid him, yet here he was. Oh, how her plans always backfire. Lovely. She stood very still while he scanned the room, and for a moment, she got the briefest flash of hope that maybe she could blend into the walls.
Her gaze caught on two doors across the room, the one with the red handle screaming Escape! She literally sprinted across the room, looking every bit as cowardly as she felt—
Malfoy's hand shot out of nowhere, grabbing her firmly by the wrist and spinning her to face him.
"I don't need you in my way, Granger," he said coldly. "I know how nosy you are, the way you thrive from butting into other people's business. So here's the deal. You leave me alone—I'll leave you alone."
Hermione was too shocked to do anything but nod. Normally, she would have screamed from his touch, yelled in his face, and maybe even slapped him if she was feeling particularly bold. But the look on his face was actually frightening, and so was his grip around her wrist. He looked like a completely different person than she had grown up knowing.
He dropped her wrist as suddenly as he had grabbed it, strutted across the room, and vanished behind the door with the green knob. Hermione there a moment, completely motionless, trying to absorb what just happened. Had Malfoy just made a truce? What had gotten in to him? She shook her head and followed suit through the red knobbed door.
A spiral staircase led her to another door. She pushed it open quietly. Crookshanks sat on a large red silk bed, his fluffy tail curling around him. Her trunk lay on the floor, unopened. The pillows, a deep gold brushed with crimson tassels. A simple dresser and closet. Another scarlet velvet chair and more gold pillows.
Hermione took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar musty oak and flung herself on the bed, sighing loudly. She lay there for what felt like a half hour, unable to fall asleep. She shivered at the sound of her sigh. It was so…alone. Nothing could be heard aside from Crookshanks's quiet purrs. Having shared a dormitory with Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown for five years, she would have died to have a room to herself. Now? Not so much.
So much had happened since last year. Facing the Death Eaters at the Ministry had put her teeth on edge. She needed chatter and noise. Right now, it was uncomfortably too quiet. Even at that, she felt incredibly lonely. She hated being alone, feeling isolated from society—which was practically what she was: isolated. All she had for company in her common room was Malfoy, which was depressing enough.
Well, it didn't have to be that way, did it? The solution was simple enough: she'd avoid their tiny common room and either stay cooped up in her room or go to the main one, the larger one where all the Prefects and Heads could go. There. Easy enough.
Twenty minutes later—and still not being able to fall asleep—Hermione decided to figure out how the bathroom situation would work. Last year she had been privileged to use the large Prefect's bathroom. She doubted the bathroom in this dormitory could trump the previous one, but she wouldn't lose sleep over it.
Hermione made to exit her room but another door caught her eye, one she hadn't noticed before. Had it been there the whole time?
She hopped off of her bed lightly and opened the door. Inside was a large bathroom completely made from white marble. It contained two sinks and a grand bathtub with columns, easily able to fit five people, with tall silver pipes winding in different directions. A toilet, hidden behind a white door, and a glass incased shower. A blank piece of parchment sat by the bathtub. She picked it up—and at her touch, black ink appeared. She nearly dropped it in surprise.
Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger's Bath Menu for September 1st:
1. Hydra Wash – An array of blue bubbles will appear to replenish dead skin cells and relax the body completely. A soothing way to end a long day.
2. Sea Stone Bath – An array of green bubbles mixed with stones from the sea to make your body lose all pain. It is suggested to only bath for fifteen minutes, before the occupant loses feeling in their body permanently.
3. Floral Fantasies – Pink bubbles with an array of exotic flowers for an aromatic pleasure. Often creates the occupant to become slightly giddy and sometimes a temporary memory loss that should resurface within the hour.
Hermione burst out laughing before she could stop herself. She had never seen a bath menu before. She set the parchment down and grabbed a red cloth from under the sink, washing her face. The warm water felt soothing against her cool skin. With every stroke of the cloth, she felt reality start to sink in. Today starts a day of change, of something new. A clean slate.
She wiped her face free of soap and glanced in the mirror. She screamed and jumped back. Malfoy was standing a few feet behind her, his breath cold on her neck.
"Malfoy! " Hermione shrieked, whipping her body around to face him. "What do you think you're doing? Don't they teach rich boys manners?"
"Of course they do, Granger," he said lightly, "but they teach us to know who should be given manners. And, I'm afraid, Mudbloods don't count. Why should I knock to go to my own bathroom?"
"Our bathroom," Hermione corrected.
"I don't share anything with Mudbloods."
"Oh, grow up Malfoy," she said, rolling her eyes. "All you can do is call me a Mudblood. Well, guess what? It's getting old." She turned her back on him, glaring at his reflection. How was this leaving her alone? Where had that truce gone?
"Really?" he hissed low enough to make her hair stand on end. "At least I'm not so pathetic as to hang around a blood traitor trying to get him to notice me as a potential girlfriend because that's the best I can do. Always saving his arse in school and fighting his battles. What high standards you set for yourself Granger: a poor, pathetic, blood traitor."
Hermione stared at him, breathless, like he had punched her in the stomach. She always knew Malfoy was cruel but this below the belt. For her, at least. She could handle name calling—she had grown to Mudblood, actually, and it didn't bother her as much now—but this was humiliating.
She felt cold all over, like her body had been dunked in ice water. She held his gaze for as long as she could before breaking away. She looked down, confidence from before deflating.
"Cat got your tongue?" Malfoy taunted. He didn't sound mocking—bored, even.
Hermione looked up, and that's when she realized something: Malfoy didn't matter. And his insults didn't matter, because she was more than that. She had so much love in her life—friends, family—that no matter how much he threw her way, he couldn't win.
She almost smiled.
"You are a cruel, selfish, miserable human being, aren't you?" she said levelly. "You're the pathetic one, Malfoy. And I feel sorry for you."
She didn't wait for him to respond. Without another glance, she went back to her room, locking the door with enchantments. After she was done, she threw herself onto the bed for the second time tonight. Crookshanks moved to her pillow, just above her head. She swore he gave an approving purr, but of course, she could have imagined it.
A/N: Man, a lot of dialogue got changed in this chapter from the original. :P I like this version better, fo shizzle. I swear my head shakes in astonishment at some of the things I wrote back in the day. Writing definitely improves over time. :P Thanks for reading!
jazzy4ever: "I think Hermione's crush on Ron is more pronounced in this version." - Haha really? I thought I made it less pronounced, lmao. Maybe I made it more pronounced in a less 'in your face' way. :P
Gin-gin06: "i didn't even notice you kinda had that cliche in there til you pionted it out." - Probably because the whole dorming together thing is really minor in this, huh? :P I've seen the whole "we have to live together" bit used as a main plotline in many Dramiones but it's so minor in here compared to the real plot. :D
dramionefanRilla: " I like the new twist although I do miss the Old Version." - Wait, what new twist? Did I make a new twist in this without realizing? haha