CHAPTER 3: The Secret's Out!
It had been over two weeks since Draco told Hermione that he felt nothing. Everything had returned to normal.
Hermione was lonely. Harry and Ron were nice company, and they made her laugh, but she kept them just out of reach, unwilling to discuss how she felt or why she felt that way. Her emotions were considered, but the boys could only linger on something for so long, and with the quidditch season and Harry's obsession with the half-blood prince, Hermione couldn't expect much from them.
It felt like a higher power was punishing Hermione for her secret. At every turn, her thoughts strayed. She began saying things, and wondered what Draco would say in response, and felt disappointed when Ron didn't live up to her expectations. Throwing herself into her work did nothing for her brain. Her heart was ruling her. Her heart was pining for Draco's attention, and he was denying her everything. She was so pathetic - and nothing made Hermione more angry than knowing she was being stupid.
In the Great Hall, the delicious smell of pork and roast vegetables wafted through Hermione's senses and she revelled in it as she made her way to her seat by Harry. It temporarily dampened her sour mood, for how could one be so angry when there was beautiful food to eat? But a glance at the Slytherin table showed Draco sitting with his back firmly towards the Gryffindors, and her bad mood returned. Hermione thumped into her seat, unceremoniously placed food on her plate, and stabbed at it with her fork. Harry glanced at her curiously.
"Pass the salt, would you 'Mione?"
Unfortunately for Hermione, Ron wasn't as observant as Harry, and he didn't see Hermione's furious expression. He was blissfuly unaware, and whilst Hermione envied him a little, it did nothing to stop her from thumping the salt so hard on the table, a few grains spat out of the shaker.
"Could you refill my cup, 'Mione? I'm all out of pumpkin juice."
Hermione filled it obligingly, glaring at Ron with such force that Harry cleared his throat quietly. Ron's mug was now full to the brim so when he picked it up, it spilled all over his robes. Hermione didn't pay any attention, her eyes trailing over to the Slytherin table once more, only to find Draco hadn't moved an inch. A part of Hermione was mad about this and she clenched her fork a little tighter, but another part believed it was just coincidence, because avoiding people was her tactic, wasn't it? Not his?
"Aw, 'Mione, these robes were freshly washed! Can you fix them?" Ron whined.
"Not right now, Ronald," Hermione said, snapping her eyes back to her food in front of her. She hadn't eaten much, but had mutilated the food rather impressively. Ron was grumbling to himself, waving his wand pitifully over his robes. Hermione smiled grimly.
"Hermione," Harry murmured, nudging her side softly. Hermione pretended not to hear him, suddenly desperate for a drink of her own, because Merlin she was not in the mood for Harry's interfering tendencies.
"I know you can hear me, even if you don't respond," he said smugly. Hermione barely managed not to roll her eyes. How did he know her so well? He continued. "I know Ron's being insensitive at the moment, but you can talk to me, okay? About what's going on, I mean."
Hermione smiled so Harry knew that she was thankful for his kindness, but she internally winced. Ronald was not high on her list of problems right now.
"Harry, what'd you write about for your Potions essay?" Ron interrupted, though he didn't know Harry and her were talking, so she couldn't be mad at him.
Harry reminded Ron that the essay was due tomorrow, and Hermione tuned out Ron's groans. She'd be asked to help him, of course, but hopefully Harry would advise him against it due to her bad mood. Hermione's eyes automatically moved to the Slytherin table again, where she noticed that a certain blonde was missing from his seat. Perhaps that was a good thing.
Deciding that Draco had the right idea by leaving early, and feeling optimistic about getting some extra studying done in the common room whilst everyone was at dinner, Hermione rushed out of the Hall with her bag, ignoring her friends' calls. Hermione felt a weight lift off her shoulders as she began to climb the stairs. She let her horrible mood roll off her in waves, stomping her feet with each step, narrowly avoiding the missing stair. It was unnaturally quiet on the staircases and Hermione loved it. Who could see her wallow in her misery? Who could see her and judge and wonder what got the bookworm's knickers in a twist? Nobody, and Hermione fleetingly felt gleeful. There wasn't even a ghost floating by, not even Peeves.
But then Hermione saw someone, and of course, who else would it be but him? Hermione's stomach twisted into knots and she almost felt happy about being alone with him once again before she remembered that nothing had changed between them and he didn't like her at all. Who was she trying to fool?
Draco made eye contact with Hermione before she managed to pull her stare away. His face was curiously blank as he walked in her direction. Hermione felt her stomach drop - after everything she had just told herself, he was coming her way, and Hermione fruitlessly hoped he'd speak to her. But no such luck; Draco rammed his shoulder into Hermione's so roughly she dropped her bag. She hissed in pain, shutting her eyes tightly. She waited anxiously for the insult that was bound to come with her eyes closed, gently rubbing her shoulder. Tense seconds passed, or hours, Hermione didn't know. She opened her eyes to find the corridor empty.
And that was worse than insulting her, Hermione decided as she continued to the common room. Because at least with an insult, she'd know precisely where she stood with him, and she wouldn't have this lingering hope that perhaps Draco just didn't know where they stood either.
Hermione finally reached the Fat Lady's portrait, said the password, and clambered through the hole. She was assaulted by the heat of the fire and stripped herself of her cloak, placing it on the back of the best chair by the fire, settling herself into it. Hermione refused to muse about Draco any longer and got out her Potions book, revising the topic of their assigned essay in preparation for Ron's arrival. But even that didn't hold her concentration for long. Hermione sighed and stared into the fire, telling herself that once people started trickling in from dinner she'd return to study. For now, she'd think about him. Thinking was allowed. She didn't have to feel guilty for it.
"Her-mi-oh-ne!"
Hermione blinked herself into reality, cursing her daydreams, to find Ginny waving her hand in Hermione's face in a vain effort to get her attention.
"What?" Hermione asked, flushing awfully and trying to hide it by looking down and sorting through her library books. Ginny let her pretend.
"I think I'm in love," Ginny said in a voice that went perfectly with her dreamy expression, which Hermione couldn't resist snickering at when she peeked. "And I think you are too."
"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, choking on air. Ginny shushed her, looking around frantically for the nose librarian.
"I said," she repeated, "I think you're in love."
"Yes, yes, I heard you," Hermione said, regaining what she hoped was a semblance of composure.
"Then what'd you ask for?" Ginny asked, making Hermione purse her lips. She chuckled and pushed Hermione's shoulder affectionately. "The real question is thus: who."
Hermione could feel her blush rising once more and she really wished that, one, she hadn't been caught daydreaming, and two, Ginny wasn't such a romantic and would leave the topic alone. "I'm not in love, Gin," Hermione said.
"Oh please spare me your lies, Hermione. As if your blush isn't a dead giveaway."
Hermione scowled at Ginny's expectant expression. She knew nothing - nothing - about anything. Hermione was not in love. A soft spot. An inkling of affection. A crush, Hermione would reluctantly allow. But not love.
"Seriously, Ginny, I'm not discussing this with you in the Library," Hermione replied sternly, returning her attention to her book. Where was she up to, again? Not that it mattered, because Ginny slid the book out of Hermione's grip and practically frog-marched her outside. Hermione looked back desperately at her books but instead accidentally locked eyes with the one person she didn't expect to see, let alone see in the library. His eyes were molten silver and curious.
Hermione was freed just outside the library doors and she considered making a run for it before seeing Ginny's expression.
"Hermione Jean Granger," Ginny said, locking eyes with her suggesting she expected very intense gossip, "Spill."
"There's really nothing to say," Hermione spluttered, her hands waving around in emphasis of her point. "I don't even... What makes you think... Oh, Ginny, I'm so screwed! I don't know what to do!"
Ginny melted into gooey softness right in front of Hermione's eyes. "Come on," she said gently. "Just tell me who it is, we'll start from there."
"I can't," Hermione said immediately, but Ginny shook her head and told her that admittance was the first step, and the rest would be easy after that, and Merlin Hermione wanted to believe her so badly. But she knew better.
Draco was a Slytherin. A Malfoy. A pureblood. A Death Eater, even. Hermione didn't understand herself, so how could she explain her stupid, little, temporary crush on him to Ginny? She'd be disgusted and worried and would probably tell Harry and Ron. There was no way in hell Hermione could tell her with no backlash.
"It's nothing," Hermione said firmly. "Just a crush. It'll go in a few weeks, right?"
"You don't really strike me as the type for crushes," Ginny said, looking at Hermione with wide, trustworthy eyes. Hermione felt her resolve crumble and glanced away.
"Don't do that," she grumbled, kicking the ground with her toe. Hermione really wanted to tell somebody. Her turmoil was destroying her. How much longer could she keep such a big secret to herself? "Can I trust you?" Hermione asked Ginny.
"With your life," Ginny promised.
"Okay," Hermione breathed. "You're not going to be pleased."
"I already am!"
"Shut up. Okay. It's not love. But I think I might have a tiny crush on Dra... "
The library doors opened and Hermione clamped her mouth shut. Why, oh why, did he have to be standing there?