I must be out of my mind, Draco thought over and over again, as he slunk into The Three Broomsticks. Hermione isn't worth my time; so why am I following her about?
A small part of him knew, but he was desperately trying to ignore it. All Draco needed was to concentrate on getting any little bit of useful information from the Trio so he could pass it along to his father.
His father had been most insistent in the letter Draco had received a few mornings previous. After Lucius Malfoy had very nearly accused Draco of associating with a Mudblood, he wanted his son to find out what he could about Harry Potter's plans.
You are being counted upon to do this; if you succeed, you will be greatly rewarded...
Draco didn't have to guess as to what the 'great reward' would be. He had been looking forward to following in his father's footsteps...until today. Now Draco was torn; part of him wanted to be a dutiful son, yet another part wanted to enjoy the company of Hermione Granger, and still another tiny part of him just wanted to flee from everything--to just get away from what he was expected to do--and the new feelings that were scaring the hell out of him.
Why must I be the one to do this? Draco wanted to know, but dared not ask his father.
And what did his father mean when he wrote I'll be seeing you sooner than you may think...? Was Lucius being released from Azkaban early? Draco knew they hadn't found any more incriminating evidence in his home, unless one counted Narcissa Malfoy falling to pieces and quite possibly embarrassing the Malfoy name.
Pushing thoughts of his mother aside, Draco took a seat near a group of fourth year Slytherins. They looked upon him with a mixture of fear and adoration, but Draco didn't seem to notice. He helped himself to a full bottle of butterbeer that had just been placed on their table and drank deeply.
Ignoring the odd looks from his house mates for his blatant stealing, Draco kept his attention focused of the Gryffindor trio seated in the corner of the pub. What were they speaking of? he wondered, wishing suddenly that he could read lips.
Draco had been close enough to Potter and Hermione in Honeydukes to hear a bit of conversation about Aurors and Azkaban prison, but it was the look on Hermione's face when Scarhead asked her about him.
She had looked... overwhelmed? It was the only word he could think of to pin on the myriad of expressions that Hermione Granger had taken on in those brief moments. Draco wanted to crow for a moment; had he bowled over the Head Girl? But he kept quiet, for he didn't want to ruin the moment and give himself away.
After exchanging more uncomfortable glances, the Slytherin students seated around Draco murmured polite excuses and hastily made their way out of the pub. Draco could have cared less; what he wanted was on the other side of the room and nothing was going to distract him.
Collect information, Draco told himself. That's all that matters. He took another swig of butterbeer and set the bottle on the table. He stood up and slowly began making his way through the crowded pub to where Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Luna, and Ron sat; not noticing at all that Pansy had just come into The Three Broomsticks--looking quite livid.
*~*~*~*~*
"Uh-oh," Ron said under his breath, looking up at the blonde Slytherin slowly making his way toward him and his friends. "What's that git want?"
Hermione's gazed strayed in the direction of Ron's jutted chin. When she saw Draco, her heart gave a little leap and she gasped lightly; the Head Boy looked like a large cat on the prowl--and the way he was staring at her was giving her the chills.
"Er, he probably wants to know if I'll be helping him with his Potions work," Hermione said quickly, her mouth feeling like it was filled with cotton. She took a quick sip of the warm butterbeer in front of her, desperately trying to ignore the questioning looks on Harry's, Ginny's, and Luna's faces.
Before anyone else could say anything, Draco was standing in front of the table. "Well, look who we have here," he drawled, "Scarhead, two Weaslebys, Loony Lovegood... and Granger." He inclined his head slightly at Hermione, who flushed red.
This didn't go unnoticed by Ron. "What's the matter with you?" he hissed at Hermione, who lowered her gaze to her mug of butterbeer.
"How interesting," Harry began cooly, his gaze fixed on Draco. "Just moments ago, it seems, you were being so friendly to Hermione. Why the sudden change?"
Draco's eyebrow shot up. "Perhaps it's the company she keeps; two blood-traitors, a loon, and ...well, I don't have to finish that sentence."
Ron stood up so fast that his chair fell over. He opened his mouth to retort, but Ginny beat him to it. "That's so much better than the company she used to keep--you disgusting little worm! Get out of here before I hex you!"
"Tsk! Tsk!!" Draco chuckled snidely. "Aren't you in enough trouble all ready? Do I have to tell Dumbledore that you were threatening me?"
"That wouldn't be much of a change, would it?" Ginny shot back a bit loudly; several heads began turning in their direction. "Once a snitch, always a snitch! Grow up, Malfoy!"
"Why, you little--!" Draco lunged forward, but Hermione's face suddenly appeared in front of him.
"Stop it!" she shrieked. The entire room had gone silent as many sent curious glances their way; even Madam Rosmerta was looking a bit annoyed from her place behind the bar. "Do you have something important you wish to say?" Hermione asked Draco in a low voice.
"Not anymore." Draco replied smoothly, as though nothing had just occurred. "Obviously your...friends...don't want me here."
"Please, just leave, Draco," Hermione whispered, her expression unreadable.
Exhaling deeply, Draco ran a hand through his hair and nodded. Not uttering another word, Draco turned and moved away, nearly as quietly as he had come. He was not admitting defeat--yet. He still had tonight to work on Hermione; he was determined not only to please his father, but Draco wanted to learn more about the Muggle-born witch with the frizzy hair...
He didn't get very far, however; in the doorway stood Pansy Parkinson--and she looked fit to be tied. She opened her mouth to make some sort of remark, but Draco merely held up his hand as he walked past her, making his way out of the door; he didn't want to hear any tirade from the Slytherin girl now.
*~*~*~*~*
No one said much of anything on the way back to the castle. Neville had caught up with the group and was quite alone, giving Ginny and Luna the impression that Anya was still insistent on not being seen with him.
Everyone was quite miserable, it seemed to Harry, during dinner. Hermione was lost in thought, nodding every few minutes whilst Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown chattered away and while Ron continuously stabbed at his food, grumbling about "that stupid git"--over and over again. Neville ate while trying leaning backwards to get a glimpse at someone at the other end of the Gryffindor table; he'd spilled quite a bit of food down his front.
Only Harry himself seemed to be in any kind of decent mood. As Harry ate his roast chicken, he kept glancing over at Hermione, then at Malfoy who sat across the Great Hall, looking very sullen. Harry tried to use Legillimency to find out what was going on in the Slytherin's head, but was somehow being blocked. This served only to make Harry more suspicious of Draco.
With a deep sigh, Harry wished he had someone to speak with; this awkward silence was quite unnerving. If only Ginny were here; he knew she'd have something amusing to say. However, she and Luna had not joined the rest of the students that evening; they were somewhere in the castle, preparing for whatever Dumbledore wanted them to do on Monday. Harry had asked about it again on the trek back from Hogsmeade, but was quickly shot down by Luna's peals of laughter.
We'll all find out in two days, Harry thought with a small smile. Whatever it was, it was stressing Ginny out a bit. But what punishment could be so bad that Ginny couldn't tell her friends?
*~*~*~*~*
"Professor," Ginny stated slowly, looking at the parchment in her hands, "you--you cannot be serious! Please don't make us do this! It's too humiliating!"
Luna looked at her own slip of paper and laughed. "Oh, Ginny, this is cute!"
The girls were cloistered in the Professor Dumbledore's office, having their meal with him in private so he could once again go over the terms of the final part of their punishment and to tell them how disappointed he had been that they had gone gallivanting off to Hogsmeade earlier. It was over dessert that Dumbledore finally gave Luna and Ginny their assignment, and only Ginny seemed to take to heart the words written on the paper in front of her; Luna, however, thought it was all quite hysterical.
The Headmaster smiled slightly and replied, "Oh, yes, Miss Weasley, I'm afraid I'm being completely serious. It'll only take a moment, and I promise there will be no pain."
None but the burning of our ears as everyone laughs at us, Ginny thought sullenly.
"You'll hear no one laughing," Dumbledore stated gently, patting her shoulder. "Now, off to bed with the both of you. I expect to hear something wonderful by the end of tomorrow!"
"Can't we just recite this as a poem?" Ginny asked desperately.
Dumbledore shook his head "I'm sorry; no. I've all ready informed our special surprise guest that there would be some sort of musical entertainment, and I'll not have him disappointed."
"'Him?'" Ginny's ears perked up as she and Luna exchanged curious glances. "Sir, won't you tell us who the surprise guest is?" Ginny wheedled, as Dumbledore ushered Luna and herself to the door. "We'd love to know."
"Now, Miss Weasley, if I were to tell you that, it wouldn't be a surprise," the Headmaster chuckled, opening the door with a wave of his hand. "However, both of you are clever girls; I'm certain you'll figure it out soon enough." With that, he closed the door, leaving Ginny and Luna to stare in openmouthed wonder.
*~*~*~*~*
That evening, Hermione and Draco walked the halls, looking for out-of-bed students, dodging water balloons throw at them by Peeves, and speaking in brief, terse tones to one another.
"Do you think we'll find anyone this evening?" Draco asked, casting a sideways glance at Hermione.
"I don't know."
She's not paying attention, Draco thought. So he said, "Perhaps we'll discover a secret passageway. What do you think?"
"I don't know." Hermione was looking straight ahead.
Draco tried one last time to get Hermione to look at him. "Did you hear? Someone saw Filch dancing naked by the lake with Mrs. Norris!"
This statement made Hermione stop in her tracks. "What?!" She looked as though Draco has just spoken to her in Parseltongue.
Draco chuckled. "When are you going to pay attention, Hermione? I've been trying to speak with you!"
It seemed Draco's outlandish remark had broken the ice. Hermione smiled a little more and Draco coaxed her into revealing a little bit about herself, such as what colors she liked, what foods she loved, and what she did over the summer.
They also spoke about how nice it was to finally be apart; Draco had admitted that having only a short time each day to take care of personal matters was terrible, while Hermione insisted that sleeping on the floor was just awful. Each smiled wryly when they spoke about their friends' reactions.
While it wasn't much info, Draco realized it was a start. If conversations like this happened every evening, it wouldn't be long before Hermione would tell him more important things, Draco figured.
She's a clever witch, though, he told himself. I must be very careful.
The patrols ended on a rather pleasant note, when Hermione gave Draco a small smile, bid him goodnight, and slipped into her room, closing the door firmly. Draco could've sworn he heard the Head Girl sigh deeply, but wasn't absolutely certain. Whistling gaily, Draco headed to his own room.
However, on the other side of the Head Girl's door, Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age and friend to Harry Potter, had actually let out a watery sob, tossing herself onto her bed, wondering why she was having more than feelings of friendship for that little ferret, Draco Malfoy.