Disclaimer: Still not mine.

Chapter Ten

Guys and Girls

"What do you think about pumpkin pastries for desert?" Lavender asked Hermione from behind the magazine she had been reading through for the last five minutes. "We could have them shaped like actual pumpkins with the filling inside glowing? Only miniature of course."

Hermione looked up from the parchment she had been scribbling on. "That sounds good. Didn't we have something like that in second year?"

Lavender shrugged, causing a cascade of long blonde hair to tumble over her shoulder. She fiddled with the half eaten chicken sandwich in her hand as she focused on the magazine again. "I don't think the filling glowed last time. I'm sure there's a spell somewhere for it."

They'd been discussing the Halloween feast for the last half an hour over lunch, and already Lavender had suggested half a dozen things that Hermione would never have thought of by herself. She'd also dismissed half a dozen things that Hermione had already had in mind for the feast with a casual wave of her hand. That was Lavender's way – swift, blunt and ever-so-efficient, she didn't mess around. Harry and Ron had tried to be supportive at first, sitting down either side of her at the beginning of the lunch hour, but had quickly disappeared down the other end of the table when Lavender had started probing about what Hermione planned on wearing to the feast. She didn't blame them.

"And I was thinking," Lavender continued excitedly as she picked another magazine up from the pile she had brought down from the dorm with her free hand, "that we could have little skull chocolate mints on the side as a sort of decoration. I saw something just like it in Witch Weekly."

"Chocolate and pumpkin together?" Hermione inquired with a raised eyebrow.

The blonde haired girl grinned as perfectly manicured fingernails flicked through the magazine. "An interesting combination don't you think?"

Hermione couldn't think of a reason why not, so she scribbled the idea down, adding it to the growing list that was beginning to frighten her. She chewed on the end of her quill as a thought crossed her mind.

"What about flyers around the school, you'll need to do that soon. Everyone has to attend of course but you want them all to be excited about it at least. And we need to think about decorations – we'll need to come up with some sort of plan don't you think for where we'll put everything? What –" she asked deadpan at the funny look Hermione was giving her, "- you don't honestly think that you could just turn up half an hour before the feast and start waving your wand around did you?"

Actually, Hermione had been thinking just that.

Lavender leant forward. "Listen, my mum's great aunt twice removed used to be this famous magical decorator over in the United States. She taught me a few things a couple of summers ago before she died. It's not as easy as it looks."

"I thought maybe the house-elves just-"

"No. No. Absolutely not. Tell me what you want and leave the rest to me."

"Alright." Hermione pushed the quill and parchment aside, replacing it with a plate of sandwiches. She chose an egg mayonnaise one, and filled a cup with pumpkin juice. "Are you sure you don't mind getting involved? It's a lot of work, evidently. The prefects should be doing it really, but most are against the idea and it's hard enough with all of the extra patrols we've been told to do without another burden."

Lavender shook her head. "Are you kidding me? This isn't work to me, this is practice. I'm thinking of going into designing and planning events after school – this is right up my alley. Leave as much of it as you want to me."

Hermione could only smile her thanks.

"Are you really going to wear that dress?" Lavender asked her, stacking the magazines up next to her plate. She was referring to the dress that she had shown Ginny the night before, the one Ginny had immediately taken a dislike to it and refused point blank to let Hermione wear it ever again. It seemed like she'd been spreading her disdain.

"No she's not," Ginny said as she sat down next to them. "You're not," she added to Hermione directly. "It's horrible and completely unsuitable. You'll have to get something else."

"You sound like your mother."

The redhead giggled. "Good. I can act just like her to if it stops you wearing that dress."

"Does it really matter what I wear?" Hermione asked incredulously, looking between the two for a shred of understanding.

Lavender and Ginny shared a pointed look. "Uh, yes!"

"Hermione, this is the first time we've had a proper ball with dancing at Halloween, the first ball we've had in ages I might add, and you're the one organising it. It therefore is quite a big deal, and that means that you most certainly cannot just 'rock up' to the ball wearing that monstrosity you call a dress," Ginny told her as she glanced down the table, searching for someone. "But don't worry," she continued, tuning back to them, "you're lucky. McGonagall has just put a notice up in the entrance hall announcing an extra Hogsmeade trip a week before the ball, so we'll get something then."

"There must be something amazing in Gladrags for her," Lavender said quickly to Ginny before Hermione could argue. "I went in there the other day and there were just so many beautiful dresses and gowns, I'm telling you. Yvette had this azure coloured off the shoulder creation she'd just finished working on. I'd kill to have it."

The two girls let out a collective sigh, and not for the first time Hermione was glad to have Harry and Ron for best friends to save her from all of the girlishness that even Ginny couldn't escape. It was more than she could handle.

"Imagine how good she'll look."

Lavender took it one step further. "Imagine how good she and Malfoy will look together."

She hadn't meant to knock the glass of pumpkin juice all over the table, it just sort of happened. "Excuse me?" Hermione spluttered to Lavender as she attempted to mop up the spilled liquid with a napkin, coughing all the while as juice trickled down her windpipe. "What did you just say?"

"I'm going," Ginny said excusing herself quickly from what was sure to follow, heading down the table to find her friends.

The blonde haired girl looked taken aback by Hermione's tone. "Nothing – I was just saying that you and Malfoy would-"

"Well don't, alright?" Hermione interrupted. "Don't say anything about me and him in the same sentence together at all."

"But surely you realise as Head Boy and Girl that you have to-"

"Lavender! Please don't talk about it. Please."

Excitement was lighting up in Lavender's eyes. "Why?" she questioned, a smile spreading across her lips. "Is something going on between the two of you?" she asked in a manner she probably thought conspiring.

Hermione paled. "No! How could you even possibly think such a thing?"

"I don't know - maybe it's the way you are completely overreacting at my mere mentioning of him," Lavender whispered accusingly. "Or the fact that you look like you're about to have a heart attack."

"I'm not overreacting. I simply don't like-"

"You are overeacting. And this isn't the only time you have. You've been on edge ever since term began, and I'm willing to bet it has something to do with the current Head Boy."

"I have not been on edge."

"Yes, you have. Denying it doesn't make it not true, Hermione. Look, I'm not trying to accuse you or rile you up, I promise I'm not. But I am concerned, everyone is. They're just too scared of you to admit it to your face.

"And you're not?"

Lavender smiled her pearly whites. "Nah, nothing you can say would frighten me. I'm perfectly fearless. There's nothing wrong with it you know," she added as if for Hermione's benefit. "Loads and loads of girls fancy him. He's gorgeous."

Hermione's eyes couldn't possibly widen any more lest her eyes pop out. This had been a bad idea, she realised that now. Girls like Lavender Brown were always talking about boys, or thinking about boys, or dreaming about them. She could not remember for the life of her overhearing any conversation involving her fellow Gryffindor that did not involve a boy in some way. She should have prepared herself better for it was obvious the tone of conversation would eventually turn towards it, it was inevitable; fool was her for not expecting it.

"What's he like to you?" Lavender asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Hermione remembered Harry asking her a similar question not long ago. "Perfectly amicable," she answered, not trusting herself to say anything else. "Look Lavender, I really appreciate all of your help with the Halloween Ball, believe me you've saved my sanity and a lot of hard work. But there really is no need to concern yourself with anything else. Just because Malfoy is Head Boy and I am Head Girl does not mean we drop 6 years of grudges and animosity, and neither does it mean we're the best of friends."

Actually, we're married. Isn't that a surprise.

"And it doesn't mean I fancy him either," she said so quickly in her flustered state that she wouldn't be surprised if Lavender thought she did.

Thankfully, she spotted Harry getting up from the far end of the Gryffindor table. She gathered her things quickly, shoving parchment and quills back into her bag and stood up. "Thanks again Lavender, I'll catch up with you tomorrow ok?" Without waiting for a response she hurried after Harry's retreating form heading out of the Great Hall.

Parvati Patil moved from up the table to take over Hermione's vacated place as soon as she'd gone. "What was all that about?" she asked her friend eagerly.

"I have no idea," Lavender replied truthfully.

~o~

"Harry, wait up!"

"Hey," he greeted her when she'd caught up with him. "Good lunch?"

She gave him a look that said it all. "I can't complain really, I need Lavender's input and her support is more than useful. Do you have a free period now?"

"Yeah, a couple of us are just about to play Quidditch. We could always use a scorekeeper though, how about it? The fresh air might do you some good."

The weather for once was perfect outside, and it would be a shame to pass it up when winter was fast approaching, she summised. Besides, she was already on top of all her homework and would only sit and fret in the library about the ball. Or about ancient wizarding marriage laws. "Actually, that sounds great."

"Shouldn't the prefects be helping you with this ball?" Harry asked as they stepped outside, the cool crisp air stinging their cheeks.

Hermione sighed as she rummaged through her pockets for something. "Well, yes. But only Padma and a few others are really keen about it and I don't want to force anyone to get involved if they disagree with a silly seating policy. Honestly, I don't know what is wrong with everyone at this school. Dumbledore was right when he said Voldemort's biggest weapon against us was ourselves. We're too caught up in our own house politics to see that really we should be sticking together as a school, and yet everyone balks at sitting next to someone different for one hour." She stopped suddenly. "Dammit, it should be here."

She'd left the potion Snape had given her to take up in her room. "I'll meet you down at the pitch in ten minutes, I've forgotten something upstairs. I won't be long."

"What is it," she asked suddenly, turning back towards him, "about bloody Draco Malfoy that is so great anyway?"

Harry stood flabbergasted. "I don't know Her-"

"I mean, has the entire female population suddenly forgotten who his father is? Has he placed a confundus charm on the lot of them? Have they forgotten that he is an arrogant, stuck up, conceited jerk who struts around hiding behind his cronies as if he owns the school? Do you know, it actually makes me feel physically sick when I hear girls talking about him like he's some sort of tormented dreamboat. You know, I bet it's because he's the bad boy. Girls always fancy the bad boy don't they? They think they can change him but that's just ridiculous because this is Draco Malfoy we're talking about, right?" She took a deep breath, waiting for him to say something.

"Er, you're talking about him," Harry started carefully. "And you've just completely contradicted yourself, you do realise that right?"

She stared at him confusedly for a moment. "This is why I hate him!" she screeched, stamping her foot angrily. "How can I promote interhouse unity when I hate him?" And I'm married to him."It's just so frustrating Harry, not to mention confusing." Hermione scrunched her eyes shut tightly and balled her fists against her sides and let out a small growl of annoyance. Harry stepped back worriedly.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes," she let out impatiently. Too impatiently she realised, for it wasn't Harry's fault she was in a bad mood. She offered him an apologetic smile and kissed his cheek quickly. "I just don't understand girls, that's all. I think I'll skip the Quidditch practice if that's ok, I'll see you at dinner."

She left Harry standing there completely out of sorts.

"I don't understand girls either," he muttered, heading for the pitch and the company of much simpler males.

~o~

The Head's dormitory was possibly in the worse location of the entire school, for it seemed to take an age to get there and was so far out of the way. Hermione felt her legs aching as she rushed up the stairs and along the corridor. Her anger pushed her along. It was funny how it seemed to have come out of nowhere, without warning. But she knew what it was about. She was angry at herself, angry for being so blind that she hadn't thought of how prejudiced she was being. How could she expect everyone in the school to embrace any sort of change when she couldn't even bring herself to do so?

If Dumbledore trusted Malfoy, then she was going to trust him no matter how much it pained her to do so. There had to be a good reason for him forcing their marriage, and if he didn't want her to know what it was then she would put her faith in him that it was for the right reason.

She reached the small, unmarked oak door and pulled out her key. If she hurried, she could get down to the library and spend the whole of her afternoon devising a revision timetable for the NEWTs. She could even work on timetables for Harry and Ron. A sense of normalcy flooded over her as she turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door.

It wasn't going to last.

Hermione looked up to find Draco Malfoy standing rigid right in front of her with the most haunting look she had ever seen in his eyes.

She stopped motionless, the door half open behind her and her key stuck in her hand and all thought of putting her trust in anyone discarded.

"He's dead."

There was a long, drawn out silence in which neither let out a breath. "Who's dead?" she asked when he made no motion to clarify.

"The minister who married us."

Hermione's eyes widened. "He's dead?" she whispered horrified, a million thoughts whirling through her mind. That man, the bumbling man who had stared into her eyes and known exactly what she didn't know herself. "But, how-"

"I think you'd better sit down," he told her, shutting the door to the corridor quietly. "I'm going to tell you everything."

To be continued...