I do not own any of the characters or story line of Harry Potter, and all credit goes to J.K Rowling, the legend herself.
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Chapter Four.
"Do you have any spare parchment?"
Hermione glanced up from her open book and looked to Blaise, who was currently surrounded by stacks of literature and stray pieces of parchment. She eyed the piece before him, which was full to the last centimeter with manuscript writing. The two had met up as planned to finish the last half of their essay, which was coming along rather quickly much to Hermione's bliss. The weather was still mildly warm, and so many students had vacated the school to make the most of the lurking heat. This was just as pleasing, as it allowed Hermione and her partner to progress through the essay without disruption. That was, apart from the present one. Lifting her own sheet of work, she gently withdrew a new piece of parchment from her pile beneath and leaned across the canyon of books to hand it to Blaise. The latter thanked Hermione appreciatively.
"I presume it's time for a break, anyway," Hermione said, placing the open book on her lap beside her and stretching her neck.
Blaise nodded in agreement, and relaxed back into the plush, leather armchair he sat in across from Hermione. He crossed his ankles above a pile of books on the table and spread his arms along the back of his chair. Hermione examined his arrogant posture. It reminded her vaguely of a certain blonde Slytherin, but she supposed spending so much time with him would have had some sort of influence over Blaise. She was right. Hermione's mind wandered to her incident with Malfoy the day before. She also pondered over the scene in which she witnessed just before the match. Hermione was not an imbecile. Like it or not, the whole school knew that. And so she knew Malfoy had instructed Crabbe to pull the barbaric move he had done. Her brow furrowed slightly, as she mused over the cracks in the foundations of Dean and Malfoy's friendship.
"Something troubling you, Granger?" Blaise's smooth voice called, with a slight etch of amusement cracking the silence.
Hermione instantly snapped out of the trance she had fallen under, and glanced at Blaise, who had a slight smirk playing across his mouth. She chose to ignore him, not giving him the satisfaction he craved. The Slytherin removed his legs from the table and leant forwards on his knees. He spoke in a hushed voice, as though there were actually other people in the library, who had interest on listening in to their conversation,
"Worried about your boyfriend?"
"-He is not my boyfriend!" Hermione snapped, a little louder than she should have.
Her voice echoed through the library, in return for a stern look from Madame Pince. She looked away instantly, feeling her cheeks inflame and glow a deep shade of red. Blaise simply smiled, and relaxed back into his seat again, shaking his head at Hermione. The latter pursed her lips disapprovingly.
"I'm sure he'll be fine. Was simply just not quick enough on the ball, or should we say bludger, to meet Malfoy's agility."
Hermione felt the anger rise through her body. She clenched her fists in attempt to calm herself, as she felt her heart murmur slightly.
"I wouldn't exactly call it agility that Malfoy possesses," she manged to say, rather calmly, "What he did on that pitch was practically barbaric. And I think you and I both know exactly what his intention was to-"
At that moment, a small group of Ravenclaw girls made their way past Hermione and Blaise's table. They giggled in hushed voices, and a little more confident blonde from the back waved excitedly. Hermione glanced at Blaise, who nodded politely at the girls and waved with lack of enthusiasm. The girls giggled once more and continued walking. Hermione shook her head in disbelief. There were merely to more rows of shelves behind them, each stocked with the oldest books Hermione had come across. All of them had little use to the students, as they covered topics along the lines of A Guide to Slaying a Grindelow to Types of Cauldron and Their True Meanings. The group of girls, about three or four from what Hermione could make out, had merely ventured their way to catch a glimpse of Blaise in hope he would talk to them.
"Ridiculous," Hermione murmured, absent mindedly.
Blaise chuckled in a low, purring voice, and quirked an eyebrow,
"Jealous, Granger?"
"Of your silly little fanclub?" Hermione rolled her eyes, "I'd rather eat my own foot."
"I forgot, you go for Hufflepuffs," Blaise taunted.
Hermione shot him a glance that reflected the phrase 'If looks could kill', and Blaise took this as a warning not to go further.
"It's not all that bad you know. I mean, for example, I heard Ravenclaws are having a party tonight. It gives me the excuse to go," the dark wizard shrugged his shoulders.
"And are you going to?" Hermione questioned him. Surprisingly, she already knew about the party, as Luna had invited her.
Blaise shook his head in return.
"If I stepped one foot in there, I can't imagine coming out alive."
Hermione smiled slightly, straightening the pile of parchment after parchment she'd written beside her.
"What about you, are you going?" Blaise questioned, though he knew the answer and simply attempted to amuse himself.
"Luna invited me," Hermione began, receiving a fake look of interest from Blaise, "But, no. There's better things to be doing in life that partying."
"Oh of course," Blaise mused, "The importance of pouring through book after book and reading Wise Witches Weekly is so much more thrilling than going to a party."
Hermione eyed Blaise skeptically. He was similar to her in many ways, when it came to studying and his approach to learning. Hermione presumed he'd be studying too, rather than attending a party.
"What're you trying to say?" she continued, raising her chin with an air of authority.
"Look," Blaise leaned forwards once again, his voice rather less taunting that before and his eyes locked on Hermione's, "I just think that you ought to have a break every once in a while. Don't think I'm doing this for my undying concern for you-"
Hermione scoffed, shaking her head and looking at the book beside her,
"-But our exams are months away. And a small party never did anybody harm, don't you agree?"
A small knot found it's way into Hermione's stomach, as she furrowed her brow again. She glanced back to Blaise's eyes, which flashed with a knowing look. Hermione had the temptation to ask why if he was so pushing of this party, he was not going himself. But she thought it better not to, and instead shrugged her shoulders slightly and turned back to her essay.
Hermione hated hospitals. She found no joy in being around those who were ill, diseased, or dying. She supposed, really, that was why she was hardly ever ill. She was so afraid of those who were ill, she would sanitize at any given chance and distance herself from the diagnosed as much as possible. However, Hermione attempted to forget that as she approached the Hospital Wing, nervously fiddling with the sleeve of her robe. This was the second time she had been in the hospital wing that week, and only ever had she been in it before, twice, once when the ever famous Gilderoy Lockheart vanished the bones from Harry's arm in first year, and once when, involuntarily, Hermione had been submitted to the hospital after being petrified in her second year. Despite this, Hermione pushed through the large oak doors of the Hospital Wing and stepped inside. It was lonely and silent, as usual. That was also something Hermione didn't like. Hospitals practically drained you of happiness due to their misery and dying hope. She advanced forwards, noticing happily that only one other bed was occupied, by what looked like a 4th year Hufflepuff called Myra Thompson, though Hermione couldn't be sure due to the ever-growing boils on her face. Regardless, Hermione smiled politely at the girl, and continued towards the back of the room where Dean usually lay. She turned to her left, but halted slightly as she noticed Dean's absence. The sheets on the bed where fresh, and crisp, and neatly folded around the bed. The seat Hermione had sat beside Dean upon, was now fixed by the side of the small beside table, which was empty of the Get Well Soon cards and items Dean had received. Hermione glanced around the ward, checking to see he had not been moved to a different bed, or was walking around, but they too were a disappointment. Only when a stern voice interrupted, did Hermione become disrupted from her train of thoughts.
"Discharged this morning," a cold, female voice replied.
Turning on her heel, Hermione noticed Madame Pomfrey, who was pouring over a clipboard and paying as little attention to her as possible.
Hermione wet her lips, fumbling to find the words to say.
"Are you sure? I mean, no one said-"
"-Do you see Mr Thomas in that bed? Hm?" the Nurse interrupted, glancing at Hermione before returning her focus to her clipboard.
Hermione felt almost foolish. Though, who could blame her? No one had told her that Dean had been discharged, not even himself, who Hermione thought would be more than likely to have searched for her to inform her. Her stomach rumbled with neglect. She hadn't even thought about having lunch before coming to visit Dean, and the nervousness and apprehension had caused her to lose her appetite anyway. Hermione thanked Madame Pomfrey briefly, before rushing out of the Hospital Wing as quickly as her feet could carry her. She did not aim to spend any more time in there than necessary.
Hermione had no idea where her feet were carrying her. Her thoughts were a reel of theories, and questions, and confusion regarding Dean, and his 'friendship' with Malfoy, and flashbacks of the Quidditch game. By the time she reached the Great Hall, absent mindedly fleeting down stairs after stairs and corridor after corridor, she was deep within her thoughts. That was, until, once again she was disrupted as someone called her name.
"Hermione!"
The Gryffindor turned immediately, breaking from her trance that had set upon her. She recognized the boyish smile that was approaching her, and she found herself smiling too. Dean jogged slowly over to Hermione, closing in the small distance that separated them. Hermione eyed his left arm, which was casually finding it's way into his slack's pocket.
"I see you're well healed," she commented, gesturing to his arm.
Dean's smile faded a little as he looked at his arm and back to Hermione.
"I was discharged this morning, Pomfrey said everything was fine," he continued, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, the thought completely swept my mind-"
"-It's fine," Hermione smiled. Although, it wasn't fine really, not at all. Hermione imagined she would be Dean's priority, but clearly not. "I imagine you had your friends to talk to, and to catch up with."
The two turned slightly to glance at Dean's friends, who were mostly his team mates, as they sat at the Hufflepuff table watching the scene unfold. Many of them were whistling, or hollering, and there was the odd kissing face here and there. Hermione rolled her eyes in disgust. She wondered how exactly Dean had not ended up like them.
"Ignore them, they're unbelievably childish at times," Dean said, taking Hermione's arm gently and turning her attention back to him.
Hermione smiled feverishly.
"So," Dean continued, a little more enthusiasm in his voice, "Anything exciting to tell me? Fill me in on the gossip, what about this Ravenclaw party tonight?"
With a small laugh, Hermione shook her head, glancing at Dean's face which was beaming with his child like grin.
"You and I both know that Hermione Granger is not the biggest gossip of the school," she rolled her eyes slightly, "But Luna did invite me to the Ravenclaw party."
Dean's grin lost it's sincerity, as he blinked a few times in concentration.
"But you're not going, right?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.
Hermione eyed him skeptically, a little confused by his sudden change of behavior. She knew that Dean would most definitely be going, and she almost expected him to encourage her to go too. Much like Blaise had, strangely.
"Well," Hermione began, wetting her lips as she stuttered, "Well, no. I wasn't going to. But, it's just- well, are you going?"
Dean nodded his head repeatedly,
"Yeah, I'm going. I mean, I wasn't going to, but the boys wanted to go so I went, I didn't really have a choice, really..." he laughed nervously.
Hermione also nodded in understanding, but continued the matter nevertheless.
"I'm not the type of person to go to parties at all, but someone sort of, advised me, you could say," she glanced over to the Slytherin table, and noticed strangely that both Malfoy and Blaise were watching intently as Hermione and Dean conversed. She felt her stomach knot a little, as she frowned in their direction, "-I guess one needs a release every once in a while."
Dean noticed Hermione's absence in attention to him. He glanced over his shoulder briefly, looking in the direction Hermione was staring. He turned back, with an expression that reflected his chagrin.
"This person who advised you," he rolled his eyes, "Well, you really don't have to go if you don't want to."
Hermione returned her concentration to Dean, who was examining her from head to toe. She hated it when he did that. It made her want to squirm under his gaze and tell him to stop instantly. It was the side of Dean that didn't appeal to Hermione, and she tended to try and avoid coming across it regularly. With a quick clear of her throat, his eyes instantly return to hers, as she spoke.
"Well I couldn't possibly leave you with your barbaric friends, with no one decent to actually talk to. I guess that just gives me all the more reason to go."
Dean forced a smile, and nodded slightly.
"I guess it does," he said, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm in his voice, "I'll see you there, then."
Hermione also nodded, as Dean examined her with a strange expression Hermione couldn't quite make out, before turning and heading back to the Hufflepuff table. Though she was now alone, Hermione could still feel a presence on her, watching her, much like she felt when Dean was examining her before. She glanced briefly, back to the Slytherin table, and was instantly met by a pair of glacial, bitter grey eyes. Hermione took a breath instantly. Blaise had now become deep in conversation with what looked to be Theodore Nott, a tall, handsome Slytherin who was well know for his knowledge. Draco Malfoy however, had acquired a deep interest and concentration in staring Hermione out with a complete look of what seemed to be a mixture of disgust and intriguement. She turned instantly, breaking the gaze between the two, and hurried to the Gryffindor table feeling the heat rise on her cheeks. She detested when Malfoy stared at her like that. Like she was some filth that his large, Italian leather, booted foot had stood on, and he was examining her in hatred before he would flick her off his sole. Only when she noticed Lavender, who was walking, arms linked with Pavarati Patil, did Hermione snap out of her thoughts.
"Lavender?" she called, receiving a glance from the blonde who told her friend she would meet her outside in a minute.
Hermione approached her, which Lavender didn't look too happy about. She raised an eyebrow, inspecting her perfectly manicured nails.
"Yes, Hermione?"
If it wasn't for what she was about to ask, Hermione probably wouldn't have been so nice to Lavender, along side her cockiness and superior attitude.
"Can I ask a favour, please?" Hermione said, lightly.
Lavender looked almost intrigued.
"Depends what it is," she said, folding her arms across her chest.
"I need you to cover for me tonight-"
"-You're going to the party, aren't you?" Lavender said instantly.
Hermione paused for a moment, her mouth in a small 'O' shape. She wasn't actually going to tell Lavender where she was going, but she wasn't expecting her to know, either.
"Well, yes, but- How did you know?"
"It's not merely a coincidence that on the one night there's a party, you approach me, and are about to ask me to cover for you on prefect patrols," the blonde said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"-However," she continued, "I am in doubt as to the fact that it's you, Hermione Granger, who is skipping patrols?"
To be truthful, Hermione was also beginning to doubt herself. However, she could enjoy the festivities all she liked. She supposed one night, that was out of many nights she had abide the rules, shouldn't hurt.
"Could you please just tell anyone who asks that I have taken ill, and don't want to be disturbed in my dorm please? I'm sure you can find someone who'll cover for me on patrols."
Lavender nodded in reply, before straightening up and quirking an eyebrow at Hermione.
"What's in this for me?" she asked.
Hermione had saw this coming. Lavender Brown was a selfish girl who rarely did anything for anyone else unless it benefited her, too.
"I don't know," Hermione said, hastily, "But we can sort something out, anything. Okay?"
Lavender seemed satisfied with this answer, and nodded happily with a small smirk playing across her pink, glossed lips. She turned, with a small bounce in her step, and headed out the Great Hall, in hope of finding Pavarati.
That night came far too quickly for Hermione's liking. She had, earlier that day, informed Ginny of what exactly was going on. Ginny had obliged to come with Hermione to this party, as she too was interested by Dean's curious behavior. There was also the condition that Ginny loved attending parties anyway, which made persuading her a whole lot easier for Hermione. The party was addressed 'casual', therefore the girls did not have to dress up. In hopes of not attracting any attention to this party, Ravenclaw had asked people to dress mainly in their uniforms, or normal clothes. Hermione felt no urge to dress extravagantly, and so she simply wore a baby pink blouse, with her trustful denim jeans and brow ballet flats. Ginny, too, wore something along the lines of Hermione, sporting a navy and white striped top, with burgundy jeans and some old brown ankle boots she'd found in her trunk.
The two headed out at around seven o'clock. Curfew for students in Ginny's year or above was eight, but, being a prefect, Hermione was allowed out that little longer. All they had to do was ensure they arrived at the Ravenclaw Common Room before Ginny's curfew, and they decided they would figure out how to get back later on. All was successful.
Hermione and Ginny sat in the Ravenclaw Common Room. Upon arrival, Hermione and Ginny had noticed that many of the attendants had ignored the dress code completely. Many Ravenclaw girls, the odd Hufflepuff and a couple of Gryffindors, had turned up wearing short, tight dresses. One girl even wore a cropped top and the tiniest skirt Hermione had ever seen possible. She rolled her eyes in disgust as the girl who Hermione recognised as a Hufflepuff, flicked her long, straight, blonde hair over her shoulder and turned her back on Hermione. Most of the boys wore casual clothes. Either their school uniform, or average clothes like Chudley Cannons t-shirts Hermione had seen Ron wore frequently, and jeans.
The music was quite loud, and Hermione was obviously not used to the party atmosphere. She sat, along side Ginny, on a brown, leather sofa in the center of the room. To her left, was Terry Boot, and what looked to be Isobel MacDougal, talking rather closely to eachother. To her right, was Micheal Corner, who seemed to already be passed out within the first hour of the party.
Hermione had been searching the room for Dean all night. She hadn't seen him so far. He'd seemed rather excited about the party, before he knew Hermione was going, that was, and so she was more than sure he would turn up. Taking a sip of her Pumpkin juice, she felt a dip in the sofa beside her.
"Glad you could make it."
Hermione turned to see Dean, who was relaxed back into the sofa with his arm along the back rest, behind Hermione. He wore a plain yellow t-shirt, which Hermione noticed looked a little too small for him. It hugged his muscles tightly, showing his bulging arms and toned torso. She imagined he may have bought a size too small for this effect. Paired with some denim jeans and black trainers, he looked rather... cute in his causal clothes. Hermione smiled in response. Dean attempted to smile too, but Hermione notice the dilation in his pupils, and eyed the drink in his hand. He'd obviously been drinking.
Dean noticed Hermione's eyes trace over his drink and his face. He looked to her glass of pumpkin juice on the coffee table and chuckled.
"Pumpkin juice, really Granger?" he said, with a smile that soon faded as Hermione frowned. "-Sorry, Hermione, I mean."
Hermione dismissed his comment. She guessed he wasn't quite used to calling her Hermione yet. The nickname Granger still didn't sit well with her, though, and still made her think of that certain blonde Slytherin.
Eyeing the glass in his hand, that was still a large percentage full, Dean held out his drink to Hermione, and nodded at it.
"Try some," he said, that haunting smile returning to his face.
Hermione shook her head with a slight smile,
"I don't drink," she said, a little loudly attempting to talk over the increasing volume of music.
Dean leaned forwards, closing in on Hermione. He stopped until his face was barely an inch away from hers. She felt her breath catch slightly, as she attempted to keep a calm face.
"Just try some," he whispered, the heat of his heavily intoxicated breath dancing on Hermione's face. She held her breath slightly as the strong smell of alcohol lingered in the air.
Hermione shook her head once again,
"No thankyou," she said, trying to be polite.
Dean held her stare, but Hermione broke away as she watched him bring the glass up towards her lips. She inched away slightly, attempted to create as much space between her mouth, Dean, and the glass, as she could.
At that moment, there was a large stir of jeers. There was the odd cheer, some, boos, and some general animosity of chatter. Dean halted, turning his head to see what was happening. Hermione felt a sigh of relief escape her chest. She inched backwards, expecting to bump slightly into Ginny, but she turned to see Ginny had left her side during her and Dean's incident. Thinking of Dean, she turned back, to see the Hufflepuff slam his drink on the table and throw his arms along the back of the sofa once more.
"Why did they have to come?" He grunted, barely audible, but Hermione caught it just about.
She glanced from Dean, who's face seemed to be resembling that of a sulking child, as he stared into the burning fire and reached for his drink again. Hermione looked towards the portrait hole that had swung open. Suddenly, she was feeling quite the same as Dean. Swaggering through the crowd of people, was Draco Malfoy and his trusty sidekick, Blaise Zabini. Malfoy looked practically amused. He wore a large smirk on his face, alongside his school shirt that was undone by around five buttons, his Slytherin tie, untied and hanging loosely around his neck, and his hands stuffed in his pockets. Blaise looked similar, though a little more put together. Hermione eyed the Ravenclaw girls, who were now talking in hushed voices and pointing at the Slytherin pair. As Malfoy and Blaise made their way across the Common Room towards Hermione and Dean, Draco shot a glance at the Gryffindor and sneered.
"Nice party, huh, Dean?" Draco joked, still staring at Hermione, who was trying to give Draco her best 'You're so pathetic' look.
Dean stared into the fire, his eyes reflecting the flames. Hermione hadn't see Dean quite like this before, and she eyed him cautiously.
"Whatever, Malfoy," he said, through gritted teeth.
Hermione looked between Dean and the Slytherins. She noticed Blaise smirk as she looked at him with a confused expression. Hermione was sure she could recall the boy saying he wasn't coming tonight. Draco swung his arm around Blaise's shoulder as the two weaved their way past Hermione and Dean. Ginny took a seat beside Hermione as Dean instantly stood and strode in the same direction as Draco and Blaise. The red-head asked what had happened, explaining she thought she should've given Hermione and Dean some space. The brunette told her that she had no idea, and that she was just as confused and clueless. Ginny frowned in response, and Hermione felt an uncomfortable squirm in her stomach. She had a feeling that this night was not going to be very fun after all.
A/N: There was so much more of this chapter to write! But I've noticed I've gone over 4,000 words which I set as my limit for each chapter so I guess the next one will be a follow up from this. I'll write it straight away and put them both up at the same time. Thankyou for your kind reviews, THIS IS THE TWISTING POINT YOU'VE ALL BEEN HOPING FOR! Enjoy!
Don't forget review, good or bad, all feedback is appreciate and really motivates me to continue writing.
Thanks, Amelia x