A/N: Thank you for your patience! I got a new laptop and had to wait until my stuff was transfered over. Enjoy!
"Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice." - Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
Chapter 8 - Fire and Ice
Harry and Ron were both waiting for Hermione outside the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, both looking tired and glum, like they wished for the day to end already.
"How was Runes?" Ron asked.
"It was quite interesting, to say the least," Hermione answered. "Come on, let's find seats."
As they made their way into the classroom, Professor Snape was busying himself by hanging portraits on the stone walls with his wand. One of the portraits revealed a tufty haired wizard repeatedly running into a brick wall, as though he was programmed to behave as such. Another, a witch twitching on the ground, her body convulsing as she shook with silent screams. Hermione looked away and took a seat next to Harry, shivering slightly. There were only two to a table, which left Ron standing a little awkwardly. Hermione was about to offer him her seat so he could sit next to Harry when a giggly voice called out,
"Hey Ron, you can sit with me!" A snicker. "Only if you want to."
Hermione turned sharply to see Lavender Brown smiling from ear to ear, a few seats back. Lavender was a fellow sixth year Gryffindor with a round face, rosy cheeks, and light brown, straggly hair that was currently pulled back in a messy braid. Ron's ears burned scarlet and he remained still until she patted the next to him, and he finally sauntered over to her direction.
Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. She didn't have a problem with Lavender, but she had this annoying niche for swooning over every male in the school, believing each one of them at some point was 'the one.' Hermione had shared a dormitory with her for five years and had heard enough about those annoying and childish romances to last a lifetime. Lavender thrived on gossip and boys, with her best friend Parvati Patil. The two girls were practically joined at the hip—perhaps Parvati hadn't made it into this class?—otherwise Lavender would be sitting with her.
Scanning the room, Hermione was surprised to find that Parvati was actually sitting with Seamus directly behind Lavender and Ron. The girls were bent close, whispering furiously with Seamus and Ron carrying on a conversation. Hermione turned back to the front of the room quite stiffly, feeling a little put out for some reason.
Professor Snape finished with the last portrait and turned to address the class. The room fell silent at once, as it always did in his presence. His jet black hair lay motionless on his shoulders, his long nose and black eyes giving him a rather sallow and daunt look.
"Nearing your N.E.W.T. year, you as a class are very far behind." As always, his voice was toneless and chilly. "I expected nothing less, having taken into account your previous wizarding teachers….Well," said Snape, his lip curling maliciously, "all but one I believe would classify as a wizard."
"I s'pose you're talking about Quirrell?" Harry snapped. "I wouldn't call someone with Voldemort attached to his head a wizard either."
Several students gasped. Others shot an alarming look at Snape. Hermione simply stared at Harry, shocked. She could not believe he said that, out lout, to Snape. The entire room was silent as they looked back and forth between Harry and Snape, like they were watching an intense Quidditch match.
Snape's lip curled as he spoke, "Mr. Potter, perhaps you are under the assumption that being 'The Chosen One' gives you the right to voice your redundant opinion. Fifteen points from Gryffindor and detention on Saturday, I think."
Hermione smacked Harry lightly in the arm once Snape turned around, "Harry, that wasn't necessary. Fifteen points!"
"Was it necessary to lose points when you called Pansy Parkinson a cow?" said Harry in a rushed whisper. Hermione flushed, thinking word travels fast was a huge understatement. "Besides, he was talking about Lupin. I'm not going to just sit here and let that git insult him."
Hermione opened her mouth to say something but Snape began to speak again.
"The Dark Arts are a very extensive case of magic. You will find that it takes much more than memorizing spells and shouting incantations. As of now, your practices have shown how weak and behind you truly are. In a real fight, you will have no help. You will have no guidance or support. You will be alone, with your wand and your mind. Closing your mind to your attacker is a critical practice in dueling. A difficult feat for some,"—his eyes landed on Harry, a sneer on his lips—"but not impossible."
Hermione put a hand on Harry's arm, silently pleading him to be silent.
"In groups of two, you will both attempt to disarm your opponent non-verbally," Snape went on. "We will practice one group at a time, so I can properly evaluate your practices. Those who are capable of shutting their mind to a simple spell will move on to a more complicated one."
Snape's eyes lingered on Malfoy, causing a huge grin to spread across his already arrogant face.
"First, Mr. Zabini and Miss Patil," Snape announced, and everyone got up out of their seats. He waved his wand and the chairs and desks disappeared.
The class stood in a large circle allowing Blaise and Parvati to stand in the center, opposite one another. Blaise towered over Parvati, with his dark skin and daunting demeanor. He might have been handsome, if he wasn't drowning in smugness. Parvati's dark, tiny frame didn't seem to stand a chance. Her wand was already trembling. They both looked at Snape, wands at the ready.
"On three you may begin," Snape instructed. "One…two….three."
Nothing happened. Both Zabini and Parvati looked as though they might be sick. Parvati's face was fluctuating between various shades of purple, while Blaise looked as if was trying to bite through his own teeth. It might have been comical if it was anyone but Snape teaching the lesson. After nearly five, painfully long, minutes, Snape hissed.
"You are not trying hard enough! Weasley, Longbottom, you next."
The second attempt was nearly as bad as the first, and poor Neville was trembling all over. After a few minutes, Hermione thought she heard Ron whisper, "Expelliarmus!"
Neville's wand flew out of his hand, scattering across the floor. A huge grin spread across Ron's face as the Gryffindors applauded loudly. Snape however, looked enraged.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor," he said, the cheering dying at once, "for being a complete cheat and embarrassment; although, I would expect nothing less from you, Weasley." Snape turned to the class; Ron stalked back to the circle, red faced and scowling. "Is there anyone here capable of this task?"
Hermione raised her hand tentatively. "I'd like to try, Professor Snape," she mumbled, barely audible. Try was the operative word.
Snape sneered and turned to Pansy Parkinson. "Miss Parkinson, join Miss Granger."
Pansy looked like there could be no higher honor and stepped into the circle, her dark eyes bulging with excitement.
Hermione couldn't decide if she should glare or smile at the opportunity, at the chance of getting to disarm Pansy. Hermione had tried a few simple non-verbal spells over the summer and found them quite difficult; however, she had not wanted to prove herself more than this moment, and determination was the key to non-verbal spells.
She gripped her wand tightly and concentrated on the incantation 'Expelliarmus' as hard as she could in her mind, remembering the theory of the spell and why it's used. She channeled all her energy into the process of disarming Pansy.
"Begin," said Snape.
Expelliarmus! Hermione shouted in her head.
Pansy's wand flew across the room like Neville's had done. The Gryffindors roared with applause, far louder than they had with Ron. Seamus whistled loudly and Harry was grinning. Ron however, looked a cross between annoyed and amazed.
"Excellent," said Snape in a bored voice, cutting off the applause. "The brightest witch in the year has managed to read a book possibly more times than any other soul alive."
The Slytherins broke out into a cry of laugher. Hermione flushed in embarrassment. Hadn't she just performed the spell correctly? Why did Snape have to constantly put her down for achieving his expected goals? Deep down, she wanted to shout at him. Any normal professor would have awarded her at least ten points for a first time attempt at a non-verbal spell. But then again, Snape was not a normal professor.
"Let's try someone else, shall we? How about"—Snape's eyes scanned the room, as though truly contemplating, before they rested on an arrogant, narrow face—"Ah yes, Mr. Malfoy."
Snape had obviously done this to further antagonize Hermione, but as Malfoy strode to the center of the circle, she felt more than satisfied. If she could disarm Pansy, then why not Malfoy as well? Though Snape did not realize it, he was giving her a wonderful opportunity to truly embarrass Malfoy.
She grinned at him.
"Begin."
"Expelliarmus!" Malfoy shouted, waving his wand in one single, fluid motion.
It was oddly like slow motion. Hermione watched her wand fly out of her hand and into Malfoy's, too shocked by his verbal use-age to produce a proper Shield Charm. Her mouth dropped to the floor as she nearly screamed, "You're supposed to use the spell NON-VERBALLY Malfoy!"
"Oh, that's right. I'm terribly sorry," he said, in a voice that was clear he wasn't sorry at all.
Hermione turned, opened mouthed to Snape, who gave a perplexed little shrug. Ron lost his nerve.
"So he can use it verbally and I lose twenty points when I do?" His voice was of utmost protest and rage.
Suddenly the Gryffindors drowned the room in outbursts, their arms waving and flailing in protest. Seamus's thick Irish accent stood out loudly over the chaos of voices.
"Enough," Snape hissed, his voice not loud, but somehow carrying over the other shouts. "This has proven to be a waste of my time. Class dismissed. Practice your non-verbal spells, for I shall know if you did not. Potter?"
"Yes," replied Harry hesitantly.
"Yes, sir."
"There is no need to call me sir, professor,"
Snape might have burned holes through Harry's face with the intensity of his eyes. Hermione was speechless but Ron was grinning.
"In…my…office…now," Snape said quietly, his voice stinging like venom. "The same to you, Weasley."
"You shouldn't have said that," Hermione whispered to Harry; but he shrugged and followed Ron to Snape's office.
She decided to take her time—to make sure Snape didn't decide to kill them—and stacked her things methodically. Only once she had finished did she realize something was missing. She looked around wildly to see Malfoy standing in the doorway, twirling her wand in his hands. She froze, and then got herself together.
"Give me my wand, Malfoy," she said, as calmly as she could.
Malfoy thought about it, and then, "I don't think I will, Mudblood. As I see it, we both have free periods and you don't really need it until your next class. I always wondered how a Mudblood's wand would work in the hands of a Pureblood." His lip curled, eyes shining. "Well, I'm sure it would be more loyal and promising."
He shrugged and walked out of the door.
Hermione stood rooted to the spot before she remembered her feet were not glued to the floor. She grabbed her things hastily and stormed out of the door, leaving Harry and Ron to fight Snape off themselves. She followed Malfoy at a distance, quickening her pace as she looked around to make sure no one would hear her tantrum.
"Malfoy!" she shouted. "This is absurd. Ten points from Slytherin!"
Malfoy kept walking as he spoke, "You can't take points away from another Prefect. Come on Granger. You of all should know the rules."
She caught up with him just outside the vampire's portrait. She practically shouted 'blood' at Vladimir. He glared at her unnecessary hostility and swung forward. The Prefect Common Room was deserted.
Hermione tossed her books down on a couch and took several long strides before she collided into Malfoy's back; he had halted just before the Hogwarts portrait, completely hard and solid and still. She started to fall backwards at the impact, but Malfoy turned around suddenly and grabbed the front of her robes, pulling her forward. She tried to get her footing but the shock of him touching her made her brain freeze. Malfoy blinked, looking shocked, and then he let go of her, causing her to once again fall backwards and land with a loud thud.
Hermione sat there for a moment, stunned. She didn't gather herself until the hissing of the portrait reached her ears. She bolted to her feet—and the portrait swung shut. She tried to touch the red part of the shield with her hand, but it burned her fingers and she yanked her hand back with a wince.
"Malfoy! Let me in, right now!" Hermione yelled through the portrait, feeling rather stupid.
She could just make out a feint, bitter laugh. "See you in Potions, Mudblood."
Out of pure rage, Hermione grabbed a rickety, wooden chair and threw it at the portrait. It remained sealed. She was so angry, angrier than she had ever been at him before. How dare him! How dare he take my wand and lock me out of my own room! And of course no other Prefect is here! But of course, she knew, the only other Prefect that had a free period was Pansy, and she was as likely to let her in as Snape letting Harry off detention.
Hermione had given up after fifteen minutes and retired to the couch, reading her copy of Advanced Potion Making. She had planned on waiting for Ron to let her in—because surely he'd come to the common room after Snape's lecture. But, no. He never showed up, which meant that most likely he was with Harry, and Harry had no reason to come to their dormitories.
She slammed the book shut. Even Potions couldn't hold her attention. Right now she could care less about the cause and effect of the Draught of Living Death. Having her wand missing was like missing an arm or a leg, or some other crucial piece of your soul. Hermione needed a distraction before she destroyed yet another piece of furniture.
Deciding to write her parents, she pulled out a piece of parchment and quill, placing them both on one of the empty wooden desks.
Dear Mum and Dad,
How are you? Today is my first day at school and I'm already stressed out. Sixth year Prefect's now have to live with another and of course, I'm living with the boy I hate more than receiving low marks. It's Draco Malfoy, the one I've told you about before. So it's safe to say it's going to be a long year. I got my O.W.L results back a few weeks ago, all 'Outstandings' with one 'Exceeds Expectations.' I was quite pleased. Well, I hope everything is well at home. I miss you both and will write again soon.
Love,
Hermione
She stared at it a moment, and realized it sounded more like a rant. Hermione sighed. Well, maybe it was a rant, but her parents would want to know about her O.W.L.'s. She folded the letter and when she tucked it in her pocket, the portrait swung open. Malfoy stood, as usual, dripping in amusement and arrogance. Hermione looked at his hands. They were empty.
"Where's my wand?" She asked, getting to her feet.
Malfoy looked over at the broken chair and then back to her, eyes narrowing.
"You should really work on your temper. It doesn't make you a very becoming witch, and really, you need all the help you can get."
Hermione scowled. "Thank you, because your opinion matters to me."
He did not seem to hear her, but was looking at her in a way that made her skin crawl. Like he knew one of her darkest secrets—but how could he?—or like he was the predator and she his prey.
"What do you want?" she said, because he seemed to be waiting for her to ask.
"You."
Hermione stared, ears ringing. "What?"
He pointed the wand in her face. "You, in the Dueling Room. Now."
Was he serious? she thought wildly. It appeared so, because he turned and walked back into the hallway—Hermione had to lunge with an arm out to stop the portrait from shutting. He was waiting for her in the Dueling Room, and when the door slammed shut, she jumped.
The room was completely blank and bear, nothing but a solid white room, empty of furnishes and décor.
Malfoy threw Hermione's wand at her feet. "I've been waiting for this since our second year," he said, eyes glowing with excitement.
"I'm not dueling you, Malfoy," Hermione gritted.
"Scared, Granger?" He folded his arms across his chest, slouching back against the door.
She felt her face burn with anger. "No, I'm not scared! But I'm not going to resort to your level of insolence!"
"We never properly fought non-verbally now did we? So who's to say your better than me?"
Hermione shot him the nastiest look she could muster. How like Malfoy to challenge her, when he knew she could hardly stand down. Competitiveness was in her nature, and he was fueling off it. Of course she could beat him. And really, now that she thought about it, what was wrong with practicing? After all, the Dueling Room was supposed to be for the Prefects, and Tobias was in his portrait. There was a witness.
"Alright Malfoy." Hermione grinned, though it was not pretty. "Let's duel." She picked up her wand and turned to face him. He was holding his wand at the ready, his eyes determined and focused. "Non-verbally only?"
His jaw tightened and he inclined his head, slowly. "Of course."
Hermione's smug face faltered for a moment. Malfoy's expression was cold and blank, completely emotionless. He was so still, he could have been carved from stone. She wondered if maybe this wasn't such a grand idea.
Expelliarmus! she thought suddenly, waving her wand swiftly, not bothering to wait.
Malfoy blocked her spell non-verbally. She gasped—she half expected him to shout. He shot something with blue flames in her direction. She ducked out of the way with her mouth hanging open. Blue flames? Was he trying to kill her? Probably.
Hermione gritted her teeth and shot a non-verbal stunning spell over her shoulder. Deflected again. She cursed herself for this stupid room. If only she had cover…
The moment the thought went through her mind the room transformed into an outdoors landscape, with large grey, cracked boulders and thick trees for shelter. The ceiling transformed into the sky—silver grey, cloudy and thick—and the once marble floor turned into soft, mushy grass.
Hermione threw herself behind a boulder, mentally shouting Stupefy!
Malfoy ducked behind a tree and the spell collided into a crooked boulder, splitting it in half.
She inhaled the fresh smell of pine and oak, exhaling in frustration. A torrent of fire rushed at her and once again, Hermione had to lunge out of the way. She gasped for a breath, hiding behind a disfigured tree.
The room was silent except for her heavy breathing. Now that all was still, she felt incredibly idiotic for landing herself in such a stupid situation. Dueling Room or no Dueling Room, this was not the brightest idea she had ever agreed upon. Then again, she had also agreed to waltz into the Ministry of Magic last year to fight Voldemort after Harry's vision of seeing Sirius tortured, even though they had no evidence to support his theory.
Okay, so she didn't think everything through all the time.
The silence was beginning to unnerve her. She had no idea where Malfoy was, or what he was planning. She swallowed hard and peered around from the tree, dark curls falling into her face. The room was a haze of colors, smoke and debris covering almost every square inch. Hermione took a deep breath, clearing her head. She had to get out of here—this was proving most stupid. She gripped her wand tightly and jumped into the clearing. She saw a flash of blonde—
Impedimenta!
As Hermione cast her spell, Malfoy seemed to cast one simultaneously. Her red sparks met his blue in the middle. The two spells exploded at the touch and repelled around the entire room, dressing the room in specks of blue and red. Hermione flung herself to the ground, covering her head from the brightness and explosion.
The blast was so loud it rang in her ears—idly she wondered if anyone could hear them. Hermione coughed, covering her mouth from the ash and smoke. She blinked, and finally her eyes adjusted to the blurry room, taking in its newly damaged appearance.
Several trees were split in half; some stood tall, unwavering, while some had crashed to the ground. Even through the hazy smoke, Malfoy's platinum blonde hair was hard to miss. He was lying on the ground, not moving, and barely breathing.
Hermione got up slowly, still coughing, and trudged her way over to him. He was propped on his elbows, head bent over coughing. His legs were lodged under a large, heavy looking tree branch. He had grass stains and ash caked onto his robes, his face covered in soot.
"Get this bloody thing off me!"
For a moment, Hermione actually thought of leaving him here. Serves him right, she thought, dragging me in here.
She bent down so they were eye to eye. "This is the part where you admit you lose," she said.
His gaze snapped to hers in pure rage. "Never."
"Well, then," she said, shrugging, "I suppose you'll just have to sit here all day."
He glared at her; she glared back. She had the upper hand in the situation and he knew it. He had no wand, no way of moving the branch—it was much too heavy.
She tapped her foot impatiently, waiting.
"I will admit," he said, very slowly, "that if you don't remove this blasted thing, you will regret it when I get out of here."
He was probably right, she thought with disdain. While Malfoy was no more than a bully, he would likely get her back through a means of public humiliation, and that was not something she could defend.
She groaned and muttered, "Wingardium Leviosa," and lifted the branch from his legs. He got up hastily and brushed off his robes in disgust.
"I suppose a thank you would be a stretch?" Hermione hissed, offended at his lack of manners.
"Why should I thank you? Look what you did!" Malfoy gestured around the room angrily. It still appeared to be a disheveled outdoor landscape, the sky a smoky bluish-red. Several branches were hanging awkwardly by their limbs, singed with red fire. It was hard to see clearly through the thick haze and ash and smoke.
"What I did?" Hermione retorted, anger rising in her face. She huffed loudly, blowing a piece of her hair that didn't want to stay behind her ear. "I didn't do anything! You shot dirty spells my way and I tried to defend myself!"
Malfoy glared and stalked past her, knocking into her as he passed. He walked straight to the door and pulled. But it didn't budge. It was locked.
A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope the time lapse didn't kill off my readers, haha. I'll be updating within the week! And thank you for the story recommendations..if you come across any other good ones, let me know! :D
Misty: "I've got a question is Harry going to be so obsessed by the idea of Draco being a Death Eater in your story?" - I wouldn't say obsessed. :P But you'll have to wait and see!
Crazygirl: "I'm quite curious about how Draco described Hermione in 5 words." - I wrote that down, acutally, lol. I will probably share it with you all later on. :P
Lesohul: "I like how you written McGonagall perfectly in character." - Thank you so much! She's tough to write. I get a lot of feedback on Hermione, Draco, Harry and Ron, but not so much the teachers so I appreciate your comment!