Chapter 30- Tension
Most of the following week was occupied by Quidditch and homework. Any time that Hermione had left was used to send letters to publication houses all over Britain, requesting them for a copy of The Journal of Alfred Pedwiggle, First Edition, the 1754 publication.
Upon receiving her seventh “We regret to inform you that we no longer carry this book” reply however, Hermione had quite nearly given up. All the letters tried to explain to her the same thing: Apparently, in 1760, the First Edition copies of the book were recalled and revised to produce the second edition, which lacked chapters that the publishers thought were redundant. Unfortunately, this included the chapter on the Love-Knot. From the looks of it, the Hogwarts Library was one of the few places in Britain that still carried the First Edition.
The situation was still quite frosty with Harry and Ron. Upon persuasion from Ginny, the two boys had agreed to sitting with Hermione during mealtimes, but they were still rather reluctant to speak to her. It was usually Ginny who ended up initiating conversation, with Harry and Ron inserting grunts and nods where they found appropriate.
On the Quidditch front, Draco’s bruises had not improved greatly, but they had not worsened too much either. Hermione was right; riding while balls were flying around and Draco was trying to catch the Snitch was very different from flying alone without distraction. Though Hermione did use Draco’s tactic (closing her eyes and focusing solely on her breathing) while in the air, it was considerably more difficult with all the other factors at play. From time-to-time, she would still instinctively tighten her grip around his mid-section, causing him some discomfort.
The tension among the seventh years about their N.E.W.Ts was also building. Day after day, teachers drilled into the students the importance of these final examinations in determining their future, so it was little surprise that a couple of students had suffered nervous breakdowns (the most memorable of which was Anthony Goldstein of Ravenclaw, who had made a mad dash out of the greenhouse during Herbology and jumped into the lake; he was saved by the giant squid).
To add to this tension, Mr. Malfoy, as promised, had sent Hermione a very brief and official letter which enclosed the details of her appointment with Healer Gregory King. The date had been set for the Friday of the week, at half past four in the evening.
Initially, Hermione had thought she would just not go, but the responsible side of her would not allow her to do so. Therefore, she tried sending a letter to St. Mungo’s explaining that she cannot make it for the appointment.
Unfortunately for her, Mr. Malfoy had anticipated this it seemed. The hospital responded by saying that the appointment date and time could only be reset by Mr. Malfoy, so when Friday arrived, Hermione (and Draco) were forced into going whether they liked it or not.
On Friday, following the last lesson, the two changed out of their school robes and sought Professor McGonagall’s permission to leave school grounds (Draco had insisted that he had to go for his health check-up at St. Mungo’s, showing the Professor the note his father had sent). After the Deputy Headmistress had granted them permission, the two used the Floo connection in her office to get to the wizard hospital.
Upon arrival, they approached the welcomewitch behind the main desk and informed her of their meeting with Healer Gregory King.
“Healer Gregory King, you say?” the witch asked, eyeing the two curiously.
“Yes, that’s right,” Hermione confirmed.
“Give me a moment,” the witch told her. Getting her friend to cover for her, the witch then began to lead the two of them to a room on the fourth floor of the hospital. Passing the hallways, Hermione was reminded of the time Arthur Weasley was admitted here from a snake bite. She shuddered slightly. That was all before the war. It was all over now.
Finally, the witch stopped in front of a white door with a gold knob. “Please proceed inside. Healer King will be with you shortly.”
Thanking the witch, the two went into the room.
Hermione took a seat on the black couch in the spacious room and inspected the room. She noticed that it was almost completely empty, except for a single, black-framed picture that hung on one of the bright white walls. Hermione could not quite make out what the picture was though, because the black image on it kept taking on different forms by the second. The floor was covered with impeccable white marble and there were no other entrances or exits except for the single white door from which Draco and Hermione had entered. The air hung thick with the odor of healing potions, and there was a cool breeze blowing from an unidentifiable source as there were no windows in the room.
Beside Hermione, Draco was twiddling his thumbs impatiently.
“You much rather be practicing Quidditch right now, wouldn’t you?” Hermione asked, surveying the look on the Head Boy’s face. She knew coming here had disrupted his Friday Quidditch training.
Draco snorted. “You're wrong about that,” he drawled, leaning back into the couch. “I would much rather be doing anything else right now.” He sighed and closed his eyes.
“Well, it isn’t my fault we’re here,” Hermione reminded him. “It’s really all thanks to””
“My father,” Draco completed for her. “Yes, I think we’ve established that. Everything that has been going on for the past couple of months has so far been my father’s fault.” He groaned. “He should be the one here, seeing Healer King.”
As if on cue, a spectacled wizard in dusty green robes apparated into the room, right in front of the two Heads. He must not have been older than thirty-five, but his appearance told otherwise. His hair looked like it had been in a potion-exploding accident one too many times. His eyes had a slightly delirious look about them. They were large and black, slightly magnified behind his thin-rimmed glasses. A wide smile stretched from one end of his face to the other, causing crinkles to appear at the corners of his eyes and mouth.
Compared to the sterile environment of the room, the wizard could not help look like he did not belong.
Instead of giving an introduction of himself, the wizard’s eyes darted to the Love-Knot. Bending down, he peered at it closely, squinting in examination. “Fascinating,” he said, almost shuddering with excitement as he gently touched the Love-Knot. “Absolutely fascinating.”
Draco and Hermione exchanged a look of uncertainty.
Jerking himself away from the two, the wizard lifted his wand and conjured a plush, black sofa for himself, on which he sat himself down. “Healer Gregory King,” he introduced himself, still smiling inanely, “I specialize in mental disorders and psychological disturbances.”
He looks like he is the one psychologically disturbed, Draco mused.
“Miss Granger,” Healer King went on, shuffling a stack of parchment he had in his hands, “are you comfortable with having Mr. Malfoy here with you during our little session? I could ask him to wait outside, without stretching the limits of the Love-Knot, of course.”
Hermione licked her lips, contemplating on how to tell Healer King that there was no need for a “session”. “Malfoy won’t be a problem, but the thing is””
In one swift movement, the Healer was down on his knees in front of Hermione. He used his hands to clasp hers, a serious look crossing his face. “Miss Granger, you need to know that you can trust me,” he said gravely, looking directly into her eyes. “I need you to be completely honest with me.”
Hermione was taken aback. “I…I, well…” she stammered.
“Are you sure you're a Healer?” Draco asked, casting the wizard knelt in front of Hermione a skeptical look.
Healer King stood up and went back to his sofa. “I don’t mean to boast, Mr. Malfoy,” he said, taking off his glasses and wiping them with his robes, “but I'm one of the best in my field.”
“Somehow, I seriously doubt that,” Draco muttered under his breath.
If Healer King had caught what Draco said, he did not show it. “Miss Granger,” he said, producing a quill from the wild mess of his hair, “I have brewed several potions to help your little problem, but I do need to know more about it to determine which one would be best for you. So tell me when this problem started.”
“Well, you see Healer King, I””
“BE OPEN, BE HONEST!” Healer King exclaimed suddenly and both Draco and Hermione started. “I will know when you're not telling the truth,” he added, a lot more calmly.
“Healer King, I'm not an alcoholic,” Hermione said quickly.
Healer King stared at her. “Denial,” he said, letting out a loud sigh. “Classic.”
Hermione’s jaw dropped. “I'm not in denial, Healer King!”
Healer King sighed again. “Denial about being in denial.” He shook his head. “Classic.”
“You asked the woman to be honest and now you don’t believe her,” Draco commented, raising his eyebrow. “I thought you said you’d know when she’s telling the truth?”
The Healer snapped his head in Draco’s direction. He narrowed his eyes at him, peering at him as though he was a particularly interesting sample of hippogriff dung. Then, he quickly scribbled something on a piece of parchment.
“Hey, what are you writing?” Draco asked, trying to get a glimpse of the parchment, but the Healer blocked his view.
“These are my personal notes,” Healer King informed him. “So it’s for me to know and for no one else to find out.”
Draco rolled his eyes. He slumped back into the couch, murmuring what a total waste of time this was under his breath.
“Look Healer King, I was drunk once in my entire life,” Hermione spoke, trying to remain composed. “It was a one time thing.”
Healer King looked at Hermione intently, as if trying to determine if she was telling the truth or not. “Once? In your whole life?”
Hermione nodded. “Yes, once,” she confirmed.
Taking out his glasses and wiping them on his robes again, the wizard leant back into his seat. “Tell me about this one time then.”
“It was Valentine’s Day. I””
Hermione’s explanation was cut off by a loud, dreamy sigh emitted by Healer King. “Ah, Valentine’s Day!” he squealed, clasping his hands together in front of him. “How romantic! Did you go out with him?” The Healer indicated Draco.
“Well, I was with him, but he wasn’t my date,” Hermione said hastily. She saw the Healer scribble something down. “But that isn’t the point here!”
“Of course, please do continue.”
Frowning, Hermione resumed with what she had to say. “I was having dinner at this really good restaurant and I got carried away after one glass of vodka. I ended up really drunk after that.”
Healer King crossed one leg over the other, examining Hermione carefully. Hermione was slightly unnerved by this. It was as if he could see right through her.
“You're not telling me all of it, Miss Granger,” Healer King remarked, tapping his quill against his knee. “You had never drank before this, so why did you order alcohol to begin with?”
Because Malfoy was being an annoying prat. “Everyone else was ordering one, so I thought why not,” Hermione replied, pushing her thoughts aside.
Draco snorted. He remembered that night clearly. Had he not provoked her, she would have ended drinking Butterbeer. And she wouldn't have been drunk, which means we wouldn't have… He prevented that thought from completing in his head.
“Do you have something to add to that, Mr. Malfoy?” Healer King asked, his eyebrows raised in question.
“No, nothing to add at all,” Draco said with a shrug.
Bending over his parchment, Healer King jotted something down again. “What prompted you to get your second glass then?” he asked, looking up.
“My first glass finished,” Hermione replied flatly.
“And subsequently?”
“Two glasses became three, four, five… and I just didn’t realize how much I was having,” Hermione said matter-of-factly.
“Oh, such a deprecate answer does not befit you, Miss Granger! You're so obviously trying not to dwell into this story as much as I would like you too,” Healer King chuckled loudly and rubbed his palms together. “And that’s why I want to know more! Now tell me, what was the real reason that got you downing one glass after another? What were the circumstances? Did something happen?” His eyes settled on Draco for the briefest moment. “Or did someone say something?”
Taking a deep breath, Hermione knew that Healer King was not going to leave her alone until she told him the truth. Or at least something close to it.
“I was getting annoyed with Malfoy,” Hermione said, without faltering.
Healer King appeared the faintest bit pleased. “And what was he doing?” he pressed on.
Hermione fidgeted in her seat. “He was… snogging his girlfriend, or sucking her face, whichever you prefer, despite knowing that my date and I were feeling highly uncomfortable by it.”
“I had no idea you and Viktor were feeling that way, Granger,” Draco gasped, feigning innocence. “You should have said something rather than turn to alcohol,” he added with false concern.
“I did say something!” Hermione burst, staring at Draco in disbelief. “Need I remind you that I kicked you under the table several times and even shouted, but to no avail.”
“Is that true Mr. Malfoy?”
“I don’t remember anything,” Draco said stubbornly. But upon seeing the intent (and slightly deranged and scary) look that Healer King shot him, he added, “Actually, I might remember some shouting and kicking.”
Turning his attention back to Hermione, the Healer inquired, “And Miss Granger why did this kissing that was going on between Mr. Malfoy and his date affect you so much?”
Before Hermione could answer, Draco grunted. “Well it’s obvious, isn’t it? She was jealous,” he smirked, enunciating the last word.
“Jealous?!” Hermione repeated in incredulity. “Of you snogging Simone?! I think appalled would be a more suitable word.”
“And I take it that this Simone was Mr. Malfoy’s date?” Healer King asked, his eyes wide with interest. The expression on his face suggested that he was extremely entertained, like a muggle housewife watching a climax of a particularly interesting soap opera.
“Oh yes, and she was no ordinary date,” Hermione replied, a smug look crossing her face. “He paid her to be his date, even to snog him!”
The Healer gasped, covering his mouth with his hands. “He didn’t! Is this true, Mr. Malfoy?”
Draco gritted his teeth. “Yes it’s true. But I only paid her because I didn’t want to be a bloody lamppost while Granger rendezvoused with Viktor! I was desperate and it so happened that Simone was willing to go out with me.”
“With a little money,” Hermione added, her eyes narrowed.
“Shut up, Granger,” Draco snapped. “Why don’t you just admit you were jealous?”
“I refuse to admit to something that I clearly was not feeling! Jealous was what you were when you set fire to Viktor’s pants!”
“He set your date’s pants on fire?!” Healer King’s already big eyes grew wider in surprise.
“It was an accident!” Draco leapt to his own defense.
“It certainly was not!” Hermione accused. “You knew exactly what you were doing when you pointed your wand at his pants and said the spell!”
“No, I did not!”
“Yes, you did!”
In front of them, Healer King was scribbling on his parchment so fast that he looked as though he was in serious need of a Quick-Quotes Quill.
“No, I did not!”
“Yes, you did and after that you creamed him!”
Glancing up from his parchment, Healer King stared. “Creamed?”
Hermione nodded vigorously. “Instead of using water to put out the fire on Viktor’s pants, Malfoy thought it’d be funny to use cream instead.”
To her astonishment, the Healer burst into laughter. “That is funny!” he roared, his face red with mirth.
Draco allowed himself a smile. “Isn't it? I found it quite hilarious myself.”
Then, as abruptly as he started, Healer King stopped. “So that means you did it on purpose then?” he asked, giving Draco the same stern yet somewhat deranged stare.
“Uhm, well, no, I was…” Draco stammered, having been caught off-guard.
“Ha!” Hermione let out a wry laugh. “So, you did do it on purpose!”
“Why would you do something like that on purpose, Mr. Malfoy?” Healer King gasped (again), clutching his chest dramatically.
Draco’s eyebrows shot up into his hair. “Because Granger was engaged in a heated snogging session with Viktor, which was making my date and I feel awkward.”
Looking aghast, Hermione placed her hands on her hips angrily. “Heated snogging session?! What rubbish!”
“Oh, so you playing tonsil Quidditch with Viktor is fine, but when Simone and I snogged it was too uncomfortable for the two of you?” Draco sneered.
“It was an innocent peck on the lips!”
“Don’t try to deny what I saw, Granger.”
“You must have been hallucinating then, Malfoy, because the only people who were playing tonsil Quidditch were you and your precious Simone!”
There was a tint of pink on Draco’s normally pale cheeks. “Oh yeah? I can think of two other people!”
“Who? And don’t you dare say Viktor and I because we’ve already””
“You and me!”
At this point, Healer King literally fell out of his chair, flabbergasted. His papers flew out of his hand and were strewn across the floor.
Pin-drop silence filled the room. Draco and Hermione glared at each other, eyes transfixed, with their chests heaving and their faces barely inches apart.
Scrambling on to his feet, Healer King hurriedly used his wand to retrieve his parchments and dropped back down onto his black sofa. Inwardly, he let out a small squeal of delight.
“I was intoxicated,” Hermione spoke first, her voice eerily calm.
“That’s a pathetic excuse,” Draco scorned, his lips twitching into a smirk.
“You initiated it.”
“You continued.”
“Like I said, I was drunk.”
“Stop using that as your defense, Granger. It’s getting old.”
“But it’s the truth.”
“Tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”
“That’s not the issue here, Malfoy.”
“I dare you.”
“I could ask you the same thing, you know.”
“And I would tell you that I did. Every second of it.”
Hermione, in her surprise, opened her mouth and emitted a small gasp, and Draco, realizing what he had blurted, hastily broke eye-contact with her, mentally kicking himself.
“Oh dear Dilys in the heaven’s above!” Healer King bellowed, startlingly both Draco and Hermione into realizing that they were not alone. “SUCH TENSION!”
An ear-piercing sound rang through the room suddenly, and this time all three occupants of the room jumped.
“What the bloody hell is that?” Draco asked, stuffing his fingers into his ears.
From within a pocket of his robes, Healer King fished out a small, gold clock that was currently flashing red. It was the source of the sound apparently.
“Alas!” the Healer said melodramatically. “My trustworthy clock tells me that the time I spent with you two has come to an end!”
“Thank Merlin,” Draco breathed with a small sigh.
“HOWEVER,” Healer King hollered, “before you leave, here are a few conclusions that I have drawn from this ninety minute session, so please listen carefully.” Clearing his throat loudly and taking a moment to wipe his glasses for the third time, he said, “Firstly, I have concluded that Miss Granger is not an alcoholic.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “She has been trying to tell you that from the very beginning.”
“Secondly,” Healer King resumed as though he had not heard Draco, “Secondly, I have come to discover that Mr. Malfoy has a slight attitude disorder.”
Draco’s jaw dropped. “What are you on about, Healer?!”
Hermione sniggered softly.
“Further examination may be needed to draw concrete conclusions,” Healer King added with a sort of vicious smile.
“I'm not coming for further bloody examinations!” Draco protested.
“And lastly,” the elder wizard continued, ignoring Draco’s complaint, “I conclude that the two of you are madly in love with each other but are too obstinate to even start with something as simple as admission or even realization of these feelings as the two of you feel that doing so may result in lowering your dignity, or the two of you are merely in extreme denial.”
He said all of this in one breath.
“WHAT?!”
The shock of Healer King’s words lasted all the way till Draco and Hermione returned to Hogwarts.
“He was bloody raving!” Draco commented as they made their way back to their dormitory.
“Yes, he certainly was,” Hermione agreed. “I doubt he had any idea what he was talking about.”
Draco scowled angrily. “He’s off his rocker!”
“Plain gibberish!” Hermione shot indignantly.
“A load of tripe!”
“Absolutely outrageous!”
“My, my, are the two hotheads playing a word game here?”
The two students looked up to see Peeves floating above them, a sadistic smile in place.
“Go away, Peeves!” Hermione yelled, not in the mood for any one of his tricks.
“I shan’t,” Peeves told her, blowing a raspberry. “Since the hotheads are so eager to play games, Peevesie has one for you too.” The poltergeist produced a long rope from his pocket. “It’s called, ‘See-if-the-hotheads-can-get-out-of-the-rope’ game.”
Before the Heads had time to process what was going on, Peeves swooped down and quickly worked to tie the two of them together with the rope.
“PEEVES!” they shouted in unison.
Hooting with laughter, the poltergeist flew through a wall and disappeared, leaving Draco and Hermione tied together with more than just the Love-Knot. So now, Draco and Hermione were facing each other, a rope binding them tightly together.
Draco’s arms were forced to lie beside Hermione’s hips, while her hands were uncomfortably resting on his chest. They stood there in silence, uncertain of what to do next.
Hermione’s head came up to Draco’s nose and subconsciously he took in the aroma of her hair, a mixture of fruity fragrances invading his nostrils. He watched her as she slowly gazed up at him, her brown eyes staring into his grey ones. A small shiver ran down his spine as he gazed into those brown eyes, those beautiful brown eyes that he had noticed once before when he was insanely drunk…
Hermione immediately recognized the smell of Draco’s aftershave. She found herself rather enjoying his scent as his ash-colored eyes bore deep into hers. Neither of them broke eye-contact and, for a moment or two, they plunged into a different world.
But as soon as they realized what they were doing, they looked away from each other and the moment was shattered.
“Well, isn’t this nice?” Draco said dryly.
Right away, Hermione started struggling. “Peeves is such a pain!” she said irately, struggling some more. The glimmer of the Love-Knot caught her eye as it stretched from her hand to Draco’s.
“Granger, struggling is not going to help you,” Draco said impatiently. “Besides, the only thing you're managing to do by struggling is to rub yourself against me.”
Abruptly, Hermione stopped struggling and she froze against Draco, her cheeks slightly colored. “Where’s your wand?” she asked, an idea hitting her.
“It’s in the back pocket of my pants,” he replied, at once understanding what Hermione had in mind.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to reach it,” Hermione said. “That stupid ghost tied the rope really tightly. I can barely move my arms from this position.”
“Where’s your wand then?”
“Front pocket of my jeans. Can you reach it?”
Draco squirmed as he tried to move his hands from Hermione’s hips to her front pocket. As he did, Hermione felt his thighs brush against hers and she tried not to notice the sensations traveling up from her legs to her neck.
Finally, with a bit of luck and without much difficulty, he retrieved her wand and said a spell to remove the ropes from around them.
“That wretched ghost,” Draco cursed as he stepped away from the bundle of rope that had fallen to his feet after he performed the charm. “Dumbledore should just throw him out of the castle.”
There was some silence as they started walking, until Draco said, “I still don’t understand how that Healer managed to come up with such a ludicrous conclusion. It’s probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”
Hermione gave a nod of agreement. “It is absurd! How can anyone possibly think that the two of us are secretly in love with each other?”
Author’s Note: Yes guys, sparx is back in action! People who want to give her a good smack for updating after AGES, please stand in line. =P Being my readers for so long, you've probably earned the right to do so.
Also, I don’t know if you guys know by now, but I have won two awards in the “He Had It Coming” Dramione Awards! *does happy dance* I would like to thank my mom, dad, dog, cat, rabbit, the little ant that bit me while I was writing chapter 20… but above all, I want to thank you guys, the readers. No, honestly, without the love and support that you guys have shown for my little story, none of this would have been possible! I want to thank each and every one of you for making my first fic so special. This one’s for you guys! *kisses and hugs to all* I LOVE YOU ALL SO VERY MUCH!! Oh, I think I'm gonna cry… *sniff sniff*