Come on people, pay attention to the shades of grey. Getting all these black/white reviews can be a bit taxing. Especially since I try and take the time to actually put in shades of grey.
Monday rolled around much too slowly for Draco's tastes. With classes, Pansy and Theo wouldn't be able to avoid him to the same extent as they could during the weekend. It grated that neither would even hear him out. He knew that Pansy and he were most likely finished, but she could at least talk to him. When he tried to explain this to Daphne, she just stared at him with an incredulous gape and shook her head.
It wasn't as if he didn't understand that Pansy was mad and probably upset, but surely she wasn't the kind to hide? He vividly remembered bruising from other times he'd upset her and once she had hexed him so badly that he'd had to go see Madam Pomfrey for a cure. Why she was acting so differently this time was a mystery to him.
He tried seeking both of them out at breakfast, but Pansy was unusually quiet, turning her face away from him, while Daphne's eyes shot daggers at him, and promised him severe retribution if he did not leave them alone, and Theo simply acted as if he did not exist. It didn't matter what Draco said; he spoke to deaf ears. As Theo was leaving, Draco grabbed his arm and got his first response – a cold and indifferent request to be released.
So he let him go.
Draco knew that he shouldn't have kissed Hermione. He never would have under normal circumstances. He didn't even really know how it had happened, but it seemed like he was the one suffering all the consequences. He lifted his head to look at the one who was at fault, his gaze burning with all his hatred.
Hermione was stunned, no shocked, no flabbergasted. She was staring at people around her, wondering if someone had obliviated them all.
Nobody was acting as if anything was amiss.
Granted, they might not actually know about her kissing Malfoy so publicly, but they had certainly all been there when she had cheered for Slytherin at the Quidditch match. Yet not as much as a spiteful glance came her way.
She poked at Ron. "What's wrong with people?" she whispered.
He looked slightly taken aback and then looked around at their housemates. "Nothing that I can see. They seem perfectly normal to me."
"Yes!" she wildly exclaimed. "Why are they acting perfectly normal?"
There was a chuckle from the other side of the table, and she turned to stare at Harry.
"You know," Harry conversationally said, obviously addressing Ron. "She might know more about what's going on, if she tried to be around us more often, instead of hiding like she did after the game and again yesterday."
"Oh, I absolutely agree," Ron said, taking a bite of his toast and not elaborating.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ok, fine. I get it. I should be around more. But what's going on? Please tell me!"
"Well," Harry said, helping himself to some jam. "After the game, people were sitting around the common room, acting all moody…"
"As well they should," Ron interrupted. "I can't believe that git managed to grow longer arms than you." He scowled as if the length of Draco's arms was a personal insult.
Harry cleared his throat. "Don't remind me," he said.
"Whydid he catch the Snitch?" Hermione asked. "I mean, you were obviously closer and his arms aren't that long. Did he… did he say something to… distract you?"
Harry's eyes narrowed a fraction. "One wonders what you worry he might have said," he said in a low voice. "But no. The Snitch slipped through my fingers and he caught it – it was dumb luck on his part."
Ron snorted. "As if there was any other way for that bugger to catch it."
"Anyway," Harry continued, "then they started to dig into you, getting all worked up."
Ron's face softened a bit as he shot Hermione an affectionate glance that confused her to no end.
"And we had a brief discussion, where Ron and I managed to convince them that you were being coerced by that evil git." Harry jerked his head in the general direction of Malfoy.
Hermione followed the motion and met Draco's glare. She was caught unaware that he'd been looking in their direction and was shocked by the intensity of his narrowed gaze.
"Wow, look at that," Ron murmured next to her. "Seems like you managed to piss him off somehow."
She quickly averted her gaze. "By existing, I'm sure," she replied just as softly.
Harry glanced over his shoulder. "Don't worry about him, Hermione," he said in his most reassuring voice. "You're a Gryffindor, and we're all behind you."
Hermione had to look away as a lump formed in her throat. Today the rumors would probably flow and she very highly doubted she'd still have their support by the end of the day.
The day passed very slowly. Classes were very boring and Draco made no progress whatsoever with either Theo or Pansy in the classes he shared with them. Blaise was all he had, and he was unusually quiet and contemplative. It was impossible to get him to talk about what had happened between him and Tracey after they had left the common room, but Draco suspected that it hadn't been pretty.
Well, it wasn't as if that relationship hadn't been doomed from the start, anyway. He was sure that Blaise would come around soon enough.
He'd finally had his last class of the day and was making his way back to the dungeons, when he felt apprehension and a sharp pain. He stopped dead in his tracks. The pain wasn't his, but he felt it just the same. For a second, he considered simply ignoring it and going back to the dungeons, but then the pain increased, making him moan.
Damn that thoughtless little bint.
She wasn't far, anyway.
He sighed and made his way towards her. When he turned the final corner to where she was, an astonishing sight met him. Hermione was prone on the floor, her legs stretched out, and she was leaning on her hands, clearly trying to struggle up to her knees, but moving all the slower for the pain in her leg. Her wand was on the floor a few feet away, and looming over her, sneering taunts, was Crabbe of all people.
Really, he'd thought she was too smart to be taken down by Crabbe.
Hermione tried again to move her leg and pain shot through both of them, making Hermione moan and Draco wince. Behind Crabbe were a couple of sniggering lumps that he recognized as fourth year versions of Crabbe himself. Grand, now there were Slytherin gangs without any brains.
"Why don't you get up, Mudblood?" Crabbe was goading her. "Is it that you like fucking a Slytherin so much that you instantly have to throw yourself down at our feet?"
Draco rolled his eyes. This was simply too lame.
"Piss off, you wanker," she growled in response, making another painful effort to get up.
Draco was slightly impressed in spite of himself. She wasn't really in a position to give anyone any lip, but, of course, she wasn't letting that stop her. He was surprised at her crude choice of words, though, but credited it to the pain. Crabbe was flushing red with anger, and as he pointed his wand at her, Draco felt that perhaps he should interfere now.
"Really, Granger, you don't have to bow down to every Slytherin…" he said, coming forward. "I mean, some are hardly worthy…" He gave Crabbe an assessing glance. Crabbe was stupid and slow to be sure, but he was quite menacing physically, so he'd better stay out of his arm reach. He quickly glanced at the fourth years, who looked apprehensive just at Draco being there. Good. They wouldn't be a problem.
"Malfoy," Crabbe sneered. "Come here to rescue your Mudblood lady love, have you?"
Draco raised an eyebrow. "So eloquent you've become. Did you eat a dictionary or something?" Hermione tried to stand again, and the pain shot through him, momentarily distracting him. "Stay down," he snapped once it ebbed sufficiently for him to think. Surprisingly enough, she did as told, and didn't even glare at him.
"She's fair game and you know it, Malfoy," Crabbe said. "She's just another Mudblood."
Draco was really getting annoyed now. "You leave me no choice," he said. "Ten points from Slytherin!"
Granger gasped and Crabbe stared, his sneer completely gone. The new cronies nervously shuffled their feet. Oh, so that got all of their attentions, did it? Well, he didn't like doing it, either.
"What for?" Crabbe finally asked.
Draco rolled his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "Your sheer stupidity! This is the Head Girl, in case you've forgotten. I don't know why she didn't hex you into oblivion when you first accosted her – really, Granger – but she can make life really hard on you, for doing this to her, and on me too if I allowed you to do it. I like my life easy."
"She didn't even deduct any points!" Crabbe defended himself.
"Of course she didn't, you incompetent wanker," Draco growled, having had just about enough. "I wager she wanted to live! Now, are you going, or should I talk to Professor McGonagall about having you over for detention? I'm sure she'd love knowing what you've been doing to her pet student."
He had never seen Crabbe moving as fast as he did when he stormed off with his new friends, but he did catch the look of sullen resentment the bigger boy sent his way. He would have to watch his back now… and for this!
He decided that he was having a really bad day. He had a lot of those lately.
"Thank you," Hermione whispered. "I didn't see him, and he did something to my leg before I could react."
He snarled. "I didn't do it for you. Second-hand pain doesn't become me. Can you stand?"
She moved again and the pain blinded him for a second.
"No, I don't think so," she whimpered after the pain subsided again.
No fucking kidding. He sighed, pocketed her wand and took off the ring. "This is going to hurt," he said and yanked her to her feet.
She screamed. He didn't really blame her. She also nearly fell down again, but he steadied her, forcing her to lean on her good leg. After a few seconds her screaming was replaced by miserable little sobs.
"The Hospital Wing is not far," he said. "Any way you could… jump there or something?"
"N-need crutch," she forced out.
He looked around with little hope of anything being available.
"Transfigure it," she whispered, clearly in agony.
It really wasn't far, and he didn't quite remember how to do that particular transfiguration, so that would probably take longer than just taking her there.
He made a disgusted sound, hating himself for what he was about to do. "Lean on me."
Her eyes widened in her tear-streaked face and she just stared at him.
"Don't plan on making a bloody habit, Granger," he bit out, "but I'd like to get the ring back on without feeling pain and I'd also like to get back to my common room, so just fucking lean on me, and let's get this over with!"
She hesitantly did as he asked, but even so, they had to move agonizingly slow. Draco was beginning to wonder if he couldn't just float her there, or if there was any chance that Madam Pomfrey wouldn't make him help her back to the hospital wing if he simply fetched the witch.
He really didn't like this. He didn't like helping Granger. He didn't like crying females unless he was the one to deliberately make them cry – in which case it was immensely satisfying. He didn't like knowing the exact nature of this pain. He didn't like that she was currently pressed against his side, leaning heavily on him, soaking his robes with her tears, in order to advance with as little pain as possible.
He didn't like her, for Merlin's sake.
When they finally made it to the hospital wing, he felt immense relief and immediately handed her off to Madam Pomfrey, who fussed over her and shot Draco a suspicious glance. He just glared back. Did the silly old bird really think he'd be bringing Granger to the hospital wing if he had been the one to hurt her in the first place?
Having gotten rid of the little invalid, he made a quick escape, very pleased that nobody of consequence seemed to have seen.
But, of course, he never did seem to get away with anything these days.
As soon as he was outside in the corridor, he was stopped by a cool and all too familiar voice.
"Pretty touching display," Pansy said. "Especially from a boy who won't even hold hands."
"Pansy," he murmured, and then immediately added, "Are you all right?"
"I've been better," she replied. "No thanks to you."
He didn't know what to say, but just stared hard at the floor.
Pansy jerked her head at the door to the hospital wing. "What was all that about? Are you getting soft?"
Draco shook his head. "Crabbe was an arse and physically hurt her so badly that I can't wear the ring until Madam Pomfrey treats her."
"Well, maybe that's not such a bad idea," she said in a hard voice. "Don't wear the ring."
He was so weary. "We've already discussed this."
"You damn near fucked her on Saturday. Her, Draco, when you n-never…" Pansy clenched her jaw and then took a few deep breaths to steady herself. "You never wanted to sleep with me."
"It was never about want. You know that," Draco said in a quiet voice.
"And yet you'd do her!" Pansy concluded.
Draco emphatically shook his head. "No. In fact, I plan on spending the rest of my life not doing her, but… it was never about me, you know that. It was about you."
"You're such an arrogant prat! Who told you that you could make decisions on my behalf?" she fairly shouted.
"I damn well can when they involve me!" he returned.
"You just don't understand, do you?" she asked. "It never mattered. All you did was deny me my first time with someone I loved."
"No!" he replied. "I saved you so you could have your first time with someone who loved you!"
As soon as he'd said it, he wished he could take it back. Pansy looked as if he'd struck her as the words echoed between them in the silence.
"I see," she finally said, her eyes distant and unfocused.
"No, Pansy, you don't reali—" he began.
"Excuse me," she mumbled as she pushed past him, stumbling back to the dungeons.
For quite possibly the first time in his life, Draco truly felt like an arse.
Heehee... Hermione has been hanging too much around Slytherins...
He leaned slightly forward. "Since you ask so nicely… no."
She gaped at him for a second and then snapped her mouth shut and narrowed her eyes. "Fine," she huffed. "I'll just be off to tell everyone that you saved me yesterday, then."
He stared at her. "What?"
"And if you order me not to say anything about that, I will make something up. If you order me not to lie, I will find tales to twist. If you order me not to speak, I will write or mime or whatever I have to do. By the end of the day, you will be known as the champion of Muggleborns… and Hufflepuffs."
