Good morning all! I find the best thing about writing is listening to the music. While writing this, I've listened to the DH soundtrack so many times it's ridiculous. But, I love it. While writing last chapter, I spent a good hour watching Seamus scenes to get his personality right. I had a good laugh ;D Anyways, read on my loves. And REVIEW
Chapter 6: Bad news in big packages
Hermione sat at her desk in Professor Vector's classroom, lazily watching Neville struggle with his arithmetic. She had finished her assignment half an hour ago, like usual. Normally, she would've pulled out a book or began to work on another assignment, but her mind was wandering. It stopped on Malfoy, and the look he'd given her last night when she had healed the ugly gash on the back of his head. It was almost peace, almost accepting of her. But, he was so quick to deny it, so quick to just jump up and leave. But, his look had given her hope… Maybe things were changing.
"Hermione, do you know what the answer to thirty-seven is?" Neville whispered from across Seamus.
"Oi, don't be telling him answers, Granger," Seamus' head poked up and waved a finger in her direction. Neville frowned. "Longbottom's good at arithmetic, he just doesn't know it yet."
"Just like you're good at blowing things up," Neville countered. Seamus turned his head to look at Neville then back to Hermione in almost shock.
"Do you hear this bloke? Good at blowing things up? Well, I'll have you know –"
"Shut up, Seamus," Dean hit Seamus from the seat behind him with a piece of parchment.
Hermione glanced at her parchment. "Nine hundred and thirty two point five three."
"Knew it," Neville said happily and scribbled down the answer.
"Damn it, Longbottom, how'd you know that? You had to ask for help, you wanker. Hermione, how'd you get that?" Seamus asked, pulling himself away from his scrap parchment. "My answer's way off."
Hermione leaned her arms on her books, then put her chin between them. "Did you carry the seven?"
"Yes, look!" Seamus showed her his parchment. Hermione spotted his mistake and corrected it: the seven was on the wrong line. "Blimey, that was simple."
"Sometimes, the simplest things are overlooked," Hermione smiled and offered Seamus his quill back.
"You seem to be doing better, Hermione," Neville commented, now finished with his assignment.
"Thanks, Neville. I've come to terms with a lot of things recently," she said and laid her head on the side of her books. "I still worry about Harry and Ron like there's no tomorrow though."
"We all do. Have you heard from them?" Neville asked. Seamus' ears perked up and he turned to listen in.
"No," Hermione sighed in disappointment. "I should've heard from them by now, but it's been months. The last time I spoke to them was before they left."
"They're alright," Seamus chimed in. "This is Harry we're talking about. He's got some smarts to him. Weasley on the other hand…"
Neville stiffened a chuckle, but Hermione thought of what Draco had said before: "I wouldn't be surprised if we found his body in the woods somewhere, died of illness. Or even better, splinched."
"I'm sure they'll send word soon," Hermione said, more to herself than her friends.
Professor Vector dismissed class, and the group of four walked out the door together. Neville was still reprimanding Seamus for his ability to blow things up, and Dean was chuckling in the back. As she passed the staircase, she saw Zac on the other side, talking to Corner. They met eyes, and his lips turned into an upward smile. Hermione's eyes widened and stepped between Seamus and Neville in an attempt to hide from the oncoming onslaught.
"Blimey," Seamus exclaimed, nearing losing his balance. But, then he saw Zac's intense stare in their direction. "Granger, have you told him you're not interested?"
"No," sighed Hermione unhappily as they entered the Great Hall for dinner. "He's Head Boy… I'm sure that would make it awkward when we're doing our duties together…"
They sat down at their usual spot. Dean chose to sit beside Hermione instead of Seamus this time, hoping to help shield her from Zac. "Hermione, it's better not to lead guys on. They hate it, especially when they are borderline obsessed with you."
"How do you know that Zac is borderline obsessed with me?" Hermione asked blankly.
"Well, he's always sending smiles in your direction, and he's always trying to walk you to classes. I've heard him talk about you a few times in the lavatory," Dean shrugged, helping himself to some chicken and mashed potatoes.
"What's he say?" Hermione revolted, her hazel eyes wide with curiosity.
"Just the usual gossip, Hermione," Dean replied. "Don't get your head wrapped up in it. However, it were me, I would try to push a girl away. I don't know what this nonsense is about courting."
"Coming from you," Neville said with a mouth full of yams. "You courted Ginny last year, don't you remember?"
Dean chuckled. "Oh yes, but that was because of Weasley. If he hadn't been in the picture, I would've ignored her."
Hermione suddenly looked at Dean, interested in this technique of pushing girls away. It was something she hadn't heard of before. "Dean, why would you try to push a girl away? And how would you do it?"
Seamus took a sip of pumpkin juice, his chin in his palm, staring at Dean like he knew the world about women. Which he obviously didn't.
"Well… True men don't like to admit when they like a girl, especially a girl who's off limits," Dean explained. "For example, I fancied Katie Bell something fierce a few years back, but she was off limits because she was dating Wood. But, every time she would talk to me, I would either ignore her or be mean to her. Because for some reason, that intrigues women."
"Were you ever nice to her?" Hermione asked, finding herself caught up in conversation.
"Oh yes, absolutely. But, not for a long time," Dean said and scooped mashed potatoes into his mouth. "If you're wondering about Zac, I just think he's looking for a good time. He wants to get you on a first-name basis."
"He wants a quick shag," Seamus explained when Hermione's eyes narrowed in confusion. "As soon as that's over, he'll dump you like a Whomping Willow dumps its leaves."
"Seamus," Neville shook his head softly.
"Oh, did I go too far?" Seamus asked with genuine concern. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but he's the biggest prat I know."
"Miss Granger," McGonagall's voice came from over her shoulder. Quickly, she turned around to see the older witch behind her.
"Evening, Professor," Seamus said, mouth full of chicken.
"Good evening, Mr. Finnigan," McGonagall replied. "May I have a word, Miss Granger?"
Something cold and fierce manifested in Hermione's chest as she left the table and followed McGonagall into the hallway. She managed to evade Zac's glaring eyes, but found her breaths quickening as panic raced through her head. As soon as they were out of earshot from the students, Hermione couldn't hold back her fright.
"Harry and Ron, are they okay?" Hermione asked breathlessly.
"Yes, Miss Granger, in fact they sent word," McGonagall said with a smile. Hermione's soft features visibly relaxed, and the Professor pulled a piece of sealed parchment from her robes.
Hermione took it, ripped open the seal and the two witches began to read:
We Destroyed it.
Ollivander and Gregorovitch.
We love you and miss you.
Not knowing exactly what to think of their short message, Hermione skimmed through the parchment quite a few times before looking back to McGonagall. The old witch's eyes pressed her for information, but Hermione only knew what one of the lines meant.
"They found the real locket and destroyed it," Hermione muttered, reading through the passage again. "But what does Ollivander and Gregorovitch have to do with anything?"
"I don't know, Miss Granger, but you are going to find out. They wouldn't have sent it if they didn't want you to know," McGonagall said and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm not asking you to figure it out right away, but the sooner we know, the better."
"Professor," mumbled Hermione. "How could they have destroyed the locket? They didn't have anything to destroy Horcruxes with them when they left."
"Once again, I don't know, Hermione, but the sooner we find out, the better," McGonagall replied, and with a small squeeze of Hermione's shoulder, she was back down the hallway.
Hermione didn't join her friends in the Great Hall after McGonagall had left. Instead, she went straight to the library, on a mission to help her friends in whatever way possible. Gregorovitch, Gregorovitch… Why did that name sound so familiar? And what did he have to do with Ollivander? Hermione skimmed books until it came to her: Ollivander was a wand maker. She pulled a book on wandlore and sat down in her usual spot, skimming until she realized nothing was going to be found in the book. Although, she grabbed a piece of parchment and began taking notes. Heavily defeated, and suddenly tired, she grabbed the parchment and proceeded to head back to her dorm.
The lights were on when Hermione stepped inside, despite Draco not being anywhere in sight. The door to his room was closed, thank Merlin, so she hurried to the kitchen table and placed her parchment on it. Running into her room, she grabbed all the notes she had taken on Horcruxes, determined to make at least some progress tonight. She spread them out on the kitchen table, grabbed a quill, and began searching. For what? She didn't know.
Draco heard her come in, and he scowled. She was bloody thunderous. He threw the book he was reading: The Essence of Polyjuice down on the bed and swung open his bedroom door to see her right hand scribbling quickly on a piece of parchment. It was too rushed for schoolwork, so what was she doing? Curiosity peaked him, so he walked over to her, taking long strides. On the top of the parchment was a letter, scratched in raw ink and folded crudely. Without even reading it, he knew it was from the immortal orphan and the weasel. But, his grey eyes skimmed it anyway.
"What does Potter want with Gregorovitch?" Draco demanded.
Hermione jumped, startled that he was beside her. She hadn't even realized Draco had come out of his room. Under pure pressure and frustration, Hermione grabbed the letter and tucked it under her parchment.
"Answer me, Granger! What does Potter want with Gregorovitch?" Draco repeated, his voice a little louder.
"I don't know!" Hermione replied, then it occurred to her. "You know who Gregorovitch is?"
"And you don't?" Draco raised an eyebrow. Hermione's blank face told it all. She didn't. This could be used against her and her know-it-all personality. "Well, that's surprising, I thought that the girl who knows everything would at least know –"
"Who is he, Malfoy?" Hermione yelled, now rising to her feet. She thought that hearing from her friends would make her happy and relieved, but instead it made her angry and tormented. All she wanted to do was help them, and if Malfoy had the answers, she was going to get it out of him.
"No, no, no, Granger," he said coolly. "How's it feel to have to ask for help?"
Hermione's eyes narrowed. There was that fire again. "Tell me now."
"Nah, maybe I'll wait until tomorrow… It's getting late, and I have such a busy schedule –"
"MALFOY!"
The ends of Draco's lips perked. He liked to watch her beg. She knew she was beneath him. He had more power over her now, and he intended to bask in it. "I don't know, Granger. Why should I help the boy who sticks his nose into everything and the red haired pauper?"
"Because, this is about Voldemort! Somehow, I know it is!"
"Was the letter a little, I don't know, vague? Obviously they don't want you to know as much as they do," Malfoy said, stepping a tad closer to her. Her hazel eyes narrowed, and he cast a look down to her notes on the parchment. "How to destroy Horcruxes, huh? So are we involved in some dark magic, here, Granger?"
"That is none of your concern –"
"Or maybe it is. Your stupid Order drug me into this, and I at least have a right to know what's going on," his lips pursed. "And now... you need my help."
His words made the blood in Hermione's veins turn to slush. All this time, Malfoy was under their command because they were helping him. But, now, Hermione found herself needing to know who Gregorovitch was, now.
"Tell me Malfoy," she said through gritted teeth.
"Or else, what? They're going to die? Honestly, Granger, I'm quite shocked they haven't already considering Potter's always throwing emotional temper tantrums and Weasley's as dumb as a box of candied chestnuts –"
Hermione's frustration took over. Malfoy was so intent on looking at her face, into her eyes, that he didn't realize her right fist came up and caught him right in the jaw. It wasn't a particularly hard punch, but it was enough to make him stagger backwards and hit the cabinets of the kitchen. As he steadied himself and put a hand to his aching jaw, he noticed her wand was out. Draco squared his shoulders, still recovering from the punch, and then a foul ache in his lungs sent him flying backwards into his room. His back had struck the edge of his bedframe, making for a nasty shock on his spine. His hands were clutching his ribs where the hex hit him, as he looked up to see Hermione's feet and upper legs in his doorway.
"Tell me who he is, Malfoy," she commanded, her breaths ragged. Her body was shaking now, her wand was even unsteady.
Draco looked up to her, his vision only slightly cloudy. Her eyes were wide, but tears were threatening to fall off her lashes. He knew he had pushed her over her breaking point, but that's what was so fun about harassing her. Even if it meant dealing with a few bruised ribs and spine. One more insult and she would be on him full throttle, and even though he was in pain, he couldn't help but want to see her burst.
"You're not getting anything out of me, you filthy Mudblood," he snarled.
He could see it broke her. Something inside her snapped. Maybe it was the way she stared at him intently, and now it was almost as if daggers were shooting from her eyes. She was unstable, and he knew it. Hermione cocked her head slightly, never breaking her gaze from his eyes, and then she crouched down so she was at the same level as he was.
"You're going to tell me who he is, or I'm going to start hexing you against that wall until you get the message," she whispered. Draco still didn't reply to her. All he did was struggle to contain a growl rising in the bottom of his throat. But, he watched in dreaded fascination as Hermione got to her feet. "This is your last chance, Malfoy."
"Piss off, Granger," he spat.
Suddenly, he felt himself rising off the floor. Hermione held her wand steady this time, focusing on him, as he levitated.
"Granger, what the fuck are you doing?" he demanded, starting to panic. She hadn't been joking: she was going to slam him into the wall. But, he noticed the look in her eyes, and to him, she had never been so beautiful.
But, Hermione's gaze was eerily calm. With a flick, she sent him flying into the wall behind his bed. Another groan escaped his lips as he fell, hitting the side of his headboard with his leg, and then crumbling onto the floor like a pathetic piece of parchment. Draco was sure at least one of his ribs had cracked now, and he held it like it was a newborn.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked. But, she didn't answer. With another flick of her wand, she stepped closer to him, trapping him between the exit into the common room and the wall behind him.
"I told you," she replied.
Draco noticed there was blood dripping onto the floor. He didn't know where it was coming from, or where he was all he was injured, just that he was in a heap of pain… and blood… The beauty that he saw in her vanished as he brought himself to his knees with mortification. How could she do this to him? It was damn close to torture. His gaze met hers, noticing that she had broken out of her trance, and was leaning with her back against the wall opposite him, her eyes fearful and her breaths heaving. Her wand had dropped to the floor beside her and she looked disgusted with herself.
They didn't speak for a moment, just locked mortified stares on the scene that she had just caused. Neither of them knew what to say or what to do. The worst thing was, Draco had thought, if it was only for a split second, that she was beautiful.
There was too much happening right now, even though nothing was physically happening at all. Emotions soared under Draco's skin: anger, disgust, confusion… He didn't know how to distinguish them, so he just held her gaze until she moved.
"Oh, God," Hermione stuttered, finally coming to realization of what she had done to him. "Oh, my God… Draco, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to –"
He realized that she was coming towards him, and instinctively raised a hand to shield himself. Hermione's breath caught with a sharp sting. Did he really think she was going to hurt him?
"Do not come any closer to me," he warned her, scooting as far back against the wall as he could, now on his bum and cradling his ribs. "I swear if you do, I will kill you!"
Hermione's eyes began to fill with tears when she realized that he was clutching at his chest. There was blood falling down his cheeks, from his lips. She had caused this… She had… tortured… Malfoy because he wouldn't give her the information she wanted. It disgusted her... That's what Voldemort did, not the Order. They weren't evil.
"Draco, please," she pleaded with him. "Please, just let me help –"
A stinging came from his ribs again, and he winced. "What have you done to me?"
"I'm so so sorry, I just lost control, I didn't mean for this to happen," Hermione whimpered, tears now falling from her lashes onto the floor. He saw they mixed with the stream of his blood. Oh God, he felt like he was going to vomit.
With every amount of strength Draco could muster, he rose up to his quaky feet and began to move past her.
"Where are you going?" Hermione whispered, getting to her feet in an effort to follow him.
"Stay the fuck away from me," he growled, stomping to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.
Hermione had fallen to the ground, morbidly disgusted with what she had done to him. Her cries became heaves, and her heaves became screams of terror. She curled herself up into a ball on Draco's bed, noticing it smelled of peppermint and musk: the smell of a Slytherin. She didn't know why, but for some unknown reason, her senses found it comforting and her cries began to subside. After she let it all out, her stomach was clenched so tight, it began to burn. She let that burning continue, after all, she deserved it.
In the bathroom, Draco had vomited twice, each time making his ribs ache a little more. Wincing in pain, he sat against the bathroom door, listening to Hermione's pitiful cries. He sighed, his grey eyes closing. He should've just given her the information that she wanted, and this could've all been avoided. Maybe he deserved it, for being such a spiteful prude. But, then again, he wanted to yell, scream, carry on about what she did to him. He had a half a mind to go back in there, scream at her to get out of his room… but no. No, that wasn't necessary. He was feeling morbidly guilty, and he hadn't felt this feeling since the night on top of the Astronomy Tower. Merlin's Beard… He just wanted her to stop crying. Never once, not even when Pansy cried after he had said their relationship was over (for countless times), had crying affected him. He actually quite enjoyed it. But, there was something different about Hermione's crying. It did make him feel guilty about egging her on… It was then when he realized that he didn't hate Hermione Granger.
Draco didn't know how long he was in the bathroom for. It could've been months for all he knew. But, he had managed to catch a wink of sleep before waking up startled to the wind on the window. By looking outside, he saw that it was still dark. The lights to the bathroom were still on, and he saw there was some blood on the ground: his blood. With a roll of his eyes, he realized he wasn't comfortable here and decided to go to his room. He needed the solitude anyway.
Their Common Room was dark, but the lights to his bedroom were on, and he shuffled over there, not particularly concerned about being quiet. When he entered the doorframe, he saw that Hermione had curled herself up in the center of his bed. With an agitated sigh and a string of swear words, he turned back around. But, he heard movement on his bed and stopped moving.
"Draco?"
Merlin, he hated it when she used his given name. Was that the basis they were on now?
"What, Granger?" he asked, more menacingly than he probably should have. When she didn't answer, he turned back around to see her damp cheeks, her swollen eyes, and her messy hair. She was still even in her school uniform. His shoulders sagged. "Spit it out."
"I'm sorry," she sighed, fiddling with the hem of his covers.
"Yeah, I think you've made that quite clear," Draco murmured.
"I had no right to do that, and I am so disgusted with myself –"
"I know, Granger, you said that too," he drawled with a roll of his eyes.
"Can I see?" she whimpered, almost as if she was still trying to believe she caused bodily harm on him.
Merlin knows why, but Draco took a few cautious steps over to his bed, and sat down next to her. He looked up at her; she was almost in disbelief. She carefully and slowly placed a hand on the arm that was clutching his ribs, and he had half a notion to force her away, but he didn't. After all, she had the magic not him.
"I'm so sorry," she apologized over and over to the point past where Draco had accepted her apology and just wanted to move forward. "I hate to ask this, but you may have to remove your sweater…"
For Fuck's sake… Draco strained to remove his sweater over the top of his head so Hermione could see how badly his ribs were bruised and/or cracked. He wasn't able to see them, but the look on her face said it all: it was bad. With a sigh that burned, Draco sat as Hermione pulled out her wand and started healing him. He felt the warm gush of gold over his spine again, traveling up to his ribs. He basked in it because for a few moments, he thought he wasn't ever going to feel this again.
"I'm so sorry," Hermione continued to apologize. "I won't ever do this to you again, please believe me, Draco."
Her continuous apologizes and honesty made Draco sigh. He didn't want to yell at her anymore, he didn't want to reprimand her for doing this to him. Right now, all he wanted was her to sing… To lull him into a peaceful slumber after she was done healing him.
"Draco, please say something," she pleaded, leaning back now, half to study her healing, half to study his face.
"Don't ever do anything like this again," Draco muttered. "If you do, Granger, the second I get out of this hell hole and get my wand back, I will inflict the same thing on you."
"I understand," she said carefully and went back to healing him.
Hermione, in all her spite, had noticed Draco was a very defined young wizard. His ivory skin was so creamy it reminded her of satin, and his abs only slightly defined, but that was enough. He wasn't bulky, but not scrawny either. Draco Malfoy… Who would've guessed? She bit back the feeling of finding him the least bit attractive, and continued with her healing spells, still feeling horribly guilty. Her gaze wandered to the floor where a tattered page of The Essence of Polyjucie lay on the floor, droplets of blood on its pages.
"I think I should get some new books," she murmured, putting the final touches on healing his wounds.
"Do whatever you want, Granger."
"Well, you just seem to read through them so quickly…"
"There's nothing else to do, and when you have an insufferable bookworm for a roommate—" Hermione stiffened a smile. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing, carry on," Hermione said, and he noted the smile in her voice.
"Anyway, when you have an insufferable bookworm for a roommate, I have barely any options other than to read. Now, are you finished?"
Hermione put the last touch of the healing spell on his ribs. There was color coming back to his face as she pulled her wand away. Draco hurriedly put his sweater back on, and suddenly, he missed the touch of her fingertips on his skin.
"Does it hurt?" she asked, almost innocently.
"No, Granger. Now, piss off," he said.
Hermione sighed, and scooted off his bed, looking behind her at the wizard. He returned her gaze, only for a moment, and maybe, she thought she saw a hint of longing there too. She opened her lips, on the verge of starting another conversation, but decided against it, and left the room.
When she was out of earshot, Draco finally took a breath. He swore that she was messing with his mind with her kindness, all her damn apologies. But, even as he recounted the last few days with her, he couldn't bring himself to hate her, to despise her for what she had done. In fact, it opened his eyes that even someone as pure as Hermione Granger had a breaking point, and he had pushed her past it. It had effected his psyche in bad ways, almost impure ways. He couldn't get her out of his head.