It amuses me when people comment on the length of each chapter. Let me clarify the length issue seeing as quite a few seem to find the topic fascinating - some chapters might seem shorter or longer, depending on the action, but they are almost EXACTLY the same length. I aim for 2500 words (as MS Word counts them) pr chapter and I never go below 2300 or above 2700. So, you see, that is the length.
As for whether I can make the chapters longer: Sure, I could. And then you would get less frequent updates. I'm not a machine, you know. This speed is already a strain and soon I might need to slow down a bit.
Now, I decided to update a few hours early because of my exceptionally good mood. Someone made a Silencio Trailer and I love it! There's a link to it from my profile, so check it out and remember to rate and comment to the maker if you watch it. After all, feedback from the viewers is her only payment!
Right, getting on with it...
Draco lay staring at the darkness. He was completely exhausted, but he couldn't sleep; there was too much going through his head. Anger… frustration… hurt!? All sorts of emotions that didn't all belong to him became one huge jumble that he had problems sorting out and keeping separated in this weakened state brought on by exhaustion. Mixed in with that, were his own images of what had happened today, especially with Pansy. He had always tried his best not to hurt Pansy, but no matter what he did, he always seemed to fail at it. He was very fond of her, he really was. He just couldn't… he couldn't…
He couldn't be what she wanted him to be.
Clenching his jaw, he tried to empty his mind of all the clamoring thoughts, so he could get some rest.
This was doomed to be a very long night.
"You're late," Nott coolly said.
Hermione didn't need the reminder. "I know," she mumbled.
Nott looked up to find Hermione still in her school robes, grimacing as she picked grass and dirt off of it.
He sighed. "Do I even want to know?"
Hermione shrugged. "Malfoy and Parkinson fought yesterday. Today, Malfoy wanted to make it up to her, so he asked some people what might do the trick. They generally said flowers and, so, I was sent to find some."
"And did you?" he asked.
"That was four hours ago and I am late for our meeting," she grumbled. "But, yes, otherwise I would probably have missed the meeting entirely."
Nott sighed again. "I'll talk to him," he said.
Hermione's head whipped up. "No, please don't," she almost pleaded. "He gets so angry…"
He frowned. "Am I to believe that you're actually afraid of him, Granger?"
"I don't think he really scares me, no," she mused. "But currently my life is much more pleasant when he isn't angry, so I'm going to try not to make him."
Nott shook his head. "Wrong way to go about it, you're letting him win."
She scowled at him. "Yeah? But you're not the one who has to stand in his room for hours and take his abuse!"
His eyes glinted dangerously. "He's abusing you? How?"
Hermione blinked. "You saw the contract," she said. "So just verbally, of course. Although standing still in one place for hours isn't exactly comfortable."
He seemed to relax a bit. "Yet, he let you come here. Unless, of course, he planned to make you miss it by sending you to… pick flowers?" He shook his head at that notion.
She grinned. She had actually been a little amused herself before she became exasperated at her task. Now that it was done, she could sort of see the humor again.
"You didn't expect him to do it, did you?" she asked with an indelicate snort. "That will be the day, when Draco Malfoy is down on his hands and knees, searching for flowers for his girlfriend."
Nott's lip quirked into a crooked smile. "I shall see you give up reading first," he softly said. "Which is a pity. Some crawling in the dirt might actually do Draco some good."
Hermione giggled and for a moment she thought she saw warmth in Nott's eyes, but it was quickly hidden behind his usual blank mask.
"Thank you," she softly said.
"For what?"
She smiled ruefully. "For helping me out when he made me sing the school song. I wasn't handling that very well."
"Oh. No, you weren't."
Hermione rolled her eyes slightly and went to her desk to see what tasks lay ahead.
"But you acquitted yourself admirably afterwards."
She looked over at Nott, who was again focused on the parchments lying in front of him.
She faintly smiled. "Thank you."
"I just don't… I can't see why you allow him to do this to you," he muttered.
"I lost the—"
"I know that you lost the bloody bet!" he growled in an uncharacteristic loss of temper. "And it's admirable, how you want to keep your word, it really is. But you don't understand. He can destroy you and himself in the process, no matter what your silly little contract says!"
"Oh…" Hermione said, feeling a bit disappointed. She had thought that she had an actual ally in Nott, but he was helping her for the same reasons as Zabini. "You're doing this for his sake, too."
Nott looked up. "Of course it's for his sake, too. He is a friend, after all."
She nodded. "Of course."
Suddenly, she felt very alone.
Hermione blindly stared down at her desk. She heard him put down his quill and lean back to get a better look at her, but she was unable to look up. She was still dealing with her newfound loneliness. Of course, she still had her friends and they were much closer to her than Nott had ever been, but they didn't know about what was going on, and she couldn't tell them. Everyone, who knew, was in Draco's camp.
"I'm sure that whatever you're thinking is quite fascinating," he calmly said, "but equally wrong."
Hermione shrugged.
"What is it, then?" he gently prodded.
She chose not to answer directly. It was quite silly, after all. "Malfoy doesn't even realize how lucky he is to have friends like you and Zabini, does he?" she asked.
"Probably not," Nott replied. "He has exhibited very little patience with us lately. But I don't see the connection between this and your present change of mood."
She played a bit with one of the quills that she kept on her desk. "It's nothing, really. I'm just amazed at how much you do for him."
"You are offended that it's not all about you?"
Well, when he put it like that, it sounded horrible.
"Of course not," she mumbled. She just wished that it was a little bit about her. "Just forget about it. Were there any pressing issues this week?"
"Nothing more pressing than getting to the bottom of this," he persisted, getting up and walking over to lean against her desk. He wasn't letting this go.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him, making him raise an eyebrow at her. "It's not that important!" she said. "I mean, I should have known, when Zabini told me that he was doing this all for Malfoy's sake that it was the same with you. I just hadn't considered that my friends don't know and so…" She dropped the quill and sighed.
"You feel alone," Nott concluded. "But you misunderstood."
She looked at him skeptically. "What's to misunderstand?" she asked.
"I am also interfering for your sake. Mostly for your sake. He's the one who might do harm and you are relatively innocent and helpless."
At this, she had to smile a little. "Relatively?"
"You have to admit, you got yourself into this. And you refuse to let me help you out."
"I don't even understand why you bother." She sighed. "Most people wouldn't care. Apparently, something is wrong with me."
"You don't give yourself enough credit. You are clever and brave and loyal, you have integrity and a kind heart, and you're pretty. You're just not accustomed to allowing people to see the real you and allowing them to like you. Rejection is so much easier to handle when there never was a chance of acceptance, isn't it?"
Hermione gaped at him. Did all those compliments just come from him? Him?
He thinks I'm pretty?
She was reeling from the praise and didn't know how to properly respond. She also felt a bit silly for mostly noting that he'd said she was pretty. Wasn't she supposed to prefer to be called clever and brave and all that?
But nobody ever calls me pretty…
What was wrong with her? She wasn't some silly girl, who relied on how pleasing others found her appearance. In fact, she almost prided herself of not spending too much time on her looks unless she had good reason to. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.
"What is it?" Nott asked. "You don't believe me?"
Hermione swallowed. "No, it's not that. I—" The door opened, effectively cutting her off.
Draco took in the scene and decided that he had arrived not a moment too soon. Hermione was flushed, and feeling much too pleased for his liking, and Theo wasn't exactly looking distant.
"Oh, come on!" he couldn't help but exclaim at the general scene before him.
It was disgusting. He should have known better than to allow this.
"Why are you interrupting our meeting?" Theo coldly asked, apparently less than pleased by Draco interrupting.
Draco raised an eyebrow. "I'm still Deputy, aren't I?"
Theo's lips tightened slightly. "So is Padma Patil, but she doesn't intrude every chance she gets. In fact, she's probably off doing her duties."
Draco leaned against the wall. "Well, my position is slightly different, don't you think?"
Theo pushed away from the desk. "Only insofar that you're about to lose it."
Hermione shot out of her chair as Draco snarled and took a step forward. "There's really no need for that," she hurried to interject. "Please, Nott…"
Draco's stomach churned as he saw Theo's gaze flicker as he hesitated. This just couldn't be happening. Theo was supposed to be the sane one.
"The meeting is over," Draco said without taking his eyes off the other Slytherin. "Granger, leave." As she hurried past him to obey, he grabbed her arm, making her stop and look at him quizzically. "Go to my room," he said, still watching Theo for reactions. Granger nodded, but Theo had managed to hide all emotions again. He let her go.
"What are you hoping to achieve?" Theo asked, once they were alone.
"That depends," Draco replied. "What are you referring to in particular?"
Theo went over to his own desk and sat down with his back turned to Draco. "I am of course referring to how you're interfering in my relationship with Granger."
"There's a relationship?" Draco exclaimed, taking a few steps towards Theo, quite forgetting himself.
"You should look up the meaning of relationship," Theo informed him. "It has more than the one definition."
"Oh, good, so you're not… Well, that's a relief," Draco mumbled, running a hand through his hair and once again wishing he'd gotten more sleep.
"Why is that a relief?" Theo asked. "Why is it any of your business?"
"Because I don't want to see you with the likes of her!"
There was a brief silence as Theo stiffened and turned around. "The likes of her? You mean because of her inferior blood?"
"Well, yeah, obviously there is that, but also… she's Granger. She's so incredibly annoying and we hate her and Potter, remember?"
Theo studied Draco for a moment. "I'm sure you mean well," he quietly said, "but perhaps those reasons simply aren't good enough for me anymore."
"What do you mean not good enough? What else is there?" Draco was feeling a bit confused.
"Exactly," Theo said. "If you strip away these shallow reasons not to like her, there's nothing left. So I choose to like her."
Draco wrinkled his nose. "Fine, you reject everything we've been brought up to believe in, but do you have to… like her?" He grimaced as he said the word 'like', not liking the meaning he was putting into it here. This was Granger they were talking about, after all.
Theo's lips twitched. "What an incredibly mature conversation this is. Yes, I do have to like her, as you put it, because I can't seem to stop."
"I don't understand," Draco moaned, sitting down and burying his face in his arms. "It makes no sense. None of it does! And can't you just wait a few weeks to… like… her? I'm not giving this bet up, you know. I can't."
"I know you won't let go of this bet," Theo softly said, not dignifying Draco's question with an answer. "You'll be going through with it, even if it destroys you."
There was a silence as neither of the boys knew what to say.
"Want to know why I've rejected the pureblood ideals?" Theo finally asked.
"Will you preach?" Draco countered.
Theo's lip quirked. "I'll try not to."
"Fine then," Draco mumbled, feeling more curious than he'd admit to.
"My father is old, as you know," Theo hesitantly began. "He was already 54 years old when I was born. This year he turned 71. And even though I'm quite certain that aging parents are not exclusive to pureblood families, I'm fairly certain that only purebloods would take on this kind of breeding scheme that my father did."
"Not true," Draco mumbled. "People need heirs for all kinds of reasons."
Theo gave a strained smile. "Perhaps," he conceded. "But my father never planned on having any heirs until You-Know-Who told him to."
Draco raised his eyebrows, but didn't interrupt.
"So, anyway, he married a dutiful pureblood witch, had me, and then, a couple of years later, she died. At this time, You-Know-Who was considered dead, so my father wasn't really interested in remarrying and breeding more pureblood sons and daughters like a good little Death Eater, so, instead, it was just me and him." He paused briefly. "You wouldn't know what it's like growing up with a cold-hearted old man as your only company, because your parents are young and even if Lucius could probably sometimes be… stern… you had a mother and they both care about you."
"My heart bleeds for you," Draco drily said. "But what has this got to do with anything?"
"I didn't really know that I was only born on You-Know-Who's orders," Theo quietly said, "until he rose again and my father told me. My father wanted me to take a path similar to the one forced on you, and it opened my eyes. I told him no, and I haven't seen him since."
"You told him no? That's more than I did."
Theo's eyes grew cold. "I had nothing to lose. No family I cared about. I have been investing my allowance, building myself a safety net, since I was thirteen. I had an idea that one day I might have to run."
"Why?"
"Because I still don't know how my mother died. I have done everything in my power except desecrating her grave to find out, but somehow, all records are gone."
Draco blinked. "Don't be absurd, you can't possibly think that your own father…"
"I just know that he had no desire to have any more children and then she mysteriously died. I wasn't going to be expendable and stay in his household."
"I never knew any of this," Draco muttered. "I thought we were friends."
Theo gazed pensively at a spot beyond Draco's shoulder. "Nobody else knows. But if this is what pureblood ideals do to men, women and children… I will have no part in it. Please respect that."
Draco reluctantly nodded, wondering what he was to do about Granger now.
Next chapter:
Draco got to his feet and walked closer to her, still studying her, even going as far as slightly squinting his eyes. She didn't like it. She really, really didn't like it.
"No, I still don't get it," she heard him mumble, before he said, "All right, Granger, your holiday is over – get down on your knees."
Hermione's eyes bulged. What?
