(Hermione)
Hermione's brain pulled itself from the unmentionable horrors of her tormenting dreams and hurtled her back into consciousness. Her wild eyes snapped open and breathing deeply and raggedly, she wiped her sticky forehead and pushed her thick, knotty hair back. She sat up instinctively – her traitorous mind had relieved her of the images from the nightmare, but still taunted her with the conjured up sounds of heavy breathing and a silky voice whispering dirty things – and, eyes darting like a madwoman checked the ward she was incarcerated in for the phantom attacker whose ghostly hand, she was sure of, had been hovering just above her mouth seconds ago.
Upon realising there was no such attacker – although she rolled over and drowsily checked under the bed just in case she had hidden himself – Hermione, fatigued, dropped her head back to her thin pillow with a muffled thump and tried to make her thundering heart slow down to a pace that did not make her chest feel like the site of a percussion concert. Her sweaty, unclothed legs had somehow worked their way inside her duvet and had twisted it so much that she now found her lower half trapped inside the coverlet. Hermione accepted this, rolled onto her side and brought her knees as close to her chest as she could; that, of course, was not very close.
She tried not to think about the nightmare, and instead counted sheep, attempted to recall the twelve uses of dragon's blood and recited, word for word, the first chapter of Hogwarts: a History to herself inside her head. But, as her legs heated up and perspired in their goose down prison that feeling of being utterly trapped and helpless crept back into her bones. She kicked and struggled with the duvet, becoming more frantic and agitated with each passing second, and subsequently, despite her efforts, Hermione found herself thinking of her unmentionable night-terror and the event that had brought it about.
Is this how every night from now on is going to play out? Hermione despaired as she struggled still to free her legs. Will my dreams be a constant reminder of his devilish face, and of his cruel hands upon my skin? She wailed and cursed herself for her lack of knowledge in the subject of divination – more specifically dream telling (A lesser known branch of fortune telling) – which, at present, seemed to be a serious flaw in her magical education. Hermione's breathing and heart sped up again as she spiralled downwards into even more of a state and after what seemed to be an eternity – although, she knew, the time that had passed was no more than a couple of minutes – her brain gently reminded her of the promise that she had made to herself.
I will not allow myself to become a floundering mess. He will never have such a hold on me. Her words bounced around her head, distorted and echoing. Hermione was in no fit state to be logical and orderly, and she scrabbled for the suddenly very appealing bottle of Dreamless Sleep potion that Madame Pomfrey had thoughtfully left for her on her bedside table. She shuffled into an upright position, grasped onto it and sat it in her lap, stroking the lavender coloured bottle affectionately. Hermione turned it over; the girl was an avid reader of labels. This particular one read:
'Our patented Dreamless Sleep potion will send the drinker into a heavenly sweet deep sleep. The drinker will awake feeling well rested and refreshed, ready for whatever the day may throw at them. Dreamless Sleep is the perfect aid for restless children, insomniacs and those who suffer from recurring bad dreams. Fill up and drink one lidful of the potion for the best night's sleep you will ever have.' Hermione smiled, comforted by the label's soothing words and flowing font, and lovingly caressed the glass bottle. She brought it to her face and swirled the vial slowly. The potion inside, which was deep purple in colour, twinkled at her.
Hermione frowned and found herself thinking of the muggle book she had read as a child, Alice's Adventured in Wonderland, in which the title character finds herself in a strange world populated by anthropomorphic creatures. During her adventures the girl stumbles across an appealing bottle of potion, attached to it a label which reads drink me, similar to the one Hermione now held. Curious of what it will do to her, Alice drinks the potion and shrinks, ending up a fraction of her normal size. Of course, Hermione pondered, it is unlikely that drinking the Dreamless Sleep potion will cause me to shrink, although… The crease in her brow deepened. It's probably best if I read the label again, just in case I missed anything before.
The label did indeed have more text printed upon it, in a smaller, lighter font than what was written above it. Well done, Hermione. Missing the small print - how dunderheaded of you.
'Warning: Dreamless Sleep is an extremely addictive potion. If taken consecutively for more than five nights at a row the drinker will become dependant on it for a good night's sleep, and if taken for two weeks consecutively the potion is known to cause death.'
Hermione found herself suddenly reluctant to drink the potion, which know weighed down heavily in her cupped hands. Don't be silly, her conscience soothed, you've never been addicted to anything in your entire life. Drink the potion. You're just going to use it once, aren't you? To keep away the bad dreams. Hermione beamed again and nodded vigorously in answer. She quickly unscrewed the lid, poured herself the recommended dose and knocked it back like a shot of firewhisky.
The tonic's effect was almost instantaneous, and open bottle still in hand, Hermione yawned and fell back to her bed, a contented smile upon her face. The bottle fell to the bed with her and it's contents flowed out of the vial and seeped into the mattress, twinkling rather sinisterly as they did so.
*
Harry stormed into the hospital wing, a timid Ron at his heel – Harry, concerned about Hermione's wellbeing and seeking a second opinion on whether he should follow through with the punishment he had conjured up for Malfoy had told his redheaded best friend all about last night's events. Ron had dismissed Harry's threatening words in his head as soon as they had left his friend's mouth. That's not Harry talking, Ron had deduced, it's just the anger. Harry had garbled on, describing in detail what he wished to do to Malfoy, and Ron – who had a notoriously short attention span – had cautiously told his companion that it was a brilliant idea and that he should follow through with it as soon as the opportunity arose, just to shut him up. He had then proceeded to insist that he would accompany Harry down to the hospital wing in the morning, to check on Hermione and see if she was up to attending breakfast.
Ron, equally as worried about his former best female friend as Harry – for all his canoodling with Lavender Brown still cared very deeply about Hermione – traipsed to Hermione's bed in the ward. Upon it she sat fully dressed, smiling placidly and brushing her hair, which she had managed to tame into a neat wave. Relieved to see that she was not the emotional wreck Harry had described to him during their late night conversation, the youngest Weasley son forgot all about their non-talking status, beamed at her and went in for an eager hug after Harry. Hermione, who still held a slight grudge against Ron, patted him awkwardly on the back.
'Are you alright, 'Mione?' Ron gushed. 'The slimy git didn't hurt you or anything, did he?' Hermione pulled away from his embrace and wrinkled her nose.
Ron Weasley,, you thoughtless git, of course he has! He's destroyed me! Mind, body and soul! Destroyed me! Hermione kept her acrimonious thoughts to herself and instead masked her raging emotions with a friendly smile and shake of the head.
'No, Ronald, Malfoy didn't hurt me. Madame Pomfrey and Snape arrived before he could do anything.' Harry cocked an eyebrow at her, but kept silent.
'Good,' Ron returned. 'Because if the bastard had even laid a finger on you, I swear I would have-.' What exactly Ron would have done to Draco Hermione never found out. She looked on, slightly amused as Harry cupped a desperate hand around his friend's face and hauled him backwards.
'Ron,' Harry warned. ''Mione doesn't want us to hurt Malfoy.'
Ron frowned, confused. 'But mate, I thought you were going to-.'
'Going to what?' Harry lashed. Ron's ears turned bright pink. 'Shut up!' Harry mouthed as Hermione giggled and bid Madame Pomfrey a good morning. Ron scratched the back of his head and laughed awkwardly, as did Harry.
Hermione kept her mask on as they strolled down to breakfast. Pain washing through her with every step.
*
(Draco)
'Here comes the twat now. Look at him, strutting about the castle like he's done nothing wrong. And he's looking at you, Hermione! How dare he!' Draco raised his eyebrows at Potter as he hissed Draco's movements and actions to Granger, who was cautiously spooning porridge into her pouty little mouth, which he could not help but stare at. Something deep in the pit of his stomach ached and the monster in his chest growled possessively as he recalled the texture of her lips beneath his probing fingers. 'Yeah, 'Mione, he's staring at you like a piece of meat!' Weasley added. Draco, who had not realized that he had been gazing at the mudblood as his thoughts wandered, quickly rearranged his face into a composed expression. Not wanting to miss the chance to aggravate Potter and his sidekick, Draco stopped a little after their spot at the Gryffindor table and spun on his heel to face the trio.
'Got something to say have we, Potter? Weaslebee?' Draco drawled in a smooth tone and inclined his head to the scowling redhead, who blushed furiously. The Slytherin Prince chuckled.
Hermione glanced up timidly and lowered her gaze when Draco made eye contact with her. He smirked.
Well, your plan is certainly working. She won't even look at you! Congratulations, son. His Father's voice was back. Pride swelled in Draco's chest.
Another voice joined in the chorus. It was Snape's monotonous drone – the voice of reason. Draco, do not forget about our conversation. Heed my warning. Touch the girl and you will be at the Dark Lord's displeasure. Draco's stomach sunk at the mention of his master and he rolled his eyes out of the embarrassment at being reprimanded.
Harry and Ron stood simultaneously, tempers rising as they took in Draco's jeering words. 'Yeah, I have got something to say, Malfoy.' Potter sneered. 'I know what you did to Hermione, and you're going to pay for it. Here and now, if you don't back off.' Harry's voice rose to a shout. He whipped out his wand from within his sleeve. Draco glanced around nervously; by now all in close proximity were staring with curiosity at the four students.
'What do you think Malfoy has done to Hermione, Parvati?' He heard a dark haired Indian girl whisper behind her hands to her twin. Draco whipped his head their way and glowered at the pair, who promptly looked down and returned to their breakfast and shared copy of Witch Weekly.
'You're threatening me, Potter?' Draco scoffed, and laughed loud enough for Harry and Ron to hear. 'Potter, you don't have it in you to attack me!' Laughter spattered his words.
'Want a bet, Malfoy? Ten galleons we'll castrate you if you don't slither back to your hole.' Weasley spat.
'You're on, Weasley!' Draco chortled, and drew his own wand. There were now three clutched in their owners' hands, ready to do battle.
'All of you, stop! Please, Harry, Ron, stop this!' A sudden shrieking imploration came from Hermione. She threw down her porridge covered spoon and stood too, then sent the pair a pleading look, and tentatively did so with Draco as well.
Harry turned to face his panicking female friend and lost control. 'No, Hermione! I will not stand down! Malfoy fucking raped you! You should want me to do this!' He boomed. His words echoed around the hall, and the breakfasting students fell silent. There was a collective gasp from the lot of them, including several teachers. Pomona Sprout had turned as green as the plants she tended to and Snape was fuming. He banged down an empty coffee cup, left his position at the head table, accompanied by a distressed Minerva McGonagall who had abandoned her kippers, and began to stride, his face stony, to the four students, one of whom had burst into tears. Ron wrapped a protective arm around Hermione, who sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder.
'Mate, you're frightening Hermione,' Ron cautioned Harry. 'I think you're taking this a bit far. Stop, before you do something you'll regret.'
'I had to admit it, Potter, but Weaslebee is right. You're off your rocker.' Draco pitched in, sounding somewhat frightened. He had not seen Harry lose his temper to such an extent before.
See, Draco? This is where picking fights with Potter gets you to, you foolish boy! Snape's voice inside Draco's head warned.
'Don't you dare talk to me, Malfoy!' Harry roared, panting, his glasses askew. He drew his wand arm back above his shoulder and snarled. 'Sect-!'
'Potter! No!' McGonagall and Snape's frightened voices implored as they arrived at the scene of the confrontation.
'Harry, stop! Please!' Hermione begged, leaving Ron's side and tugging at his robes. She shrunk away from Harry, who sneered at her.
'Why?! Tell me, Hermione, why should I stop?! Why shouldn't Malfoy get what he fucking deserves?!' Harry thundered.
'Harry,' Hermione whimpered and reached forward to clutch at her maddened friend's sweat drenched robes. 'Harry, if you do this, you'll be no better than Voldemort!'
Harry flinched slightly but did not lower his wand. 'I don't give a damn, Hermione! He raped you!' Screamed Harry, a wild look in his green eyes.
Draco began to back away from Harry, fearful for his life.
'Potter, I must insist, stop this at once!' Snape and McGonagall chimed in unison.
'No!' Harry roared again. 'Sectum-!'
'Harry, Please!' Hermione begged and clawed at Harry's robes again. 'Please, Harry! I-!' She scrambled desperately for something to say. 'Harry, I love him!'
Shock registered on both Ron and Draco's faces as they watched Harry, who was too delirious with his own rage to hear Hermione's confession. He drew his wand ever higher.
'SECTUMSEMPRA!'
--
-cackles- What a cliffhanger! What an eventful chapter!
Is an addiction to sleeping potions around the corner for Hermione? Have her and Ron reconciled? Has Harry truly gone mad? How will everyone react to her confession? Is Snape going to save the day yet again? Stick around to find out!
Please review this chapter, I've done a great deal to get the chance to write it. I'm so sorry I didn't update sooner, there have been some personal problems in my household and I'm writing this in the dead of night. Three hours on the edge of my seat! Argh! ;-; To show how much you appreciate my all consuming desire to write this for you, please review! Reviews feed the muse!
Mentions, of course, to those who reviewed the last chapter (23 of you!!):
xX-PeaceLoveWar-Xx, MissStud, MidnightThief15, Kitty, I'm home, dancereadwritesing96, mysteryssister, AnnaOtaku, laurelad12, catherine smith, brilliant, hemery, Liv, Evans17, SnowCharms, Queen of Lunacy, AkatsukiWings, tucket, CyberDog101, rosebud23, Doni, DragonGirl323 and LoreLore! Thank you everyone!
And also, yay! 250 review benchmark! Keep up the good work all!
Laura