DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.
Much to Hermione's annoyance, Malfoy turned out to be right. The next three nights, her dreams were haunted by Zella, either in her prime as the Head Girl, collapsing to the floor as she died or her ghostly figure drifting desolately along the walls of Hogwarts and towards the Gryffindor tower. The most recent dream, the latter option, had seen Zella enter the common room and float upwards towards where Hermione slept. Like a whisper, she had glided to Hermione's bed and reached out to touch her sleeping face.
At which point Hermione promptly jerked awake, breathing heavily and scanning the room frantically. She didn't know if Zella meant her any harm, but it was better to be cautious.
As her breathing slowed, she slowly lay back down and stared at the canopy of her bed. Her encounter with Malfoy had scared her more than she was willing to admit, even more so now that Zella, as he had predicted, was making regular starring roles in her once peaceful dreams. It was worrying, yes, but what was she supposed to do? Go up to Malfoy and ask for his help? Unlikely. Really, really unlikely. She could just imagine his smug face, smirk permanently etched onto his mouth.
It was this unrelenting mental image that prompted Hermione to go to the library the next day at lunch time. She placed her bag down on a table and ran her fingers over the spines of books, before realizing that she had no idea what she was supposed to be looking for. Defeat welled before the idea to check the records room struck her. With renewed hope, she snatched her bag up and tore from the library, earning the glare of death from Madam Pince.
"Hermione?" a voice called, confused.
She skidded to a halt and turned around breathlessly. Harry and Ron stood staring at her.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked slowly. "You look…"
"Ill? Tired? Dishevelled?" Ron offered. Hermione shot him a scowl. "I'll be quiet."
"Thanks," Hermione answered icily before addressing Harry. "I know, I've not been sleeping very well."
"Zella again?" Harry guessed, concern marking his features.
"Right in one," Hermione sighed. "She isn't leaving me alone and it's taking its toll. The dreams wake me up just past midnight and I don't get back to sleep." She laughed slightly. "On the plus side, I'm about three months ahead with my homework."
"When are you not?" Ron asked with a grin.
Hermione shrugged, allowing that. "Are you coming with me to the records room? I'll only be a few minutes. Then we can all go down to lunch together."
"Sure," Harry nodded.
Ron's stomach answered for him.
"Was that an objection, Ron?" Harry laughed.
"No," Ron muttered, his cheeks colouring. "Come on."
Hermione's giggles subsided after ten minutes of searching the records for some new scrap of information. She scowled and sighed angrily as the seconds ticked by.
"There's nothing here, let's just go," she said, her tone betraying her disappointment and anger.
They filed out of the room and headed down to lunch. The corridors were mercifully emptier than usual; they had missed the initial lunchtime rush.
"Are you sure you don't know anything else about Zella?" Harry asked.
I only know what Malfoy told me, she thought, feeling guilty for not telling her best friends about the Slytherin's warning.
"I'm sure," she answered, because what else could she say? Harry and Ron would only seek vengeance on Malfoy if they knew. Besides, a small part of Hermione was glad that Malfoy appeared to know what was going on. It meant that, should things get any worse, she wasn't alone in the problem. Another, much larger, part of her wanted to hex him into oblivion for not just sharing what he knew.
"We'll look again soon," Harry said with a shrug, and before Hermione knew it the conversation had turned to Quidditch as they entered the Great Hall.
She sighed, knowing that this would be the topic for the next few minutes. The boys took their seats and began piling food onto their plates. Hermione chose a bread roll and began surgically slicing it into even bits with her knife, glad of the distraction. When she had finished with this, she chose an apple to suffer the same fate.
"You're not eating much, 'Mione," Ron said with his mouth full.
"You're not eating anything at all," Harry corrected.
"I'm just not that hungry," Hermione shrugged. "And even if I were, the sight of Ron shovelling food into his mouth is enough to put anyone off their food."
"Growing boys need their food," Ron answered, unabashed.
"At this rate you'll be as big as Hagrid," Harry warned.
Hermione laughed, but it quickly died in her throat as she glanced across the room and locked eyes with Malfoy, sitting with his henchpeople at the Slytherin table. He raised his eyebrows at her questioningly, his mouth curving upwards. She instinctively raised a hand to her necklace to cover it protectively and quickly looked away. She didn't touch her food for the rest of the meal.
"This is getting ridiculous," Ron growled, his eyes raking critically over Hermione as she greeted them at the breakfast table two days later. "That bitch kept you up again?"
"Yep," Hermione answered wearily, pouring herself some porridge. The dark shadows under her eyes were now more pronounced than ever and her hands quivered ever so slightly as she set the jug back down.
"Nick!" Harry called suddenly, making Hermione and Ron jump.
They looked up accusingly at him, only to see him gesturing to Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost who's head had a stubborn refusal to part with his body, even after death.
"Morning Harry, Ron, Hermione!" Nick beamed as he came to a halt behind where they were sitting. He leant forward slightly to look at Hermione and frowned in concern. "My, you're not looking too well."
"I know," Hermione answered edgily. How many more people would comment on this?
"Hermione's not getting a lot of sleep right now," Harry answered. "A ghost is haunting her dreams. The ghost of a young woman who died in Hogwarts. Do you know anything about that?"
Nick frowned again, his fingers tapping his chin as he thought.
"Well, a lot of people have died in Hog…I mean, no, I don't think I do!" Nick corrected hastily, alarm passing over his translucent face.
"What?" Ron asked sharply.
Nick glanced from side to side and sighed. He gestured for the three teenagers to lean in towards him, which they did.
"This is a school of magic," Nick whispered conspiratorially. "Of course there have been accidents. The majority are covered up so as not to alarm students and are quickly forgotten about. Some, however, come to light."
There was a pause as they all thought of Moaning Myrtle, the wailing girl who had been killed in a girl's bathroom a few floors up from where they currently sat. No one could've imagined the way in which she had died until it was revealed that the basilisk that Tom Riddle controlled had looked her straight in the eye. With unease, Hermione wondered how many people had died of unnatural causes at Hogwarts. She would never assume illness killed the ghosts that resided here ever again.
"This girl's name was Zella Lennox," Ron said, breaking the collective reverie. "Lived and died in the 1800s some time."
"She was the Head Girl," Harry added. "Killed in Seventh Year."
There was a pause as Nick tried to remember. Then he nodded solemnly.
"Ah, I think I remember." After another sweep of the room, he continued. "A most curious case. Always had a smile for everyone, did Zella. I was most surprised when…"
"When?" Harry prompted.
"Well, when she was found stabbed to death," Nick answered uncomfortably. "There was quite a bit of outrage about her courting a Slytherin for a few months before she died. He was Head Boy, a perfectly respectable boy from what I remember."
"A respectable Slytherin Head Boy?" Ron muttered. "Seems to me they murdered the wrong person."
"Ron!" Hermione gasped. "That's awful!"
"I'm just saying," Ron mumbled.
"Go back to the story, Nick," Harry requested, interrupting before a fight could break out. "So Zella was found stabbed?"
"Yes," Nick sighed, perplexed. "No one was ever brought to justice because there were too many suspects. It was an awful time, really. The Houses prided themselves on their differences even more than they do now, and for an inter-House relationship to occur and then go public…it was unheard of."
"What happened to the Head Boy?" Hermione asked, remembering his face in her dreams.
"No one knows," Nick said mysteriously. "He dropped out without telling anyone. Suspicious indeed, but I'm sure many people were glad to see him go. He was the only reminder of the unpleasantness that the school had faced. Without him, people moved on and pretended it never happened."
"Until now," Hermione sighed, going back to her now congealed porridge.
"Until now," Nick confirmed with a nod.
Remembering the horrible fate that Zella had suffered made the animosity that Hermione felt towards her fade. She pushed away her bowl and stood up.
"I'm not very hungry any more," she said in way of explanation. "I've got the afternoon off so I think I'll try and get some sleep."
She nodded as Harry, Ron and Nick bade her a concerned farewell before she shuffled out of the Great Hall. Every muscle in her body cried out as she climbed the steps, her legs threatening to collapse underneath her at any moment. She managed to get to the third floor before having to stop to lean against a wall and closing her eyes.
"My, Granger, you look terrible," came Malfoy's gloating voice from behind her.
He must've followed me up from breakfast, Hermione thought wearily. Brilliant.
"Leave me alone," she told him, her eyes remaining shut.
"No, I'm serious," Malfoy told her, adopting a worried tone. "Either you're into some new weird makeup trend or the dark circles under your eyes are there by accident."
"Malfoy, please," she said quietly, opening her tired eyes with a substantial amount of effort. She jumped slightly when she realized how close he was to her. He stood perhaps two feet away from her, glaring at her critically.
"I was right, wasn't I?" he asked. "You've been dreaming about Zella."
"More like she's been invading my unconscious," Hermione retorted. "And as you can see, she's not letting me get any sleep whatsoever, so if you've come here to say something then just damn well go ahead and say it. Otherwise, sod off."
Malfoy raised his pale eyebrows delicately. "I was merely here to offer my help." He smiled maliciously, and Hermione knew that he wasn't here to do that at all. "But I can see that you're handling things sensationally without my help."
He turned and began to walk away, and before Hermione could stop herself she called out his name. He stopped and turned, smirking.
"Yes?" he asked.
"I…nothing," Hermione said, looking away.
"If you need my help, all you have to do is ask," Malfoy purred and, oddly enough, it caused Hermione to think twice for a moment. Then she shook her head. Malfoy smiled coldly. "Right. Just remember this: give me the necklace and all the dreams go away."
"I may be annoyed at Zella for keeping me awake, but no way do I hate her enough to give her straight into your hands," Hermione snapped at him.
"I'm actually trying to do a good thing for once," Malfoy protested.
"For what reasons?" Hermione asked, scowling. "You'll get something out of it, no doubt."
Malfoy nodded, allowing that. "But since you're no closer to figuring out what Zella wants you to do, I suppose you'll have to trust me at some point."
With those final words, he left, leaving Hermione wilting against the wall.
He had to admit, it was fun being mysterious. He knew to savour the novelty while it lasted, though, because Trayton was beginning to get very impatient. Not that he cared much about the ghost, but he worried that perhaps Trayton would refuse to divulge knowledge on the Sons of Slytherin if kept waiting too long. Either way, he wasn't that worried yet.
And his worries subsided completely when, the next morning, Granger approached him alone just before potions. She wouldn't make eye contact with him and murmured something so quietly that he couldn't hear it.
"Speak up," he told her smugly, knowing he had won.
"You know what I'm about to say anyway, what's the point?" she whispered venomously.
"Because I want to hear you say the words," Draco told her coldly. "I want to know that you've given up."
Granger was silent for a few seconds. Then she looked up at him through her exhausted eyes, her mouth wavering, her shoulders slumped in defeat.
"I need your help."
A/N:
What made Hermione finally cave and ask for Draco's help? Find out next chapter (:
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Have a great week!
- Momo