Spero
Chapter 6: Keeping Up Appearances
If you've got a terrible memory:
So, when Harry asks me later that night, if I'm "Still investigating?" I can tell him with a grin on my face:
"No, mate. Case closed.
"You had Ginny wake me up for this?" I stand in the common room at a little past midnight in my pajamas with a desperate Ron.
"Come on, Hermione," he asks.
"No, absolutely not." I fold my arms across my chest and shake my head.
"Please," he pleads.
"Ronald, you have to grow up sometime. You have to be responsible. Not doing your homework because you're following the wrong head is definitely not responsible." He groans. If he is going to act like an eight year old, why bother at all? I shake my head and sigh. I head for the stairs. "I'm saying this for your own good, Ron." I pause at the first step. Turning to him I firmly tell him once again, "No."
"No," he mimics me in a less than admiring way. God, he makes me so upset sometimes. All I can do is to not say something I may regret later is glare and stick my tongue out at him. Real mature of you, my conscience tells me. I tell it to shut up and shove off. Grumbling, I turn my back on him and make my way back upstairs.
He should know better. I yawn as I get to the door to my dormitory. Opening the door I try to creep in quietly, and shut it without making a noise. I bite my lip and tense up as the door creaks closed.
"Hermione?" Looking through the dark I can make the figure out: it's her.
I hate this feeling, but I can't put a finger on what exactly it is. I just feel terrible when I'm like this. That's all I know.
"Go back to sleep, Lavender." I make my way to my bed. Why her? I wonder. He's really just that shallow. Sighing, I crawl back into bed. He'll learn one day. He can't just stay out with her all night and expect me to bail him out. I'm not always going to be here.
You're jealous. I'm not jealous. I'm just teaching him a lesson. That's all. He needs to be taught a lesson. He doesn't appreciate me at all. He'll see. I won't – I yawn – always be there to look after him. He'll miss me then.
I wake up feeling like I need to cry. I've never been able to remember my dreams. Only the last few seconds … "Think of me once in a while, please promise me you'll try."
Try as I might, it just does not work. At times I think I don't even dream. After a night of extensive reading, caused by a less than psychotic but more than strange episode of thinking that I'm not normal, I discovered that all people dream; in fact all living things dream. I am just one of many who just don't recall them very well.
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and I'm met with the cold wooden floor. For a moment I contemplate going back to sleep. It never helps that in the fall daylight never comes until about eight in the morning. As if it's hiding.
While I brush my teeth I run over my list of things to do today. First a bit of light reading. Go to the library before breakfast. Avoid speaking with Professor Flitwick as much as possible. Research a new hobby to take up – knitting maybe? Go over my presentation for Arithmancy before the next day, maybe do some revisions. My thoughts are interrupted by someone crankily slamming the door open. Startled I yelp and jump a little. I turn to look and let out a sigh of relief when I see it's only Lavender.
"Hi," I say, because I'm polite, not because I want to start a conversation, or really see her for that matter.
"Foam," she says. I give her a puzzled look. "Around your mouth." She points at her face and mimes. "Foam."
"Oh!" I realize what she means. The foam from my toothpaste. Rinsing with water I feel a little embarrassed. Having perfectly gorgeous Lavender Brown point out a flaw is just damaging to one's self-esteem. It's almost worse than having Fleur Delacour point them out. I can still hear her. "Oh, 'ermione, why do you not let me 'elp you with your 'air?" I notice Lavender is still there; goodness, she's gorgeous even when she wakes up. "Uhm …" There is a giant Hippogriff in the room – this is one of the most awkward situations I've been in.
She looks around, and I think she's seen the Hippogriff as well. "You're up early," is her stab at a conversation. At least she tried.
Gathering my things I explain, "I'm always up around now."
"Really?"
"Yup." I nod.
"Wow," she says, with about as much enthusiasm as you'd expect someone to muster at six in the morning.
"I'll, uhm, I'll see you later, then," I awkwardly smile and make my way out.
After I return from the library I sit in the common room with a good book. I'm reading about the theories of time and how it applies to people's lives. There are so many different theories. At around seven Harry came downstairs and sat beside me. He's still sitting with me now a half hour later trying to finish off an essay for charms.
Ginny and her friends make their way down. They all seem dead, or cranky. Ginny is both. "What's the matter with them?" Harry inquires.
"Ginny," I call out.
"Not so loud, Hermione" she whines at a low whisper with her hands covering her ears. She looks completely frazzled.
A little confused, I exchange looks with Harry, who shrugs. Ginny makes her way over; she looks like she hasn't slept at all. Plopping down on the couch next to Harry, she groans. "Everything okay?" I whisper, trying to be accommodating.
She shakes her head furiously. "There's this bird –" she points upstairs – "it's outside our window; it's making an awful racket."
"I'm sure it will go away," I tell her.
"That's what I thought when I woke up at five this morning, but no, it's been going on for the past two hours," she says, frustrated.
"Maybe it will have stopped by the time you get back from classes?" Harry suggests.
She shrugs. "I guess."
"Hungry?" I offer, absolutely famished.
On my way to the library to spend a little more time on my presentation, I go over it. My eyes dart across my cue cards as I read through them. Hopefully I won't need them tomorrow during the presentation.
"You seem stressed," Draco says, falling into step with me. I know how strange this must look. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy walking in the hall together – not at each other's throats. If Ron were to come down the hall now his eyes would probably pop right out of his skull. Aware of prying eyes, I don't smile at him; instead I stare at my cue cards.
Pretending to be reading them over, I answer, "You have no idea."
"Oh, I think I can empathize," he says, "don't think me to be too cruel." He says this with a small laugh and a quiet voice. It makes me suspicious and I start to worry that there might something wrong. Walking a few more steps I'm interrupted by Draco guiding me towards an empty classroom. "In here."
"Is everything alright?" I ask, a tad confused.
"Oh, sure, all candy canes and lollypops, Hermione," he says, closing the door, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Which I know is a lie. I've never thought much on Draco Malfoy, but now that I'm with him – that still sounds strange – I've noticed there's something odd going on. Something is on his mind, and he hasn't mentioned it. I try to drop hints that it's okay; he can tell me, but nothing. Not a word.
As I drop my things on the table with a loud 'thunk', he laughs and tells me, "I know what to get you for Christmas."
Turning to him, I ask, "What?"
"Can't tell," he says, waggling his finger at me, "or else it wouldn't be much of a surprise, would it?"
"No, I suppose it wouldn't," I laugh. With a little hop I sit on the table and pick up my cue cards again. Chewing on my lip I study the cards with all my concentration. Somewhere in my brain I register Draco's presence in front of me. He sighs heavily. Without looking up, I ask, "What?" and move onto the next card.
"Nothing," he tells me.
"No, really." I flip another card. "What are we doing in an empty classroom anyhow?"
"Apparently nothing." To my surprise, he sounds sort of – what's the word? 'Disappointed'? He's next to me leaning on the desk. His hand rests on top of my leg and his thumb goes back and forth across the fabric of my skirt.
I take myself away from my presentation. He's looking down mesmerized by his hand, or quite possibly my leg – I'm not stupid. I put my hand on his, which draws his attention back to me. Tilting my head to the side, I smile sweetly. "Okay, really, now you have to explain, what are we doing here?"
"At first I was thinking I could help you with your stress."
"Oh," I say excited, "You'll help me practice my presentation?" Harry had given up on me at breakfast, Ginny was too cranky and had strangely disappeared, and, well, Ron was too busy with 'LavLav'.
Draco frowns and shakes his head.
"What?" I ask him, for probably the tenth time.
"Stop thinking," he whispers. I blink, ready to give a retort but stopped mid-breath. He silenced me with a powerful kiss. The shock of it hit me all the way to the pit of my stomach. I break the kiss, whispering, "Is this what you were thinking of doing?" before kissing him again, a little softer than before.
"You truly are a smart witch," he breathes as I pull him closer. He takes this opportunity and snakes his arms around my waist. He moves a hand from my waist down along the curve of my body to my leg.
"Draco." I bat his hand away as he inches up my leg.
"You're no fun at all," he whines.
"Help me with my nerves some more," I coo, my judgement clouded and my senses hazy.
"Door," he replies in a most unceremonious way. I thought it had been going rather well, except for that bit where he tried to reach up my skirt. Actually, I daresay I sort of liked it.
"What?" I ask after being put off so abruptly.
"Door," he tells me again, taking up my book and opening it to a random page. With a simple flick of his wrist my cue cards were lying on the floor. He did this all without batting an eyelid.
I gape at him. "What – what did you do that for?"
"You're so clumsy, Granger," he said says with the tone he's used so many times before when insulting or belittling me. I nearly lose it. I want to throw something at him or hex him a thousand times over.
But when I hear a confused, "Draco?" come from the mouth of one Blaise Zabini, I understand. "What's going on?"
"Granger dropped a few things," he drawled, waving his hand at me. "You know how girls can be in the presence of handsome men. Don't pay any attention to her."
Pursing my lips, I kneel down to pick up my cards. Oh, how quickly this has gone bad. The two talk. Blaise made makes vulgar jokes and says things that made make my blood boil. Anyone else and I could say sure, they're just of the male persuasion. Surprisingly, I'd actually expected much more from Blaise. He's always seemed to be above all the rude and hurtful remarks. Turns out I just don't know him.
Standing up, I smooth my skirt down; when I looked look up I see Draco looking at the hem of my skirt with a sort of glint in his eye. Clearing my throat, I grab his attention and incline my head toward the Arithmancy text in his hands. He stands up and coughs awkwardly.
Blaise is watching us. Under his gaze, no shows of affection can be made. Not even being civil will do. "My book, Malfoy." I hold out my hand.
He approaches me. "Here." And shoves the book at me. It hits me hard, and as I take it he pulls it back, and in a hushed voice asks, "Library later?"
Looking past him at Blaise, I lowered lower my head: I realise at this moment what a terrible secret we are keeping. "Sure." I nod, feeling strangely forlorn. All I can hear is Draco laughing at Blaise's jokes. He didn't bat an eyelid when Blaise said 'Mudblood'. I don't – can't – look at Blaise; instead I walk past him as quickly as I can.
In the library, I sit down at a table wondering if I really know what I've got myself into. I used to think that life was simple. Go to school, do the work, indulge in the good times with friends here and there. It was always so simple like that. Then there was Hogwarts, and Harry and Ron and Voldemort. My biggest challenge though, is Draco Malfoy. Whatever could have compelled him, or myself for that matter, to embark on this adventure?
"You don't know me at all," I tell him, "You can't like me when you know nothing about me."
"Ms. Granger?" Madam Pince approaches me.
"Yes, Madam Pince?" I halfheartedly give her my attention.
"Yes I do," he says.
I look at him skeptically. "Like what?"
"I need some help in the library," she explains, "and since you always seem to be around I thought you could help out."
"Oh, sure," I say wanting to get back to my thoughts.
"You're Potter and Weasel's best friend."
"Really? No," I say sarcastically.
"You tap your quill when you're thinking." He looks at the quill in my hand. "It's really quite annoying." Immediately I stop.
"Well, then." She hands me a sheet of parchment. "I'd appreciate it if you could be here during the week from after dinner and onward. Here are your duties. You may do your homework if nobody needs help. Right now I'd commend you if you put away all these books."
"Mhm." I nodded nod.
"Call it a good feeling," Draco continues.
"I – but it's you, and me," is all I can really say.
"Ms. Granger." Madam Pince's voice cuts through my thoughts. "The books?"
"Oh, right! Yes, the books." I give her my best smile and look past her. A trolley full of books, which look to be in no particular order, sit there. Oh Merlin, what did I just sign myself up for?
Looking at the trolley of books with the parchment in my hand I'm having a moment where I don't know what I've just done. I have to stop and analyze. Look at all my options. I could do this and get it over with. I could not do this. I could tell Madame Pince I just don't have enough time and get out of everything. Next time I will listen, and not get caught up in thinking about Draco.
"Yes, I realize that." Draco nods his head.
"It's – preposterous! I mean, what would people say?" I say.
He seems to be so much calmer than me that, it infuriates me. "Terrible things," he says, "we would be ostracized. My Mother would die of shock. I could be killed by my father for disgracing the family name."
A rather dramatic chap, he is.
First I organize the trolley. I go by author. Not all the books fit on the trolley to begin with, making it even harder of a task to deal with. Halfway through, or what I assume to be halfway, I feel as though I've trekked up the Andes and back. My arms burn and my back aches.
"Ms. Granger?" Madame Pince is hovering over my shoulder. "A spell to organize the books might help."
I groan, why didn't I think of that? "Right, thank you," I say. Getting my wand, I mutter a quick spell to organize them alphabetically. With that, I push the cart in the direction of the Magical Creatures aisle.
"Why would you, in your right mind, risk all that?" I ask.
He shrugs. "You don't think you're worth all that?"
"Do you think I am?"
There is a large gap of books missing when I get there. "What on Earth?" I whisper in disbelief. Shrugging and putting it in the back of my mind I start to put the books back. When I'm done with everything that goes in the Magical Creatures section there is still a large amount of books missing from the shelves. "Odd." I shake my head and push the trolley off to the section filled with biographies, self-written as well, entitled 'Who's Who in the Magical World.'
"Could be," he says.
"So you want to – " I let him finish the sentence.
Using spells to put the books back in their place makes time slow. It's effortless, yes, but time seems to almost stop, going at a snails pace. I'm so bored that I get lazy with my spells and drop a book. I gasp and jump out of the way. Cursing, though I know I shouldn't, I decide I should just put it back without magic. I use this tactic with the rest of the books.
"I want you to meet me here, again," he says.
"But it will look like – "
"Like the two smartest pupils of Hogwarts are studying at a table together – I'm not your enemy, I'm Potter's."
I contemplate this, and I'm scared to admit it, I'm interested. I finally say, "I'll pencil you in."
He does this crooked smile thing, where one corner of his mouth turns upwards. "So, it's, uh … what is the word? A date?"
Say anything you need to say. Ginny chapter up next :)
Just in response to the fact that I said I don't really want to write more if not given comments; it's not very encouraging to keep going if no one even has a bit of constructive criticism on how to make the story better. Rather, it's very discouraging. It leaves one thinking, should I continue to write? So thanks to those who have things to say, positive and negative.