Chapter Five
"Ha ha, loser," snickered Luna devilishly. "I've got a bathroom with a pool."
"Luna, that's a bathtub."
"Really, I thought that was the bathtub," Luna said, pointing to a large metal tub with several snake shaped nozzles. It was, in fact, a sink, and there were others just like it.
A stone domed ceiling towered above the pool-sized bathtub in the center of the humongous room. The pool was already filled with crystal clear water. An extravagant fountain guzzled in the center, yet the glassy surface of the rest of the pool was still. Light steam conditioned the temperature, reflecting off the stone surfaces and many statues. Painted snakes on the tile wall coiled around the perimeter, stopping to hiss with bared dagger-like teeth. They weren't real but sharp hisses echoed throughout the bathroom. A stone chandelier with dim flares illuminated the room, but left mostly darkness in the flawless mirror situated above only one sink.
"I get the sink with the mirror," called out Draco. He was just entering the gothic-style room. Blaise came in next, brows furrowed and childishly upset. Apparently they weren't as impressed as the two less wealthy girls.
"Why is their only one mirror?" He whined, stepping in front of the mirror to check his hair. "This could have been a perfect bathroom, but it's missing the most important part!"
"You're right, Zabini," said Hermione. "No toilets."
"Over there," Draco said. He pointed to a single stall shoved to the side. Blaise went over to go check.
"Well, no mirror, but there's a toilet. A tiny girl toilet… Me first," he got into the stall and shut the door. "Oi, a little privacy?"
"You've already got a door," Draco said. He was at the pool, skimming the water's surface with his fingers.
"Urgh," Blaise suddenly sounded sick, "I don't feel so good. I really think I should ---"
"Ugh, gross, Blaise!" Draco sped out the room, through a black wooden door. There was another right next to it, and Hermione suspected it belonged to Blaise.
"We have to share a bathroom with guys?! Do you know how unlucky that is?" Luna was horrified. Hermione, on the other hand, knew nothing of bathroom superstitions. She ignored Luna and went to observe a stunning onyx thestral. Just then a sickening groan came from Blaise. The girls screamed and headed to Luna's door. They missed and ran into the one next to it.
"Wow," gasped Hermione. The bedroom was just like Luna's except bigger and Gryffindorish: red and gold and pictures of lions everywhere. She had a big open space around a large mahogany table.
"Not fair," Luna pouted, plopping onto Hermione's bed.
"Luna, my room's just like yours except for the extras I need."
"Hey, is someone in there?" A muffled voice came from the other door. Hermione opened it. "Oh, Henrietta!"
"You see? That's the only problem with this place. You can get to each other's room through the bathroom! Well, what's the point of a portrait like me here then? There isn't one! I should be out somewhere in the halls. The Passage Room'd be good enough, too! The architecture of this thing is terrible, I say."
"Passage Room?"
"Oh yay, another room to check out! How do we get there?"
"Well, Miss Lovegood, you'd use the staircase in the Common Room," Henrietta huffed.
"'Etta, knock it off. You can still visit any portrait in the school," Rosemary said from across the little space between them.
"I know, I know. But still, I'm useless!"
"I know that, too," replied Rosemary. She bent down to drop her radish. "C'mon. Into the Common Room."
"Okay," said Rosemary. She was in a portrait of an old king who was sleeping in his throne. "Something's wrong with this guy. I suspect that powerful sleeping potion did this. Anyhoo," the portrait was near the spiral staircase and she pointed to it, "go down. Go up and you'll find yourself going up and up forever. Strange magic, you know. Keep away from there."
So, the girls went down. The came into a room full of portraits. All hung on the walls of the circular room and each the size of doors. These portraits were of frogs. One had two identical frogs on a man's bald head, the one next to it had six frogs on a rock. The background of it was of high snow topped mountains. The other portraits showed frogs varying in number from one to seven. Loud croaking filled the room. Beejee was also there, carrying two cages.
"I thought you'd be here, miss," Beejee said to Hermione. "Master Blaise took an eagle so all I's gotten for you is doves."
"I'll take either one, Beejee," sighed Hermione. "And please take a rest, Beejee. You look tired."
"Hey, Beejee knows you! Dobby had told Beejee about you!" Beejee's eyes narrowed in anger. "Well, Beejee will not! Not! Beejee will not!" He humphed and vanished. The cages dropped and the doves chirped and fluttered angrily.
Hermione sighed again, staring at the spot he left. She began contemplating, like many times before, on the wrongness of house elves being used for chores without salaries.
"Hermione," sang Luna in her nicely smooth, even ghostly voice. "There's something I think you'll find interesting behind Fabio Flores Cantino-Melendrez."
"Fabio-what?"
"Frog number one," Luna explained, gesturing to the portrait of a single frog nestled in a sea of what looked like shriveled sea weed. Shiny, stringy, wrinkly, and seeming to inch out, entangling themselves even more.
Fabio Flores Cantino-Melendrez wore a Mexican sombrero with colored tassels quivering on the rim with each croak.
"This doesn't surprise me," Hermione mumbled under her breath. Surprisingly, Luna caught it.
"Well, just look at these frogs, Hermione," she said in exasperation. "Look at the cute French hat and lipstick on that one. And the wicked sports car that other one's riding in. And gosh, Hermione! Those three have the most nicely kept blonde afros! These frogs have charisma! They have pizzazz! Sparkle! I mean, a frog with flavah like that without a name is… is just so incomplete!"
"Don't explode on me, Luna," Hermione said to the gasping Luna. "Just show me what's behind Fabio and maybe we'll get to see what I.M. Fresh the Pimp is hiding."
Luna caught her breath as they slipped behind the portrait door.
What they thought was open space turned out to just be the dark, solid texture of a tapestry. It startled the two girls, who almost tore it down as they fell to the cold, hard floor.
"Where are we?" Luna repeated after the very thought Hermione had.
"Um," Hermione blinked to adjust her view, "we're on the first floor… I think."
"First floor? Oh, then that wall is the back of the staircase, right?"
"Yes. I wonder why they don't keep any lights on here, what with the staircase being so easy to trip over. And that frightening wind whistling through the glass windows --- Filch!" Without a second to think, Hermione jerked the both of them back through the portrait.
They ended up on their bottoms. Quite conveniently, the croaking in the bright Passage Room steadied their pulses.
"We almost got ---"
"Hermione," Luna said calmly, "what would Filch do? You were supposed to be searching the school. Now he's probably gonna come over here to check on us, all rattled and confused. I suppose he'll start complaining how we somehow disturbed Mrs. Norris."
Luna paused to wait for the portrait to open. But lax Fabio showed no suggestive signs. He just flopped back to take a nice siesta on the comfy looking sea weed.
"Right," Hermione replied sheepishly.
"Okay, time for I.M. Fresh!"
Hermione was about to disagree when something stopped her.
"Miss Granger?" They twisted around to a new voice from behind. A stout looking woman in rough looking pajamas under an exposing cloak stood in front of the portrait with the French-hat-wearing frog. This lady was cleaner than one the girls knew, but she undoubtedly the same.
"Professor Sprout!" Hermione said her emotions different from Luna's, which for some reason still calm. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, just passing by. You wouldn't expect a place like this all for yourselves, now would you?"
The girls shook their heads.
Professor Sprout smiled warmly and continued. "This is some place you've got here, isn't it? I don't know if you haven't found out before, but this isn't what the former Head Boy and Girl Dorm was."
The girls nodded, understanding. They did notice their new home too be a bit much. Hermione felt sickened, thinking they had better luxury than the teachers, even with the extra roommates. But now she could feel relieved, if not offended by how easily others could enter what she thought to be private.
"No, don't worry, dear," Professor Sprout said, "these passages require passwords too. The one behind me is 'harmonica'. Ironic, but all for the better. That one behind you you'll have to watch out for. He's a lazy one. You didn't use a password."
"No."
"MmHm. The password's 'Where's Waldo?' Don't ask me, though. I didn't make these up. Maybe the other portraits will help you with the others. Right now I don't have the time. I have some news for the headmaster. Good night, dears." She left through I.M. Fresh.
"How nice," Hermione grumbled.
"Well at least now we know what to expect down here. So now we won't have heart attacks when we see Snape sulking through here when we're inappropriate."
"Ha." By this time Hermione was getting drowsy, even to worn out to explore the rest of her lavish manor-like home.
"So we're not gonna check behind I.M. Fresh?"
"Am I really that readable?" Hermione laughed bitterly.
"Like a book. Well, I suppose I should go, too. Tomorrow, I think I'll go to the forest with Neville or something. The statues in the bathroom made me miss the thestrals." The two helped each other up. With many yawns, they crept to their rooms, not even relishing the fact that they hadn't bumped into the Head Boy or his auxiliar on the way.
Hermione had drifted away into a dreamless sleep in the most comfortable bed she'd slept in. She was entirely relaxed, the success of her mind warding off any thoughts of Draco adding to the loveliness.
Then… Draco.
There he was on the train, new looks, new hair, new attitude --- speaking to the first years, knowing what he was doing, talking of her, such a model for the younger. She had caught him listening to Dumbledore, focused, mature --- then sorting, giving the new ones a look to remind them who's boss --- the feast, the younger Slytherins looking at him with idolizing eyes, the seventh years rendering him as the main social subject, the prince. So they teased him. Yes, but only those truly, or seemingly, close to him. Other treated him with respect.
And then…
It was the prince running his finger over the water. Ever so gently, barely making ripples. He seemed… peaceful.
That was a Draco Hermione had never seen before. That was a Draco at ease. Calm and relaxed. That mischievous, diabolical gleam in his eye replaced by a soft, smooth periwinkle blue. Faint blue that matched the water. But his eyes were blue, without the silver that represented his metallic, powerful self.
She couldn't get enough of this Draco. She scarcely remembered actually looking at him. Maybe this was a trick. Her mind was playing demon, plaguing her with visions of angels.
Angels, her tiny, lingering conscious part shrieked. Surely she wouldn't associate him with angels!
That little part fought. Fought to erase those thoughts as it did before. There he was jeering with his fellow Slytherins, her enemies. There he was cruelly ignoring the younger ones. Draco by the pool was gone. They were at the train. He was taunting her. His hurtful words grew louder and louder.
She was squirming in her blankets, sweat gluing her shirt to her, moistening her forehead and her hair. Tears formed, stinging her eyes. Her face was overheating. He was shouting. She was screaming. He was closing in on her. He gripped her shoulders, squeezing her so hard as if to break her. He was capable.
His eyes were dark. A beautiful oceanic blue. As the background grew dark, silver molten shadows swirled in his brilliant orbs. He was hardly human. He was nothing but a beautiful, god-like demon.
He started chuckling. He was laughing. He was cackling like he did those many years. And during those six painful years, the many times she, Harry, Ron, and even the Dark Lord had stood up to him. Those times when he was the one with consequences. Harsh consequences. Pain. Those times were erased. Or rather unobtainable. All she could think of was him. Him and the pain.
"GRANGER!"
Hermione woke up. A quiet, wheeze-like scream escaped her mouth, which she realized was now aching.
Her eyes still weren't focused, but when they were… Draco was there, his pale face right up to hers, the whites of his eyes glinting in the paler moonlight. He had on an expression that was neither fear nor anger. It was a pleading look but with a force, an expectancy.
"Dammit, Granger. What is the matter with you?"
"I… I…" She was still gasping for air, breathing in the sweet, musky scent of Draco, bringing flaming heat to her cheeks.
She planned to say something, but didn't know what to say. She'd just sputter and humiliate herself even more. But before she could do that, Draco released her shoulders, which he had been shaking her with. He took her numb arms and hoisted her up so that she was upright on her bed. He stopped leaning on it and pulled her more. Her legs were lead and she could still feel them aching.
"Get up," he urged. He slid his hands up her arm to her shoulders again, but something sent an electric bolt surging through her and she scrambled up.
He was looking up at her with an unknown emotion. The moonlight revealed curiosity aflicker somewhere. The moon only illuminated strands of her hair for him, but trickling tears glittered down her cheek, the cause of the other part of his emotion. It wasn't anger and it wasn't an urge to mock. If he laughed she would just die.
"H-Hermione?"
She clambered down and pushed off the bed. She sniffled and wiped away the tears violently. She forced her sleeping muscles awake to straighten herself and her sleeping clothes. More pangs of pain came with the process of regaining body and mind.
"What," she wavered quietly. She swallowed and in a suddenly angry voice uncoordinated with her expression, "What do you want?"
He cleared his voice. "I came to get you to patrol with me and I found you screaming and battling some invisible monster. We have to go. It's already past ten thirty and we still have to meet Filch. C'mon, let's go."
He was dragging her out the door to the library. She only had enough time to grab her cloak and stumble into her flats.
He was storming along the walkway in the library. She was trailing far behind, swinging her cloak onto her freezing body.
She could hear her tired panting as she neared him, but couldn't hear him. He seemed to be gliding, quiet and thoughtful, and probably still thinking about her.
She didn't like that.
"Why are we taking this route? Couldn't we have just used the Passage Room?" Hermione began, trying to start a conversation. As uncommon as this was, it was nothing compared to him thinking about her without that trademark smirk. If he was thinking up an evil prank or cursing her, he'd be smirking.
Surprise came upon his face.
"Excuse me?"
"The Passage Room?" she said, thinking he had misheard her. But he remained silent, so she explained. "You know that room downstairs of the Common Room?"
"No, sorry," he said, strangely polite, "I never went down there. We up and ---"
"There's some kind of new magic there, according to Rosemary, Luna's portrait keeper."
He contemplated that, then spoke again as they exited the library. They were both walking effortlessly over the floors of the second floor. "Oh yeah, Rosemary. The other one's Henrietta? She wouldn't let me in so I had to go through the bathroom. Pretty sweet, huh?"
"I don't think so," Hermione grumbled. "One of the major flaws in the architecture. I should have somebody get that fixed."
"No, not that. I was talking about the bathroom. I mean, that bathroom had to be one of the nicest I'd ever seen. It's like the one at my house."
"But I can imagine the one at your house would have a decent supply of mirrors."
"Well…yes, but Blaise and I found the stash hidden under some loose tiles."
"That's a strange place to find mirrors. How did you come across them?" Hermione hadn't intended on have a conversation this friendly. She felt the need to ask questions; part of her wanted to avoid awkward silences.
"I tricked Blaise into letting me have his mirror. Then he went into a frenzy looking for another one. He can be very compulsive when he wants to be."
Hermione laughed. She didn't notice him stiffen next to her.
"Er --- yes, well," he began as they neared the top of the staircase on the first floor. "Watch your step."
"Hold on, I'll get my wand," Hermione said and reached into her cloak. She froze suddenly. "Oh no!" she uttered, horrified. "My wand, I left it!"
Draco rolled his eyes and sighed as she frantically searched her cloak and turned to see if she dropped it. "I've got mine. Lumos!"
Hermione climbed down by the rail, the steps only dimly lit as she distanced herself from him. A cloud of shame floated invisibly over her.
Draco was silent too. Silently gloating.
"Late," Argus Filch spat.
"We're sorry, sir. We had a bit of… trouble at the suite. It won't happen again."
"It better, not, Mister Malfoy. I'd expect better from you."
Hermione became worried when Filch didn't throw a glance at her. But she didn't get into trouble with him…lately.
"I don't have time to give you a lecture. I hope you two understand the act of patrolling the whole school."
"Will we check with you later?"
"You won't have to. Mrs. Norris can tell me if you're doing your job." Mrs. Norris crept behind Filch, her blood red eyes glowing. She purred she while she slipped in and out around his feet, not taking her eyes of Draco or Hermione. "Off you go," Filch dismissed menacingly and stalked off.
Hermione was still worrisome.
"Oh, come on, Granger," Draco groaned, annoyed. He grabbed her arm and gestured to walk.
When they were on their way, Hermione suddenly felt better. There was one of those silences that were and what they were supposed to be. If she spoke now, that would be awkward.
"It's not like anybody has never had a nightmare," Draco said.
He startled Hermione and she wasn't able to understand. "What?"
"Granger, it's nothing to worry about. It's like a bad mark. It's no big deal. You'll forget about it sometime… That is, unless that was what you were dreaming about. In that case, I wouldn't be surprised, but very, very creeped out."
"What? My nightmare? Just drop it. I--- I already forgot about it anyway."
"You see? No need to worry."
"Okay then," Hermione said quietly, trying to end the conversation. Draco's sudden sympathy was too novelty for her liking.
They were wandering the third floor when Draco stopped waving his glowing wand around. "Granger, I am curious…"
"I-I was dreaming about… er… flying."
"You were dreaming about flying?" Draco asked wryly. "What, you're afraid of heights?"
"No… I am afraid of…falling."
"MmHm," he drew his wand closer to her face, observing her expression more thoroughly. "And I suppose I pushed you off a broom or something."
"What makes you think you had any part in it?"
"Oh nothing. Nothing except you screaming my name over and over again." He chuckled. Mockingly and intentionally loud, he shrieked, "Draco! Draco! Draco!"
"Wha ---? No! No no no, that did not happen! Draco you are ---"
He stopped laughing. Hermione burned a scarlet red that would put Ron to shame.
"Ahem," he said, clearing his throat and squeezing out a last laugh, "where was I? Ah yes, Draco! Draco! Draco!"
"You're making it up, Malfoy. I would never ---"
"Oh but you would. You could. You should. C'mon, join me. Draco! Draco! Draco!"
Anger and humiliation leaked out in the form of tears. With a pained screech and a hard stomp, she ran away into the darkness.
Hermione lay curled up in a ball, clutching her stomach to keep from throwing up. She was in the middle of a moving staircase, facing up toward the escalating steps. Her tight ball was wobbling and threatened to roll down and shatter on the grounds some two stories away.
The staircase lurched. She instinctively gripped one of the poles under the railing and stilled herself. The staircase slowly drifted and assembled on the fourth floor.
"Hermione?" She heard Draco's voice in the distance. A tiny dot of white light grew in the darkness. Footsteps paced faster and Draco's weary voice grew louder. "Hermione?"
She reluctantly lifted her head. Her eyes were sore and her face was tight from dried, salty tears. Her arms and legs ached, her clothes were wet, and she felt groggy again, like when you first wake up in the morning. She already missed being woken in the morning rather than at ten-thirty at night.
"Ugh. Granger," Draco growled. He let out a deep breath full with relief. He offered a hand to her, eyes not meeting hers. They were tired from searching a place overrun with darkness. His shoulders were slumped and his head hung.
Seeing him weak, she felt the need to make up for all those times she didn't come up with comebacks. "Don't you mean Hermione?"
The expression on his face was priceless.
"You know what, Granger?" He jerked her up. "I am going to hex you into the next ice age in the next universe! It'll be eons before I ever see you in hell."
He shook the light out of his wand. Promptly, the tip lit up again, glowing a brilliant scarlet.
"You don't have the guts, Draco," Hermione scoffed.
"Are you challenging me?" Draco drawled. "Granger."
"As a matter of fact, I am," she replied pleasantly, "teasing you's more like it. But, if you prefer a challenge, then I'm all up for it."
"Ha," he scoffed. "Without a wand?"
"Yes. I can take you all by myself with no wand at all." She tapped her head.
"You must me joking," he mused, laughing as he shook out the light.
She glared at him haughtily. She quivered slightly and he was suddenly on the floor, stiff and straight as a board.
His eyes grew wider with fear as she leaned to his face. "Am I?"
She laughed quietly as he struggled to pry his lips open. He threatened her with fierce muffles and a sinister stare.
"What was that, Malfoy? You're still going to hex me into the next universe? I don't think so." She leaned back and crossed her arms. "Now, I know I just can't leave you here paralyzed and speechless, though most of the school would object. So before I unbind you I just want to go over a few things. One, you will refer to me as Hermione. It's childish to keep on a last name basis, Draco. Two, you do not threaten girls. How ignorant of you. Threatening me? Three, you do not barge into my room without permission. My door in the bathroom was made only for the entering and exitting purposes of one person and one person only. Misuse of that door leads to problems and problems lead to situations where one person is strolling about around a dull minded twit lying helplessly on the floor. Four, as enjoyable as it is for me to have you at my disposal, it is wrong. Very very wrong. We are both equal to each other and if you chose to misbehave I will be forced to teach you right. Do you understand?"
Draco growled and nodded. Hermione flashed a smile and released him.
"You're a bit more devious than I thought, Hermione," Draco said, stretching his muscles in front of her. She nodded proudly.
"We still have work to do, you know."
"No we don't. I've already scoured all seven floors looking for you. It's time to hit the hay."
"Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm going to bed and I hope you've learned you're lesson."
"No, not really. I just found out you could do wandless magic. No big deal. You don't scare me."
"Liar."
"Come now, Granger. Me afraid of you? That's ridiculous. You just think you're so tough, when really, you're not." He turned and started for the suite.
"Oho," Hermione mused. She caught up with him. "You're calling me the hypocrite? I did hex you, you know. It's not like you were going to do the same to me."
"Now of course I would, Granger. Why wouldn't I? You're pesky, stubborn, and vile. Even worse than me. I did everything I did to help you. If anyone it's you who should be punished."
"Wow, with just one more brain, what a half-wit you'd be."
"Think about it, Granger. You first cracked because you were embarrassed. I cracked because I was annoyed at you."
"You threatened me because you are a naturally hateful person."
"Not completely, but at one point yes."
"Yeah, one point being the day you were born and you haven't changed since."
"Oh lovely, Granger. You were always the little charmer."
"I am."
"Whatever you say. Detego deductum!"
