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-She sure didn't-
Relief washed over her sore body and she did the only thing she felt like doing at that moment. She slept.
x
Sedated by Madame Pomfrey, Hermione slept away all of Tuesday and continued sleeping well into Wednesday morning.
Outside the doors of the Hospital Wing, Ron was waiting somewhat patiently for Hermione's discharge from Madame Pomfrey's care. Some would perceive this gesture to be romantic, however, Ron only thought it convenient since his own release was just moments ago and was informed that Hermione would be released shortly after. Yet another intimation of their platonic relationship, but Ron didn't perceive such thoughts.
Hermione was told by Madame Pomfrey that she was admitted into the Hospital Wing under the pretense of a potion gone awry. Technically, it somewhat was due to a potion, but not completely.
The great oak doors opened as the girl behind it managed to magick it open beneath the piles of tomes she currently held. She had convinced Madame Pomfrey to lend her some books on healing and the old MediWitch reluctantly agreed so long as Hermione promised to practice caution when dealing with potions.
"Hermione! Over here."
"Hello, Ron."
The short distance between them was easily surpassed by Ron's long, albeit awkward, strides.
"Do you need any help carrying those?"
"It's fine; I'm perfectly capable of carrying them myself, thanks."
She had not meant for the words to come out so harshly, but her mind was occupied with something other than trying not to hurt Ron's feelings. In the depths of her mind, she was carefully hoping to retrieve the remnants of her most recent dream, but it had eluded her. It annoyed her that he was attempting to distract her from her objective.
Somehow, she knew it was pertinent for her to remember.
What she was sure of, was that before her memories had begun to get hazy, she and Malfoy were in the common room. It unnerved her because that was how she remembered her dream started.
The events after and possibly the most important event of her 'dream' was lost in the recesses of her expansive mind. Malfoy had tentatively asked her a question, but she could not remember what it or her answer for that matter
Ron mumbled out an apology and assured her that he was simply trying to help. He didn't mean that she couldn't do it herself, he just wanted to help.
Great, she thought. When she chanced a look at him, his face was red to the very roots of the red hair that was currently a matching color.
She grasped desperately for a subject of conversation that would not incur any discomfort for either of them while still conveying the message that she had not meant to be so short-tempered.
Her efforts were for naught when Ron suddenly proclaimed, "I hate that sodding git."
Hermione could only assume that by 'git', Ron had referred to Malfoy, the cause for his stay at the Hospital Wing.
Before she could get a word in edgewise, he had already begun a rant on why he hated Malfoy, well his current reason for hating Malfoy.
"… the worst partner. There's a conspiracy. Why else would Snape pair me up with him? Merlin. Who in their right mind would pair a Gryffindor with a Slytherin? Sneaky bastards, the whole lot of them. He had plenty of time to warn me that it was the wrong thing. Probably wanted the entire cauldron to blow up on purpose."
Something in his rant caught her attention.
"Err… Ron?" she asked as she juggled the books into one place and placed her arm carelessly on his to stop his nonsensical talk.
It seemed to stir him out of his one-track mindedness and caused it to focus on her.
Great… more awkwardness. That's just what we need, she thought sarcastically.
Needless to say, she quickly removed her arm and placed both of them steadily under the books to balance them on their walk to the Great Hall.
He looked at her hopefully; for what, she really didn't want to know.
She continued, pretending to not notice his furtive glances, "Repeat that part about somebody warning you that something was wrong?"
Hermione was uncertain if she had ever seen that particular shade of red in nature before.
"It was nothing."
Like she was going to leave it at that. Boys, they really don't know a thing do they?
"Ronald."
And there it is, the famous tone that all women used to instill fear in men.
He sighed.
"Iaddeddragon'sbloodtothepotioninsteadofgremlin'sblood."
Though the sentence was smashed together and spoken at speeds that only Ron himself could understand, and the only reason that he could was because he himself had spoken it, Hermione caught the gist of it.
It figures, there was no way Malfoy could mess up a potion. Hermione was forced to admit that the boy had a certain penchant for potions.
The point that Ron tried to get across most importantly was spoken clearly and as concisely.
"But it was his fault. If he wasn't so bloody intent on glaring at every Gryffindor in the room, he would have noticed that I got the ingredients mixed up."
Hermione sometimes wondered if Ron had ever heard himself talk, or if he actually thought about the words he used.
Hermione's sigh was interrupted by Ron's wild hand gestures and loud voice.
"Git conjured up a shield for himself. Didn't even bother to think about shielding me from the explosion."
"You know, if you had reacted quicker than Malfoy, you would have purposefully 'forgotten' to shield Malfoy, too," she thought.
Ron looked at her funny.
Wait a minute.
Shit. Did she just say that out loud?
Considering that Ron had stopped walking, and was looking at her as if she had sprouted another head, she could only assume that, yes. She did just say that out loud.
"Are you defending him?!"
"Ron—"
"Defending the ferret! Hermione. The ferret! Over me!"
"Ron I wasn't defending him, I was merely pointing out that you also would have acted the same way if given the chance. I'm not saying that approve of his actions, but it's true."
A series of accusations of her 'not being a friend' and not supporting him in his 'time of need', he stormed off.
She mentally tsk'ed at his irrational behavior, but she had quickly come to except it ever since second year.
Back then of course, she carried a small torch for him. Puppy love, really. She even had a crush for Harry. So it was really no big deal. She had expected that she had a bit of a hero complex since it had quickly come and gone after they both saved her from the troll. Well not too quickly... give or take a few years.
But, back to the point. The only reason she could stand him back then was because she had semi-almost-not-really-but-maybe liked him, and she was sure he liked her back. The feelings were of course confirmed, but not returned. Now with the feelings rid from herself, she could thing clearly which led to the conclusion that Ronald Weasley was not her type.
They, much like pink and red worn in the same outfit, clashed together far too obviously. She found it absurd that he didn't figure it out yet.
At last, without Ron walking with her, there was no tense atmosphere, no awkward silences; just peace and calm.
However, the peace and calm backfired on her. The more she thought about her elusive dream the more frustrated she got. Only seventeen and she was already going senile. What a pity.
"Oi, watch it—Granger?"
Yes, the girl under all of the books and currently sprawled on the floor was indeed Hermione.
"What happened to Hermione, Malfoy?"
"I think we both know what happened to that. I heard your answer loud and clear."
"What are you talking about? What answer?"
A sinking feeling in her gut told her that her dream was not a dream. Now she really did have to try to remember.
Pained by her words and nonchalance by the whole experience, Malfoy decided that it was best to leave.
"Wait—Malfoy! What happened Monday night?! Don't you dare walk away from me, mister!" she pouted.
"What is up with people walking away from me today?" she thought aloud.
x
She didn't remember. Was that even possible?
Malfoy was definitely confused. Could she have been in that much pain to forget what, to him, was the most horrible experience he'd ever taken part in?
He saw how she struggled with herself. Her kind-hearted and compassionate nature and her sensible brain were fighting over the correct and truthful response.
It would seem that her brain had won over her heart.
That was what made him ashamed. Well, that and that he could understand why she would answer the way she did.
He had given her no inclination to think otherwise.
And yet, he wanted to answer differently.
He couldn't help it, he wanted at least her to understand him, if no one else could.
He cursed the moment when he decided to even think about asking her.
Malfoy could still remember the first time they had met at Kings' Cross Station.
He was drawn in by her fresh and innocent appearance. There was no way that her parents were involved with anything corrupted and evil like his were.
With Crabbe and Goyle flanking him, he marched off towards her with confidence.
Finding her to be quite intelligent and versed in magical studies, he thought to offhandedly ask of her lineage, for he was sure that someone as smart as her couldn't possibly be a muggle-born.
Blanching at her answer, he turned away and never looked back, never to see the hurt on her face when she discovered the prejudice that lay in the world she was soon to become a part.
For the years following up to their appointment as Heads, Malfoy did not seek her out from a crowd impulsively. He did not watch her in the many classes they had together. He did not almost let his grades slip in fourth year when he had first recognized her gentle beauty. He did not scowl when everybody else at the Yule Ball recognized it, too. He did not worry for her wellbeing during fifth year when he saw her leave with Umbridge promising to tell of her and Potter's secret. He did not immediately recognize that she was lying because he did not spend his free time thinking about her. And he certainly was not denying anything.
Because a long time ago, he came to terms that he could never have her. She was the epitome of everything that he wasn't. Good. Kind. Gracious. Honest. All of the qualities that made Hermione a paragon of good virtue.
He at least consoled himself by pointing out that at least they had a semblance of a truce going on. Or at least he hoped they still did.
x
Hermione never quite made it to the Great Hall.
She instead went towards the Head Dormitories to lie on her bed; completely ignoring the rest of the classes after lunch. She'd plead weary from her trip to the Hospital Wing later, they'd believe that.
As she whispered the password, she couldn't help but feel that not only did she not remember what had happened Monday night… she was forgetting something else important.
Not that Malfoy or missing a chunk of her memories wasn't important, but this… She just had to remember this.
Maybe if she did, she would finally be able to do something. Her future was still unclear to her. So many opportunities and so many choices. Was that what she had to remember? That she had to pick a future out for herself that made her happy, not others? Possible... but it was doubtful.
x
Hermione didn't realize how close she was to the truth.
If she didn't change her present, she wouldn't have a future to worry about.
...
Don't worry, if you hadn't figured out what the 'question' is by now, you'll figure it out along with Hermione. ;)
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