A/N: Well, here again I took my lovely time updating. Thanks to all you wonderful people who left me reviews! In fact, I think you're so wonderful (especially cause you got me up to over 300 reviews!) that I think that I shall name all of you and make other writers feel jealous that I have such wonderful reviewers:
Dmone, gleamingeyes, Ellie, sweet-witch, Fayola, QuillQueen, Fate Weaver 42, nady, elena, grlkat, yenyen, Natural-181, pigwidgeon188, scorpiogurl2910, mione13, thecutiedisease,CrimsonTears93, TwilightGirl, LivingImpared, scrivania, Hidden Identity1, becca boo, steff, spotzplaya888, Secret Thought, LILHOUSELF, wolfsbabe midnight/babmidnight, cellosrock753, DragonOfWinter, and prettigurl7.
KESOO: I'm not sure how long this story will be…let's just say that I'm surprised I've lasted this long. Of course, the more important question is whether or not I can keep this story interesting and not start going downhill and start writing a lame plotline and utter crap. :chatters teeth in fear:
Ninifanficker3838801: You're introducing your friends to my work? That's incredibly flattering, I'm glad you like it that much! Gee wiz, now that just means I no room for disappointment! All this pressure, heavens no!
CareBearErin: Thanks again for you wonderful analytical review! I really do enjoy reading what you pull out of what I write.
Celestial lelila: Lots of questions, but they were good ones. I'm glad to see that someone noticed it and actually pointed it out to me! But basically, this is the jest, and I hope I somehow explained it or led onto it in previous chapters (if not…well, here we go!): In order to control Dark Magic, of any kind, a wizard must be incredibly powerful and talented because Dark Magic is more complex than simple magic, which is why so few work with it – at least, this is my view on it. Hermione is powerful mentally, and I believe she is magically as well, she just is overshadowed by Harry and although she may not be too quick at knowing what to do in danger, she is a quick learner, and quite ambitious, and these traits help her control and conduct magic better. I probably will address this more later on, because maybe by then I'll have it figured out better in my head, especially Draco's ritual. ;) Thanks for your questions though! I do appreciate it when people ask!
Firefox Sunset: Well, I'm afraid this isn't a big "Ta-Da!" chapter either, maybe another "bum"-y chapter. I'm just trying to get along to the main plot, and tying up the little loose ends. ;) But I hope you keep reading anyway: D
Dooki: Yes, I thought that a kiss where the guy burst into flames was a nice out-of-the-ordinary touch. Down with nice first kisses:)
To Bips and missez tom felton: Both of you actually pointed out the same thing, which I never would have picked out and I'm glad you did. It's interesting to read what people will notice and observe in what is written. I never noticed that my rape scene focused more on Draco's emotional suffering. I do personally dislike reading rape scenes, and I don't enjoy being too graphic in my writing, because I believe being overly graphic ruins the moment: you spend so much time visualizing that you don't know what's exactly being felt by the character. Of course, that's just my personal feeling towards these type of things. But thanks for pointing that out for me!
Cry Me Tears of Fire
by Pensive Puddles
It was the typical display of after-vacation exhaustion: the students were sprawled out over all the seats, using their bags and each other as pillows to further make their naps more comfortable. The train's constant clanking and pounding provided a steady rhythm that drooped even the most resistant eyelids of students, who fought so hard to stay awake to enjoy their last few hours of freedom before returning to another semester of school.
Very few students talked, and those who did were usually the younger years, who were roughly shoved by the older years to one end of the train. Damn annoying brats; they had no concept of a vacation. The older years knew how it was done: vacation wasn't about sleep and relaxation, it was about doing anything, everything with everyone and having the time of your life, stay up late and sleep in until you can't sleep anymore.
Just as many previous train rides before, the usual gang of Slytherins rested. Pansy sat next to the window, her beautiful eyes watched the magnificent landscape fall behind her. Every now and then she'd send an irritated glance at Goyle who randomly released a loud snore, and she'd grimace in disgust when Crabbe smacked his lips, causing a blob of drool to dangle from his bottom lip. She still couldn't understand why Draco put up with the two blokes. But then again, they were more like bodyguards than friends, not to mention that the two boys were being paid by Draco's father to make sure Draco stayed out of trouble. Surprisingly, while their skulls were so thick that trying to pass an O.W.L. (let alone a N.E.W.T.), was damn near impossible, the two boys could keep their mouth shut. Money does have a way of making the mouth precautious of its words.
As her eyes returned back to the landscape on the other side of her window, her fingers lazily twirled Blaise's hair, who's head rested comfortably in her lap. He titled his head inward, resting his nose against her stomach. Her heart jolted a little as he nuzzled her unconsciously in his sleep. And she tried to hide the smile that reached her lips.
So close, their noses brushed cautiously, gently against each other's. They could taste the alcohol on each other's breath, and it never had been so tempting.
Pansy shook her head and focused on the sky outside. She couldn't think of that night. But when you tell yourself to ignore something, you tend to concentrate on it more than before when you told yourself not to think of it.
The dim lights revealed the faintest outline of their silhouettes. The music pounded so loud that the beat vibrated in their chest, stomach, body. Her back was against the wall and he pressed up against her, his hands resting on her hips, trying to sneak underneath her blouse. She tugged at his shirt, pulling him closer to her, trying to capture his lips with hers because she wanted it, because it was a game. A cat and mouse game, where he'd come for her and she'd hid and she'd try to snatch him and he'd slip away. It was exciting, aggravating, and aroused them so strongly that she couldn't remember how they ended up in the bathroom stall with him kissing her neck, one of her legs wrapped around his waist and her back pressed roughly against the side of the stall.
It didn't go any father than that. They didn't have sex, and she thanked Merlin that she caught herself before they did. Her stomach turned at the thought, not because the idea repulsed her, but because she felt guilty.
"Blaise…" she whispered, trying to steady both of her feet on the ground. He pressed his lips against hers, pulling away just enough to gasp hoarsely, "Merlin, I love you."
She knew then that the alcohol wasn't talking. No amount of booze could smother that distinctive look and feel that she was all too familiar with: that look of need, of love.
"Blaise, I…" she couldn't finish, her tongue refused to form the words. She was too shocked to say anything, and she didn't want to say anything that would hurt her dear friend. He smiled, a smile that she had seen too many times and new that it was a façade. "Never mind, Pans. Too much alcohol tonight, eh?" he said, chuckling.
She knew that it hurt him to laugh it off. She could hear it in the very tattered ends of his chuckle that he was trying to cover up something, something that he wasn't supposed to reveal. "Blaise," she began, wanting to straighten things out.
"Don't worry, love," Blaise soothed, kissing her lightly on the forehead and opening the door for her to walk out. "We caught ourselves. That's all that matters."
He avoided her for the rest of the night, and it wasn't because he was embarrassed by what they had almost done. Multiple times, Blaise had opened the door when she was changing, and she had barged into the bathroom when he was stark naked and occasionally doing something inappropriate. Neither of them had anything to hide from each other. But she knew, just by the tentative way that he moved and acted around her that he was trying to suppress something.
The beautiful girl was familiar with a boy's actions. She had Draco to practice on. And as she and Draco parted ways and tested their skills on others, Pansy became familiar with the kisses and words that meant nothing, and those that meant something. And Blaise's were not "nothing".
But what made her feel guilty was not that Blaise felt something for her, but that out of all the times she was told that she was loved, and out of all the times her skin was bruised by feverous, frantic kisses and bite marks, not one made her feel so alive and exhilarated as Blaise's. Even as she thought about it now on the train, the idea of him waking up now and kissing her again, sliding his hands underneath her shirt and touching her stomach and back gently sent the most pleasant shivers through her body. She had never, ever gotten such a sensation from Draco.
And that was what made it wrong: the fact that it wasn't Draco who was giving her this pleasure, but Blaise.
Pansy blinked hard, trying to pull herself away from her fantasies of Blaise. She looked down at the person in question and grinned softly, as she continued to twirl her finger around one of his brown locks of hair. His face had lost the chubbiness it held when he was a child. His body now was tall and lean, and his shoulders were broad. His brown hair had always been interesting to watch, mostly because he'd style his hair in the most dramatic ways. When he was younger, he used to have short hair, which later morphed into a mohawk, and then grew into a long shag. Now he settled for something in-between, long enough for the corners of his hair to poke out from underneath his winter caps, and his hair had the tendency to curl at the tips. He knew he looked good, or "hot" as some girls enjoyed to gush in the bathroom stalls. He had once said that he "he had to keep up with Draco", that "to fall behind in looks meant leaving his blond haired friend with no competition", and that he "was the one that all the girls came to when rejected by the popular Slytherin". He had always joked that it was a good business for him. Pansy loved Blaise's cheekiness.
But while his body changed, his eyes remained the same: playfully bright and held a twinkle of child naivety. She knew that he wasn't as childishly naïve as he appeared, but he pretended to be, more for his friends' sake than for himself; they depended on that stroke of innocence to remind them of the better times, the purer times.
She treasured Blaise almost more than Draco. But she could never possibly choose between the two boys. Each boy had his special quirks and traits that captivated her. Each boy reflected her, and she reflected him; they mirrored each other and become one person. Alone they were fine; but together they were invincible. They were childhood friends, all three of them.
But over the years, she inwardly understood that she depended on Blaise to get her out of the scrapes she got herself into: psycho, possessive boyfriends, hangovers, drunk father. She counted on him to help her when she fell, and he was always there to pick her up. While Draco was the one who would carry her back to school after she had too many drinks at the bar, Blaise was the one who allowed her to sleep in his bed and slept on the floor himself. He was a true gentleman. And anyone would question why she favored the blond boy over the brunet one. She herself sometimes questioned it. Blaise was her best friend, the one she could firmly believe in to save her life. He would willingly give up his life for hers if she were in danger.
But there was something about Draco that she felt more connected with. There was some indescribable connection between the two of them that she didn't have with Blaise. Draco was her physical comforter. He was the one whose words made her feel beautiful. He was the one she loved more than anything, the one she'd sacrifice herself for to save his life, the one she would marry and stay loyal to.
The club still had people trooping into to join the New Year festivities. The party wasn't as fun anymore. Her mind was on the two people she cared most about in the world: Draco and Blaise, the man she loved, and the man who loved her.
Merlin! How could she have let it happen?
"Pansy, I won't tell. He'll never know. I promise you," Blaise swore, pulling her close in a friendly hug. Deep down, she wished that the hug could have been more than just friendly…
She hadn't been that drunk either. For some reason, she found the idea of kissing Blaise funny. She reasoned that she could play it off that she had too much to drink. But that first kiss, the first kiss that was supposed to be comical, turned into such passion…she closed her eyes.
She wished it had never happened. She wished she and Blaise never went to the bar. She wished they had stayed at Blaise's house and enjoyed the fireworks that his family always set off each New Year's. Why did they have to change their New Year's plans? She pounded the back of her head against the wall, not too loud that she disturbed her sleeping boys. Merlin, she wished she never knew of Blaise's feelings. She wanted to cry, just curl up in the corner of one of the train compartments and sob. She wanted to rip the memory out of her head because then maybe she wouldn't be longing to return to it. She wanted to rip off her skin because then maybe it wouldn't be burning for the touch of his skin against hers. She wanted to cut off her hair because then maybe she wouldn't long for his fingers to run through it again. She wanted it to all end…all of it.
Warm skin rubbed against her palm and she looked down to find Blaise playing with her hand, his dark eyes looking up into hers. He didn't say anything; he didn't have to. He merely squeezed her hand, and it was all the comfort that could never be expressed in words.
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
Crabbe and Goyle were already pushing their way to the train door when the train pulled into the Hogwarts station. The two boys were hungry and were eager to get to the Great Hall; it was almost dinner time. With the absence of the two bodyguards, Blaise and Pansy were left alone in the coupe. Blaise continued to rest on Pansy's lap, and Pansy never stirred to motivate him to move.
The train whistled, and Blaise sighed. Neither of them wanted to leave, and Blaise didn't want to return to reality. Because reality was a world where Pansy "belonged" to Draco, a world where Blaise was just Pansy's and Draco's friend, a world where Blaise took care of Pansy and was ignored for his efforts, a world where a boy was secretively in love with his best friend and knew that admitting this love would hurt more than just one person. And again Blaise had to suppress the urge to hold her close to him, to inhale the scent of her hair, to beg her to forget Draco and be with him instead.
He helped her get her bags off the overhead compartment. Neither had spoken of the incident at New Years. It was something that they were trying to forget for the benefit for each other and Draco. Pansy looked into her small hand mirror and fluffed her hair. Rubbing away the mascara residue, she walked towards the door, but stopped as his deep voice questioned, abruptly and almost desperately, "What do you see in him?"
Her hand continued to rest on the door and she slowly slid it shut, turning around, her back resting against it. Her eyes focused almost unwillingly on him. His brown bangs hung in front of his face, and somehow it was easier not to have to look at him.
"You've never told me," he added.
"I didn't think I had to," she replied.
"Well, you do now!" he said sharply, swinging his bangs out of his eyes. She started at his abrupt change, and noticing her uneasiness, he gave a quivering grin and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to –"
"It's ok. It's my fault," she admitted. She breathed deeply. The silence was overpowering, yet neither of them dared to move.
"Do you love him?" Blaise asked quietly.
She tried to laugh, but it came out short and awkward. "Don't be ridiculous, Blaise. Of course, I love him."
"No," he cut her off gently, "Do you really love him?"
"Yes," she immediately responded, her eyes staring at the carpeted floor. She swallowed when she saw his feet come towards her. She didn't want to look up, knowing his presence was already intoxicating. But even against her better judgment, she looked.
"You love him…?" he stated more than questioned, but even that statement sounded skeptical
A pause.
She pushed him hard against the chest, suddenly yelling, "Why do you have to know anyway? You never gave a damn before! I don't need this right now, Blaise. New Year's was a mistake, and I never meant for that to happen. I've got a good relationship with Draco and –"
"Good relationship! Both of you sleep around with other people! You rarely talk anymore. How is that a good relationship?" he yelled.
"It just is! It's always been this way and I'm not going to change it now on the whim of some stupid accident," she snapped, tears clinging to the corners of her eyes.
"Stupid accident, eh? You can't deny that we had something, Pans. You know that there was something there, something that you and Draco never had, never have together," he said.
"Yeah? And what would that be then?" she huffed.
Blaise came up to her, his head lowering, and just above her lips, whispered, "Love."
She had no time to protest for his lips pressed against hers, and the familiar, sinful feeling that enveloped her back at the club overwhelmed her again, and she responded to his heated kisses with just as much enthusiasm. So this is love then?
His hand's didn't roam over he body like most boys' hands tended to do. His lips stayed on hers, never feverishly kissing her neck or chest or face. He kissed her with a simple, true kiss that she rarely experienced, a kiss not inspired by spontaneous passion, but inspired by long-felt love. How she longed to feel this from Draco…
She pulled away, walking to the door. "No, Blaise. I…we can't. Even if…no, I can't do it. I can't."
Tears dribbled down her face and she tried hard not to sniffle, and she didn't realize she was crying until she found herself cradled to Blaise's chest, clinging onto him for comfort, for release from the frustrating, confusing emotions. "I just…I just…" she chocked.
"Sh, Pans. Don't worry. He doesn't and won't know because I won't tell and neither will you. We'll forget it ever happened," he said. He said these things, but he never really meant them. He wanted Draco to know. He wanted Draco to break up with her. He didn't want Pansy to forget because he knew he'd never be able to erase if from his mind. But he said them because it was what she wanted to hear from a potential lover, from a friend. Forget…just forget it all.
What if I don't want to forget? she thought, but instead nodded in agreement, although with slightly difficulty.
"Come on. Go on outside. I'll bring out the suitcases," encouraged Blaise, lightly tapping her out the door. She nodded, wiping her face and calming herself.
"Thank you, Blaise," she whispered, and then disappeared into the crowded aisle of the train.
Blaise stood in the empty compartment, and sniffed sharply, wiping away the own tears from his eyes. He breathed heavily. "Damn it, Pansy."
He loved her. The only other comparison one could make that might show the depth of his love for her would be to combine Pansy's loyalty to Draco, Harry's love for Hermione, Ron's dumbstruck fascination and eager-to-please for any Veela that walked by. Put the three forms of love together, winnow out the flaws, and you were left with Blaise's love. And just like the other three forms of love, his love shared the same flaw: the love wasn't returned.
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
Hermione waited in the shadows of the station. She didn't want to be seen. She knew she was supposed to be doing her Head Girl duties and help guide the younger years back up to the castle. But she didn't want to leave the darkness because then she'd have to face him…and she didn't know if she was quite ready for it.
Yet Hermione knew she'd have to come out of hiding; she had a message to give. Let's make one point specifically clear: Hermione Granger was no messenger girl. Well, that's not necessarily true. She gave messages only when she felt she should for the benefit of others, or just to be a nice person. Oh, just face the facts, Hermione! You ARE a messenger girl…and you don't mind it in the slightest, she taunted herself, and she didn't retaliate to the gibe either.
Her eyes noticed a familiar jacket that she had tried on a week earlier. Pansy stood on the steps of the train, fluffing her hood around her face, and smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles around her perfect waist. Hermione found herself trapped in a moment of jealously, wishing that she had a body like Pansy's, even for a day. She watched as Blaise helped her down the steps, watched him touch the small of her back and guide her out of harms way of intruding younger years. The way he took care of her, it softened her heart. It was a sweet gesture. Hermione knew that Blaise was friends with Pansy, and he hovered around her like a loyal bodyguard. She sometimes wished Ron and Harry would treat her as delicately – not that Hermione couldn't carry her own weight; she could do just fine without her boys, better even! But there were times, even for the shortest of moments, where Hermione wanted to be a delicate girl and have her boys treat her gently: offer a hand when getting off the train, carrying her bags for her, watch out for youngsters who were inclined to bumping rudely into her, and then threatening them bodily injury if they touched her again. The little things…it made a hell of a difference.
But that type of behavior wasn't what she'd get out of her boys. She loved her boys just the same. And now she had to push them out of her mind and do what Draco had asked her to do. Her thoughts instantly flew to Draco, their kiss in the haziness of the fireworks, and him burning himself. She knew what had caused it; it was completely obvious: he had lost control of his emotions. Her logical mind analyzed the situation and understood that Draco's brutal background of ingrained mottos of the evilness of Muggles and Mudbloods conflicted brutally against his actions that violated everything he was taught. And she didn't allow her mind to wander any further than that.
Hermione walked towards the Slytherins who were gazing around the platform, obviously searching for their pale-haired comrade. Hermione felt her face flush as she caught Pansy's critical, patronizing eyes staring at her, looking at her as if she were one of Hagrid's abominable creatures. She hated being around Pansy sometimes; the Slytherin girl carried an air around her that said four things: I'm prettier, richer, and superior than you; get away from me before your filthiness tarnishes my perfectness.
Hermione rolled her eyes mentally: "perfectness" isn't even a word. Yes, but it sure as hell fits in this case!
Crabbe and Goyle suddenly stood in front of her, stopping her from coming any closer to Blaise and Pansy, almost shielding the two Slytherins from her. She felt tiny in front of their towering figures. They looked down at her with their brooding, stone faces, a look that showed that they weren't asking her what was the nature of her business because it didn't concern them, but that she should tell them anyway if she wanted her body to still be in one whole piece.
"I need to speak to Zibani," she stated. Goyle and Crabbe looked over their shoulders, and moved when they received a slight head bob from Blaise.
"What do you want, Mudblood?" Pansy snapped, her eyes already narrowing in disgust.
Hermione resisted rolling her eyes and stared hard at Blaise. "I have a message from Malfoy – "
"From Draco? What about? I'd have never suspected Draco to be so desperate as to send you to deliver messages for him…He must be in trouble, unless you did something to him. You better not have hurt my Draco, Granger, or I swear I'll --"
"Pansy!" barked Blaise, holding onto her arm. Pansy closed her mouth abruptly, glancing up at Blaise who had his eyes fixed on Hermione. Hermione had never felt so exposed. "What's the message, Granger?"
Hermione looked up at Blaise, vaguely noting in her mind that Blaise was a very handsome gentleman. Too bad he's a Slytherin… Hermione glanced at Pansy. Draco told her to make sure she told Blaise, only. Pansy didn't know of his powers, and he didn't want her finding out either. She glanced again at Pansy and back up at Blaise. He got the hint and told Pansy to leave them alone for a moment.
"I will not move, Blaise Zibani! I have as much right to know what's going on! Don't touch me, Goyle!" she shrieked as the two bulky Slytherins lightly pushed her away from Blaise and Hermione. Throughout the commotion, Hermione stepped closer to Blaise who leaned down to hear her and she whispered, "He wants me to tell you that you were right; he wasn't as strong as he thought he was."
Blaise's nodded. He understood. Hermione pretend that she had no idea what the words meant; she and Draco promised to each other that they wouldn't tell others of each other's powers. Blaise looked at Hermione, who still continued to order, "He's in the Hospital Wing."
Again, the brunet nodded. "Thank you, Granger."
Stunned, Hermione stood on the platform, the moment around her taking a little longer to catch up. Blaise ordered Crabbe and Goyle to grab their stuff, and then taking Pansy by the arm, ushered her to one of the carriages, all the while whispering something in her ear. Pansy quieted and looked at him worriedly. As Draco's friends disappeared into the crowd of students, Hermione snorted quite unladylike and whispered, "Well I'll be…"
There are some good-mannered Slytherins after all. She scolded herself for being judgmental. Like everyone else, Hermione had fallen under the stereotypical plague of judging a person by their school badge: smart if from Ravenclaw, nice but completely talent-less (except the rare, rare cases like Cedric Diggory) if from Hufflepuff, brave and outgoing if from Gryffindor, and cold and snobbish if from Slytherin. She sighed. Even the smartest girl could be dull witted at times…
"Hermione!" a voice called. Her body froze, her breath catching in her throat. She closed her eyes and swallowed. It wasn't the person who called her that repulsed her; it was the others the person was with.
She turned around and found herself enveloped in Harry's warm arms, padded with what looked to be a new homemade-knitted sweater by the infamous magical hands of Mrs. Weasley. "Harry!" she cried back just as enthusiastically – she did miss Harry over the break. Harry hadn't been the one who hurt her.
It seemed like an eternity before she felt her feet back on the ground; Harry had grown tired of stooping down for long periods of time to hug Hermione, and instead resorted to lifting her completely off the ground. And she wished that she'd never touch the ground again because in doing so only meant –
"Hi Hermione."
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
"Draco, baby, are you all right? What happened?" Pansy questioned, holding the pale boy's hand. Blaise watched from the side, trying to keep his stomach from twisting in jealousy. He couldn't help but think: if I set myself on fire…
"Pans, I'm fine. I told you, the fireworks just got out of control," he soothed, rubbing her hand. Draco's skin was nearly restored. There were a few parts that were bandaged, some skin that was taking longer to heal, but the nurse had commented that he was recovering quite nicely: the new Cell-Repair potion was working quite well. "Hey, you look exhausted. Go take a nap. I'll be out soon, and then we'll do something fun, all right?"
She grinned, squeezed his hand and reluctantly went out of the room. Blaise watched her glide away, wondering how she could pretend that nothing drastic happened between them. She was treating their little affair as if it were just a game of tiddlywinks instead of a hard snogging in the bathroom stall. He couldn't get it out of his mind. He could imagine her pressed up against him, kissing him, touching him. Merlin…if only Draco didn't exist… But we will discuss Pansy's dilemma and feelings at another time.
Meanwhile…
"I told you that you weren't strong enough," Blaise scolded after Pansy had left. "I told you. I told you. And you didn't listening to me…again."
"Damn it, Blaise, I think I can see that. Merlin, you love rubbing it in my face, don't you?" Draco snapped.
Silence thickened between the two boys who glared at each other. "How'd it happen? What happened?" Blaise demanded.
Draco didn't speak. He knew he couldn't say anything about Hermione; he promised her he wouldn't and for once, he actually wanted to keep a promise. And he couldn't tell him about the kiss that he shared with the Mudblood. He couldn't possible explain that he was enjoying hanging around her, and that that kiss was one of the best damn things he had felt in a long time, if only his mind would just leave him alone for a sodding moment.
"Well?" Blaise waited for an answer.
It's our little secret, Hermione…"I just tried to do something with my powers. It was too much. I caught fire," he replied lamely.
"You caught fire," Blaise repeated skeptically.
"No, I just made it up so I could come and lounge around in the hospital wing. I suppose it's the hospital food they serve us: rubbery and tasteless," Draco replied sarcastically.
"I leave you alone for a week and you go nuts. It's a good thing it was only for a week, otherwise you might have set the whole school on fire," Blaise derided, ignoring Draco's sarcasm. "How could you set yourself on fire? What were you doing? Someone could have seen you! Did anyone see you? Someone has to wonder how you lit yourself on fire. How are you going to explain this?"
"What is this, 20 questions?" Draco snarled, now royally irritated with Blaise's behavior. "What the hell is your problem? If it's anyone who should have a stick up his ass it'd be me cause I've been stuck in this castle with that mudblood for a whole damn week while you've been out partying and getting drunk and what looks like getting lucky with some birds."
"What?" Blaise asked, his face paling.
Draco pointed at his shirt, "On your collar, there's some lipstick on it. What's wrong, Blaise? You look like you're about to be sick."
Blaise sat down in a chair near Draco's bed and rubbed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. Draco couldn't possible know. "It's nothing. I'm just wiped out from winter break."
"Yeah, I can see that," Draco chuckled. Blaise gave a feeble attempt to grin.
"So any news? Did he tell us anything?" Draco questioned.
Blaise looked around, whispering under his breath, "You know we're not allowed to talk about it."
"It's ok. I've had Silencing spells up ever since I ended up here," Draco smirked. "I'm asking because Flint visited me early during the break. He was saying that the Dark Lord is going to be having another meeting soon, of course, involving me and my duties."
Draco looked out the window, watching the snow that had begun to fall. He could still hear her voice whispering as he laid burnt on the bed, "Look, Draco! It's finally snowing!"
Merlin, her voice was so beautiful sometimes. A part of him wished she were sitting near him again, talking about needless things, but trying to pass the time, help him forget the pain. He hoped she was all right, hoped that Weasley wasn't hassling her. Dumb weasel, he sure screwed up…he thought and then, No! You promised you wouldn't think of her like that. Knock it off!
Resting his head back on his pillow he mumbled, "If you're not going to say anything, then go and get cleaned up; You look like shit."
Blaise chuckled, stood up, said that he'd check up on him later, and left him alone.
Draco never once took his eyes off the falling snowflakes; he could almost see her outlined figure pointing at the window, almost…just like he could almost taste her lips against his, just like he could feel her fingers gently touching him, just like he could recall her looking at him when they lied in his bed, never thinking of what got them in that position and never truly caring, but just enjoying the calming sensation of having someone who knew exactly what he were going through.
The thought of returning to the normal way of things sadden Draco. But then again, now that his friends were here, maybe it wouldn't be too difficult. She'd be off with those losers she called friends, and he'd be off with his. And the death glares and death threats would start all over again. But Draco tried not to think about the next day when school would resume. He thought of that one moment, that one moment where it truly become winter, when the snow first fell, and how his chest burned not from the aftermath of the fire, but by the gentle, innocent, meaningless words that she spoke to him, "Look, Draco…!"
He liked how she said his name.
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"Hi, Hermione," Ron said, his eyes continuously flickering between her face and the ground. Her mouth went dry. She looked around. Ginny was nearby, enthusiastically hugging her beau. Hermione couldn't remember his name, nor did she care to remember; the little red head would probably get a new one over the next week or two. If there was one thing that she disliked about Ginny, it was how she went through guys faster than a smoker with a pack of cigarettes.
"Hello…Ron," she said at last, the words coming out easier than she had predicted.
"Did you have a good break?" he asked nervously. Small talk…they were back to small talk. It was good start, but when juxtaposed to everything they had had together, it was just pitiful. Baby steps, really, that's all this was: baby steps back to the big picture.
"Yes. It was fine," she replied. She didn't want to talk to him any longer. Not just yet. She felt uncomfortable being around him because she could still picture him with Lavender, kissing in the corridor. She turned to Harry, smiling gently, "You guys should probably head up to the castle. It's getting late, not to mention I'm sure you're tired. Hagrid said that it's supposed to snow really hard tonight."
"It's been snowing like mad at the Burrow. I wish you could have been there with us, Hermione," Harry said. He smiled gently. He understood the uneasiness between the previous couple. "Come on, Ron. Grab the bags and let's get up to the castle. We'll see you around, right Hermione?"
"Of course. Just need to herd the rest of the kids into the carriages."
"It's amazing," Ron commented and she automatically looked over at her ex whose eyes were transfixed on the castle they called their second home. "Do you guys remember seven years ago, when we got off the train for the first time, we went by boat to the castle. I wish we could go on them again. It'd be a nice blast to the past."
"Yeah. That's when everything really began. Well, not really. It was until the troll incident that everything truly began," Harry replied, looking over at Hermione who grinned.
"Yes, our friendship that was sealed and built on a lie," she laughed. "But I'm glad I did."
The trio stood together, and Hermione couldn't feel but at home as she had to tilt her head to look up at her boys. Yes, her boys. Not Lavender's, not Ginny's, not any other female in Hogwarts, but hers, Hermione's. A brief sentimental feeling overwhelmed her and she grabbed both boys and brought them into a hug. People would say that Hermione was being incredibly emotional, grabbing her two friends so physically. But Hermione was a smart girl. She knew that after Hogwarts, they could drift apart in an instant. Course, they would write to each other, a brief owl visit at Christmas and possibly on birthdays. But when thrown into a whole other world, a world of work and jobs and families, it was easily possible that they would drift apart, if they weren't lost in the war that would take place sooner or later…she tried not to think about it, and so she took this one moment, this one moment that might never reoccur in the future, and she embraced her friends, this moment of who they were, and she embraced it and held onto it, whispering, "I'm glad you're back."
"Me too, Hermione," the two boys said at different times, their words overlapping each other's. It was a brief hug before they broke apart because the boys were still uncomfortable with such sudden displays of affection, especially in public. Hermione gave Harry a smile, and couldn't help but lessen it into a grin when she looked at Ron. Ron, noticing the change, returned the grin with the same sad, disappointed look. He quickly turned and went to one of the floating carriages.
Harry grabbed her arm, looking at her and asking, "You feeling alright, Hermione?"
She knew he was specifically asking her how she was handling being around Ron. And she didn't quite know. She had wanted to be angry at Ron, so angry that she'd throw a tantrum at the mere sight of him. She wanted him to say or do something and give her an excuse to throw something at him, cast a hex on him. She wanted to give him the cold shoulder, make him miserable, regret every touch, ever second he had kissed and held Lavender. And then somewhere along the line, somewhere between the time when she decided to be mean and when she actually saw him, her anger faded away. Don't underestimate her. She still was upset with what Ron did. But she didn't want to needlessly drain herself emotionally by thinking about it, not to mention that the whole scenario with Draco kept her busy. And maybe that was another reason why she lessened her hate towards Ron: her odd relationship with Draco.
"I'm fine, Harry," she responded, although her voice shook, and she was slightly startled by it. Then again, she had been petrified of seeing Ron again after winter break. What had happened before couldn't be explained and forgiven in a letter. They would have to talk about it, and that idea cause another wave of uneasiness. But that quivering in her voice was not due to future things to come – there would be plenty of quivering and tearing for that – this quivering was due to the aftershock of the pent up fear she had built for over a week. And now that that moment was gone and didn't require the use of that fear, she felt drain and found it hard to control her voice. She breathed deeply, clearing her throat.
"I had no idea – " Harry began but Hermione shook her head.
"It's fine, Harry. I'm fine. Everything's fine."
"If you ever want to talk…" he said, trailing off, but never ceasing in looking at her. She smiled at him and embraced him, glad to have a friend.
"Thank you Harry. I'm so glad your back."
His heart soared, and Harry thought it would leap out of his mouth and into the air and burst into a million pieces, that soaring feeling that was almost equivocal to when Hermione was kissing Draco not even 24 hours ago.
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A/N: Good news still: grades are up! I'm passing all my classes. Yeah:does a Scottish jig: Bad News: I'm having a hard time in connecting the chapters and storyline to this story. But I'd hate to disappoint all of you, and I'm going to try and pick up the pace. I know it's been well over a month since I last updated, but in my own defense, I've been waiting for other authors to update for about six months now…so at least I'm not that terrible. School is coming to a close in the last quarter, the problem is the frantic race to the end meaning lots of projects, lots of get-togethers with friends who are leaving for college, and trying to do everything else under the sun at the same time. O.o My life is a nuthouse run by squirrels.
So give my troubled mine some peace and leave me a review on what you thought on this chapter. It was interesting to hear your thoughts on the 4th film. I didn't like it the first time I saw it, but the second time wasn't as bad. I think I was expecting too much, and I was viewing it as if I had never read the books before. I thought a lot of the scenes were choppy, the acting was a little better – still not overly impressed compared to other films, but I'm not disregarding the movie on that little whim – and the special effects were good. I was upset a little by some of the things that they added in for Hollywood type of spice, but I was glad they had some of the highlights. I have to say though that Mad-Eye Moody was a disappointment for me. I think it was the eye: it looked fake compared to everything else. Maybe it's just me, but I imagined his eye to be IN his socket, not popping out like that. Again, not enough Quidditch for my Quidditch-craving needs. And I didn't like how they made Krum kind of…crummy. Yes, out loud I know that can be a pun, and a really cheesy joke, but there's no other word I could describe it; they portrayed him as a Slavic cold brute that went around scowling all the time, and I'm getting sick of those stereotypical representations. Not to mention that the lack of Rita Skeeter disappointed me: I actually was looking forward to having someone to really hate in the movie. I did like the entrance of the schools though. The thumping of the wooden staffs was really brilliant. The dancing at the Yule Ball was excellent, and the dance lessons were hilarious (I was ecstatic to see they kept George's – or was it Fred's? – little Yule Ball proposal to Angelina). Of course, I think the main thing that irritated me was how they portrayed Dumbledore; to me, he seemed really out of character, yelling and grabbing onto Harry so violently. But it is after all a movie made for those who've read the books and like to actually watch the imagination on screen instead of in their head. So thumbs up for the movie in general and now I'm wondering how the Order of the Phoenix will turn out. Well, that's my thoughts on the movie. I did like it though, so please don't yell at me if you thought the movie was rock-your-socks-in-all-direction-brilliant.