Disclaimer: Harry Potter still does not belong to me.
Chapter Nine
Just a Little Bit Confused
They didn't fit together. At all.
Hermione had heard a lot about marriage in her life. Specifically, she had been to a fair number of weddings, and watched far more on television during the summer holidays. She'd read about countless more. In each and every case, be it her cousin Alice's country estate affair three summers ago, or some exotic elopement in a cheesy romantic film, the husband and wife always looked right together. They melded. Separately and together. Even if just for a moment. They fit.
And the wedding was always, always romantic.
Hermione had never given much thought to what her wedding would be like. She hadn't even been sure if she would even get married. But that was in the past now, because she was.
She didn't want to dwell on it. She tried her very best to forget it. But whenever she managed such a feat, the incessant ring that was heavy against a finger on her left hand made its presence felt the way a person felt if they were hit by a bludger at 100mph. It knocked the wind right out of her and she couldn't breathe but she could think. Oh, she could think all right.
All she would think about would be him.
Blonde hair. Practically platinum. Messier but just as long as it had always been only not slicked back the way it was in the past. Steely grey eyes that had easily seen many terrible things, things that she could only imagine but thought of all the same, things that made them cold. He was tall and had enough arrogance about him that a significant proportion of the female population of Hogwarts thought him annoyingly attractive, stupidly in Hermione's eyes. She certainly would not admit to it. What were looks anyway? If you went by him, they were most definitely not a judge of character.
She was going to try and be normal. It was a Saturday morning, and as it happened, the first Hogsmeade weekend of the school year. Naturally everyone in third year and above was excited to be escaping the castle grounds for a day and so Hermione had promised herself that she would make an effort to have some fun with her friends. She also promised herself to try and not be moody and depressive because she had been coerced into marrying a ferret. Because she was sure she was becoming worse with each passing day and she didn't want to burden her friends anymore with her issues, particularly when she was not at a liberty to discuss those issues, and most importantly, when she still wasn't quite sure what they were.
She had approached the problem of dealing with this marriage in numerous, logical ways. She figured if she could just find out why, then it would make dealing with it much easier. And if that were too happen, she would be back to normal in no time.
First, she had spent every waking moment that wasn't filled with schoolwork or heads duties searching for the identity of the mystery potion that Snape had given both Malfoy and her a week ago to drink daily. She poured over books for hours in the library, and on the rare occasion she had official access to the restricted section she searched there too, but it had been a fruitless search. There was little on Wizarding marriages, both modern and ancient in any text she came across, and any mention that she did manage to find was vague, and none whatsoever mentioned marriage spells that required a potion to work or magic rings appearing that could not come off. Seeing as she had no magical parents to ask, and she was adamant that she would not approach any of the Weasleys, it seemed as if she had reached a dead end on that front. Hermione could hardly bring herself to accept that the library and her precious books had failed her when she needed them most, but she had too this time.
She had toyed often with the idea of trying to identify the potion experimentally, but as she was dutifully taking the prescribed amount daily she had little with which to experiment on, and as tempting as it was to skip a dose, such an action may have severe consequences and she really didn't want to find out what they were. Of course, it was highly unlikely that she would be able to figure out what the potion was with only one dose to work on, and as she assumed that it was far more complex than anything she had ever encountered before, well, it threw that idea far out of the water.
Hermione had considered going to Dumbledore again, but she couldn't bring herself too. He had already refused to give her reasons once, and despite wholeheartedly not agreeing with him, she knew that any more pleas she gave him would not bring him to change his mind. That, and the hurt of having something so important kept from her, when it concerned her so personally, well that was trying her trust enough. And she still had a little faith left in Dumbledore yet, and she wanted to keep it if it were at all possible, which meant keeping her distance.
The result of which left her empty handed and with one final option: Draco Malfoy himself. Considering the way he looked at her these days, she was willing to ignore that possibility entirely.
~o~
"Care for a stroll?"
Hermione looked up from the sweets she had been staring at for the last five minutes into Ron's comforting face. "Sure," she replied, glancing around Honeydukes for Harry and Ginny, trying to spot them in the shop bursting with students.
"They went to Zonko's five minutes ago," Ron offered, noticing her searching for them. He started to make his way through the crowd of students eagerly stocking up on sweets, reaching for her hand and holding it tightly so that they stayed together as he pulled her through. "They said they would meet us in the Three Broomsticks in twenty minutes for a drink."
The weather was abysmal, even for October. The temperature had dropped sharply overnight and heavy rain had been pelting down from the sky since dawn. "Maybe a walk outside isn't such a good idea," Ron said to her once they reached the door, looking out to the street bathed in a dull grey from the raging storm overhead.
But Hermione was on optimistic form today, and would be damned if she let the weather keep her inside. She didn't even want to buy anything in Honeydukes, she had just been browsing for lack of something better to do. "Oh come on, it's not that bad," she said, dropping Ron's hand and pulling the hood of her cloak up over her head. Wand at the ready, she recanted a drying spell and pointed her wand at her face before doing the same to Ron, smiling when it was done. "We can use magic after all."
Ron looked at her seriously for a moment. "It's good to see you smile."
That feeling surfaced in her stomach again, residual anger against the way she had been acting recently. The ring she so often ignored glinted on her finger menacingly. She pretended she hadn't heard what he said. "What was that?" she called back to him as she pushed the door open and stepped out into the howling storm, shoving her ring-laden hand firmly into her pocket so she wouldn't have to look at it.
The silence of the cobbled street, save for the pounding of rain, was soothing after the madness of Honeydukes. Hermione breathed in the smell of fresh air, enjoying the way the wind nipped at her cheeks, turning them pink she imagined. Rain water was repelled off her face by the spell she had cast, leaving a slight tickling sensation that she soon forgot all about.
"Where did you want to go?" she asked as they started walking along the sparsely populated high street.
Ron matched her pace easily."Oh, no where in particular. You just looked a little bored in Honeydukes so I thought I would intervene and bring you out here. Not that it's much better," he added, noting the weather.
She nodded gratefully, and yet felt utterly awful. Was that how she was all the time now, was that how they saw her, bored and completely uninterested?
They walked in a companiable silence for a while as their feet carried them away from the village centre out past the rows of perfectly uneven houses. Ron nodded hello to peers that he knew that passed them by, while Hermione kept her eyes glued to her feet.
You have to stop this now, she told herself angrily. You are going to be normal and happy for Ron's sake.
"What do you think about Harry and Ginny?" he asked, stopping suddenly and looking utterly uncomfortable standing there dripping in the rain.
Hermione stopped beside him, taking the opportunity to adjust her cloak around her. "Harry and Ginny?" she asked, uncertain about what he was talking about.
"Yeah, what do you think...about– them, you know? Together?" he clarified, looking back at her helplessly.
"Oh," she said as she realised what he meant, a knowing smile creeping on her face. "Them together you mean, as in a couple."
He nodded.
It was funny the way he looked so flustered. "Why? Has something happened?" She asked, laughing slightly. She had been so preoccupied with her own situation that she barely noticed anything else that was going on, especially between two of her best friends. It was any wonder they were talking to her at all, but it felt nice now. Comforting almost.
"I think so. Harry mentioned something about it the other day. Not about Ginny specifically, but I got the impression he was talking about her." Ron pulled a funny face.
"What did he say?" Hermione knew that he found it difficult thinking yet alone talking about his best friend with his little sister, but they both knew that Ginny was far from little anymore and that it was inevitable that she and Harry would end up together.
"That it was hard liking someone and not feeling right about doing anything about it because the circumstances pretty much suck. I thought he was referring to just You-Know-Who, but I think he almost meant me, being her older brother and all." He kicked a stray pebble with his toe. "It's weird, him and her together. I don't know if I'll ever get my head around it. Does that make me a bad friend?"
If he couldn't accept his best friend being in love with her sister, Hermione very much doubted Ron would ever come to terms with her predicament, regardless of the reasoning behind it. Even when it involved Dumbledore.
"It doesn't make you a bad friend Ron. It's just different, that's all. Ginny told me at the beginning of term that Harry didn't want to risk her safety by them being together because he cared for her too much." She shook her head, looking up at the sky that was just beginning to brighten as the rain let up. "She thinks that's bollocks, and I have to agree with her. Why should they stop living their lives just because of Voldemort..."
"Hermione!" Ron hissed anxiously and she turned back to glare at him.
"Oh please, how many times do I have to tell you it's just a name? Honestly Ron! Stop being a bloody prat about it, it's ridiculous. I have a good mind to tell Harry that he's being a prat to Ginny too actually. She loves him. Isn't that enough? For him and for you?" She took a deep breath. "Boys!"
He thought about what she had said. "So you think it's a good idea then?"
Hermione wondered what the real problem with him was. "Yes, I do. Not that it really has anything much to do with what I feel about it." She regarded him carefully. "Why are you so anxious about it?"
The famous Weasley blush began to appear on his cheeks. "I'm not! I just wanted to know your opinion."
She wasn't convinced. "This would have nothing to do with a certain blonde Ravenclaw would it?"
"No!" he replied quickly, glancing around nervously at the deserted streets.
"I'll take that as a firm yes, then." Boys, honestly! She decided to change the subject. "How are Fred and George?"
He looked relieved. "Oh you know, causing utter mayhem for mum and dad as usual. They're thinking of opening up a shop here actually," he said, nodding his head back in the direction of the high street.
"That would be great!" she said enthusiastically. "Maybe not for Zonko's, but I'm sure they'd do excellent business here."
"Yeah," Ron admitted. "But they'll only think of doing it if they can find a way to build a tunnel that connects to the one that links Honeydukes to Hogwarts so that students can pop by at anytime of the week...uh, only joking," Ron added quickly when he realised Hermione was probably not the best person share details of the plan with.
"I certainly hope not!" she replied angrily, giving him her best Molly Weasley stare. "Not if I have anything to do with it! I hope you told them that such a thing would be stupid, especially considering-"
He held his hands up in defense. "Okay, okay. Bad idea I know. Don't take it out on me." He glanced at his watch quickly. "Wow, look at the time. I said we'd meet the others five minutes ago, we'd better get going. I'm parched."
Hermione crossed her arms, deciding to let it drop. "Nice save," she muttered. She was about to say something else, but she got distracted by the sight of Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson strolling out of the forest further along the road, hand in hand. Pansy had this grin on her face that made Hermione's stomach turn and she rolled her eyes. "Urgh."
Ron turned to see what she was looking at. At that exact moment, Pansy had spotted them and whispered something into Malfoy's ear. His face was as impassive as ever, but he said something back that caused Pansy to burst out laughing and they both stared pointedly at Hermione. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Ron watching her too.
She shook her head and looked away. "Let's go," she muttered, twisting on her heel and walking back into the village. The rain had given up now and there was that damp smell hanging in the air, and the feeling of freshness that made everything seem new again. All tainted by the sight of Malfoy. What was he up to, in the forest with Pansy? She wasn't sure she wanted to know.
"I'm going to buy you a butterbeer for having to put up with that lousy git," Ron said as he caught up with her easily.
"Make it a firewhisky, and you're on," she replied smiling. His eyes widened in surprise. "It was a joke. I am not advocating drinking during the day. Do you think we can pop into Gladrags quickly after?"
"First thing, what have I told you about the jokes? And secondly, sure we can." Ron shoved his hands in his pockets as he ducked from the playful hit she aimed at him for insulting her attempts to be humouress yet again. "Anything in particular you wanted to get?"
Hermione smiled. "Oh, you know," she said, feeling just the tiniest bit better having spent time with him, "just a quirky pair of socks or two for you and Harry, to say sorry for being such a lousy friend recently."
"Stop apologising, you're not a lousy friend," he replied, happily slinging an arm around her shoulders. "Being Head Girl equals big responsibility, we understand."
Hermione was in too good a mood to think otherwise.
~o~
Patrolling the halls was considered by many to be the most menial and boring task that a prefect had to do. It was not uncommon to be traded amongst prefects at a price, so long as the duty sheet was updated and signed off weekly the professors didn't seem to mind who walked the corridors late at night, so long as it was done. Hermione surprised herself by actually enjoying late night patrols, and volunteered herself often even though as Head Girl she could have easily delegated her shifts to someone else.
It had been a long Saturday, but the trip to Hogsmeade with her friends seemed to make everything a bit better. They'd sat in The Three Broomsticks for the rest of the afternoon and each drank their fair share of butterbeer. Seamus and Dean joined them halfway through and there had been an epic game of exploding snap that lasted right to the end, Ginny had won eventually much to the dismay of the boys. Hermione didn't get a chance to ask her about what she and Harry had obviously spoken about, but she seemed in much better spirits and promised to tell her about it later.
She'd been walking the halls for a good hour and hadn't spotted a single student out of bed after curfew, so she decided to call it a night. She absentmindedly found herself taking the long route back to the Head's quarters, but that could only be a good thing. It was getting easier to be there, and she could actually manage to sleep comfortably in her own bed without having to resort to sleeping on the couches in the Gryffindor common room anymore. Still, she preferred spending the least possible amount of time that she had to anywhere near Malfoy if she could help it.
A slight draught passed over her every now and again and she hadn't realised that it was so cold. It was exactly like the way she had lost her appetite recently. It went unnoticed until occasionally her stomach would rumble and she would realise that she was incredibly hungry but completely unaware of it. And sometimes it just disappeared again, just like that. It was kind of like she was diving underwater a lot of the time, especially when she was left alone with just her thoughts for company, only every now and again did she surface for air and these things bothered her.
She told herself it was because she was incredibly busy. The Halloween feast was approaching fast and it was left to her to try and organise it, as Malfoy had told her several times, and quite rudely too, that he was completely uninterested in having anything to do with it. Seeing as how the two of them could obviously not work together they had unofficially divided up all of their duties, only his seemed biased in doing everything that didn't involve hours and hours of work. So that left her being left responsible for arranging the prefects meetings, and for officiating over prefect delegated detentions. And organising the Halloween feast; which McGonagall had suggested somewhat candidly the other day after Transfiguration be turned into more of a ball this year, perhaps.
Really, Hermione knew it had been a ploy to get her to stay behind.
"There was something else I had been meaning to ask you, Hermione," the Deputy Headmistress said to her just as she was heading for the door.
Hermione groaned internally but turned around nevertheless. As much as she admired and respected her, she really didn't fancy a heart to heart with McGonagall right now. Unless...
"How are you getting along with your Head's duties?"
"Absolutely fine, Professor," she replied without hesitation, shuffling her back onto her other shoulder.
"They are not interfering with your studies, I hope."
She shook her head. "Not at all."
"Good." The elder witch regarded her from behind her square spectacles for a moment, as if contemplating what to say. "And are you coping?"
Hermione had been fidgeting with the book she was carrying under her arm but snapped back to attention. "Coping?" she asked, trying to delay the inevitable.
"With, you know," McGonagall made a rolling hand gesture.
"Oh, that," Hermione replied, letting out a breath she didn't realise she had been holding. "Just fine, thank you." Her voice screamed liar. She was certainly anything but fine.
McGonagall seemed to know that too, because she didn't look quite believing. "Hermione, I understand that this must be incredibly difficult to deal with, but I want you to know that my door is always open for you if you have anything you need to discuss. Anything at all."
"To be frightfully honest, Professor, I don't think you do understand," she said quickly before she lost the courage to say what she wanted to say. "And the only thing I want to discuss with any of you is to why I had to do it. I can't see why I should be kept in the dark." She looked her straight in the eye imploringly. "Can you tell me? Because you see, the only thing that really bothers me about this whole situation is that something is going on that involves me and I'm not allowed to know. If that's not a scary thought then I don't know what is."
She was clinging to false hopes. She knew that the Deputy Headmistress would tell her no more than Dumbledore, Snape or Malfoy would, and that became evident in the silence that settled in the near empty classroom. But Hermione had to try.
"I wish I could help you, Hermione, but I can't." There was such soft, genuine concern in her words that Hermione was taken aback slightly. It didn't help that she was looking at her the way her grandmother used to whenever something bad had happened. "I'm sorry."
Hermione nodded resolutely, hating how tears were beginning to prick at her eyes. "I thought as much."
She'd left the classroom after that, wondering what the point of it was. It was hard enough to have to face Snape and McGonagall in class without having to deal with anything else. She had felt bitterness towards her Deputy Headmistress for the first time that night, something she had never felt against her before; McGonagall had always been her favourite teacher. But what had she expected? Hermione wasn't about to go and open up to her teacher that she felt like two different people these days.
The darkness in the corridor got heavier if it were possible. She picked up the pace, ascending a set of stairs two at a time and turned left down the corridor. It was then that she heard the faint sound of muffled voices coming from behind her. She froze in her tracks, listening carefully. Whoever was talking was doing so just around the corner. She wished she had the Marauders map so she could see who it was.
Hermione contemplated ignoring it knowing that it was never good to eavesdrop, but curiosity always got the better of her. Before she knew what she was doing, she tiptoed silently along the shadows against the far wall holding out a hand to steady herself against it as she listened carefully.
It took every ounce of self-preservation not to jump out of her skin when she realised that it was Malfoy's voice she could hear.
~o~
Pansy Parkinson did not like being out late at night. She swapped her patrolling duties as a prefect every opportunity she could, always using the excuse that she needed her beauty sleep. She would be mortified if anyone found out that she was afraid of the dark, or worse, of the shadows in the dark. She edged along the corridor, keeping to the shadows and controlling her breathing, wondering not for the first time where he was. She glanced at her watch to check she had the right time.
Faint footsteps behind her caused her to jump around in alarm. She could feel the blood rushing through her ears her heart was beating so fast. A hand flew to her chest in relief when she saw the faint candlelight settle on platinum blonde hair.
"You're late," she whispered when he was in earshot. "And you scared me half to death."
"I was busy, I apologise. Are you alright?" He asked, taking in her dishevelled appearance.
"No. They're waiting for me to agree. I received a letter from my mother this morning." She could feel the heavy burden of it in her jean pocket. "I don't know what to do, Draco. What do I say to them?" She was pleading desperately she knew it, but she was afraid and had long given up her pride. "If they found out I was having doubts..."
"They won't find out," Draco responded, his voice calm. "You have to be brave."
She snorted. "I'm in Slytherin remember, not Gryffindor. Bravery doesn't come into the equation for someone like me. I need a plan." She shook her head sadly. "But it's hopeless, isn't it. They're giving me the Dark Mark and I can't do anything to stop them."
"Pansy-"
"No, don't bother Draco, there's no point in pretending it's not going to happen. It is. I was stupid in thinking that I would have any chance at all of preventing the inevitable. I was born to serve, to follow blindly like a helpless puppy at its masters' beck and call." She wrapped her arms around her chest, her foot scuffing the stone floor. "I'm just so angry," she said through gritted teeth, shaking her head miserably. Long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders and her bangs fell against her face from where she had pinned them back earlier. She was beyond caring about a few strands of hair when her whole life was crumbling around her.
For a while, neither spoke. That was the most infuriating thing about Draco. He always waited for you to speak first at times like these; he didn't offer false comfort when he didn't think it was necessary. Pansy looked over at him, studying his profile, thankful that he couldn't see what she was looking at in the dim light. He looked different somehow, but she wasn't sure what it was that was so different about him. "What's up with you anyway? You're awfully quiet tonight," she commented when the silence became unbearable.
The words ricocheted off the walls. "Maybe I just don't have anything to say."
She snorted. "Yeah right. and Harry Potter isn't the boy wonder. You've been like this ever since term started. Has something happened?"
He chose to ignore the question. "Have you thought about talking to Snape?" he suggested, gazing down at her seriously.
"No!"
"Pansy, I know you don't want to hear it but he can help you, but you need to make the first move. It's your only option."
"Ha, my only option is to do as I'm told, and that means getting the Dark Mark. It's not even like they're really asking me if I agree, they're telling me I have to. Merlin, I hate my life." She clutched her arm desperately where they would brand her as tears started making their descent on her cheeks. "It's not fair," she sobbed.
For a moment, he just stood there, and she could tell by the look on his face that he was not expecting her to have to announce her decision so soon. It was completely unexpected so soon. A silent look passed between them, one of understanding, and then he closed the space between them and let her wrap her arms around his neck and rest against him. It was the only comfort he could provide.
He rarely if ever let her touch him. To most of the school they were in a relationship, but unless you counted holding hands every now and again and sitting with each other at mealtimes a relationship, it was anything but. Pansy had been somewhat surprised when she had suggested, almost jokingly, at the start of term that it would look good for the both of them if they started dating, but he had agreed, although he made it clear that it would be for appearances sake only.
She pulled away from him reluctantly. "I'd better get back."
He nodded his head. She'd half hoped that he would invite her back to his room so that she could sleep by his side, but she knew that it was a fruitless wish. "Do you need me to walk you back?"
"No, it's alright, I'll be fine."
"Okay." He offered her a small smile, one most would never see. She watched as he walked away, blending easily into the darkness save for his hair, and then he was gone around the corner with all the swiftness of a candle blown out in the wind. Neither knew that Hermione Granger had been there mere moments before.
~o~
Hermione had never been so afraid of getting caught as she was when running back up to the Head's quarters that night. She had been taught never to eavesdrop on a conversation and yet she had, and an important one at that it seemed. The guilt at having done it was almost as bad as the fear that they might have noticed. It was wrong and none of her business and yet at the same time the most confusing exchange she had ever witnessed between two people she obviously didn't know at all.
She found it difficult to think about.
She charged through the door and only paused for breath when she was safely in her bedroom and leaning against the wooden frame.
What the hell had just happened?
She didn't want to think about the possibility that Malfoy had a nice bone somewhere in his body. That just couldn't possibly be true. He was an ignorant jerk. But only to you and your friends, she reasoned to herself. Still...
And Pansy didn't want to be a Deatheater?
It was all too much to think about. She pulled her robes off and hung them on the peg on the door as the conversation replayed in her mind over and over again. She shoved her feet in her slippers and walked right back out into the common room before she could stop herself. She wanted to see him come in.
A book she had been reading had been left on one of the end tables dotted around the room. She grabbed it and flicked to a random page as she sat in the large arm chair closest to the roaring fire, and waited.
It was ten minutes before he returned, and she wondered where he had could have possibly been in that time. He completely ignored her as he went to sit at the table at the far side of the room, throwing his cloak over the side of the couch.
"It's a bit late to be out, don't you think."
She heard the scratch of quill against parchment. "I don't remember anyone asking you for an opinion," he drawled.
Hermione dropped her book and stood up, turning to look over at him. Heat from the fire tickled the backs of her legs. "I have a question to ask you."
Draco looked up at her with incredulity before dropping his eyes back to his letter.
"That morning," she said suddenly, fingering the hem of her cotton top, "when you woke me up..."
He nodded once to indicate he remembered.
"Why did you do that?"
He didn't look up. "I thought for one impoverished second that you had perhaps overslept. And seeing as you have been looking increasingly slight as of late; I thought that you probably shouldn't miss breakfast." He dipped his quill back into the ink pot and started scribbling again. "Don't even begin to think for one second that it had anything to do with concern for you."
She wrapped her arms protectively over herself. "Do you like being this way?" she asked, stepping towards him. "You are so detached and cruel, as if nothing in the world means anything to you at all."
Draco smiled to himself. "I'll have you know that a great many things mean an awful lot to me. Just because I act in one manner towards you does not mean I act that way to everyone else, Granger. Far from it."
Oh, I do know that Malfoy. I've seen it.
She couldn't help herself. She was insanely curious, like a dog with an itch that had to be scratched. "Why do you dislike me so much then? What did I do to you to make you hate me so much?"
The sound of his quill scratching against the parchment was painful to her ears. "I dislike you immensely because you are everything I have been brought up to despise, to think less of, and to hate," he said eventually, still writing whatever it was he was writing. "From the moment I was born I was told that I was the best; that I was superior in blood and in heritage and that that fact was indisputable. I believed it too, until I came to this school. I knew nothing but what I was taught." He dropped the quill and looked up. "So imagine how it was for me, to come here and have to deal with the likes of you." He took a deep breath, as if he had released a dam of words and didn't know how to stop them flowing. "Who was this annoying girl, the one that always got better marks than me, even when we were just eleven? I was the pureblood, and you were just some muggleborn that was supposed to know nothing about magic. Only you didn't. I pretended for a long time that I hated you because you were best friends with Harry bloody Potter, the boy wonder. But that's unfair on him. I don't like you because you are an insufferable know-it-all that thinks she's so good it's sickening."
Hermione's eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms. There was a bitter taste in her mouth. "Do you realise how pathetic that makes you sound?"
"Do you know how pathetic you sounded on the train to Hogwarts, pleading with Dumbledore to tell you why you had to marry me, like some stupid whining child?"
"Oh that's right, deflect my assessment of you with one your own of me. How grown-up of you." This had been a bad idea. She needed to get away from him before something bad happened. Her legs started towards the stairs up to her room, but she stopped as another question fell from her lips.
"And what about me? I suppose I don't deserve any answers do I?" she asked, turning around to face him again. "Am I supposed to go mad with not knowing? Would it make it easier, if I were, I don't know, dead? Maybe will you tell me then?"
"Oh Granger, it really doesn't suit you to be so melodramatic. It's really unfortunate for you only because it is Dumbledore that doesn't want you to know what is going on and because you are a control freak who has to know everything about anything. The fact that you don't is tearing you apart because you can't stand to have a question unanswered. It doesn't matter really that the question is about our marriage, it matters because the answer is being kept from you. Is in not enough that you can retreat into the knowledge that you are being looked out for? That Dumbledore is doing this in your best interests?"
He let out a bitter laugh. "You don't have to worry, you're safe. The only thing getting to you is that you have all the questions but no one will give you any answer, not me, not Dumbledore, not your precious books."
Hermione didn't know what to say. How dare he belittle her, as if all of this was her fault. Didn't he understand? Obviously he didn't. She felt the anger towards him swell up inside of her. She wanted to tear him apart. She did the only thing she could think of. She picked up a cushion from one of the loungers and hurled it at him before thinking otherwise. It crashed with a soft thud into his ink bottle, spilling its contents everywhere and he jumped up in shock, looking down at the spilled ink in disbelief.
"Is that what you think?" she cried out in frustration, hurling another pillow at him. "Is that what you think?"
She grabbed a candle holder and threw it at him, quite wishing it would smash into him. "As if that's all I have to worry about? You think I should be happy that I have no idea what's going on, that I shouldn't be scared that something bad is obviously going to happen?" A glass that had been left on the coffee table earlier that day went flying across the room, and he had to duck to miss it. It smashed against the far wall and the pieces shattered to the floor. "I couldn't give two hoots about what happens to me!" she screamed. "I'm worried about my friends, I'm worried about my parents - I'm damn worried about the safety of every student in this stupid school!" She found another cushion and threw that at him too, any surprise she felt at him not responding masked by her fury. "I'm scared because I know what's out there, I've seen it with my own eyes and I can't do anything to stop it coming," she yelled, inches from him now, her face flustered and tears stinging at her eyes. "Our fucking marriage is the icing on the cake as far as I'm concerned."
For his part, Draco Malfoy remained completely and utterly frozen. He watched her unblinkingly and face impassive, with all the cool calm of someone not watching a breakdown.
"And most of all," Hermione said taking a deep breath as she struggled to hold back the tears, grabbing the last cushion from the sofa, holding it between them. "Most of all," she gasped as a sob escaped her control, "Most of all, I hate that you," she hit him with the pillow, "you of all people... can be so damn well composed-" the same pillow hit him again, "all of the time," she shuddered as she gave him another hit, "because you don't care," the cushion slipped from her hands and she truly was sobbing now, sobbing for all of the misery and despair that had been locked inside her for the last month and a half. She pummelled her fists against his chest. "How," she choked, "how do you do it?"
Draco barely flinched as her fits came into contact with his chest, and for the first time in his life he really didn't know what to do. No one could have possibly prepared him for it.
Granger was terrifying him.
He'd never seen a person breakdown like that before, most certainly not right there in front of him. Every part of his upbringing told him to throw her aside and stamp all over her. But the human part of even him wouldn't even let him think of doing such a thing. Which was probably why he was just standing there, doing nothing.
"Granger," he said quietly.
She was still hitting him. She was so wracked with sobs though, that thankfully for him there was no weight behind her hands. Not that a punch from her would hurt him in the first place.
"Granger," he said again, grabbing her wrists with his a surprising gentleness. He wasn't even sure why he was being nice to her.
She froze in front of him as soon as his skin came into contact with hers, tears trickling down her cheeks. "I do what I do because I have to. I don't have the luxury of choice." His voice was barely a whisper. Their eyes locked for the briefest moment. "It's harder for you because you do."
A long painful silence stretched between them. Outside, the sky had darkened and clouds were threatening with rain. Hermione tore her gaze from his first, her cheeks not red with embarrassment but white with shame. He let go of her wrists and they fell limply to her sides..
"I'm sorry for hitting you," she managed to say after taking some deep breaths, her voice a croak. "And sorry for destroying the common room." She paused. "I'm sorry that you had to marry me too, for whatever reason."
That last sentence would have almost been funny, if she had the ability to laugh.
She stepped back away from him, not looking up at his face once, not wanting to see whatever it was he felt towards her. She walked calmly not up to her room, but out onto the balcony, carefully shutting the doors behind her without turning around. She would suffocate if she had to stay inside a moment longer. Leaning against the cold glass, feeling the freezing air rush into her lungs, she cried again. This time, tears came not only from despair that she felt for her friends, but from embarrassment for being weak in front of Malfoy, and for the fact that he had to be so damn confusing.
He would never tell anyone about the way he saw her cry.
And she would never let it happen again.
~o~
It was pointless trying to sleep that night. So many thoughts were going through his head that he considered downing a bottle of firewhisky to knock him out entirely so they couldn't consume him anymore. He rolled over, the sheet twisting underneath him. It was no use; sleep was eluding him completely tonight.
With a silent groan of exhaustion he pulled himself up from the bed and headed quietly to the bathroom. The rush of icy cold water from the tap was deafening to his ears, like a thudding rush to the head.
It had affected him in a way that nothing ever had, seeing Granger break down like that. And he didn't like it. What had happened last night, the way he acted, was nothing personal. It should mean nothing, but it hadn't. He had pitied her, and he was going to beat himself up for it. He grabbed his top of the range Firebolt from where it rested by the door and headed for the balcony. If he couldn't sleep, he was going to fly until he could.
Hermione glanced at him briefly before hurrying towards the portrait, her head down.
You didn't have to be a genius to notice that she was ashamed.
~o~
Hermione thought she wanted to die. She wished she could ask Madam Pomfrey to obliterate her memory so that she could forget all about it, but of course she couldn't. The night's events were playing around in her head on repeat and nothing was able to distract her from it. Not the Halloween feast that McGonagall had reminded her she had to organise two days ago, not the pile of next weeks homework. Nor the book she had been staring at for the last two hours.
She didn't know anything anymore. Not about Pansy Parkinson. Certainly not about Draco Malfoy. That was all she needed.
Harry and Ron had stopped by the library earlier to see what she was up to, and she was able to lie easily enough that she was stressed out from Heads duties, which wasn't a complete fabrication. They had left to go and play Quidditch but said they would be back later to do their homework with her, which meant that they needed her help but she didn't mind. It was another distraction.
She wasn't alone for long. He practically sauntered into the library with all of the air of someone who knew that they were better than everyone else, and of all the tables set amongst the endless aisles of books, he managed to find hers as if she wasn't trying to hide from the world, when in fact she hopelessly was.
He didn't look at her as he perched on the table next to where she was working. Except she wasn't really working he could tell, because she was staring straight ahead with a book upside down in front of her. And she had that look on her face. The one that said she was ashamed at being upset that he'd seen earlier.
"Are you okay?"
She resisted the urge to turn and face him. "Okay?" she repeated questioningly, the word barely making it out from the confines of her constricted throat intact. It was all she could say. Hermione Granger would be damned if she would breakdown in front of Malfoy again; she had to avoid speaking if she were to be successful in that regard. Why was he asking her if she was okay, anyway? Was the world turned upside down today?
She felt him shift and thought that he was probably analysing her with those eyes that she despised so much. She was resolute though and her gaze remained fixed on the nothing she had been looking at since Harry and Ron had left straight ahead. She could barely see.
"I'm okay," she forced through bitter lying teeth when the uncomfortable feeling of being watched settled in her stomach and she could take the silence no longer.
There was rustling and then his presence was no longer besides her. "Okay," was all he said to that, walking away. He stopped for a moment and then turned around and headed back. "This never happened, are we clear? I still despise you and you still despise me. This changes absolutely nothing about us." It was not a question. She didn't need to answer.
She heard the creak of the library doors being pushed open, followed by the slap of wood against stone and the whoosh as they settled back into place, thankful he was gone.
Hermione grimaced in frustration, wanting to scream but thankful that being in the library stopped her from doing so. She shoved the book she hadn't been reading for a long time harshly, sending in careening off of the table and collapsing to the floor.
Her head fell into her hands. She was not okay, and he knew that. He knew because he wasn't either.
~o~
She didn't have to face him until Potions last thing Monday afternoon the following day. Surprisingly, it was easier than she thought to go back to being defensive around him, and he hurtled more cruel comments at her in that lesson than he had done all week so everything was great in that regard.
"Malfoy," she called out from behind him, running along the corridor to catch up with him after the lesson had finished, her book bag shifting against her side angrily.
He slowed his pace slightly.
"I've had an idea," she said to him what she had caught up, only slightly flustered.
"Oh goody," he replied sarcastically, his demeanour taking her aback. "Is it as good as S.P.E.W? If it is, count me out."
She pursed her lips together. "I'll have you know that S.P.E.W is-"
"I couldn't care less, Granger. What was your idea?" he asked irritably, absentmindedly rubbing the back of his head. He needed to talk to Blaise. Urgently.
"We need to do more to promote inter-house unity, after all that was one of the reasons that we were both offered Head positions."
Draco scoffed.
"I think we promote inter-house unity in more than enough ways."
"Yes, but it's not like anyone can be told about that," she replied tersely, pulling a sheet of parchment from her satchel and handed it to him.
"What's this?"
"A seating plan for the Halloween feast."
He stopped walking suddenly, his eyes scanning the parchment quickly. "I can see that unfortunately." He looked up at her over the parchment. "Why have you wasted a perfectly good piece of parchment with this nonsense? There is a perfectly good seating plan in place already if you hadn't noticed; I'm quite fond of it actually, as it involves me sitting as far away as possible from you and all of your goody-too-shoes, butter-wouldn't-melt-in-your-mouths friends. This," he said, waving the parchment in front of her face, "it bollocks."
She watched him clearly unimpressed. "If you've quite finished acting like a spoiled brat-"
"Actually I haven't, thanks," he replied, ripping the parchment up and throwing it on the floor. She watched as the pieces slowly fluttered to the ground. When they had all landed she sighed, reaching into her robes for her wand and muttered reparo before bending down to pick up the repaired parchment.
"I'm sure Dumbledore will be thrilled to hear of your enthusiasm for this, I'll be sure to let him know," she said, stuffing the parchment back into her satchel. It satisfied her seeing him grow increasingly more furious with her. His fists were clenched at his sides now and he looked like he wanted to hit her. It was much easier like this, she had come to realise. It made it easy to forget.
"Oh, friends again now are we?" he inquired, a sneer written all over his face. "Forgiven him for not sharing everything with you already That's noble of you. I'll be sure to let him know," he reiterated.
Hermione took a deep breath, and forced back all of the things she wanted to say to him. She would not give him the satisfaction of riling her up anymore. "If you'd be so kind." She paused as a group of students filed past them quickly, shooting curious gazes in their direction. "Nothing you can do or say is going to stop this from happening. It's a done deal, so you're going to have to live with it."
"And what about everyone else?" he challenged. "I'm quite sure everybody in this damned school will hate the idea of sitting with other houses. Have you thought about that?"
She huffed. "Of course I have! And so what if they all hate the idea of it? It's just for one meal, surely that can be managed by us all. We all go to the same school, we all breath the same air and we all eat the same food..."
"Whatever, I think it's bullshit. However, I do have somewhere to be you know and it's definitely not standing here talking about crap like seating plans with you," he said yawning pointedly, only angering her even more.
"Oh, go and fuck yourself Malfoy," she spat, turning on her heel and storming off down the corridor, disbelieving that the person he was today and the person he was yesterday were the same thing.
It took a great deal of self-control on his behalf to not get out his wand and hex her retreating form.
Needless to say, when word got out of the seating plan for the feast after a particularly heated prefects meeting a day later, there was a great deal of backlash aimed at Hermione both along the corridors and in all of her classes. The news spread like wildfire, and most people were unsurprisingly against the idea of sitting with other houses even for just one night. Well, the Slytherins' hated the idea of sitting with anyone from any other house for any reason whatsoever, and the feeling was mutually reciprocated by members of every other house much to Hermione's dismay.
She had tried to defend her idea by explaining her reasoning, but it was to no avail. Although some students, like Padma Patil and Ernie Macmillan agreed with her, it didn't stop everyone else from taking out their disbelief and anger on Hermione by muttering about her under their breaths in voices she could clearly hear during lessons, or shooting angry glances at her during dinner.
Harry and Ron tried in their best efforts to be supportive; but even that wasn't enough and she knew that they were probably just as unhappy as the rest. At first she was almost upset by how people had turned against her - couldn't they see why she had done it? That thought was immediately replaced with anger and the feeling that she went to school with complete imbeciles who couldn't even put differences aside for one evening of their lives. She tuned them all out and kept her head buried in her work for the rest of the day, not even bothering to show up for dinner where she knew the gossiping behind her back would be worse.
Well, she didn't become Head Girl to make friends and be afraid to do what she felt was right, did she?
~o~
Homework kept her up until 2 am that night. She awoke the following morning with a viscous start, quickly checking the clock on her bedside table as a feeling of disorientated panic settled in her stomach. It was 8:37 and she was most definitely running late. She groaned loudly into her pillow, wishing desperately that it was the weekend so she could sleep a little longer. Throwing the covers off she stifled a yawn, grimacing against the permanent cold that seemed to have taken residence in her room as she got up from the bed and shuffled sleeplessly over to the dresser. The stone floor sent chills up her body through the soles of her bare feet, jolting her awake. It was the worst possible start to the day.
There was barely enough time to put her school uniform on and slip her feet into her shoes before she grabbed her satchel and hurried out of the door. She checked her watch as she hurried down the corridor, 8:41, there was just enough time to grab something for breakfast and make it to charms on time.
And then came a call of nature that put the spanner into the works of that plan. Hermione stopped. She was on the third floor which meant that the notorious girls' bathroom was nearby. She'd have to skip breakfast again, and all she could hope was that the bathroom would be empty.
She pushed the door open and was relieved to have some good luck at least, it was deserted. She dropped her bag on the side and went into one of the stalls.
The morning sun was shining brightly outside, fat beams streaking in through the large enchanted windows that allowed you to see out over the grounds but not in, and the light settled on the pristine white walls with perfection.
Hermione took the opportunity to gaze at her reflection in the mirror as she washed her hands. She was appalled with what she saw. Dark circles had found their way around her eyes and her skin was blotchy from the exertion of rushing. Her hair, usually so full of its own life, was hanging much straighter than usual over her head, almost as if it were limp and devoid of any life at all. She didn't recognise herself.
Normally she didn't give much thought to what she looked like, but she was Head Girl now and at least needed to look presentable. She reached for her satchel and quickly rummaged to the bottom, finding a lipstick Ginny had given her to look after the other day, a small tube of concealer she kept for bad skin days and a well-worn out comb.
She washed her face quickly with handwash (she was desperate) and dried it with a paper towel before dabbing some concealer around her eyes and rubbing it in. The comb made little difference to the state of her hair but it was better than nothing, she used it to tidy up her parting down the middle. The lipstick was not really to her taste, but the soft pink colour was subtle enough. Standing back from the sink she surveyed the results. She actually didn't look half bad. At least better than she did before.
Checking her watch one final time, she threw everything back into her bag and set off in a run. She reached the classroom with three minutes to spare.
It was utter chaos inside of course.
"There you are," Ron said to her as she walked into the noisy room and headed up to her usual seat. The Gryffindor 7th Year boys were sat lounging around in a group, discussing Quidditch most likely as they waited for Professor Flitwick to arrive. Ron was perched on a desk with his feet resting on her seat. He had the sports section of the Daily Prophet open on his lap.
Harry was sprawled in his own chair, grinning at something Seamus had said. "We wondered where you'd got to," he added, reaching for something in his bag.
"I overslept, didn't I," Hermione muttered, shoving Ron's feet away so she could sit down.
"Oooh, someone's touchy this morning," Dean Thomas joked. She turned to glare at him. "Daggers, Hermione is glaring daggers at me."
She laughed in spite of herself as she set her inkpot on the desk.
"Here," Harry said, passing her two pieces of buttered toast wrapped in kitchen roll. "Thought you might like something to eat seeing as you missed breakfast."
"Thanks Harry," she said smiling gratefully, putting it to the side as she retrieved some parchment from her bag along with her book. She started flicking through to the right page.
He looked at her quizzically. "Aren't you going to-"
"Blubbersnot!" Ron exclaimed, causing everyone within earshot to burst into giggles. He held the paper he was still reading closer to his face. "The canons' have only gone and signed Kennith Mullet as chaser!"
Seamus jumped up from his seat. "No way!"
"They did! Beating Kenmare Kestrels to signing him. Ha! That's bloody unbelievable."
Seamus shook his head bitterly and fell into his seat. "No it ain't. It's bloody unfair, that's what it is. We wanted him, he was supposed to play for us." Seamus was the Kestrels' biggest fan, even Hermione knew that. He spoke about them incessantly.
She looked up from the page she had been skimming. "Didn't he play for Ireland in the Quidditch World Cup?" Hermione asked, knowing she'd heard that name somewhere.
Ron nodded excitedly. "Yeah, he did. Do you know what this means? We might actually win the National Cup this year!" he told her, still beaming.
"Doubtful Weasley," Justin Finch-Fletchley called out across the room.
"Wanna bet?" Ron asked, jumping off the desk and walking over to where the Hufflepuffs were sat on the side of the room, perching himself on another desk. As if he needed to make himself any taller.
Hermione rolled her eyes, fiddling with the kitchen paper that was still wrapped around the toast Harry had given her. The boys were engrossed in debating quidditch and football now that she was left sat in silence, staring at the clock as she wondered where Flitwick had gotten too.
"Hey Hermione."
Lavender Brown had plonked herself down in the empty seat the other side of her with a whoosh of perfectly styled blonde hair and manicured nails. She smiled a hello.
"I wanted to tell you that I think what you're doing with the Halloween feast is a really good idea. It's just the kind of thing this school needs, and I know you got cut a lot of flak yesterday for it, but if you need a hand at all, just give me a shout. I'd be happy to help."
"Thanks," Hermione replied appreciatively. She had always liked Lavender, she was the kind of person who was always completely honest with you and didn't beat around the bush. "That would be great if you had the time. I'm not exactly being flooded with offers of help as you can imagine, even from the prefects."
The blonde girl shrugged a shoulder as if to say sod them. "It's no problem." She shot her an unnerving glance. "You look different today by the way."
"I do?"
"Don't sound so surprised, I meant it in a good way. You look really good actually, not that you don't usually – you know what I mean. Have you lost weight?" She inquired in rapid succession, lowering her voice a little bit.
"Um, no. I don't think so," Hermione replied quickly as her eyes widened in shock, painfully aware that Harry was listening in to the conversation next to her.
Lavender stared at her for a moment. "Hmmm. Well, cool. We'll sit together at lunch if you like, to start planning this feast." She jumped up and at that moment Flitwick appeared at the front of class.
"I'll see you," she said as she hurried to the back of class where she sat with Parvati and Susan.
Hermione felt unsettled. She glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw that Harry was still watching her. She grabbed the toast and took a large bite as Flitwick started clearing his throat, hoping it made a point. "Everyone in their places please," he called out as she chewed hastily. "Including you Mr Weasley," he added. Ron leapt up and bounded back to his seat as everyone else settled down, saluting Flitwick with his hand.
"Very funny. You might want to pay close attention though Mr Weasley, you might enjoy what we're about to do today."
"Oh, come now Professor, lets not get too far ahead of ourselves." The whole class laughed, well everyone except Hermione laughed. She was busy writing the date at the top of her parchment to join in with the joke.
"Not so fast! Today we will be learning how to charm Quaffles so that they can speak in a manner similar to parrots." A cheer went up in the class as he shuffled his short legs to a box that had gone thus far unnoticed at the front of the room, and threw it open. "You can work in small groups of no more than three. I will write the incantation you need on the board. As we've been working on this type of spell for nearly two weeks, I'm not going to tell you which parts you need to stress, you'll have to figure that out for yourselves. Hopefully by now you know the wand movements well enough."
That was highly unlikely, Hermione thought.
"Off you go!"
Hermione groaned, causing Harry and Ron to grin. Everyone else was rushing to the front of the class to retrieve Quaffles for their groups. "We'll go pick a good one for us," Ron told her slapping her lightly on the back. "No need to worry, I'm sure Harry and I will have a natural affinity for this type of task."
"About as much affinity as parrots with wands I'm sure," she replied. "Of you go then." She slouched slightly in her seat, the corners of her mouth twitching up.
"Eat that toast," Harry told her as he followed Ron to the front where quaffles were being thrown around left right and centre. There was a whole lot more laughter and giggles than there had been before Flitwick arrived.
Her eyes were pulled towards the ring that they couldn't see on her left hand. It was twinkling in the sunlight, seemingly harmless. She felt sick. There was no escaping it. Every time the sight of it and what it represented caused her stomach to do somersaults and her head to spin. She wasn't the slightest bit hungry. Checking that no one was watching, she pulled her bag onto her lap and stuffed the toast into it. She left the kitchen roll on the desk with some crumbs to avoid suspicion and dropped the bag quickly back onto the floor.
By the time Harry and Ron finally returned to their seats with a quaffle she'd forgotten all about it, and focused all of her attention on their task. Everything was fine.
~o~