I know a lot of you have mentioned how you didn’t particularly enjoy the Hermione/Ron scene; well get used to it because half of Hermione's love life is with Ron before she gets with Draco. If you don’t like the bluntly obvious ship in the books or this story, DON’T READ IT THEN.
Now, let's read on!
By Darkwing731
((--Chapter Three--))
A Mission to be Considered
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Hermione woke the next morning, wondering why on earth she felt so ecstatic—so idiotically happy—until she remembered her first night in her dorm, and the events it held before she had fallen asleep.
Blushing under the covers, Hermione pressed her face into her warm pillow, trying to stop giggling girlishly and ignore the cold air seeping through the tunnels in her sheets. Finally, knowing that getting Ronald Weasley off of her mind was impossible, she threw back the covers and got ready for her first day.
With an extra hour to get ready, (classes started at 8:30; it was currently 7:30) she took her time lounging in the bath and smiling to herself, contentment washing over her as she sighed over and over.
She had wanted this for such a long time. Ron and Hermione. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. She could've sent a rocket to the moon and back with all the happiness in her body. Their names sounded so perfect together, and previously they had only been associated together as best friends and the two sidekicks of Harry Potter.
But now… now they would be the perfect couple and have their own publicity without Harry involved. Hermione smiled and sunk deeper into the hot water, thinking that it was going to be wonderful, a fairy-tale, almost. She had waited forever to be with Ron… and now she was.
She opened her eyes, thinking suddenly. Ron had never asked her to be his girlfriend, though strongly implied it. What if—?
No, Hermione, Ron isn't like that, Hermione said to herself firmly. Worrying about Ron just using her was out of the question. She knew him to be cruel and vicious sometimes, sweet and loving and firm and loyal, but never, never would he do something as repulsive as that to his Hermione—his best friend, and now (hopefully, Hermione thought anxiously) his girlfriend.
Ignoring the knot of worry in her stomach, she dressed herself and made her way down to breakfast.
Just go in, just go in, Hermione kept telling herself, standing nervously in front of the great hall doors.
Ever nerve of her body was ice cold, her hair stood up on her arms and her neck, and her throat closed up with a queasy feeling in her stomach. Quite frankly, she was scared, and very very nervous. What if Ron had just been joking around her?
Of course, her common sense and logic assured her differently, and she knew she shouldn’t doubt her mind. Her mind was 99.9% right, 99.9% of the time. So, how could she be wrong when she was (literally) always right?
But there was still that twinge of fear in her stomach; she was scared because if she didn’t walk the line that she was coming closer to, she didn’t know how far she could fall. It could be a scrape off the surface, or a plunge to the middle of the earth. And she had no idea what she was expecting from Ron.
Her cold, clammy hand reached out and touched the doorknob, and reason kicked in. She told herself that even if Ron was going to just have a kiss and leave her, then she could deal with it. She did not know if their friendship could withhold the gap between them if it did, and she didn’t want to find out.
She twisted the knob and pushed it forward, revealing the full blast of colors and noises, smells and laughter and the bright faces of everyone as they enjoyed their breakfast. She tentatively took a step forward, and her feet were guiding her, slowly getting faster.
Her eyes were on Ron, her breathing shallow and fast, and her mind racing so fast that she had not a single coherent thought. He was laughing at something Harry was saying; his eyes were lit up, his lips upturned in a grin, his stupid red hair messy and uncombed like it usually was.
She found him more attractive than she usually did as she studied his lean face and the freckled splashed here and there. He was hunched over, his body much too big for him, but fitting him despite it; his shoulders shaking with laughter, the sinew of his arms, his hands, his neck, all moving together gracefully as his mirth filled the air.
She knew she was in love. She had been since second year, and it scared her to death to think how surreal this world was becoming.
She was aware Ron was looking at her, suddenly, and her heart nearly stopped, but started beating faster and faster against her ribcage. The laughter was dying from his face, the lines that had been etched fading, his mouth falling open and his eyes wide.
There was an open seat next to Ron, and the first through to cross her mind was sit there.
She sat down, (she had no idea how she had done it without dying from lack of breath or from her dangerously beating heart) and turned to him, suddenly aware that the volume of the room was turned up, but washed out. The noises of metal on metal and laughter and gossip echoed in her ears slowly, as if she were millions of light years away. All of it slowly faded as Ron smiled at her, saying nothing, though his expression loving; Hermione found herself melting at his look.
"Morning, Hermione," Harry said from across the table. Ginny was sitting next to him, smirking.
Harry noticed Hermione did not respond, but continued to gaze at Ron next to her, just as he gazed at her, and suddenly Ginny nudged him in the ribs. He looked over at her; she was smirking at him, delight dancing in her eyes.
Hermione was floating on cloud nine, her eyes empty of everything except Ron, her head blank and blissfully unaware of people staring at her. She watched as Ron slowly, very slowly, lifted a hand to her cheek, ran it along her jaw, before grasping behind her neck.
In the next few seconds, she found herself pulled towards him and in heaven, once again. Ron had pushed his lips on hers, smiling onto her mouth just as she was, and sharing the joy that had been waiting to burst forth somehow.
She had no idea how long it lasted, only that with every passing second it kept getting better; he ran a hand through her untamable hair and pulled her closer, shoving her book bag out of the way and together they pressed together.
There was an exchanged of completely ecstasy through them as she wrapped her arms around him, pushing herself to him, wanting to get closer to him to close even the tiniest space. The pull to be near him even more was incredible; she found that almost nothing could pull her away from his lips, from his arms and from his embrace. Except—
There was a tiny, indignant cough from behind them, sniggering laughter, and then the pry of hands on her shoulders. Hermione made a loud, angry noise and clutched onto Ron's shoulders, unaware of who had pulled them apart.
"Shove off!" Ron snarled viciously, just as angry as Hermione was. He paled, whiter than the first snow of winter; Hermione had just about as much color as he did.
"Mr. Weasley, please do not use that tone with me," McGonagall said in a dangerously calm voice. Hermione was wide eyed; she couldn’t believe that McGonagall had seen them snogging!
There was laughter ringing in her ears, and suddenly Hermione understood that everyone had seen her and Ron kissing like mad! Red with embarrassment, and feeling the desperate need to flee from the room, she hastily took her time-table from McGonagall, snatched her things and positively fled from the hall.
She felt like sobbing as she finally stopped in the (thankfully) empty foyer. She halted in the middle of the hallway, her face in her hands; her knees buckled and she went crashing down, sitting on her knees and desperately resisting the urge to cry.
The sliver of silence was cut again as the doors opened and closed as quickly as they had come. Footsteps echoed, and stopped. She knew it was Ron. She couldn’t help it; she let out a strangled, confused wail that was surprisingly short, her shoulders shaking. His hands were on his shoulders, and wrapped around her the next moment. He was whispering to her to calm down; that it was alright, nuzzling her neck and trying to make her feel better.
"That was horrible," she whispered, and then started laughing, almost maniacally. She shifted, and buried her face in his shoulder, welcoming his arms circling her back.
Oh, how she had wanted someone to hold her like that so many times before. She had watched couples, the boys draping their arms over a girl's shoulders, his hand around her waist, looking at her lovingly. She had envied the attention and the love of it all; love, even artificial, was an opportunity to throw cautiousness into the winds and be free and wild and be happy. But no, she had always planned everything, been meticulous about every single detail and deprived herself without the thrill.
But now, oh yes, now she had it. And she wasn’t letting it go.
He smoothed over her hair and shushed her, but she had long gone quiet. She was just content sitting there, in his arms with no care or worry in the world.
Except, the most horrible thing happened.
The Great Hall doors opened, and a single person came into the hall and sneered at them.
"Mudblood, stop that disgusting display. You're going to make me vomit," Malfoy spat at them.
Hermione and Ron broke apart and glared at him.
"Go away Malfoy, why don’t you kill your father too while you're at it?" Ron snarled right back at him.
Malfoy, if possible, looked even angry, and even more sullen than he had over the past few days. His eyes narrowed, and the little color he had in his face (he looked extremely ill) was gone before Hermione blinked.
Malfoy ripped his eyes viciously from Ron's face and glared at Hermione, who almost instantly recoiled. She was frightened by Malfoy; he was incredibly mean, and it was only the second day of school. It wasn’t like before when he had been snotty and a rich brat, but there was real, living malicious anger in him that was displayed to anyone who crossed his path.
"Dumbledore called us for a meeting, Mudblood," he spat, his eyes narrowing. He jerked around and stormed up the corridor and out of sight, leaving Hermione and Ron in the silence which they had been in before Malfoy had interrupted.
"Erm," Hermione said. She looked at Ron. "What's wrong with him?" she asked the red-head in a whisper. He shrugged.
Ron stood, grabbing Hermione's hand and lacing his fingers through his own. She smiled, blushing, and complied as he took her other hand and did the same, pulling her close. There was a rush of blood to her head, through her veins and the overwhelming happiness that hadn't felt before came rushing in.
Malfoy's angry persona was instantly forgotten.
"You know," Ron murmured, the content and adoring look on his face matching Hermione's smile; "I never properly asked you to be my girlfriend last night. I just snogged the daylights out of you."
She laughed and nodded. "I err, agree on that," Hermione said, and giggled. He grinned.
"So, would you do me the honor of being my Mrs.?" he asked, getting down to the floor on his knees, smiling at her innocently.
"All right," Hermione whispered. He stood, smiling softly, and kissed her soundly.
They broke apart after a few minutes, and Hermione was slightly gasping for breath. Ron reached over and smoothed her hair down, and then his own.
Answering Hermione's quizzical look, he answered; "Messy hair is a tell-tale sign of snogging. At least let's tell them before they assume," Ron said, and they laughed.
"Ron," she said, a smirk on her lips. "I think that when we snog inside the great hall, and the whole school sees, it would appear that we were dating, then and there."
"Yeah, so?" Ron said. "I like to spread true gossip about you being my girlfriend."
"And was there any fake gossip?" she asked slyly. He grinned, but didn’t answer her.
Lacing their fingers together, they headed into the great hall, where they knew they would be supported by all their peers.
Hermione nervously walked up to Dumbledore's office, wringing her hands. It was the second day, and she hadn't done anything except snog Ron in the great hall. But that couldn’t possibly get her in trouble, could it?
Maybe he just wanted to talk to her about her studies, and get some things figured out for her, so that she could excel even more academically. She remembered her third year, and Dumbledore had talked to her a great number of times about her Time-Turner. Would this be similar?
But I haven’t a Time-Turner this year, she thought, her eyebrows knitted. So then what was this meeting for anyways?
She managed to decide, in the end, that it was just an overview of her Head Girl responsibility. She could only hope it was something as light hearted as that.
She reached the final corridor, and walked down the stone walkway, stopping in front of the spiral stairway. It was already open for access, and she guessed that Malfoy had already made his way up to the office.
She banged the Griffin knocker a few times, and the low voices that were speaking stopped for a moment. "Enter," came Dumbledore's old, gentle voice.
Malfoy was already there, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was extremely uncomfortable in Dumbledore's office, and it seemed like all he wanted to do was sink into his chair and positively disappear forever.
Hermione sat down tentatively, and acknowledged the Headmaster politely. "Hello Headmaster," she said. "Malfoy told me we had a meeting."
Malfoy let out a little scoff and something that sounded suspiciously like, "Well obviously."
"Indeed I did, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, casting Malfoy a rather amused look. "I called you so I could give you a brief overview of the year's events, and your responsibilities as Head Boy and Girl." Hermione visibly relaxed with relief. So she had been right all along.
Dumbledore did not beat around the bush, and simply started explaining to them what they had to do. Despite previous years, and rumors, there was to be no Halloween dance, no Christmas dance, no dances at all. The only celebration they were having was for those staying for Christmas, and they were to organize that. Though it took place every year, Hermione and Malfoy had to instruct the prefects and lend a hand whenever needed for decorations, because they had to organize a few things.
It was easily done, really. She and Malfoy just had to tune the fine details of events teacher's handed them, possibly supply a few ideas to the prefects, and be role models, all while maintaining a very good academic average. For Hermione, it would be done with wit and time to spare. But as for Malfoy…
Hermione cast her opposite a glance, frowning. It was scary how ill he looked; his skin was grey, lined with age, despite the fact that he was merely seventeen. His hair was lank and the circles under his eyes were deep. His cheeks were hollowed, and she suspected it from lack of food, which he should eat once in a while. His body was too lean, and she didn’t have to watch him to know that his cloths hung loosely on his frame.
Hermione and Malfoy were both dismissed, but the Headmaster stopped both of them as they were walking out the door. "Mister Malfoy, you can leave. I would like a word with you, though, Miss Granger."
Oh no, this is what I knew was coming! He's going to tell me some terrible news like—like I failed my exams! Hermione had momentarily forgotten that she hadn't taken exams yet. It was still September, and not even a week into her school year.
Hermione's breath immediately began to quicken, and terrible thoughts were racing through her head. What ever could she have done to deserve this? She had done nothing!
"Headmaster," she said quickly, "please, I-I didn't mean to—to do such an open display of affection; it—it just happened," she sputtered. "And I-I didn’t—"
"Miss Granger," Dumbledore interrupted gently.
"Yes?" she asked, just as cautiously as she had started.
"You are not in here with me because you're in trouble; you're in here because I just wished to have a more personal word with you," he explained.
"Oh," Hermione mumbled, feeling extremely embarrassed all of a sudden.
Dumbledore smiled. "I'm going to give you an assignment that will fall over the complete course of your seventh year. Only you shall receive it, and not Mister Malfoy. I think that, under these, uh, circumstances, you would be best in this area, and I have complete confidence that you can accomplish this task for me."
Hermione was bemused, but please nevertheless. "All right, sir. But what shall I be doing, exactly?"
To her surprise, he let out a sigh of anxiousness, and got up from his seat. He walked over to the window, peering in the view of the grounds. Hermione suspected that he was thinking of how to put this task, this mission, into words to fit his fancy. He seemed almost worried by it. He drew in a deep breath, clasping his hands behind his back, and started speaking, not turning to look at her.
"Over the summer, Miss Granger, I am sure that you are aware of the events that had unfolded. The murder of Narcissa Malfoy, as well as a select few other pureblooded relatives of theirs, sent the news into a hectic mess. Today, citizens are not surprised by death, but they were shocked at the age and identity of the murderer." Dumbledore turned around and looked at her, and she understood what he was talking about.
"I am not about to tell you what Mister Malfoy has confided me in, Miss Granger, but simply that there was enough evidence to take him out of Azkaban. However, there are still suspicions among the Wizarding world that Draco Malfoy did indeed kill his mother. He is innocent until proven guilty, Miss Granger, but the rest of the world still believes he should be in prison." She was met with a tense silence after this as Dumbledore turned and faced the grounds again.
"Do you believe whatever he told you, Headmaster?" she asked cautiously.
"I do, and with full trust," Dumbledore answered without the slightest pause.
Hermione was unsure of what to say, but the Headmaster turned and continued to speak. "I was convinced myself that Draco had been framed to have killed his mother, but he assured me that he did kill his mother," Dumbledore said solemnly. He sat down at his desk, folding his fingers together and looking at her closely.
"I'm sure you have noticed, despite the fact that we are hardly a week into September, that Draco Malfoy has been particularly angry?" Hermione had to contain a snort. He wasn’t angry, he was murderous!
"Yes," Hermione said, slightly confused.
Dumbledore nodded. "My mission for you to consider, Miss Granger, is to find out exactly why. Draco did love his mother very much, and the death of any parent can send one reeling into misery. But ponder this, Miss Granger: if Draco is, in fact, the murderer of his mother, why is he crueler?"
"Because…" Hermione started slowly, putting pieces together in her head. "Because he loved his mother, but he killed her anyways. People are afraid of him now, and he probably doesn’t enjoy that all too much." Hermione paused, another thought occurring. "Professor, but why is he in school, and not in Azkaban, when he killed his mother? He assured you that he did kill her, but there was evidence that he was innocent. How is this possible?"
"Ah," Dumbledore said, sounding wise. "We have treaded onto ground that I cannot reveal, for they are Draco's words that will leave my mouth, and not my own. I cannot give you my explanation that I presented to the very small, very select, group of wizards that were present in the Wizengamot."
"I apologize, sir," Hermione said quickly.
"Do not be sorry, Miss Granger. You were merely curious. It is a natural state of mind, and must be exercised with caution," he said venerably. Hermione nodded slowly.
"All right." She stopped and thought another moment. "There must've been some kind of… accident," she said softly. He raised his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth twitching. "He must've killed his mother, but not purposely. He must be subject to the fact that he killed his mother even though he loved her," she said, comprehension dawning.
Dumbledore did not nod, but merely looked at her. "Mister Malfoy only revealed the most important details of what happened. There is something deeply troubling him, and I would like it for you to find out the finest details the night of the murder. You need to find out what is troubling him, and what, or who, has done so to him," he instructed.
She nodded, still thinking. "May I ask you something?" she said delicately. He smiled gently.
"Another question would be accepted," he said, and she blushed a little.
"Was there another person present the night she was murdered, sir?" Hermione asked.
Dumbledore looked quite sober, his eyes clouding over. "I do not know, Miss Granger. Although I am sufficiently skilled in Legilimency, Mister Malfoy is very accomplished in Occlumency, so there was no way to tell exactly what he was thinking that moment.
"It could be possible, Miss Granger, but he would not tell me. He merely stated what he had to, and when I understood as best I could on the crude information he gave me, there was a way to allow him to continue his education." He sighed, and looked at his papers for a moment.
"So, Miss Granger, your mission is to find out every detail, and help him to relieve himself of his troubles. As you can see, they've already started to eat away at him, and it isn’t helping him at all," he said quietly. Hermione nodded and stood to leave.
"This," he said sternly as she reached for the door; "is to be a completely secret task of yours. I'm sorry about this, but I am forbidding you to tell Mister Potter or Mister Weasley, or anyone for that matter. They would not understand what I am asking you to do, and even if they did, you would be subject to their ridicule."
Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but Dumbledore interrupted her instantly. "I know of the feud between the three of them. Draco dislikes young Harry and Ron for their fame, for their close friendship. But he dislikes you because you are associated with them, and because, of course, your blood."
Hermione was stunned that Dumbledore knew this information. But then, he was Dumbledore. He knew every secret of the castle, of every person, of every fiber of being.
He smiled gently at her, his eyes twinkling. "I can assure you, Miss Granger, this will not be an easy task. Mister Malfoy is going to put you through the worst of what he can to keep you away. However, it is astounding what unconditional care can do for one person," he said softly, and he winked at her.
Hermione frowned a little, worried. "If—if I need, erm, reassurance, may I speak with Ginny Weasley about this? She's my closest friend, and—and…" Her voice faded away into uncertainty.
Dumbledore nodded. "Miss Weasley can know, and her alone. However, do not discuss this into the night with her; only brief frustration is to be vented, and if you're unsure of what to do, she may help. I am as stern as this because it would wiser, much safer, to keep her knowledge of this at bay. What I'm asking you to do, Miss Granger, is going to wear you down, bring you to tears, have you worried up late at night. It may have you open to many dangerous things, but I have courage in you."
Hermione nodded after a moment, hesitating before she bid the Headmaster goodbye and stepped back down the spiral staircase.
Her head pounded with all this newly acquired information and she wondered how on earth she was going to be able to keep her oath of secrecy and not tell anyone… besides Ginny. But Ginny knew almost everything… except her Time-Turner. But she had been under penalty of law if she said anything to anyone. This was merely penalty of the Headmaster.
But that's still pretty much the same thing, Hermione thought with a worried sigh.
"So what did Dumbledore want?" Ron asked Hermione at lunch. He had his arm around her neck, and despite the fact that people were congratulating them, his ears were still red at this display of affection.
"Just to fill me in on the overview of Head Girl duties," she said, a faint smile on her face. Her eyes were drawn to Malfoy, however, as she thought constantly of the information Dumbledore had given her—and how mad Malfoy would be if he ever found out.
"That's it?" Ginny asked her form across the table.
"Yeah, that's it," Hermione said, rather distantly. She was staring at Malfoy, wondering, wondering what had happened that night.
Ginny looked at her funny, and then turned around to peer at whoever Hermione was staring at. She saw Malfoy, looking lonely and angry, glaring daggers at the food he was pushing around on his plate. He shoved the dish away from him, and slung his bag over his shoulder and left the hall.
When Ginny turned, Hermione's eyes were still following Malfoy, but her eyebrows were furrowed.
"Hermione," Ginny said strangely. Her auburn eyes snapped to Ginny's face.
"Hmm?" Hermione hummed.
"I need to ask you a question about one of the books I've read," Ginny invented wildly. Hermione's eyes lit up.
"Oh sure! Which one?"
"Erm, come to the loo with me, and I'll tell you about it," Ginny said, snatching her stuff.
Harry and Ron exchanged looks at the red-head's words, but Hermione had a look of sudden understanding on her face. She removed Ron's arm from her neck, and gathered her things quickly.
"Yes, all right, the loo sounds fine. Let's go," Hermione agreed quickly. She and Ginny rushed out of the hall, their heads together.
"Did we just miss something?" Harry asked Ron. Ron shrugged and continued eating.
"What was that?" Ginny hissed as soon as the girls were close enough to whisper.
"Do you mean about Malfoy?" Hermione asked. Ginny nodded quickly. Hermione looked around, and dragged her into the hall before she explained anything.
Her words were simple, details rare, and when Hermione was finished speaking, Ginny looked confused.
"So… so he wants you to, what, melt his heart?" Ginny asked, bemused.
"Figuratively, yes. But not like that. He wants me to 'relieve him of his troubles' and get details," Hermione explained.
"And why couldn’t he do this himself?" Ginny inquired, sounding rather sardonic.
"Because I live in the same dormitory as Malfoy, and females have enough brains to find the crack in the porcelain," Hermione replied.
"Find the what?" Ginny asked. Hermione rolled her eyes a bit.
"Never mind, it's a Muggle thing."
The two girls went back into the hall. Right before they broke apart at the head of the table, Ginny grabbed her arm.
"It’s funny," Ginny drawled; "You're dating my brother… and yet you have to melt the heart of another man." She smirked.
Hermione scowled. "Oh you! Shut it!"
And laughing, Ginny skipped down the table and sat next to Harry, while Ron looked up and smiled at her.
Hermione's heart skipped a beat; smiling blushingly, she followed Ginny's lead and sat down with two of her best friends, and her boyfriend. All thoughts of Malfoy were swept from her mind.
But they would soon haunt her through her sleep.
-x-x-x-
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Author's Notes: Well, I hope you liked it. There is the beginning of why Draco is so fricken pissed off, and what Hermione will have to do. Ron and Hermione will be very affectionate in the upcoming chapters, so forgive me, those of you who are reading for the Draco/Hermione part, but that ship is coming waay later.
Also, the excitement begins next chapter! She and Draco will have a, well, a sort of fight. But that's not what I'm trying to explain. It's… something else. –Evil grin-
Thank you A ROSES INNOCENCE for betaing this for me!
So thanks to all who reviewed! All questions will be answered in time!