Chapter 28- Hermione’s Decision
“Goyle, are you trying to imitate a little girl?!” Draco yelled across the Quidditch pitch from the Slytherin stand.
Goyle started and turned to stare at the Slytherin team captain dumbly. “N…no?” he stammered uncertainly.
“Then hit that bloody Bludger harder, you half wit!” Draco snapped, clearly exasperated.
Hermione looked up from her textbook. In front of her, the Slytherin Quidditch team zoomed about the stadium, practicing for their big match against Ravenclaw, which was to be held the very next day. Hermione’s entire week, it seemed, had passed a flurry of Quidditch practices. Since Monday, after the last class of the day ended, she would find herself being hauled to the pitch by Draco, where she would then proceed to sit and watch hours and hours of training.
Glancing down at her watch, Hermione groaned inwardly. It was six o’clock, on a Friday evening. She had expected to spend her time in the common room, relaxing by the fire, doing some homework. Instead, she was here, out in the open, watching the Slytherin team fly after balls of various shapes and sizes.
“Baddock, you're suppose to be keeping an eye out for the Snitch, not look pretty on your damn broom!”
Draco shouted at the replacement Seeker, Malcolm Baddock, puncturing Hermione’s thoughts.
“Your blood pressure’s going to be hitting the roof by the time you're twenty if you keep shouting like that,” Hermione commented evenly. “Sit down and give it a rest, will you?”
Draco scowled, making no move to sit.
Sighing, Hermione went back to reading her book.
“Blondie’s just a stubborn prick, Hermione,” Jinx chimed from Hermione’s finger, turning a shade of dull mauve. The mood ring had been good company these last couple of days. “So don’t worry.”
The session lasted for another hour, until Draco finally decided to give his teammates a rest. After giving them a lecture (“We have to win the game tomorrow or I’ll blow your bloody brains out!” or something along those lines), he allowed his team to disperse and headed for dinner with Hermione.
After dinner, they returned back to the Heads’ common room.
Greeted by silence, Hermione realized that the two portraits above the fireplace were empty. The founders were absent.
Hermione was a little tired, but decided that some homework was in order before bed.
“You don’t mind if I start on my homework before bed, do you?” Hermione asked Draco, who was somewhat sulky.
“Yeah, whatever.”
“Well, someone’s awfully grouchy,” Jinx said, staring pointedly at Draco, who knew better than to respond.
Dropping her bag onto the table, Hermione dug out her Transfiguration notes (hand-written by herself, of course) and text book. Hermione’s eyes then wandered over to the Head Boy and she observed him for while before starting her essay.
He opened his schoolbag and closed it almost immediately. Then, he opened it again, shuffled around inside and pulled out a spare piece of parchment and his quill. He stared at the blank bit of parchment for the longest time, as if hoping words would jump out from it and solve whatever it was that was bothering him.
Leaving Draco to his staring competition with the parchment, Hermione started on her work. She began reading her notes, hoping to extract materials she needed for her essay.
“You seem to be finding it hard to concentrate,” Jinx whispered, glowing sea-green. “Feeling preoccupied, it seems.”
Hermione sighed. Jinx was right. She was having a hard time focusing. The reason” well, it was quite obvious, wasn’t it?
Draco’s mind was on overwork mode. The game was tomorrow. He had seen his team practice today. He sighed. They did not seem to function the same way they did when Draco was playing with them. In fact, they just did not seem to function at all. It was as though they were lost little sheep (a metaphor that is very unlikely for Slytherin students, but too true in this case) without having him as their Seeker, guiding them.
“Malfoy?”
Draco's head snapped up.
“Your players will be fine tomorrow,” Hermione said, as if reading his mind
“It’s easy for you to be calm,” Draco said. “You're not the one watching your team go down the toilet.”
“You're worrying for nothing,” Hermione comforted.
“Worrying for nothing?” Draco let out a wry chortle. “Granger, did you see them train today?"
“They weren’t bad.”
“No, they weren’t bad,” Draco snorted. “They were atrocious.” Scowling, he banged his forehead against the tabletop, resting it there.
Hermione slammed her textbook shut and arranged her notes together. Placing her arms across her book, she stared at Draco. “Malfoy?”
There was silence on the part of the blond.
“Malfoy?”
Silence again.
“Hey blondie! Are you deaf? She’s calling you!”
Silence.
"Maybe all that shouting today did indeed make him deaf," Jinx suggested to Hermione.
“Jinx, stop it. Malfoy!”
“Leave me alone, Granger.”
Now, Hermione was the obstinate sort of person. Asking her to leave you when she wants to help you was not going to work. “Look at me, Malfoy.”
“Granger...”
Hermione placed her hand under Draco’s chin and lifted his head up to face her. Funny, her touching him now did not affect him as badly as it would have two months ago. Or perhaps Draco just could not care less at the moment.
“Look Malfoy, have a little confidence in your team. Trust them,” she said, looking deeply in his eyes as her fingers slid away from his jaw.
“If Slytherin was playing Gryffindor tomorrow, would you be telling me the same thing?”
Hermione’s gaze never wavered. “Yes, I would be telling you the exact same thing,” she said without the slightest hesitation.
“And I testify to that!” Jinx piped.
For what seemed like an eternity, Draco searched for any hint of a lie in Hermione’s eyes. When he found none, he smirked and tore his gaze away from her. “Tut-tut, Granger, what will your precious friends say if they ever find out that you're giving your enemy a confidence boost?”
“They’d say you're a moron for not listening to her,” Jinx offered, rolling her eyes.
“Shut it, mood ring.”
Leaning back in her chair, Hermione folded her arms across her chest. “That’s not the point, Malfoy. The point is that you have to quit stressing yourself up about tomorrow,” she said soothingly.
Draco scowled, still looking fretful.
Hermione managed a small smile. “I'm telling you, it will go well for Slytherin,” she said, finding it ironic that she never thought she would be saying something like that, and to, of all people, Draco. “Everything will turn out fine for your team tomorrow. Just fine.”
Fine was not how the match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw turned out the next morning. Bad, maybe. Horrendous, definitely. Slytherin lost magnificently. One of the worse losses the team ever faced. The final score: (hold your breath) two hundred and fifty to ten. And the game only lasted for an hour.
The Slytherin team was literally in shambles throughout the entire game. Plainly put, the Chasers weren’t chasing, the Keeper wasn’t keeping, the Beaters were beating their own players, and the Seeker was sure as hell not doing anything at all. Baddock had not even put up a decent fight with the Ravenclaw Seeker when the both of them spotted the Golden Snitch. He practically gave it away to the opposing team.
Slytherin was greatly shocked by the loss, but Draco was indisputably the most affected. He was thunderstruck. He could barely move after the results were announced. And Pansy was not the least bit helpful when she tried to console him by saying this would not have happened if Hermione was not dangling off the end of his hand.
The stadium was quickly emptying out, but Draco sat rooted on the spot, staring out into space, his eyes unblinking. Most of the Slytherins passed them by, some offering Draco comforting glances (and Hermione scornful ones” Pansy had chose to spread the word around that it was somehow all Hermione’s fault), others simply shaking heir heads in disbelief.
Pansy wanted to hang around Draco, but when he showed no response or interest in her coaxing and consoling, she excused herself and hurried off to lunch with the other Slytherins.
In a few of minutes, the entire arena was deserted; even those last few stragglers had left. Hermione looked down at the pitch and saw that the Slytherin squad was standing there, awaiting Draco’s instructions. They all appeared to be extremely ashamed, and inwardly each of them knew they had disappointed their captain.
“Malfoy, your teammates are waiting for you,” Hermione said in a low tone.
Eyes still transfixed on that same point in space, Draco lifted his arm and motioned for them to leave.
The players looked at each other tentatively, and then looked back at Draco, as if waiting for further directions. When the captain made no attempt to budge, they slowly trudged out of the stadium, heads hanging low.
Hermione knew that she should allow Draco time to get over the shock (or trauma, from the looks of it), so, despite her stomach growling for lunch, she sat quietly, hands folded together in her lap.
Even Jinx, who usually found it hard to keep her mouth shut, did not say a word and simply shone a pale blue (“She’s feeling sorry for the ruddy lad,” the mood ring had said quietly to herself).
Hermione sat with him for a good thirty minutes, and there was neither sound nor movement from him.
Finally, Draco stood up and headed for the Great Hall. Hermione followed suit. He walked, almost robotically, to the Gryffindor table and sat himself down without so much as glancing at Harry, Ron and Ginny.
“Did you hear the latest news, Harry?” Ron asked, grinning wildly. “Slytherin lost to Ravenclaw. Pathetically.”
Hermione shot Ron a warning look. A few days ago, he had apologized to her about his immature behavior during the Valentine’s weekend, and she had magnanimously forgiven him, but now she was having second thoughts.
“Yeah, Ron, I heard,” Harry said, grinning as widely as his best friend. “Better yet, I watched them getting creamed.”
Ron snorted with laughter and Ginny joined in.
“I'm so happy I could sing the birds off the trees, I tell you!” Ron said gleefully, helping himself to a rather large portion of strawberry pudding (he was already having dessert).
There was no reaction from Draco, however. He simply stared at his lunch plate, his face void of any expression.
Hermione felt a stab of sympathy for the Slytherin (Jinx was still a pale blue). No doubt he was cursing the Love-Knot right now, and quite possibly his father.
And her friends were not helping his situation.
“Stop it, you guys,” Hermione told them.
They gave her an odd look.
The Head Girl sighed. “He’s really feeling horrible, and I don’t think he needs you rubbing it in his face.”
Eyebrows shot up and jaws dropped.
“Hermione, are you””
“Harry, just drop it, please?” Hermione implored. “Let’s talk about something else.”
An awkward silence ensued between Hermione and her three other friends. They fidgeted in their seats uncomfortably as if waiting for someone to make the move to start a new conversation.
“So, Hermione,” Ginny said finally, shattering the silence, “we have a Hogsmeade trip tomorrow. Will you be patrolling then?”
Hermione nodded. “Yes, I'm afraid I will be patrolling. The three of you will be going together?”
Ginny shrugged. “I suppose. It’ll be a ruddy waste that you can’t come with us though.”
“I'm sure you’ll have fun nonetheless,” Hermione smiled.
Conversation carried on minimally after that, with Ginny and Hermione doing most of the talking. Harry and Ron simply nodded and shook their heads at appropriate instances. The tension was palpable.
Draco’s desolate mood continued for most of the day, lasting through dinner, where Pansy, in Hermione’s view, simply made things worse. She kept up a constant chatter about the game, about the huge loss and Hermione’s involvement somehow, not stopping even when Blaise sent her a look that blatantly said, ‘Belt up, Parkinson’. He, apparently, understood that Draco wanted to be left alone.
Her babbling came to a point where even Draco was so obviously getting frustrated and it was then he uttered his first words since the match, “Stuff a sock in it, Pansy.”
Those words were like music to Hermione’s ears and the look on Pansy’s face was priceless. Hermione wished she had a camera. Where was Colin Creevey when you actually needed him?
With that, Draco stood up from the table and waited for Hermione to do the same. Then, he marched out of the Great Hall, leaving a bewildered Pansy in his wake.
“Granger, I want to head straight to bed,” Draco said flatly when they reached the Heads’ common room, indicating that he was in no mood for her to do homework.
“She’s in an understanding mood, Blondie,” Jinx informed Draco. “You're in luck.”
Draco shrugged and headed up towards his room. There, he threw off his shirt, before climbing into bed.
Hermione climbed in after him. She realized that she was still in sweater and pants, but decided that now would not be a good time to wake Draco up just to grab her pajamas from her own room. Looks like she would have to settle with what she already had on.
Twisting Jinx off her finger, Hermione placed the mood ring on the nightstand beside the bed and bade her good night. She then turned over and stared at the ceiling. She was not all that sleepy and had in fact wanted to get some work done before bed. But seeing Draco’s mood had made her change her mind.
She glanced over at her companion, who was already in a deep sleep it seemed. Frown lines were etched in his forehead and Hermione realized that even in slumber he was thinking about the match.
A wave of guilt washed over Hermione. She suddenly felt she was somehow partly to be blamed for this defeat. She remembered how weeks ago Draco had attempted to play Quidditch with her on the back of his broom. That had worked out dreadfully and since then he had to stop playing altogether.
Maybe if I hadn’t been such a coward…
Hermione tossed and turned for a bit, until she finally came face-to-face with Jinx on the nightstand.
“You're still awake, I see,” Jinx said quietly.
Hermione pulled the blanket up to her chin. “Can’t seem to sleep.”
Jinx contracting her little brows in concern. “What’s on your mind, dearie? What’s wrong?”
Sighing, Hermione snuggled under her blanket and shook her head. “It’s nothing, really.”
“Let me guess,” Jinx smiled slyly, “Blondie?”
“Is it that obvious?” Hermione groaned.
Jinx gave a soft chuckle. “I just know you too well. And well, he does seem to be on your mind lately, and more often than not since your very eventful Valentine’s Day.”
Hermione scowled. She had told the mood ring all about her experiences on Valentine’s Day several nights ago when Draco was asleep (yes, everything) and Jinx’s reaction had been one of pure amusement.
“I shouldn't have told you about that,” Hermione said, narrowing her eyes.
“Well, I'm glad you did!” Jinx winked. “My only regret is that I wasn’t on your finger when all of that happened. Damn waste…”
Hermione shot the mood ring a severe look.
“But that’s not the problem now, is it?” Jinx hastily said, clearing her throat. “So what is the problem, Hermione?”
“I'm feeling guilty, Jinx,” Hermione told her frankly.
“And you didn’t even need me to tell you that!” Jinx beamed.
“Keep your voice down!” Hermione scolded.
Jinx looked apologetic. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Now, explain to me the reason for this guilt.”
For a moment, Hermione pictured herself lying on a couch and Jinx sitting on a chair in front of her with a notebook and a pen, asking her, “And why do you feel this way?”, like a muggle psychiatrist would.
Shaking that image out of her head, Hermione focused back on the Jinx in front of her. “I feel like it’s my fault that Malfoy’s team lost today. And””
“Say no more!” Jinx interrupted, a look of comprehension emerging on her pale face. “So you feel that you're partly to be blamed for Slytherin’s defeat mainly because you think that if you weren’t so afraid of flying, Malfoy would still be playing Quidditch and if Malfoy was still playing Quidditch, his team wouldn’t be such a wreck and would have had a better chance of winning.” She paused to take breath. “Am I accurate?”
“Very!” Hermione said, looking impressed. “And you knew all that without me even having you on?”
“I am wonderful with empathy,” Jinx boasted.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
“On a more serious note,” the mood ring continued, “what are you planning to do about this, Hermione?”
“I dunno,” Hermione mumbled, biting her bottom lip.
Jinx’s features softened. “Look Hermione, if I know you the way I think I do, then I know you’ll ultimately do what you think is right, whether or not it’s your arch enemy you're dealing with, because Hermione Granger is nothing if not fair.”
Hermione pondered over Jinx’s words. She managed a small smile. “Thanks for the advice, Jinx.”
“Anytime, my dear,” Jinx returned the smile. “I do think you should get some sleep now though. We don’t want you looking like a raccoon tomorrow morning, do we?”
Thanking the mood ring once more, Hermione turned to her side. She was certainly in no mood for sleeping now.
For a good hour or so, she lay in the bed, the gears in her head spinning at top speed. Finally, as she was about to drift off to sleep, she made up her mind about what she had to do. It was certainly not going to be easy, but Hermione was determined. Besides, when had life ever been easy since being tied to Draco Malfoy?
The scene was relatively familiar. Hermione and Draco each had a Butterbeer in hand as they patrolled the streets of Hogsmeade. The only difference was that Draco was unusually quiet today. Apparently, he was still brooding over Slytherin’s lost.
Just as Hermione was about to say something to Draco about what she had been contemplating the night before, a large screech owl soared from the sky and landed onto Draco’s shoulder, sticking his foot out to reveal a letter attached to his leg.
Extracting the letter from the owl’s leg, Draco unfurled the parchment to uncover his father’s elegant handwriting:
Draco,
Your mother and I have decided to extend our stay in France. Your mother apparently cannot get enough of the shopping here and has taken an unexpected liking to this place. If you want to reach us, just send a letter through your owl. He should be able to find us. How are things going with Granger? My sources inform me that she has a little “drinking problem”. Is this true? If it is, I certainly cannot have a raving alcoholic as my future daughter-in-law. Do I need to make another surprise visit? The Floo rates from France to London are off the roof, but I will not hesitate if I do not get a full progress report.
Your mother sends her regards.
From,
Your father
Crushing the letter, Draco stuffed it into his pocket and allowed the screech owl to fly off his shoulder. “My parents think you're an alcoholic,” he informed Hermione dully.
“What?!”
A raving alcoholic, to be exact,” Draco corrected. “On a brighter note, they’re still in France and will be staying there till further notice. There’s a piece of good news in my otherwise bleak existence.”
“All right, Malfoy, I think that’s just about enough of moping around,” Hermione said. “I have a proposition for you.”
Draco took a sip from his bottle of Butterbeer, not looking the slightest bit interested. “What are you on about, Granger?”
“I was thinking about it last night,’ Hermione said, tapping her fingers against her Butterbeer bottle, “and I realized that all isn’t lost for Slytherin just as yet. Gryffindor drew in their last match with Hufflepuff, which means that Slytherin and Gryffindor are tied for a place in the finals. If your team beats Gryffindor in the next match, then you can go take on Ravenclaw in the finals.”
Shaking his head, Draco took another swig from his bottle. He was fully aware of all of that. He had already prepared himself for another crushing defeat the Slytherins were going to suffer. “What’s your bloody point?”
“Well, it’s pretty obvious that Slytherin losing yesterday has affected you pretty badly,” Hermione told him, “so I think you should rejoin your team. Your team will have a better chance against Gryffindor that way.”
Draco let out a hollow chuckle. “Aren't you forgetting something?” He lifted his right hand up to show the Love-Knot tied to his wrist.
“A minor setback,” Hermione insisted, trying to sound optimistic.
Draco snorted.
“We could do what we did the last time,” Hermione resumed. “I could ride behind you while you practiced.”
“Oh yeah, that turned out wonderfully the last time, didn’t it?” Draco rolled his eyes. “Granger, you screamed so loudly that I nearly went deaf!”
Hermione flushed. “I wasn’t that bad,” she muttered.
“Yes, you were.”
“Well, that was then. Now, I have an idea that just might work.”
This time, there was a hint of curiosity on Draco’s face.
Smiling at finally having caught his attention, Hermione continued. “The answer was so simple that I don’t understand how come I didn’t think of it before””
“Granger, get on with it!” Draco snapped, growing impatient.
“All right, all right!” Hermione glared. “I can use a Silencing Charm on myself.”
Cocking an eyebrow, Draco stared. “That’s it?”
Hermione nodded. “Not as simple as it sounds though. We have a month or so to work on it, before the game against Gryffindor.”
“And you're willing to put a Silencing Charm on yourself?” Draco questioned, eyeing Hermione.
“Well, yes, if it means you can play Quidditch.”
Draco was stunned. He had not expected something like that from Hermione. “I thought you’d be happy if Slytherin were handicapped in the match against Gryffindor? Why would you want that to change?”
Hermione shot Draco a mysterious look, a small smile playing on her lips. “We Gryffindors like a challenge. What fun would it be playing against a team which doesn’t have its full strength?”
Not looking entirely convinced, Draco asked, “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Nice?” Hermione sniggered. “It has nothing to do with niceness. I already told you the actual reason I want you to play. It wouldn't be fun defeating a disadvantaged Slytherin, would it?”
“Be serious, Granger. You don’t expect me to buy that.”
Hermione sighed. “Look Malfoy, the both of us have had to sacrifice a number of things ever since we’ve been stuck to each other,” she told him earnestly. “For example, you’ve given up spending time with your friends in the Slytherin common room and have instead allowed yourself to be dragged into the library by me every other day. So if Quidditch is as important to you as the library is to me, I feel it’s only right if I compromise and accommodate as well.”
“But that’s a big compromise,” Draco pointed out.
“It’s only fair.”
“So you’d put a charm on yourself and jump onto a broomstick with me although you're terrified of flying because Quidditch is important to me?” Draco asked.
“I guess if you put it that way, then yes,” Hermione replied with a casual shrug. “It’s the right thing to do.”
Glancing at Hermione, Draco did something that he had not done in days” he smirked. “Careful there, Granger. First the snogging, then this. People might start thinking you fancy me.”
Hermione blushed, but could not stop the grin forming on her lips. “Shut up, Malfoy,” she said. “I'm not going to let you off so easily. I still have a few conditions.”
“What conditions?” Draco frowned.
“Well first, you need to follow me to the library to get that that book on Alfred Thomas Pedwiggle,” Hermione said pointedly. “I've been meaning to go to the library since Friday, but you were so caught up with your Quidditch training that I decided to wait until the match was over.”
“That’s all?”
“And you will tell your parents that I am, indeed, a raving alcoholic.”
“Why would you want me to…oh!” Draco saw the sneaky smile on Hermione’s face and understood it at once. “Good one, Granger. Anything else?”
“For now, no.”
They walked in silence for a while, until Draco said, “What about those nosy friends of yours? Somehow, I don’t think they’re going to be too thrilled by the prospect of you flying with me. But surely you're going to have to tell them.”
Hermione gulped and felt a sense of foreboding at the pit of her stomach. She had been giving that a considerable amount of thought, and she knew it was not going to be an easy task explaining it to Harry and Ron, especially Ron. “Of course I’ll have to tell them. They’ll have to find out, eventually. Leave that to me…”
As expected, Harry and Ron had not taken the news too well. Not well at all, judging by the way they were gaping at Hermione over dinner.
“It’s a little early for April Fools’ jokes, Hermione,” Ron croaked when he found his voice. “And that one wasn’t even funny.”
“I'm not joking, Ron,” Hermione told him pointedly. “I'm very serious. I admit, I tried it once and it was disastrous because I was unwilling then. But now, I'm not being forced.”
“Have you gone mental?!” Ron burst.
“Belt up, Ron!” Ginny snapped. She seemed a little bit more sympathetic than the two boys, and Hermione was quite grateful for that. “We don’t want the entire school hearing us!”
“And Malfoy, you actually agreed to this rubbish?” Ron went on, but this time in a quieter voice. “You’re going to let Hermione ride with you?”
Draco shrugged. “Yes, Weasley. I am bloody well going to do so if it improves my chance of winning the match against your team.”
Ron then made a very rude gesture that made Hermione reach across the table and smack him on the arm.
“Right back at you, Weasley,” Draco sneered.
Harry gave Hermione a hard stare. “Have you thought this through, Hermione? Do you even realize what you're doing?”
“Of course I do, Harry!” Hermione said, surprised that Harry would think she made a rash decision. “It’s only temporary. It’ll just take some getting use to.”
“Lately, there seems to be an awful lot of things we need to start getting use to,” Harry remarked, an icy edge in his voice. His usually warm green eyes bore an unfamiliar coldness in them now.
An unexpected pang of hurt jolted through Hermione’s being. She knew that it would be harder for Harry to accept this piece of news because it involved Quidditch.
“I thought it would only be fair if Gryffindor beat Slytherin at full strength. There wouldn't be much glory in winning a mediocre team, would there?” Hermione tried to keep her voice stable, so as not to betray the sentiment running through her.
“Load of codswallop, that is!” Ron shook with anger, his face as red as his hair. “Do you honestly think that you flying around on the broomstick with the enemy is going to help Gryffindor win the match?”
“It in fact places us at a disadvantage because we have to keep looking out for you,” Harry added, his voice still hard as steel.
Hermione gritted her teeth, fighting to keep her anger (and hurt) at bay. “I assure you, there will be no inconvenience,” she guaranteed. “I will not be a distraction. I most certainly refuse to be the reason for Gryffindor’s defeat, if that was to happen.”
“Why are you so keen on helping the enemy in the first place?” Harry asked, his eyes surveying her almost accusingly.
Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry. “Potter, you're””
Never looking away from Hermione, Harry lifted one finger and put it front of Draco’s face. “Not a word from you, Malfoy. You stay out of this.” His tone was absolute.
“Don’t tell me what to do, Potter,” Draco seethed, shoving Harry’s hand out of his face.
“If you want your pretty face to remain as it is, Malfoy, I suggest you piss off,” Harry growled, turning away from Hermione.
“Both of you stop it!” Hermione yelled before either of them could do something stupid like whip out their wands and start a duel. “Malfoy, stay out of this. I can handle this on my own. Harry, I'm not helping the enemy. You're being ridiculous. I'm only doing what I think is fair. Perhaps if you give it some thought after you've simmered down, you’ll understand why I'm doing this.”
Gobbling down what was left of her meal, Hermione stood up and left the Gryffindor table, but not before hearing Harry mutter something that sounded distinctly like, “I doubt I’ll ever understand your logic behind this one, Hermione.”
The fire in the Heads’ common room crackled merrily in its hearth, unaware of Hermione’s sullen mood. Draco, who was seated on the opposite chair, watched the Head Girl in the glow of the fire, looking as glum as ever. She was cuddled up in the armchair beside the fireplace, her feet tucked underneath her. Her mind was wandering aimlessly it seemed, as she picked on the upholstery of the armrest. Her mood had been off since the little exchange with her friends at dinner.
Even the trip to the library after dinner to retrieve the reserved copy of The Journal of Alfred Pedwiggle did little to cheer her up. Said book was now lying neglected on the table between them, waiting to be explored.
“I say, the mood is rather gloomy today, eh Salazar?” Godric Gryffindor whispered to his companion.
“It certainly is, Godric,” Salazar Slytherin replied with a sigh. “What a shame. I was looking forward to some entertainment this evening before bed.”
“So you're going to back out then?” Draco ventured conversationally.
Hermione turned away from the fire. “What do you mean, Malfoy?”
Draco leant back into armchair and hiked his feet up onto the centre table. “Well, you're quite obviously upset with the way your friends reacted to your decision to ride with me just now, so you're going to back out, I assume?”
“You're too quick in making assumptions, you know,” Hermione said impassively.
Draco frowned. “So you're still going to try it out?” he asked, eyeing her curiously.
“Yes, Malfoy,” Hermione gave a small nod, “we are still going to try it out.”
“And your friends?”
Clenching her jaw, Hermione turned to face the fire again. “They’ll just have to understand my decision and respect it.”
Silence settled over the common room.
“What do you think they meant?” Godric Gryffindor whispered.
“I wish I knew,” came Salazar Slytherin’s huffy answer. “You would think they would be a little clearer as to what they meant knowing that they have an audience around.”
Draco was impressed. Hermione apparently was not the sort of girl who made promises but broke them when friends disagreed with her viewpoint. Impressive indeed, coming from her.
“I don’t reckon you got the book from the library to let it collect dust on the table,” he said, gesturing at the autobiography. “You jolly well know that the root of all our troubles is this stupid Knot and maybe this book might have the solution to it.”
Hermione turned to stare at the brown, leather-bound book on the table. Draco had a good point. It was meaningless wasting time away like that. Stretching her feet out in front of her, Hermione made a grab for the book. It was heavy, but she managed to heave it onto her lap.
“I’ll start by looking at the content’s page,” Hermione said, sounding like her usual, authoritative self. She opened The Journal of Alfred Pedwiggle and thumbed through the list of contents, resting at the subheading of Chapter XII: My Experiences with The Love-Knot. “Found it!”
Feeling a rush of exhilaration, Hermione quickly flipped to the specified page. We might finally find an answer to rid us of our problem!
Draco, feeling pretty excited himself, got up from his easy chair and jogged over to Hermione’s side, setting himself down on the armrest of her chair. He watched as Hermione’s fingers moved across the yellowed pages at lightening speed, yet taking care not to crumple any of the sheets.
Finally, when Hermione had turned to the specified page, Draco took one look at it and frowned. “Granger, you have the wrong page. This chapter is about his Animagus Theory.”
Hermione scanned the page she had turned to. “Page six-hundred and ten? That can’t be right. I'm pretty sure I turned to five-hundred and sixty-nine.” She glanced over at the page number of the previous page. “Page five-hundred and sixty-eight,” she read. “That means…”
Draco let out a string of rather flowery language.
“I don’t believe this…” Hermione gasped.
Pages five-hundred and sixty-nine to page six-hundred and nine were missing. Someone had evidently torn out the entire chapter on the Love-Knot. There was nothing left of Alfred’s experiences with the Love-Knot.
“Who would have done this to a book?” Hermione asked almost accusingly, looking appalled. “Someone tore it very carefully, almost as if purposely.”
Draco examined the book. “You think so?”
“It sure looks like it.”
“Perhaps the two of you are just being a tad paranoid,” Salazar drawled from the wall. “Teenagers, perpetually melodramatic…”
Godric clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “Don’t be so bitter, Salazar. They might really be on to something.”
Salazar Slytherin rolled his eyes in response and continued wearing a bored expression.
Ignoring the founders, Draco and Hermione focused back on the book.
“Do you think Madam Pince will ever tell us who borrowed this book before us?” Hermione wondered.
Draco grunted. “I think even if we threaten her with a bucket full of Burbotuber pus over her head, she wouldn't say a word. Borrower’s information is confidential and all that rubbish.” He made a face. “Besides, what makes you think it was done by the person who borrowed the book before us? It could have been someone who borrowed the book last year, or the year before or even ten years back.”
Looking thoughtful, Hermione titled her head to the side. “True, that could be a possibility. But, what are the odds of someone tearing up the chapter on Love-Knots before we got stuck with one in the first place?” Hermione questioned him matter-of-factly. “Don’t forget the Love-Knot isn’t a very widely known magical object.”
“If it was indeed the person who borrowed before us,” Draco probed, “why would he or she be so interested in the Love-Knot in the first place?”
Hermione shrugged, looking quite befuddled herself. “I dunno.”
“Ooh, all this sounds rather exciting!” Godric Gryffindor gave a hearty chuckle from above the fireplace. “Great way to spice things up a little, eh?”
Author’s Note: Many apologies for the delay, guys. I have been really sick the last couple of days and have also been trying to settle some urgent issues that cropped up recently. Hope you liked this chapter! Though it isn’t exactly one of my funniest, it’s got quite a few things going on, all of which are pretty important to the plot.
Also, I would like to thank DracosPunkGirl, who sent me an email for a suggestion of using a Silencing Charm on Hermione so that Draco can still play Quidditch. When I first started out with this story, I already knew that Quidditch would be an essential part of the plot, but this suggestion from DracosPunkGirl served to expand my idea on that and I'm very grateful for that!
Lastly, I had to deal with a couple of plagiarism issues recently and believe me when I say it’s not at all pretty. So, despite mimickery being the highest form of flattery, I would like to say that I will not tolerate plagiarism. I take it very seriously and will deal with it with utmost severity. Just to keep you all informed, I have only posted this story up here on MNFF and on fanfiction.net, so anything other version of The Unseemly Proposal you see anywhere else is NOT mine. I know I sound rather harsh here, but I do need to get my point across. Hope you guys understand.
I would also like to thank all who have helped me through this plagiarism problem. I really appreciate it, guys. =)
Oh, and I'm going to shamelessly add that voting for "He Had It Coming" Dramione Awards has started! Vote for this story if you think it deserves it! Heehee...