NOTE: I don't own anything! I hope you enjoy!
Also: heads up – there is a wee bit of bad language in this chapter. Sorry 'bout that.
"Mmmh," Hermione moaned as a cold, wet something prodded her ear. "Crookshanks, stop it!" A somewhat disgruntled mew was her only response as a small paw poked her mouth. "Crookshaaanks!" Another meow.
"Fine," she mumbled as she threw back her covers, scooping up her cat. The autumnal chill that hung in the castle cast goose pimples onto her skin, and she shivered. "I don't know what this is about, good sir, but I am informing you that I am not happy with the situation." Crookshanks, content that someone was paying attention to him, ignored her grumpy dialogue and purred into her chest as she fumbled for some clothing. The rest of the dorm was silent, and Hermione peeked behind one of the curtains to discover that it was not yet dawn.
"Are you happy, Crookshanks? I don't know what you needed me to get out of bed so early for, but I can assure you that your actions are not very much appreciated." Still grumbling, Hermione slid her feet into her slippers and padded towards the common room. Setting her cat on the floor, she yawned and stretched before she ambled towards the fireplace, rubbing her eyes sleepily. Finally getting all the sleep out of the corners, Hermione drew up short. She stared curiously at the sight before her.
Draco Malfoy was sprawled in one of the armchairs by the fire, fast asleep. There were piles of papers, stacked none too neatly, on the table in front of him and another in his lap. A few lay on the floor where they had obviously fallen from his limp arm that was draped over the arm of the chair.
Silently, she stole over to the chair and bent down to retrieve his fallen parchment. Just as she was coming back up, she noticed something that nearly made her heart stop before it began beating wildly in her chest. The black brand on his arm was all too familiar to Hermione, and she wondered how she had not noticed it yet this year.
Of course – a Concealment Charm. He isn't stupid. Trying to calm her pounding heart, she looked down at the papers she held in her hands. There were lots of numbers and percentiles; interest rates both compound and annual, and strange notations that didn't make any sense. It certainly wasn't Arithmancy, and once Hermione flipped the page over, she realized that these were the accounts of the Malfoy Estate. She gulped – some of the numbers had been very large.
Why would he have these? Don't they have some sort of… wizarding accountant or something? Her natural curiosity only heighted, she moved to put the accounts down and inadvertently (of course) scanned some of the other papers that lay strewn about the table.
Most of them were legal documents, with many from the Ministry. There were papers on visitation rights, steps to obtain parole, prisoner rights –
"Granger, what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"
Hermione gave a small shriek and whirled around at the rusty voice that interrupted her prying. Malfoy was glaring at her from his seat in the armchair. His slightly reddened eyes gleamed in the firelight, a spot of color in his pale face.
"Umm, Malfoy. I was just, umm, putting some of your papers back on the table. You had dropped some."
"Mm. I see." His expression was one of ghastly calm. "Yes, I see. You were just doing this kind deed so you could start bloody snooping into my bloody private business!" His voice rose to a shout. She quailed slightly under his glare.
"Well, I wouldn't… I wouldn't call it snooping, exactly…"
"Then exactly what, Granger, were you doing?"
"I was, umm… Well…"
"Whatever, Granger. I really don't care at the moment. If you want to read my bloody stuff, read it." He thrust the papers in his hand at her. "Read it, Granger."
His tone brooked no argument, and Hermione reached with shaking fingers to pull the page from his cold ones. Malfoy watched her from above the purple shadows beneath his eyes as she scanned it. It was a court transcript of his father's trial, and she frowned as she read the lines of confession that marched across the paper.
"Are you quite happy, Granger, to learn what has been happening in my life?" Hermione just stared, mortified and ashamed, at the piece of yellow parchment in her hand. "Goddamn it, Granger! Answer me!"
"I'm so sorry, Malfoy. I didn't know –"
"No, you didn't. And you didn't think to find out…" The rest of his words were cut off as Hermione fled the common room, dropping the court transcript as she barged through the portrait.
-O-O-O-O-
Harry found her huddled in the library a few hours later, where she had tried to calm herself down by reading a book. It seemed to be working slightly, as Hermione was no longer shaking.
"Hey, you," he said as he approached. "Have you been hiding up here this whole time?"
She turned and tried to smile, but felt her face crumple and tears start to form in her eyes.
"Hey, hey, Hermione," Harry's bright eyes widened in concern as he wrapped his arms around her once more quaking frame. "What's going on?"
"It's – It's nothing," she said between sobs. "It's just that I-hic-I came do-hic-own this morning because Crook-hic-shanks woke me up and Malf-hic-foy was there and I went through his pa-hic-apers and his father's in Azka-hic-ban and now he's mad at me and I feel ju-hic-ust awful, Harry. He had hic been almost nice to me and I had to-hic go and do that."
Harry's arms had tightened almost imperceptibly when Hermione let out that Malfoy had been involved, but then loosened as he realized that the blonde hadn't done anything purposefully. He just held her and rubbed her back soothingly – it was a good thing he had had practice with Hermione and Ginny before, or else he would have been at a complete loss of what to do.
Just then, the familiar heavy footsteps sounded through the shelving and Ron appeared around the corner.
"There you are, Hermione! We were looking for you!" he greeted jovially before realizing that she was crying. "What's wrong?" Hermione just shook her head and let Harry answer for her.
"Just a little misunderstanding between her and Malfoy, Ron." The 'little' did nothing to calm Ron's inevitable furious reaction.
"What?" he spat. "I should have known not to trust his little 'truce' he had going on. I think it's time I had a chat with that selfish, slimy ferret." He stormed out of the library.
It took Hermione and Harry a few seconds to register what Ron had said before they both jumped up with exclamations of protest.
"Ron, no – it's really alright –"
"C'mon, mate. Calm down – like Hermione said –"
But their entreaties fell on deaf ears as a wrathful Ronald Bilius Weasley stormed down to the Quidditch pitch where he had seen the object of his ire last headed with that Zabini boy. Hermione and Harry exchanged a slightly panicked glance before chasing after their titian friend.
-O-O-O-O-
The day was a perfect November example – the air was bright, cold and crisp and the sun shone benevolently over the school. Hermione's hair whipped in the wind as she struggled to keep up with Harry, who in turn struggled to stay somewhat close to his gangly friend. She was practically running as they entered the Quidditch stadium, and she shivered as they passed through the shadow of the entrance.
"Ron, come on now. This is ridiculous – he didn't mean anything by it. This has been quite a stressful time for him – " But her argument was lost as, once again, Harry and Ron pulled away.
Huffing and puffing, the trio came at last to the pitch, where two figures swooped through the air. Hermione took a moment to gaze up at them in wonder as Blaise passed the red ball to Malfoy (the Quiffle or whatever it was – she had tried to learn, but it had never stuck), who caught it before motioning to Blaise to do some maneuver of some sort. Blaise never got the chance because he was interrupted by Ron's furious bellowing from below.
"Malfoy!" he roared. "Malfoy, get your sorry arse down here this second, or I will come up there and bring you down myself." The two flyers slowly descended, and Malfoy awkwardly dismounted his broom, leaning on it as he gazed at Ron with a bored expression. His eyes flicked briefly to Hermione and Harry before returning to Ron's face with no hint of recognition in them for her.
"May I help you, Weasel – er, Weasley?"
"Yeah, you can apologize to Hermione for upsetting her, you sorry excuse for a human being," Ron snarled.
"Whatever for? If I remember correctly, she is the one who owes me an apology." Hermione saw Blaise moving towards Malfoy out of the corner of her eye, but she just stared in amazement at this seemingly insane person who remained cool and insulting as ever in the face of a wrathful Weasley.
"Why, you son of a –" And the next thing Hermione knew, Ron's fist connected with Draco's jaw while Blaise came, seemingly, out of nowhere to tackle his friend's attacker. Hermione shrieked and buried her head in Harry's sweater to avoid watching the melee unfolding before her.
A/N: So, I hope you enjoyed. I dunno – I didn't really like this chapter that much… A little cliché (not that I mind cliché at all) – might revise later. Meh – too much thinking makes my brain hurt. Whateva
Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed – you are AWESOME!
Until next week!