tw : emetophobia at the beginning of the chapter (Hermione's POV)
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Draco
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Draco was about to return to the dormitory. All the lights in the windows at the front of the Castle had long since gone out and he was getting really cold. He was about to get up when he saw movement a little further on, near the Castle gates.
At first he could see nothing because it was dark. He squinted to see through the darkness, hoping it wasn't a teacher or a prefect. He had no idea what time it was, but he knew it was well after curfew.
Very slowly the figure approached. It wasn't a teacher. It looked like the person was having trouble walking. He waited a few more seconds, wondering if he should hide behind a tree to avoid detention, when he recognised the girl approaching.
Granger.
He opened his mouth in shock. She was wearing a black T-shirt and her Gryffindor skirt, completely inappropriate attire for going out in the cold of February.
"Good evening, Draco." she said cheerfully.
She stood in front of him with a huge smile on her face. Draco wondered if this was all a dream. He stood up to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.
"Granger, what the hell are you doing here at this hour?!" he asked, stunned.
"Why, what time is it?" she replied distractedly.
Draco couldn't believe his eyes. He'd never thought Granger could come to the bench at this hour. On top of that, her tights were ripped, which was completely unlike her. And her voice sounded strange, as if it were broken. Perhaps it was the water from the Lake earlier.
"Where did you come from? You should be asleep." he said in a surprised voice.
"And what about you? What are you doing here... at this time... here?" she said, stammering a little.
Draco frowned at the strange Granger standing in front of him. She was dancing from one foot to the other, but not out of cold, she just looked happy. She was smiling foolishly. She looked like someone who had disguised herself as her and was trying to imitate her, but couldn't.
"Granger? Are you ill?" he tried, moving towards her to study her more closely. "Is it the effect of the sleep spell that's making you like this?"
"Like what?" she asked, laughing.
Suddenly he understood. Maybe it was because he'd only just seen her cheeks flush, or her voice, which was more of a drawl than usual.
"Granger, are you drunk?"
She didn't answer, just giggled. Now Draco knew for sure. Her eyes couldn't focus. She tried to turn around but stumbled slightly and he leapt forward to catch her.
"Merlin, Granger, you're drunk!" exclaimed Draco as he helped her onto the bench.
"No, no!" she said, shaking her head exaggeratedly. "I haven't had any - anything - to drink!"
Draco had never heard such an unconvincing lie. He sat down next to her on the bench and looked at her clothes. Without really knowing it, he felt anger rising inside him.
"Aren't you cold? Where have you been? Didn't anyone see you come into the corridors? Who made you drink like that?"
"Whoa!" Granger said, rolling her eyes. "What's with the interrogation?"
Her voice was broken and slurred, as if she could barely string two words together. All her movements were slow. It was so strange to see her like this, Draco never thought he'd see Hermione Granger drunk. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to hold back the surge of anger inside him.
"I'm just surprised." he said so as not to upset her. "Did you have a party?"
"Yes, in the Common Room!" she nodded, pointing at a window, though it was definitely the wrong one. "To cele... cele... celebrate Harry!"
She hiccupped. Draco felt an uncontrollable hatred take control of him: how could Weasley and Potter let her drink like that?! And let her wander around the Castle in the middle of the night?
"Who made you drink like that? Why didn't anyone stop you?" he asked sharply.
Granger turned to him and fixed him with her chocolate eyes, as amused as ever.
"Heeeyyy! I didn't come down to see Mr Grumpy!"
His anger at Potter and Weasley was immediately interrupted when he heard the nickname. He couldn't help but smile.
"Mr Grumpy?" he repeated.
"Yes, Mr Grumpy, the one with the furrowed brow, who gets angry all the time!"
She pointed at him, laughing.
"What did you expect when you came down in the middle of the night?" he asked, although he was a little less annoyed than before.
"I wanted to see Nice Draco!" she squealed.
He felt his chest warm to hear her talk about him like that.
"Okay, so if I'm Nice Draco, will you answer my questions?" he asked.
"Why do you always want to know everything?" whined Granger, and Draco had to keep from laughing at the cheeky remark.
"Last time you said you wanted the right to ask unlimited questions. If we're friends, I have that right too, don't I?"
Granger seemed to think for a few seconds, her eyebrows furrowed, before finally nodding.
"Well, all right," she relented. "So... No, I'm not cold, I'm just hot from dan - dancing so much! In the Common Room! Er... No, nobody's seen me in the corridors. Not even the pre - prefect. And er... Who made me drink... Nobody, because I decided to do it myself! I had every right to! I helped Harry, I have the right... to celebrate his victory... with him!" she said in a mixture of stuttering and hiccups that made her sentences very difficult to understand. "But Fred and George... they kept giving me... beers."
That was a lot of information all at once. Granger, who was dancing in the Common Room? Draco inhaled quickly, suddenly flooded with images of Granger dancing the same way Pansy did at parties. And the Weasley twins serving it up again and again... Draco was both deeply annoyed and amused.
"What have you been drinking?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and collected, as if it were a perfectly ordinary conversation.
He thought of the apple liqueur he used to have at parties, or mead, or even Blaise's Firewhisky...
"Butterbeers." she said proudly.
Draco couldn't help himself: he burst out laughing.
"Wha-at?" she asked, offended. "I've been drinking... a lo - lot!"
"Granger, no one can get drunk on Butterbeers." said Draco between laughs. "It's a child's drink. I was drinking it before I got to Hogwarts!"
"'Twas what I drank, anyway." said Granger, crossing her arms over her chest. "Maybe I'm not that drunk, eh?"
She was. It was so blatant: Hermione Granger had never stumbled over so many words. Draco could smell the caramel of the Butterbeer on her breath. He shook his head:
"Oh, you're pretty drunk, Granger. Trust me, you're going to feel it tomorrow."
"How come you never call me Hermione?" she asked, her eyes crinkled.
He was taken aback by the question. He looked away to avoid making eye contact with her.
"Er... I..." he began awkwardly.
"You always call me Granger." she said, more to herself than to Draco. " But I call you Draco sometimes."
"And I like it when you do." he admitted, hoping the alcohol would erase that confession from her memory.
"I call you Malfoy when you're... Malfoy." she explained, even though it didn't make too much sense. "I call you Draco when you're... Draco. The Draco of the Library."
"The Nice Draco?" he asked with a smirk.
"Library Draco is always nice."
She smiled.
"And Malfoy?" he asked.
"Malfoy is the boy outside the Library. The one who insults everyone. And who can be pretty damn mean when he wants to be."
She made a face, to show that she didn't approve of this behaviour at all. She sat cross-legged on the bench, getting a little closer to Draco without meaning to, who could feel the heat emanating from her body. He swallowed.
"Aren't you cold?" he asked.
"Why don't you ever call me Hermione?" she repeated.
He sighed, trying not to smile.
"Even drunk, you're too curious, Granger." he said. "If I tell you, will you tell me if you're cold?"
She nodded in agreement.
"I call everyone by their last names." he said, hoping that would be enough of an explanation.
"That's not true." she denied immediately. "You never call Nott by his surname, or Parkinson, or Zabini."
"Because they're my friends!"
"And I told you I wanted us to be friends!" Granger replied briskly.
Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair again. He'd never thought he'd be having this kind of discussion with her tonight. And it didn't help that her behaviour was so unusual.
"Let's just say I like being the only one who calls you Granger." he finally admitted. "Everyone else calls you by your first name, or nickname, or Hermy-own..."
She tapped him lightly on the arm when she heard his imitation of Krum.
"Me, I'm the only one who calls you Granger. Just... Granger." he continued more quietly. "You say there's Draco and there's Malfoy. To me you'll always be Granger, the same Granger. The one who defends the house elves and helps Potter survive the Tournament, but also the one who secretly studies with me in the Library."
He shrugged, as if he didn't want to show how sincere he was. He was horrified to realise how easy it was to confide in her when she was so close to him, listening. If he turned his head, he could see her brown curls fall over her shoulders, her eyes searching him without embarrassment.
There was a small silence that made Draco's gut tighten. Then Granger replied in a whisper, drowned out by the wind:
"I like it when you call me Granger."
He turned to her and saw that she had a small, shy smile on her lips. For a moment he forgot how drunk she was.
"Are you cold?" he asked, trying to break the tension.
She looked down at her legs, as if she'd just realised she was wearing nothing but tights with holes in them.
"A little." she admitted.
Draco took his wand from his pocket and cast a Heat Charm on her. Immediately, she exhaled in pleasure and sank a little further against the back of the bench, closing her eyes.
"Thanks, that feels goo - good."
"You know I want to kill Weasley and Potter for leaving you in this state?" said Draco to make sure she knew he was still a little angry.
"Why? It's fun, isn't it? We're having fun." she said lightly.
"Maybe, but tomorrow..."
She dismissed his warning with an impatient wave of her hand.
"Who cares about tomorrow? I just want to enjoy this feeling for a little while longer."
Draco chuckled. Hearing Granger make that kind of accusation was very strange. He looked at her for a long moment, taking advantage of the fact that her eyes were closed to stare at her without embarrassment. Despite the night around them, he could see the flush in her cheeks.
"Have you ever been drunk before?" asked Draco, even though he already knew the answer.
"No, I haven't. My parents made me drink wine in France, and I've had a few Butterbeers, but I've never been... like this."
Draco was tempted to lean forward and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, but he held back for fear of disturbing her.
"What about you?" she asked.
"What about me?"
"Have you ever been... drunk?"
She said the last word as if it were forbidden. Draco chuckled.
"Yes, a few times."
She nodded, but didn't insist. Draco was relieved: he had no desire to tell her about Slytherin parties now. An image of him slumped on the sofa, half unconscious, flashed through his mind and he winced.
Granger closed her eyes again and rested the back of her head against the back of the bench. Draco knew the feeling: after the adrenaline of alcohol, she must have felt drowsy, as if all her emotions had suddenly faded away. The February mist added to the darkness, enveloping them in a bubble of silence.
Draco loved watching her when she didn't know it. She was naturally beautiful: most people would have looked terrible after dancing and drinking too much (even if it had only been Butterbeers), but she was as pretty as ever, if a little dishevelled. She unconsciously raised her arm to rub her eyelid when Draco saw something on her arm that interrupted his contemplation:
"What have you got there?"
He took her arm without thinking and Granger opened her eyes, resting them on the inside of her wrist.
"Oh no, it's open again..." she said, trying to free herself from Draco's grip.
"Open again? How did you open it in the first place?" he asked, turning her arm to look at her wound.
There was a gash in her arm, swollen and bruised. It was deeper at one end and blood was running down her skin. Draco let out a muffled cry.
"Merlin, Granger, where did this come from?"
"It's nothing." she said, pulling at her arm again. She slipped her sleeve back over it.
"What do you mean, nothing? You cut your forearm. Did you fall?" he asked.
"No. It was during the Task." she said, suddenly more embarrassed.
Draco thought back to the agonising time he'd spent earlier in the day waiting for Granger to come out of the water. He didn't remember her being injured.
"How..." he began.
"It's Viktor." she said with a small hiccup. "His aim was off and he bit my arm with his shark's teeth when he tried to untie me."
Draco saw red. He took a breath, but before he could vent his anger, Granger interrupted:
"Please don't say anything. If the judges find out he hurt me, he could lose points and I don't want that to happen."
"I don't care about points!" snapped Draco, suddenly rising from the bench. "Where did he get the idea to turn into that?! Couldn't he have chosen something else? He shredded your arm!"
"It's nothing, barely a scratch." Granger defended as she stood up in turn, pointing at her arm. "It didn't even hurt!"
"You can have a scar!"
"No, it's not even deep..."
"Yes, it is." Dracoer grumbled.
He took Granger's arm between his fingers. Her skin was burning, either from the alcohol or from his Heat Charm. He lit his wand and examined the wound more closely. Then he pointed his wand at it, checking with a glance that she agreed, and when she nodded, he whispered:
"Conferrumino pellis."
The bleeding stopped and the wound closed a little more. Draco kept his hand around her wrist.
"Didn't your boyfriend ever learn this spell?" he asked through clenched teeth.
"He's not my boyfriend." Granger squealed, although she'd turned even redder for saying it.
Then she calmed down a little and closed her hand, running her fingers over Draco's:
"Thank you, Draco."
Ignoring the warm feeling that sentence gave him, he continued, his eyebrows furrowed:
"You'll need Dittany Essence on it. Do you have any?"
"No, but I'll find some."
He rolled his eyes.
"I'll take you back to your dormitory." he said in a tone that didn't invite discussion. Of course, Granger immediately opened her mouth to refuse. He continued without listening: "There's no point in trying, I'll do it. You're very lucky you haven't met anyone in this state earlier. If you'd been caught by a prefect, this late and this drunk, you'd have been in big trouble."
He knew the threat would work when he saw Granger's wide eyes. Just the thought of getting detention scared the hell out of her.
"I... I didn't..." she stammered.
"I'll take you back." he said to calm her. "But first we have to go to the dungeons. That's non-negotiable. And you have to be very quiet, okay?"
"Okay." she replied in a whisper.
Draco pulled her arm gently to guide her. They didn't go through the main door of the Castle, but through the hidden door to the right that Filch always forgot to close. Fortunately for them, it opened without a sound and they slipped into the much warmer Castle. They descended the stairs, taking care not to let Granger trip.
The prospect of being caught by a professor had sobered her up considerably, but Draco could still see the differences between the normal Granger and the drunk Granger. She didn't walk the same way, she was much slower, or maybe he was just used to her quick wit. Her eyelids seemed heavy, as if she was having trouble staying awake even as she walked.
Draco did not take his hand from her wrist. And the touch of her skin made him shiver.
They reached the corridor of deserted dungeons. Draco and Granger hid behind a pillar to make sure no one was there, then ventured a little further and came to Professor Snape's restricted section. He looked both ways to make sure the coast was clear and drew his wand.
"Draco!" whispered Granger in a slightly panicked tone.
"I'll be quick." he said, not letting go of her. "Make sure no one's in there."
She obeyed without losing her look of panic. He murmured an Alohomora, opened the door and searched through the dusty little bottles for what interested him, being careful not to cross the threshold for fear that Snape might have set off an alarm. Finally, he found the potion he was looking for and pointed his wand at it:
"Accio."
The vial flew into his open hand. He led Granger across the corridor to the toilets. They found themselves in a dark room with many sinks on either side.
Granger rolled up his own sleeve and Draco lit it with a Lumos. As he opened the small potion, she muttered:
"Essence of Dittany?"
Only Granger could guess a potion with so much alcohol in her system. Draco nodded:
"This will sting a bit."
He applied a few drops to the wound and a little green smoke escaped as the potion came into contact with Granger's skin. She didn't close her eyes and watched with interest as the wound closed itself and became nothing more than a tiny, pale scar. Draco tried not to think about the time Pansy had applied it to Theo's chest.
"That's more like it." he murmured, looking at the healed wound.
Granger nodded in agreement. Uncontrollably, he ran his fingers over the thin skin of her wrist, trying to ease the tingling she must have felt. She shivered slightly and raised her head to meet his eyes. Draco gazed at Granger's full, rosy lips, slightly parted, and for a mad second, he thought about kissing her. He imagined himself leaning forward to capture her mouth, his other arm wrapped around her waist.
Then he suddenly remembered the state she was in. He certainly didn't feel like kissing her in the middle of the dungeon toilets when she was drunk. So he straightened up.
"Come, I'll take you back." he said in a whisper and led her to the exit.
She let herself be carried. Draco put the vial of Dittany essence back where it had been, then returned to the stairs. They climbed carefully, checking each floor to make sure no one was there to surprise them. Draco kept his ears open for Mrs Norris' croaking mewling.
On the fourth floor, they had to stop suddenly and take cover behind a door when they heard footsteps a little further on. When the person moved away, they took off again at full speed. They climbed the stairs to the seventh floor and found themselves in the Gryffindor corridor.
Draco had never been to this part of the Castle before. It was a corridor of white stone, with carved alcoves to sit in or to house statues. They were surrounded by paintings: fortunately, they were all fast asleep. Draco turned to Granger and was surprised to see her leaning forward slightly.
"Granger...?"
"I feel nauseous." she said, wrinkling her nose.
Her eyes were indeed glassy. Draco unconsciously stroked the inside of her wrist.
"We went up too fast." he murmured. "Go and lie down, you'll feel better tomorrow."
It was a shameless lie, Draco knew only too well the effects of a hangover. But he didn't want to scare her. Granger nodded gently:
"Thanks for walking me home, Draco."
"No need to thank me, Granger."
She grinned. He removed his hand from her arm, feeling a trail of shivers run down his palm as he released it.
Granger watched the gesture curiously, then took a few steps away towards her Common Room.
"Good night, Draco." she called over her shoulder.
"Good night, Hermione." he said without thinking.
He realised his mistake a second too late. She stopped dead in her tracks:
"What did you call me?" she asked as she turned back to him, a broad smile on her lips.
"I..."
"I heard you all right, then." she said. "Good night!"
And she walked away, a little more confident than when she had arrived at the bench. He watched her say her password several times to a painting of a sleeping woman before she stirred in her sleep with a grunt and opened the passage. Granger rushed in, leaving Draco alone in the corridor.
Several minutes later, Draco turned on his heels. He walked quickly down the stairs to the dungeons. He was still on the lookout, but a little unfocused. He had called her Hermione.
He arrived at the Slytherin Common Room after what seemed like hours and entered quietly. A few students were asleep on the sofas and green cups were scattered about. All the alcohol had disappeared, probably hidden to avoid being confiscated if an adult entered the Room. Draco thought he saw a house-elf tidying up before he Disapparated.
Draco entered his dormitory as quietly as he could. Blaise was fast asleep, Draco could hear him breathing through the curtains on his bed. He glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside table and saw that it was almost 3am. He smiled as he imagined Granger's reaction to the time. He doubted she'd ever gone to bed this late in her life.
He washed himself quietly and got into bed. The curtains of his canopy bed were not fully drawn, so he could see the deep waters of the Black Lake through the dormitory window. The water was still, dark, and the sound of it against the window lulled him a little. It was hard to believe that such a soothing sight could have troubled him so much that morning.
Without realising it, his thoughts turned to Granger and their discussion that evening. He thought about the way she had pronounced his name or the way she had laughed, revealing her short, white teeth. He clutched his pillow, remembering the moment he had wanted to kiss her. He'd never felt this kind of heat, this fever, being so close to her. It was even stronger than when the rage surged through him, even more intoxicating.
Draco drifted off in his sleepy thoughts, in a world where Granger was his and he was the one who had to save her from the water creatures.
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Hermione
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The next day, Hermione woke up with a headache, an upset stomach and a sharp pain in her right leg. She groaned as she struggled to open her eyes and felt something crushing her right side. For a moment she had no idea where she was.
Hermione ran a hand over her face, brushing away the hair that had stuck to her forehead, then looked around. She wasn't in her dormitory. She looked down at the bed and was startled to see someone. And long, red hair, hidden by the covers. Hermione sighed in relief as she recognised Ginny.
She was sleeping soundly, wrapped in a makeshift blanket. Her leg was crushing Hermione's, probably because Hermione had been lying across the bed. She tried to free herself without waking Ginny, but it was all in vain as the redhead opened a tired eye:
"Are you all right?" she asked in a sleepy voice.
"Yes." Hermione said, surprised to find that her voice was almost gone. She coughed, making a pitiful sound. Her throat was on fire.
"What am I doing here?" asked Hermione. Her voice was as hoarse as ever.
"Well... You woke me up yesterday." Ginny explained, looking at her strangely. "I had fallen asleep on the couch in the Common Room. And we went up to my dormitory, you said you were going to check on me - although, to be honest, it was you who needed help - and we fell asleep in my bed. Don't you remember anything?"
Hermione winced. Her brain was still all fuzzy, as if she was still asleep. She had no memory of waking Ginny when she got home...
On the way home from...
"Dra... Malfoy ? He was here, wasn't he?" Hermione asked thoughtlessly.
Ginny stood up awkwardly, her hair falling flat on one side of her head. She rubbed her eyelids as she answered:
"Malfoy, in the Common Room? No, definitely not. Why..."
After half a second of thought, Ginny suddenly dropped her hand and looked at Hermione with wide eyes. She asked her in a shrill voice:
"Oh Hermione, were you with him yesterday?!"
"No... I mean, I don't remember." Hermione admitted, massaging her temples. "I can't remember... I've got a headache..."
"You drank a lot last night." Ginny said, a fact rather than an accusation. "You had beer after beer, I could hardly keep up."
At the mention of beer, Hermione's bile rose in her throat, a sickening taste of caramel, and her stomach tightened. She put a hand to her mouth and scrambled to her feet, half taking the covers with her, and ducked into the bathroom to vomit.
Ginny came in behind her and held her hair while Hermione emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet. She then ran cold water over her face, hoping it would ease the headache, but it was no use. Ginny had a sympathetic look on her face in the reflection of the mirror.
"How are you feeling?" she asked after Hermione had finished spraying herself.
"Awful." Hermione admitted.
"You need to eat." Ginny said as she led her back to the dormitory.
Hermione was relieved to find that none of Ginny's housemates were there.
"What time is it?" asked Hermione, coughing to get her voice back to normal.
"Ten in the morning." Ginny said. "Come on, let's go and see Fred and George, they'll probably have a way of getting you back into shape."
Hermione let out a small exclamation, as much for the late hour as for the suggestion.
"I don't want Fred and George to see me like this!" Hermione protested, but her broken voice made her sound unconvincing.
"Relax, we'll tell them you're ill..." said Ginny, who was getting some things out of her cupboard. "Here, put these on, we'll get dressed and go downstairs."
The girls got dressed, one much quicker than the other. Hermione's leg was still sore and made her wince every time she leaned on it. She put on the jumper Ginny had lent her, which was a little too small for her. Then she desperately tried to tame her hair, but seeing the state it was in, she preferred to tie it up with a hairclip.
The Common Room was full, as it often was on Sundays. Harry and Ron were chatting away, but stopped when they saw her coming down the stairs in surprise.
"Hermione?" called Harry. "We thought you were in the Library, we didn't see you this morning."
"She's ill." Ginny lied.
Hermione nodded in agreement.
"Oh no, what's wrong?" asked Ron as he approached the two girls.
"I've got a cold." she replied, her voice breaking. "I'm going to the hospital wing to ask Pomfrey for some Pepperup Potion."
"I'll come with you." Harry decreed as he started to walk towards the exit.
"No, don't bother." Ginny cut in. "I'll take care of it."
Hermione was amazed that Ginny was talking to Harry without blushing, she who hadn't been able to be in the same room with him the year before. Harry frowned, but didn't insist.
When they were in the corridor, Ginny didn't head for the hospital wing, but for the Great Hall. Breakfast was over and the Gryffindor table was almost empty, except for Fred and George, who were plotting in low voices, their heads bent over something they couldn't see. As Ginny walked up behind them, they suddenly raised their heads in a synchronised gesture and grabbed the paper they were reading, which disappeared in a second.
"Oh, it's you!" exclaimed George, realising who had interrupted their muttering. "And Hermione! We didn't see you at breakfast."
"We slept in." Ginny said as she swung a leg over the bench to sit down. Hermione did the same, but with an appalling lack of dexterity compared to Ginny.
"Oh yeah?" Fred asked mischievously. His eyes fell on Hermione and he grinned. "And you, Mione, feeling well?"
"Not really." she said with a sigh in her muffled voice. "I'm sick..."
"I wonder what it could be..." said George, pretending to think. "What could have put you in this state... I wonder... Something you did yesterday, perhaps?"
Hermione put her head in her hands with a grunt.
"I think I saw you drink a few beers..." Fred continued in the same mysterious tone as his twin. "A dozen or so... Or more... And then you danced in the middle of the room, I think..."
"I did not!" Hermione protested, raising her head a little too quickly.
Fred and George burst out laughing. Hermione saw Ginny biting her lip:
"Er... Hermione, actually... You kind of did. You danced... And you even asked Neville to dance with you, remember..."
Hermione suddenly wanted to go deep underground, bury herself and never come out. She was sure her cheeks were turning crimson.
"No..." she murmured. "My God, I really did..."
She put her head back into her arms. George stopped laughing:
"Why are you ashamed? It was so great! Everyone loved it, Mione, I swear! And you danced really well, you made the most of your dance lessons at the Ball!"
Hermione muttered something, but her voice was too broken for her words to reach the Weasleys at the table.
"You really don't remember anything?" asked Ginny, stroking her back gently.
Hermione shook her head. She had bits and pieces, hazy memories that came back as the minutes passed, but as most of them involved grey pupils, she preferred not to share them.
"You need to eat." Ginny repeated. "Fred, George...?"
"We're on it." the twins said in chorus.
Hermione felt the bench move as they both stood up. After a few minutes of silent complaining, Ginny gave the brunette a little squeeze:
"Come on, let's eat outside. It'll do you good to get some fresh air."
Hermione agreed, suddenly remembering her own desire to go to the bench outside the day before.
She and Ginny walked out into the courtyard, where the weather was fine. Some students were playing together and others were reading by the large fountain. They sat down on a bench at the front of the courtyard, and Fred and George returned a few minutes later, their arms laden with food.
Hermione forced herself to eat as much as she could to get rid of the nausea, trying not to think that it was the elves who had prepared all this. Fred and George stayed with them to talk, but they didn't bring up the party again (probably because of a dark glare from Ginny).
After eating and drinking a large cup of tea with honey, Hermione felt a little better. She no longer felt like throwing up, and she began to remember the previous evening more clearly. With each memory that came back, she had a sudden urge to slap herself. She remembered the dances and what she had said, and she felt completely stupid.
On the other hand, Hermione found it hard to imagine the 'after'. She knew that she had been on their bench, that Draco had been there and that he had helped her... She discreetly lifted the sleeve of the jumper Ginny had lent her and noticed that the wound on her wrist was gone. She frowned as she tried to remember how he had done it.
Fred and George eventually left, wishing her a 'good recovery', emphasising the word with two big winks. Ginny stayed with a thoughtful and unwell Hermione, trying to make conversation without seeming pushy, which was very difficult.
"Hello Ginevra." said a voice Hermione didn't recognise.
The brunette raised her head and discreetly detailed the person who had just arrived in front of them. She had large, slightly bulging blue eyes and long, dirty blonde hair. But it was her outfit that caught Hermione's eye: bright yellow trousers, a green embroidered blouse and a pink knitted waistcoat. Around her neck the girl wore a necklace of Butterbeer corks, which made Hermione gag a little.
"Oh, hello Luna." Ginny greeted, not paying attention to the strange girl's outfit. "Hermione, this is Luna Lovegood. Luna, this is Hermione Granger."
"Hermione, like the animal?" asked Luna in a dreamy voice.
"Er..." Hermione tried to imagine what she was talking about, but her big, searching blue eyes were too distracting. "Yeah, maybe."
"Luna's in third year, like me, but in Ravenclaw." Ginny explained to Hermione. "We bonded in Herbology class together because we had to look after the same Puffapod."
"That's actually why I came to see you." Luna said suddenly. "We have to hand in the report in class tomorrow and we hadn't finished it yet..."
"Blimey!" said Ginny, looking worriedly in the direction of the greenhouses, then back at Hermione. "Mione, if you want me to stay, I can do it later..."
"No, don't worry, I'll go to the Library and do some work too." Hermione said as she stood up, despite the pain in her leg.
"Are you sure?" asked Ginny a little lower. "You look really sick..."
"Don't worry, I'll rest." Hermione reassured her. "Good luck with your homework, and see you soon, Luna!"
The girl didn't answer, just gave her a pale look. Hermione thought to herself that this was one of the strangest encounters she had ever had.
Hermione went up to the dormitory to get her things. She didn't really want to go to the Library, but she preferred it to having to explain to Ron and Harry that she was actually suffering from a hangover. If they found out, they'd enjoy making fun of her all the time. And worst of all, she didn't want to run into Neville.
So she quickly climbed up to the dormitory, collected her books and some parchment, patted Crookshanks a little and went back downstairs before anyone called her.
Hermione made her way back down to the first floor. Just as she was about to turn into the Library corridor, however, she came face to face with Harry, who was coming up the stairs.
"Hermione, wait!" he called.
Hermione stopped reluctantly. She tried not to sound suspicious.
"Hey, Harry." she said in as 'normal' a tone as possible, but which turned out to be a high-pitched squeak.
"How are you?" asked Harry when he reached her. "Have you had any Pepperup Potion?"
Hermione wanted to say yes, but she was incapable of lying to her best friend. She stammered as she tried to think of an explanation when Harry's mouth curved into a knowing smile. She fell silent and sighed:
"You know, don't you?"
"Hermione, I've seen you screaming and dancing around the Common Room all night with a Butterbeer in your hand." Harry said without stopping smiling. "This morning you walk crooked, you're pale as a ghost and you sound like Dobby. I know you well enough to understand what has happened, yes."
Hermione mumbled into her hands. She could feel the blush rising to her cheeks.
It was the last time she'd had so many Butterbeers.
"I'm so embarrassed!" she squealed.
Harry chuckled and moved Hermione's hands away from her face:
"Don't worry, everyone was far too excited to notice. I'm sure they've all forgotten about it. Well, except maybe Neville..."
Hermione closed her eyes and groaned in shame again.
"What about Ron?" she asked.
Harry laughed bitterly and waved his hand:
"Ron? He spent the evening telling Parvati and Lavender how he'd fought the water creatures to free himself. At the end, he said I'd fainted and he'd saved me. He didn't see you dance, don't worry."
Hermione was a little relieved to hear that. At least there was one less witness to her utter humiliation.
She chatted a little with Harry in the corridor. He looked better, obviously relieved to have the second Task behind him. His emerald green eyes were bright with laughter and she could only be pleased to see him so relaxed, even if the cause of his happiness was her own shame from the previous day.
Eventually they said goodbye and Hermione made her way to the Library as quickly and furtively as possible. She was pleased to find that Krum's usual table was unoccupied. Madam Pince was dusting a high shelf in the Library and did not notice her entering.
Hermione made her way through the stacks, her heart pounding in her chest as she realised that Draco was surely already at the table. She had been so focused on the reactions of Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred, George and Neville that she had momentarily forgotten that she had spent half the night with Draco.
She had been so anxious to talk to him that she had preferred to sit at the table in the middle of the Library where everyone could see her. She regretted not asking Harry to come with her. Hermione was far too upset to work, so she took out her S.P.E.W. notebook, which she'd neglected because of the Tournament, and tried to concentrate.
After about ten minutes, while reading a paragraph about the trial of a house-elf suspected of accidentally burning his mistress' fingers while ironing, Hermione was startled to see a paper plane flying towards her. It landed carefully beside her book. When she opened it, she immediately recognised Draco's neat, slightly italicised handwriting:
"Why are you sitting at that table?"
Hermione pursed her lips and folded the note, hiding it between two pages of her notebook. She knew he was sitting at the far table behind her, hidden by the shelves. If he tilted his head far enough, he could see her. She tried to relax and resumed her reading.
A minute later, a second paper plane landed beside her.
"Have you got your study session with Longbottom?"
She was surprised that he knew her schedule so well. In fact, they had cancelled their study group the day before because of the second Task, and usually they put it off until the next day. But they hadn't talked about it this time, probably because Hermione had begged him to go dancing with her the night before.
Hermione closed the note and went back to work. A new paper plane flew overhead. She hesitated to open it this time. But she couldn't read a sentence without wondering what he had written. Finally, she unfolded it discreetly:
"Have I done something wrong?"
The note made her heart ache. Because it wasn't him who had done something wrong, it was her. She was simply too embarrassed to face his mockery. She bit her lip, hesitated to answer, but finally crumpled it up and left it in a ball on the table.
Several minutes passed with no news, so Hermione thought he had given up. She hoped he wasn't feeling too guilty. She didn't want Draco to feel responsible for the previous night. She just needed some time to show herself without blushing in front of him.
Finally, another paper plane arrived, this time a little more rude.
"Would you at least be so kind as to come and explain to me what's going on? Or would you rather I come to your table and ask you in front of everyone?"
She could see that his handwriting was choppier. Draco Malfoy and his impatience! Hermione sighed, shoved all the paper planes into her notebook and stood up quickly.
As she made her way to the secluded table, Hermione thought to herself that she would have been better off at Hagrid's.
She arrived at the round table, far away. Draco was there, dressed all in black, his blond hair a little more dishevelled than usual and his eyebrows furrowed. When he saw her, he gave the shadow of a relieved smile before returning to his usual nonchalant expression.
Hermione stood at the table. She could barely meet his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione shut it before he could get a word out:
"I don't want to talk about it. Yesterday was an accident. I can't remember everything. I have vague memories of... Of my evening. I know I was drunk and that you helped me with my arm. Uh, thanks, by the way," she added, risking a glance at the blonde, who was listening with a vague expression of surprise. "But I don't remember exactly how I got back to the dormitory, or anything else we talked about. I'm sorry if I was a bit rude or pushy or whatever. Anyway, I don't want to talk about it, okay?"
She sat down in her chair, her cheeks flushed, her throat burning from talking so much, her eyes downcast. He said nothing at first, much to Hermione's relief as she imagined him laughing or mocking. After what seemed an eternity of silence, he said in a whisper:
"I'm the one who took you back to the dormitory. And you weren't rude or pushy."
She nodded, still not looking at him. She didn't want him to see how embarrassed she was.
"Then thank you." she whispered quietly.
He made no reply and continued writing. She risked a glance at what he was doing: he was writing a study sheet for various spells. She listened to the reassuring sound of the quill against the parchment, then, when her blush had subsided, she opened her book and plunged back into the study of the house elf.
They did not speak, each working in silence. She made herself some cinnamon tea to soothe her broken voice. When she had finished her book, she packed up her S.P.E.W. things and wrote a long letter to her parents, omitting of course to tell them about the party the night before.
Hermione was writing about Harry's exploits in the Tournament when a particular memory suddenly flashed through her mind. She looked up at Draco who was still working on the spells.
"You called me Hermione, didn't you?" she asked, breaking the hours of silence.
The hand he was using to write suddenly stopped. He twitched and his jaw tightened imperceptibly. When he raised his head to look at her, his pupils were fully dilated and he was grinning:
"We said we weren't going to talk about it anymore, didn't we?"
Hermione nodded, smiling despite herself, and they continued to work in silence.
.
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Draco
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Granger was sick for three days. It was the longest hangover in history. On Monday, she was as pale as ever and almost fell asleep in Arithmancy class, which shocked even Theo because it was so unusual. Draco would never have thought that Butterbeer could have such effects. Blaise could drink three glasses of whisky and look completely normal the next day. Perhaps Blaise and Pansy had learnt advanced techniques to combat hangovers. Or maybe Granger had actually caught a cold and she really was sick.
Either way, she remained in the same state for several days, but apparently continued to attend classes. In the evenings, she stayed in the Library for only an hour before apologising and leaving.
By Thursday, she seemed to be getting better. She had regained her colour and no longer seemed to be on the verge of vomiting. She stayed in the Library with Draco for several hours after dinner, even helping him with the Disillusionment spell he was trying to reproduce from his textbook.
They didn't talk about the famous evening, although it was still very much in Draco's mind. He couldn't stop thinking about her easy, carefree laugh, like a melody engraved in his brain, playing over and over again. Now that he had seen this side of Granger, he was even more intrigued. She was the most expressive girl he knew, but also the most mysterious. He still couldn't grasp all the aspects of her personality and he was fascinated by them.
On top of that, Draco had developed a new habit he hadn't had before. Since Pansy no longer slept with him in his bed, Draco had started, without realising it, to think about Granger more than usual, especially before going to sleep. He remembered the bits of conversation they had, the particular hairstyles she wore. He tried to decide whether he preferred her in her Gryffindor uniform or in her Muggle clothes. Sometimes he caught himself thinking about her and felt bad. But he couldn't stop, she was always on his mind.
"You look very dreamy today." Blaise said as they came out of Transfiguration, the last class of Thursday.
"Dreamy? What makes you say that?" asked Draco.
" Would you be able to tell me today's lesson in Transfiguration?" replied Blaise, one eyebrow arched in amusement.
No, Draco couldn't. He hadn't listened to a word that old McGonagall had said. He could, however, have given a detailed description of the outfit Granger was wearing today.
He shrugged limply:
"No, it wasn't interesting."
"Yes, it was!" interjected Theo, who was trotting along beside them, tucking his textbook into his bag at the same time. "We were studying the correct formulas for interspecies Transfiguration spells!"
"No need to go over the whole lesson again, Theo." Draco grumbled as they descended the stairs to the dungeons.
Theo wrinkled his nose at the answer, obviously disappointed that no one had asked him about the class he'd understood so well.
"Well, then don't ask me to help you with your homework." Theo said. "Besides, it's safe to say that the interspecies exchanges will fall during the OWLs, so you'd better not beg me to make you study."
"The OWLs aren't until next year!" said Draco, rolling his eyes.
Sometimes he really did feel that Theo and Granger had become the same person. He could almost hear the high-pitched voice Granger would use to scold someone when Theo told him about classes.
They returned to the dormitories to drop off their belongings, then Theo suggested they go for dinner. When they reached the Common Room, Blaise looked around:
"Where's Pansy?" he asked, looking around at the students scattered on the sofas.
"I have no idea, probably with Leo." Draco guessed. "They could be eating by now."
So they went to the Slytherin table and were surprised to find that Pansy wasn't there, only Leo was eating alone. The three of them sat down and were joined by Crabbe and Goyle just before dessert. Pansy was still absent.
"She'll miss dinner." Theo said as the dishes were changed for dessert.
"Maybe she's planning a party?" said Blaise as he picked up an apple and bit into it.
"She did seem a bit strange earlier..." said Theo, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to remember. "She told me she had something to do, but she didn't say what..."
Draco shrugged. If Pansy hadn't come to dinner, it was probably for a good reason. He often skipped meals, too. And he certainly didn't feel like asking Leo Hills, at the risk of letting him talk for two hours without being able to stop him. Blaise and Theo seemed to agree.
Finally, just before the end of the meal, Pansy arrived. A few curious students turned their heads to watch the latecomer, and Pansy pretended not to notice them as she took her seat. As soon as she sat down opposite Draco, Leo rushed over to her:
"Pansy! Where have you been? I've been worried!"
Draco saw Theo roll his eyes when he heard him, but Leo wasn't looking at him. Pansy gave him a fake smile:
"I didn't see the hour go by."
"I see. I'll wait for you in the Common Room, all right?" asked Leo, planting a kiss on her forehead.
Pansy nodded, then attacked a strawberry tart covered in icing sugar.
"Where have you been?" asked Blaise.
"I can't say." she replied proudly.
"What? What do you mean?" asked Theo, who hated being left out of a secret.
"I can't say." Pansy repeated with a smile that she could barely hide. "You'll find out tomorrow."
.
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.
.
They did indeed find out where Pansy was the next day, Friday, at the breakfast table. A huge, noisy owl with long cream-coloured feathers landed in front of Pansy's plate with a rustle of its wings. Its head was tilted slightly in the air. Draco had never seen such a snobbish owl. It was carrying a magazine rolled up between its two paws, accompanied by a handwritten note. At the sight of it, Pansy let out a shrill cry.
"It's her! It's Rita Skeeter! That's Rita Skeeter!" she cried, tearing off the note.
The owl shook his paws with dignity and took to the air with a graceful movement. Compared to it, Ebony looked like a pigeon.
"I would like to thank you for your help in writing the article you will find on page twelve of the enclosed Witch Weekly. I look forward to hearing from you soon, Rita Skeeter." Pansy read excitedly.
"Was that where you were yesterday?!" asked Theo, stunned. "With Rita Skeeter?"
"Yes, she asked me about someone..." said Pansy as she turned the magazine to page twelve.
She stopped and read the article in a hurry, her eyes quickly scanning the page that Draco couldn't see. On the cover was a blonde witch pointing at a cake with the headline "Fifteen weight-loss charms that work every time!" Blaise sighed as he looked at it.
However, as she read, Pansy's smile faded and she frowned.
"What?" Blaise worried. "She didn't write what you said?"
"Pans, that's Rita Skeeter's job!" Draco continued. "She takes what you tell her and changes it as she pleases to make the paper more interesting..."
"No, it's fine." Pansy said as she finished reading. "She's just cut out a few things... But she still quotes me."
She handed them the magazine with a little less enthusiasm than when she'd received it. Draco saw her give him a quick apologetic look before looking away. The three boys looked down at the magazine, where a photo of Potter took up half the page. It was an old one, from second year, the one where he was posing with Lockhart at Flourish and Blotts, but they had cut Lockhart out of the picture.
Draco started to read:
« Harry Potter's Secret Heartache
A boy like no other, perhaps — yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss. »
Draco felt the hairs on the back of his arms and neck stand up as he read Granger's name. He glanced up at Pansy furtively, but she was careful not to look at him, her mouth slightly twisted.
« Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has "never felt this way about any other girl." »
Draco was really annoyed now. He'd forgotten his own advice about Skeeter's altered words and wondered when the hell Krum had told Granger that. He knew the part about Potter wasn't true, and that they really were friends. Krum, on the other hand...
"You didn't pull any punches." Theo pointed with a grimace, showing a line a little lower down:
« "She's really ugly," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, "but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that's how she's doing it." »
"I always said I thought she was ugly." Pansy defended herself as she helped herself to some fruit salad.
"Maybe, but to say that in a magazine... I don't know, Pansy, maybe that's a bit harsh..." Theo said as he held the Witch Weekly out to her again.
Pansy rolled her eyes, as if she were the one being victimised. Draco remained silent. He didn't want to get angry with Pansy for fear it would reveal what he secretly thought of Granger. But he really was angry with his best friend. He didn't look at her for the rest of breakfast as he rehashed what Krum had said.
"Where were you talking to her, anyway?" Theo suddenly asked Pansy.
"Here, in the Castle courtyard." Pansy said calmly, taking a sip of coffee.
"At Hogwarts?" wondered Theo. "I thought she'd been banished."
Pansy pursed her lips but said nothing. Draco had a feeling she didn't want to talk about it in front of him.
He looked over Pansy's shoulder at the Gryffindor table. Granger was there, but she didn't seem to have read the article because she was talking to Potter and Weasley, smiling. Then again, Granger certainly wasn't the sort of person to subscribe to Witch Weekly. He watched her eat her porridge from a distance, clenching his teeth.
All day long Draco thought bitterly about the contents of the article. Sometimes, when he thought about it too much, his fingers trembled, earning him an angry rebuke from Sprout when he accidentally knocked over a Boucing bulb in the middle of the greenhouse.
"Miss Granger seems to have a taste for famous wizards…"
He didn't listen to the lesson on the Care of Magical Creatures, which had been taken back over by the idiot Hagrid, who had decided to talk about unicorns.
"Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections…"
He nearly sent a pillow through the window with an overpowering Repulso during the afternoon's Charms class, too focused on the article to notice.
"Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has "never felt this way about any other girl…"
Draco waited for the right moment to confront Pansy, and that moment came just before Potions. He took advantage of the fact that Blaise and Theo were deep in conversation as they walked through the dungeons to grab Pansy's arm and stop her in her tracks. He took her a little further, pushing her gently against the wall and approaching her, the ruminating anger of the day running over his skin like waves of heat.
"What possessed you to do this?" he let out through clenched teeth, deep enough that no one would notice. "Do you know the reputation she's going to get when everyone reads this article? What were you thinking?"
Pansy's eyes widened in surprise at the implied reference to Granger. Her posture changed radically, from anxious to defensive. Her black-painted mouth barely opened to let out a stream of soft words:
"I did it for you, Draco." she hissed. "I was thinking of you. I covered my tracks. If everyone thinks she's crazy about Potter, or Krum, or whoever, no one will find out your little secret. Because believe me, Draco, if this gets out, you're a dead man."
"And what am I supposed to do? Thank you?" he growled.
"No. But I hope you'll soon realise that what I did was only to protect you." Pansy replied dryly, without taking her eyes off him. "You used to bully her, remember? Don't you think that when other people notice that you've stopped targeting her in public, they'll notice that something has changed?"
"You said she was ugly." he spat, so close to Pansy's face that he could smell her lotion.
"You said that to her about ten times a week, Draco." Pansy said, her eyes piercing. "What's changed for you hasn't changed for me. But I'll help you as best I can. If everyone thinks she's in love with Krum or Potter, then the focus won't be on you. That's what matters."
She finished her sentence with a haughty click of her tongue. They stared at each other for a few seconds while Draco collected his confused thoughts. He was still angry, but he understood Pansy's gesture a little better. However, he was in no position to thank her or apologise at the moment, so he stepped back. She pulled herself away from the wall she was leaning against, glared at him and turned on her heels.
Just before she headed for the Potions Room, he grabbed her arm a second time, more gently this time.
"Was it you who added that bit about Bulgaria?" he murmured. "Or that he'd never felt that way about any other girl before?"
He knew the turn of phrase by heart now, having repeated it in his head all day. Pansy's mouth twisted again into a half-sorry, half-indifferent expression:
"No." she said quietly. "No, it wasn't me."
He let his confession spread across his skin like wildfire and let go of Pansy's arm. So it was Krum who had confessed his feelings to her. But when? Under the tree, the last time? Or one evening after the Library? Did they have places all to themselves, like their bench?
"Come on, we're going to be late." Pansy said.
He followed her, looking at the stone floor. He felt like punching something, and that something looked a lot like Krum's crooked nose.
They joined the others outside Potions class. Pansy replaced her impassive face with a falsely amused expression as she returned to the circle of Daphne, Tracey Davis and Millicent Bulstrode.
As the Gryffindors arrived in turn, Granger, Weasley and Potter first, Pansy let out a shrill and particularly annoyed laugh as she pointed at them. Then she tossed the magazine into Granger's hands.
"Here Granger, there's something in here that'll interest you!"
Pansy could look really nasty when she wanted to. Draco had rarely seen her so evil, jealousy dripping from her face. He looked away, clenching and unclenching his fists.
Granger opened the magazine quickly as soon as she entered the classroom. Theo sat next to Draco, as usual, and Snape began to write the list of ingredients for today's potion on the blackboard with his wand.
But Draco couldn't take his eyes off Granger. She was reading the lines quickly, surrounded by Potter and Weasley, who were reading along with her. Draco saw Potter give a small sigh of annoyance, probably at seeing himself in the picture.
As soon as they finished the article, Weasley opened his eyes wide and started talking at full speed, but Draco was too far away to hear their conversation. He paid no attention to the blackboard, instead trying to read the trio's lips. Granger shrugged her shoulders and smiled. The article had obviously not upset her.
She tossed the magazine onto the empty chair beside her, laughing, then turned to Pansy and her group of friends and waved. The impertinence almost made Draco smile, if he wasn't so tormented.
With the potion ingredients written down, Snape sat down at his desk and asked for one vial of potion per group at the end of the lesson. Theo started to light a fire under the cauldron. And Draco watched Granger. She'd started working too, but suddenly seemed more confused. She spoke to Weasley and Potter in a low voice, and the more she spoke, the more her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She avoided looking up, as if embarrassed or confessing a secret.
Draco wondered if they were talking about the night she had gotten drunk. He subtly leaned to the left to hear something, even if it was just a word that might lead him. Granger was crushing her beetles, oblivious to what she was doing, too lost in her thoughts to care. She was all red now.
Maybe she'd met Krum the night she'd had too much to drink. Maybe he'd forced her to drink. And that he'd hurt her arm afterwards. All the scenarios ran through his mind as he continued to stare at her. He clenched his jaw. Maybe he'd taken advantage of her condition to tell her all those things...
Draco didn't do anything with his hands. He watched Granger's mouth move at full speed and was so fascinated by the sight that he forgot all about the outside world.
Until Theo accidentally brushed against his arm, snapping him out of his trance. Reflexively, he turned his head to the blackboard to read the name of the day's potion.
But instead he met Snape's dark gaze, right in front of him.
The professor had frowned and was silently analysing Draco, whose blood had suddenly frozen.
Then Snape's gaze shifted to Granger, flicking back and forth between Draco and her until his thin lips curled tightly.
And it was then that Draco realised that his Potions teacher had figured it out.