Chapter 34- Revelations
March soon gave way to April, and the teachers gave the word ‘torture’ a whole new definition. The N.E.W.Ts were approaching, so it was understandable that they were piling students with homework, but aside from that, they had also started springing the seventh years with surprise tests and mock exams every other day.
Moreover, some of the professors had also taken to shouting random questions concerning their respective subjects at students in the midst of class.
By the end of the first week of April, Draco was very much looking forward to the Hogsmeade trip” or rather, patrolling Hogsmeade with Hermione.
Sitting down at the Gryffindor table that Saturday morning was almost a relief for Draco, considering that he would be in Hogsmeade in a couple of hours. Schoolwork could take a hike. For the time being at least.
Draco helped himself to juice and poured some for Hermione as well, who was, by now, used to these little gestures of his. While he was at it, Draco caught Ron cutting him a dirty look from across the table and ignored it. Lately, the Weasel seemed in a surlier mood than usual around Draco.
“Hermione,” Ron said, turning away from the Slytherin, “try some of the eggs, it’s really well done.” He motioned to the plate full of sunny-side ups.
“She doesn’t like her eggs sunny-side up, Weasley,” Draco said in a matter-of-fact voice.
“You don’t?” Ron asked Hermione, almost timidly, as though fearing Draco might be right.
Hermione shook her head slowly and Ron’s worst fears came true. “No Ron, I don’t.”
At once, Ron’s face turned a nasty shade of purple, a mixture of humiliation and anger. “Right, I knew that,” he mumbled, staring at his bacon so hard that he looked like he was attempting to set them on fire with his eyes. For a second, he appeared to contemplate leaving the table, but he seemed to think against it and grabbed some juice for himself, looking sulkier than ever.
After breakfast, Hermione and Draco separated from Harry and Ron to report to Professor McGonagall. Then, it was off to Hogsmeade. They had a mere hour to themselves, which passed in a blink of an eye, after which they headed to Three Broomsticks, where Hermione bought herself some Butterbeer (Draco did not want any).
Patrolling started soon after that. The topic of the day: Hermione’s hair.
“Have you tried shooting it with straightening spells?” Draco asked, staring at the mass of brown hair on Hermione’s head critically.
“Malfoy, I like my hair just the way it is, thank you very much,” Hermione replied tightly.
Draco’s eyebrow shot up. “What’s there to like? It looks like a haystack that has received one too many electric shocks. You're never going to find yourself a bloke with hair like that, you know.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. There he goes again, bringing up her love life. He was more interested in it than usual these days. “Well, the bloke’s just going to have to live with my hair like that, whether he likes it or not. I will style my hair from time to time, when need be, but I'm not going to change myself for anybody.” She popped open the bottle of Butterbeer indignantly.
From beside her, Draco suppressed a chuckle. You had to hand it to this girl; she truly did not care what the world thought about her looks. He secretly admired her for this quality of hers.
And honestly, her hair was not all that bad. It made her appealing, in a rather wild, untamed lioness kind of way.
Allowing himself a smirk, Draco snatched the Butterbeer out of Hermione’s hand before she took a swig and placed the bottle near his own mouth. He took a long draw from the bottle.
“You could have just asked for it, you know,” Hermione scowled. She did not take much offence though. She was much too used to Draco for that. “Viktor likes my hair just the way it is,” she added quite abruptly.
Draco stopped drinking mid-gulp. Taking the bottle away from his lips, he scowled. “Where the hell did he pop up from?” he whispered to himself.
“What was that?” Hermione asked, frowning at Draco.
“Granger,” Draco said, handing her back the bottle rather violently, “Krum is not exactly a subject I want to talk about right now. And I don’t really care about what he likes or dislikes.”
“Ooh,” Hermione bit her lips to prevent the smile on her lips from forming, “touchy.”
The two continued their walk down the cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade, when Hermione abruptly came to a stop in front of a huge brick wall in the furthest corner of the village. A few weeks ago, the wall had been completely empty, but now, there was a huge mural painted on it. A flood of vivid colors greeted the eyes, and it did not take long to figure out that it was a painting of the recent war” or at least someone’s interpretation of it. It was like someone had lashed out all the emotions he had built up since the war on this brick wall. The scenes painted were beautiful in a strangely disturbing way, evoking indescribable emotions in Hermione.
“The war,” Draco said, his voice coming out as a mere whisper. He stared at the fresco in what could only be described as awe mingled with trepidation. It was not a look you would have seen on the face of a person who had actually been in the war, seen the war…
“Malfoy, don’t mind me asking, but where were you during the war?” Hermione questioned, glancing at Draco from the corner of her eyes. It was not easy talking about the war, but this question had been nagging her for the longest time (well, not for the longest time, but lately more so than before).
To this day, Hermione vividly remembered most of the events of the war. Such events, such moments were not easily forgotten in one’s life. Every detail of the long battle was etched in the depths of her mind. She fought for The Order, with The Order, and she had come across many Death-Eaters during the time, watching a number of them meeting their ends in the most horrific fashion.
But she had never seen Draco in the midst of those faces. Not once. She recalled having a conversation with Harry and Ron once during those hard times, about how most of the Slytherins were probably working hand-in-hand with their Death-Eater parents to serve Voldemort. Draco’s name had invariably been mentioned, and Ron had sworn that he, Draco, was definitely one of the first few to receive the Dark Mark.
“He’s taking pleasure in murdering innocents, I reckon,” Ron had spat vehemently.
Yet, not once had they ever come across him, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Hermione had always wondered if he had been there at all. She was certain now that he was not a Death-Eater; he did not bear the symbol of the Dark Lord on his arm, so what then was his role in the war?
“Now that’s a sudden question, Granger,” Draco said crisply, snapping Hermione out of her thoughts. “What’s it to you anyways?”
“I was only wondering, that’s all,” Hermione replied, afraid she might have offended Draco somehow.
“Wondering if I was a Death-Eater?” Draco questioned, his voice almost accusing.
Hermione was slightly taken aback by his tone. “Malfoy, I've seen your arm, I know you're not one.”
“Glad you had the enough brains to figure that one out,” Draco scoffed.
“Look, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine by me,” Hermione snapped. “There’s no need to be rude about it. I was just curious. I apologize for trying to make conversation. So much for thinking that you were actually capable of a mature discussion,” she added in an audible whisper.
The only sounds that followed were the footsteps of the two Heads on the paved streets of Hogsmeade and the occasional slush of Butterbeer as Hermione took sips form her bottle.
“I was never involved in the war,” Draco announced abruptly. His voice was even, almost casual and he looked straight ahead, as though avoiding Hermione’s gaze. He waited for a response from her, but when she said nothing, he went on.
“My father had sent me away to Switzerland, one of the few places that wasn’t affected by the situation in the Wizarding World. Most of the world was in chaos at that time, and he wanted to ensure that his only heir, his only son would survive to carry on with the family name if anything were to happen to him in the course of the war.”
“And Voldemort allowed that?” Hermione asked, trying her best to conceal her surprise. From what she knew, the Dark Lord gathered as many supporters as he possibly could, starting obviously from the families of his Death-Eaters. It was a widely-known fact that one had no chance of surviving if he or she turned down the offer of one of the most powerful dark wizards of recent times. You could not just tell Voldemort, “Sorry old chap, my son ain’t interested in joining your little club. Run along now, and go find someone else”
It didn’t work that way.
“Doesn’t sound like he would, does it?” Draco emitted a dry chuckle. “My father found a way out of that. He convinced the Dark Lord that I was the key to future of all purebloods.” He shook his head. “In fact, I think my father himself honestly believed in that too.”
Hermione stared at Draco, making sense of what he said to her. “So Lucius Malfoy told Voldemort that you would initiate the procreation of future purebloods if anything happened to a majority of the pureblooded population in battle?”
Draco arched an eyebrow. “‘Initiate the procreation of future purebloods’? Honestly Granger, where do you come up with such words?” He rolled his eyes. “But yes, that was the idea. And since the Malfoy bloodline was one of the oldest in the Wizarding World, my father thought it was natural that I continue the purest ancestry known to wizardkind. Apparently Voldemort shared the same sentiments. He had his reservations about the idea initially, but he seemed to think it fit well in his plans after all.”
“Who exactly were you meant to continue this line with?” Hermione asked, her curiosity getting the better of her once again.
“No one from Slytherin, if that’s what you're thinking,” Draco informed her, a smirk gracing his features.
Hermione scowled. It was like he read her mind. “I was just wondering,” she said in a pitiable attempt defend herself.
Draco shrugged. “I don’t know myself, to be honest. All I know is that I spent a large part of my summer locked up in a remote cottage on the hills of Switzerland.”
“Did it ever bother you that you weren’t involved in one of the most important battles in wizardkind?” Hermione asked, trying to read the expression off Draco’s face.
“Not really, no,” Draco replied with another shrug. “I was never really exposed to it, so I don’t think I missed out on anything.”
“But if say you were involved in it, if you weren’t in Switzerland,” Hermione continued, “no doubt you would have joined your father in fighting against us, wouldn't you?”
Stopping in his tracks, Draco arched a blond eyebrow at his companion. “Is that supposed to be a trick question, Granger?”
It was Hermione’s turn to shrug. “It’s just a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question, Malfoy. Simple as that,” she said, coming to a halt next to him.
“It’s not as simple as that,” Draco corrected. “I was never placed in that situation Granger, so I cannot honestly answer that question.” With that, he continued walking, signally the end of the discussion.
Satisfied with his reply, Hermione trotted a few paces to catch up with him. She emptied the remaining contents of her Butterbeer bottle and tossed it into the nearest bin.
The two Heads continued with patrolling, having light-hearted and simple talks as they did. Their talks, however, came to be interrupted by a group of sixth year wizards Hermione recognized to be from Ravenclaw.
“Hey Granger!” one of them called out as they passed.
Hermione had no idea who they were, yet she stopped and turned to face them, out of common courtesy.
“We were wondering if we would get ‘special treatment’ if we too got ourselves tied to you,” he went on saying, revealing a silver ribbon from his pocket. It was not a Love-Knot, but it sure looked a lot like one.
“‘Special treatment’?” Hermione repeated, not entirely sure what the copper-haired wizard had meant.
“Yeah, special treatment,” he said with a smirk. “I'm sure Malfoy has the time of his life every night, even day, in that dorm he shares with you. So we were hoping that we could get treated the same way if we were tied to you too. We even brought our own ribbons.”
True enough, each of the boys removed from their pockets similar silver ribbons. They sniggered and waved them at Hermione, whose cheeks were burning wild roses from their implications.
“Think you're so funny, do you?” Draco spat at them. His hand was clenched in a tight fist and he looked angrier then Hermione had ever seen him.
Instantly, the snickering stopped. The boys stared at Draco. They had obviously thought that the Head Boy would have joined in their dirty little joke.
The copperhead wizard stepped forward. “Yeah, we do. Do you have a problem with us insulting your girlfriend, Malfoy?”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Draco growled in response, “but yes, I do have a problem with the insults.”
Hermione stared at Draco incredulously. All her life, she had never known Draco Malfoy to be brave. He was all talk, but no action. He had always cowered in face of confrontation and hidden behind his two cronies. So what exactly was he trying to do right now?
He isn’t seriously thinking of picking a fight with them, is he? Hermione thought wildly as he took a step in front of her.
Copperhead (his name for now), though about half a head smaller than Draco, cracked his knuckles menacingly. “Planning to fight me then, Malfoy?”
Starting to feel a tad worried, Hermione reached out and tugged at Draco’s sleeve, not wanting him to do anything stupid.
“Fight you? Physically?” Draco snorted. “For someone who talks so much, you're not very bright, are you?” In a flash, he had whipped out his wand, pointing it directly on Copperhead’s chest. “We’re wizards, you moron. How else do you think we fight?”
“Malfoy!” Hermione gasped. “You're not supposed to use your wand on other students! If Professor McGonagall finds out, she’s going to have a right fit.”
This time, there was genuine fear in Copperhead’s eyes. He turned slightly to his four friends behind him, as though asking them for help.
The four friends, who had been stationary till now, finally seemed to realize that they were indeed capable of movement and that they should do something to help their friend. Clumsily, they tried to reach for their wands to use against Draco (learning from their friend’s mistake, no doubt).
“Oh no you don’t!” Hermione exclaimed, snatching her own wand from the pocket of her jeans. She pointed it directly at the four of them. “I don’t think it’d be wise for you to do anything but run away right now. The two of us know more spells than you lot will learn in a lifetime.”
“She’s right,” Draco told Copperhead matter-of-factly. “She alone has enough knowledge to do some very nasty things to you. I myself have been turned into an elephant once, in that very dormitory you think we use for other purposes in fact.”
At this point, Copperhead and his four friends looked positively terrified.
“So my advice is for you to run along now before my wand hand starts to itch,” Draco continued silkily, a smug smile stretched across his pale face.
And that’s exactly what they did. They ran as fast as their legs could carry them, not looking back even once.
Once they were out of sight, Hermione and Draco stood there, looking at each other, not quite knowing what to make of the situation.
Hermione was having thoughts that ran along the lines of:
Did he just act brave and courageous for me? No, that can’t be right. Malfoy would never do something like that for me. He’d rather eat the Giant Squid alive, or let it eat him alive. Then what was he trying to prove? Trying to boost his ego by saving a supposed damsel in distress perhaps? Yes, yes, that must be it. Then why do I not want to believe that?? What the hell was he thinking when he did all of that??
And on the other side, Draco was having thoughts like:
Did I just act brave and courageous for her? No, that can’t be right. I would never do something like that for her. Would I? No, I’d rather eat the Giant Squid alive, or let it eat me alive. Then what was I trying to prove? Trying to boost my ego by saving a supposed damsel in distress perhaps? Yes, yes, that must be it. Then why do I find that so hard to believe?? What the hell was I thinking when I did all of that??
“So Granger, what happened to not using your wand on other students?” Draco asked instead, feigning an innocent expression. “You seemed pretty quick to draw your own one out.” He smirked.
“I was just trying to””
“Trying to what, Granger?” He took a step towards her, giving her a flippant smile. “Save me?” He took another step towards her. “Won’t poor old McGonagall have a fit now?”
Hermione could not control the blush that rose up from her neck to her face. “Oh shut up, Malfoy, just shut up.”
The Unseemly Proposal by sparx
Chapter Notes: This little note is for dear Kay/Lycanthropist because I couldn't remember what I previously wrote before the chapter got deleted. Thank you MNFF staff! =)