Anyway, I got positive reviews for last chapter, so I hope you all enjoy this one just as much… probably not though, lol.
So now, enjoy!
By Darkwing731
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((--Chapter Seven--))
Another Little Problem
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Grabbing a pillow for dear life, attempting to stem her fear that caused this incessant shaking, she buried her face in the cloth and yelled everything out of her, so loud and so long that it hurt her entire body.
But it was over now; she could sleep. She would be safe, and her dreams might be filled with nightmares, but at least she knew that they weren’t real. They weren’t… they weren’t… but they were…
Shivering, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think. Nightmares, she knew, would be coming that night. She was aware that there wasn’t a thing to stop them, but she could still believe.
Still… believing was becoming a lot harder than it used to be.
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"I'm sick of this! You cannot force your dreams on him, the fate you did not have, when he's barely of age!"
The screaming left an eerie echo, louder and soft, like a crashing wave that sent ripples through the air, shaking everything and distorting the truth.
"You don’t know what you’re doing."
"And neither do you!"
Everything seemed to pull back, all at once, into a tiny spot in space, huddling like a shivering creature, emaciated and defenseless; like a star, on the brink of death, shining vainly…
"Stop it! Stop it! I hate this, I hate you!"
And whatever darkness enveloped them succumbed to light, light so powerful and strong it burned all those who looked upon it, scarred the innocent and condemned the sinners, unable to hide the darkness within them.
"DRACO!"
The screaming that filled the air around her, crackling the night with terror, was coming from her own mouth. Hermione was jolted awake out of the terrifying nightmare, pulled from the depths of hell like a fish out of water, gasping in shock and trying to reach a state of being where she understood what was going on.
She realized after a minute or so that she was huddled on the floor, shaking, and gasping into the side of her comforter. Trembling, she weakly pulled herself up onto her bed and stared into the inky darkness of her room, thinking about the dream and trying vainly to ignore the fear that still lurked in her mind.
The nightmare had to be of Narcissa's death, there was no other explanation for it; the flash must've been the Killing Curse, borne from the wand of… Draco Malfoy. Hermione felt nauseated all of a sudden, moaning into her hands and shivering uncontrollably.
Her fingers moved without her consent to the spots on her face that he had abused, leaving finger-sized bruises and cuts from his nails that would surely be noticed if she failed to do something to hide them. Dragging them over her neck, she was sure she could feel a scar, a lingering reminder that a knife had been pressed savagely against her throat mere hours ago.
But she had lived.
The concept that he had spared her, despite his raging anger, his bitter attitude towards everything now, that he had spared her, seemed unreal. It seem so insane, so unorthodox, that she trembled a little, a sprinkle of every intensity she had ever felt in her life rising up inside of her, heart pounding like deep throb of a base, threatening to break her ribcage. She started laughing, quietly, insanely, into her hands, and the absurdity of it all, that she was actually alive, turned her swiftly recognized joy into gratefully broken sobs.
There was nothing more terrifying than a person already emptier than a seashell, with not even an echo inside of it, who felt as if the world owed him peace, trying to reap revenge. She would never again experience someone that had lost everything, who was willing to take everything away from another, despite the little iota of understanding that retribution would never bring any good back.
Hermione wiped her eyes, sniffling, seeing little shards of Malfoy on the brink of slicing her throat in her eyes, and slowly got up, wanting to write the event down. She knew what she had to do, and tears would not delay it.
Hermione was one of the first Gryffindors up, and she waited patiently in the common room until her friends finally came down. She was tired, yes, but she felt that she needed to speak with Ginny more than anything else. She had a brilliant idea and the redhead would know how to make it happen.
Pulling out her timetable, Hermione was looking over her daily schedule when there was a tapping sound at the window. Looking up, she saw an owl perched impatiently on the ledge, and she hastened to get up and let it in.
Dropping a letter into her hand, the owl squawked and left; Hermione opened it carefully and slowly read the loopy handwriting.
Dear Ms Granger,
I request that you come to my office shortly before lunch. I wish to have a meeting with both you and Mr. Malfoy, and I have some questions I would like to ask you. Enclosed with this letter is a pass for the class you’ll be leaving.
Thank you,
Headmaster Dumbledore
Hermione stood for a moment, wondering what on earth Dumbledore could want with her and Malfoy as Head Boy and Girl so shortly after school began. Shrugging, she put the letter away and decided that there were more pressing matters that had to be dealt with.
Ginny was the first to arrive, just as Hermione had hoped for, and the brunette pulled her aside. "I need your help with something," Hermione said in a low voice. "See, I’ve realized that”"
"You’ve got bruises all alone the side of your face," Ginny interrupted rather bluntly. "Your base is horrible too, by the way. You can borrow some of my make-up."
"Thanks," Hermione said sarcastically. "But I had nothing else."
"I can only assume this is Malfoy’s doing," Ginny commented dryly, gesturing to the dark spots on Hermione’s face.
"He… we fought again last night," Hermione summarized uncomfortably, and Ginny nodded. "Do you think Ron will notice?"
"Are you willing to take the chance?" Ginny asked.
"Not at all, but Madam Pomfrey was suspicious the last time I asked for healing paste, and she knew the bruises on my back weren’t my doing. She’s going to think I’m being abused if I keep asking for the stuff," Hermione muttered worriedly.
"Well, then come upstairs and I’ll put better base on," Ginny said, tugging at her sleeve; she led them upstairs to the girls’ dormitory. "And what did you want? You said you needed my help."
"Yes, that," Hermione remembered. "I need to learn how to fight."
Ginny turned suddenly and gave her a strange look. "You’re going to lose every fight you pick with Malfoy, so I wouldn’t instigate anything," she warned.
"I know that, I’m just looking to defend myself," Hermione said irritably. "The next time he attacks me, I want to be ready, and I don’t want anymore bruises that I have to hide."
"I’ll see what I can do."
When the entered the bathroom, Ginny locked them in and had Hermione wash off the base she had on. Grimacing at the painful looking bruises, Ginny dabbed proper-colored base onto Hermione's bruises until they were nearly invisible.
"Ron won’t notice, trust me," Ginny assured.
"Good; he’s already angry with me, and I don’t want him moaning on about this, too," Hermione said.
They left and descended down the spiral staircase, where Harry and Ron were waiting. Ron looked surprised to see his girlfriend, but smiled at her when she kissed him on the cheek as a greeting.
"Up there for a particular reason?" Harry asked Hermione.
"Not really," Hermione said coolly. "Do I need a reason?" Ginny smirked at Hermione’s words, and Harry shook his head without argument.
Hermione ignored the abrupt flash of the memory of Harry looking dangerous, eyes gleaming red, from the day before. She held her head high and hitched her bag over her shoulder. Chatting nonchalantly, Harry and Ginny led them down to breakfast, hand“in-hand while Ron and Hermione spoke quietly behind them.
"So did Madam Pomfrey get rid of those bruises?" Ron asked, and Hermione stiffed.
"Yes."
"Were they very bad?"
"Not really." Ron was silent for a few minutes, not looking at her, and Hermione was waiting for him to ask the one thing that was bound to come.
"Why didn’t you tell me?" he asked quietly after a minute. "All I wanted to do was help, anyway."
"Because I didn’t need your help," Hermione snapped. "They weren’t terribly fatal, and besides, it was my fault that I got in the way of Malfoy when he was going around and hurting everyone."
"Your fault?" Ron spluttered. "He hurt you! It is not your fault!"
"Keep it down, Ron," Hermione hissed. "You are making too much of this; I’m perfectly fine, and it’s never going to happen again. Leave it alone, all right?" Ron glared at her but said nothing else.
Breakfast was tense, but Hermione expected nothing less. Ginny was quieter than usual, but then again, she was doing homework in-between bites. Tired of sitting next to Ron, livid as he was, and Harry, who seemed utterly confused, Hermione stood.
"Going to the library," she announced, and left before anyone could say anything else. Truth be told, she really wasn’t going to the library; she was just leaving to get away from the huge row that was bound to happen between the infamous trio.
Walking down the steps of the castle, she meandered around the paths and headed for Herbology, her first class of the day. However, Ron seemed to have followed her and caught up with her easily.
"You’re being stupid," he yelled at her, trying to catch up as she walked quickly away.
"Don’t be a hypocrite, Ron," she called over her shoulder. "It doesn’t suit you."
"You’re still being stupid," he said angrily, grabbing her arm and turning her around. She gave him a withering look. "You’re not making any sense."
"You never make any sense," she retorted, not wanting to fight with him. She turned and started walking.
"You said that it was your fault!" Ron yelled at her. "He hurt you!"
"I'm well aware of this, and handling the situation fine, Ronald," she spat, whipping around to face him. "We’ve already had this conversation!"
"Then why don’t you report him, Hermione!" Ron said, ignoring her last statement. "How can something like this escape your love of rules? Doing something like that”"
"Ron, drop it!" she snarled.
"No, I won’t! You obviously said you can handle it, but you refuse to tell a teacher! And you’re treating me like I’m bloody four for absolutely no reason. Don’t ignore my help because you can’t do something for once, Hermione!" Ron warned. "Because being too proud doesn’t suit you very well."
Hermione looked at him for a long, hard moment and her eyes narrowed; she knew he was entirely right and she hated him just for that. Giving him an icy look, she growled "Go”away," and left before he could utter another word.
Harry seemed to be uninformed of Ron and Hermione fighting again, because he stood between them, appearing very confused but wise enough not to ask about it. He was, however, eager not to be Hermione’s partner as the class fought a sort of mutated fly trap, knowing that she would complain irritably until he wanted to strangle himself, so he forced Hermione into finding another partner when he paired up with Ron.
Although she ended up with Justin Finch-Fletchley, they actually made a good pair, talking about movies and music and such; she was grateful that he was Muggle-born, for it made it that much easier to talk to him. She almost forgot about Ron while she was partnered with him, until she realized Ron was glaring at her endlessly throughout the class, that is.
"Ron seems a bit mad," Justin observed, glancing between Ron and Hermione.
Trying to put a clamp around the fly trap's mouth, Hermione frowned and rolled her eyes. "We’re fighting," she said shortly, snatching the wild plant and holding it down.
Justin took the clamp from her hands and fastened the mouth shut, and, pulling the safety goggles off, he wiped some dirt from his cheek. "I doubt you’d answer me if I inquired why," he said, and she laughed and nodded. "I’m sure he’ll get over it. You two seem to fight a lot."
"I’ve noticed," Hermione said dryly, writing a few notes down about the struggling of the plant. "We seem to do that more than anything else."
"That’s not very healthy," Justin said bluntly.
"No, it’s not," Hermione agreed reluctantly.
"Then why not apologize?"
"Because I’m right!" Justin chuckled, but said nothing else.
In her next class, History of Magic, Hermione sat on the opposite side of the room from Harry and Ron“ next to a Ravenclaw“ and every now and then looked up at Ron, who was still, not surprisingly, glaring daggers at her. She gave him a cocky sort of look once or twice, and somehow she couldn’t find an explanation to justify why.
By the time Hermione was sitting in the class before lunch, she had almost forgotten about Dumbledore requesting her presence in a meeting. Handing over a note to her professor, Hermione moved swiftly to Dumbledore’s office, supplying the password at the gargoyle and going apprehensively up his magnificent staircase.
Knocking on the door, Hermione entered with Dumbledore’s permission and, evading Malfoy’s cold eyes, sat down in the available chair.
"I trust your professor let you leave without argument," Dumbledore said and Hermione nodded. "Good; had it been Professor Snape, I doubt you would be here." He smiled good-naturedly and Hermione returned it.
"Now, the reason I called you here, Miss Granger, is because Mr. Malfoy and I have reached an understanding," he said and paused. Hermione couldn’t determine whether his silence was for dramatic effect or for the sake of finding the right words.
"He has decided to withdraw from his position of Head Boy, and being Head Girl, it is your right to know that."
Hermione could do nothing but stare at the Headmaster, and her jaw dropped a little. "But it’s only the first week of October!" she said disbelievingly. "Why w”?" But as she turned to Malfoy, she immediately shut her mouth. "Never mind, I’m sure you have professional reasons," she said quickly.
"However, Miss Granger, that does not mean his burdens will fall on you; I’ve already selected another student to fill in for him."
"May I ask whom?" Hermione inquired.
"Most certainly: Justin Finch-Fletchley, as he and Mr. Malfoy here were neck and neck when it came to grades and knowledge of the rules." Hermione tried not to snort; she sincerely doubted Malfoy had ever known the rules.
"Now, that is all I wanted to talk to both of you about, so, Mr. Malfoy, you are free to go." Malfoy shoved himself out of his chair and left, slamming the door behind him, and Hermione couldn’t help but wince a little.
She dwelled on the thought of him, scary and dangerous, poised above her with a sharp knife, and the image of him seemed so distorted and out of place. Before the murder, she could see Malfoy clearly like that, but ever since he had become so… miserable and depressed, she could imagine him doing nothing more than sobbing.
"Miss Granger, I actually have something I need to discuss with you," Dumbledore said, interrupting her thoughts. He did not sound very happy, to say the least, and instead looked almost… disappointed.
"Madam Pomfrey has brought to my attention that you had some very painful bruises," he said quietly. "Do explain."
"I stopped the fight between the Slytherins the other day; there are a few bruises from that," Hermione said hesitantly after a moment.
"A few bruises? You seem to imply that you have more, and I'd like to know how, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said seriously.
Shifting uncomfortably under his gaze, Hermione started. "Well, there was a night when I was up very late, in the kitchen, and when I came back out to return to bed I, err, intruded on Malfoy crying. I can understand that he was very upset, but he was really furious about it; he sort of threw me about, yelled, and went to bed."
That was the truth… mostly, Hermione thought anxiously. Dumbledore was sure to probe deeper into the event, though, and he would most likely press for details of Malfoy’s attack.
She was right. "How, specifically, did he hurt you?" the headmaster asked.
Hermione looked away for a moment and rubbed her arm. "Erm, he dug his nails into both my arms and shoulders," she answered.
"And?"
"And threw me against the staircase," she said quietly. He titled his head forward, giving her an expectant look. "Twice," she muttered, and flushed, ashamed; Ron was right about this, she should’ve told someone that Malfoy had hurt her.
"Miss Granger, I know that you accepted my mission while being well aware of the consequences you would face. This is one of them; Mr. Malfoy will do just about anything to evade you, whether it be hurting you or even attempting to kill you”" Hermione squirmed in her seat at his words. "I know that you are willing to undergo his anger, but I do not expect you to end up hurting more than he."
Hermione nodded, looking away from his gaze.
"Then you must find a way to make him weak where he is strong," Dumbledore said wisely. "He must heal, but he needs to be without protection to do so. Armor, after all, only blocks the wounds beneath it."
"Yes, sir," Hermione said, and she understood what the headmaster meant. Dumbledore nodded, and she took that as a gesture of finality.
Standing up, she asked the headmaster a last question. "Sir, when are you telling Justin?"
"At lunch. I plan to send him an owl after you leave, and he should receive it in the middle of his meal," Dumbledore responded. "Now, you’re missing all the good food. Surely it will all be eaten if you don’t hurry along."
Smiling at his amused look, Hermione left for lunch, thinking. Make him weak where he is strong… I was planning to do that anyway, Hermione thought to herself as she descended the staircase. Let’s see what Ginny has to say about this.
"I think Dumbledore is an absolutely insane genius," Ginny decided after Hermione had informed her of the headmaster’s instructions. "But I also think that he didn’t mean just to fight back literally."
"How can I fight back otherwise?" Hermione asked, piling food onto her plate.
"Sympathy, pity," Ginny suggested. "After everything that he’s done to you, how are you supposed to act? Scared and cruel?" Hermione considered this. "Show him kindness, make him second-guess you."
Hermione savored the thought of doing some charity for Malfoy, and the thought did not disturb her. In fact, Malfoy did not disturb her, nor did he seem as virulent anymore; after living through his lethal anger, she was alive, and she had experienced the worst of him. Getting through to him would be easier now that she wasn’t as frightened.
"I know what I can do," Hermione said suddenly. Her mind raced at the idea, searching for flaws and any way to perfect her plan even more. "It’s perfect, except…"
Her words were interrupted as an owl came swooping into the Great Hall; delivery of mail was not uncommon, but it was unusual during any other meal except breakfast. Hermione watched the bird drop down to the Hufflepuff table, releasing a letter onto Justin Finch-Fletchley’s plate.
The seventh-year opened the letter and read it, all expression leaving his face until he was staring at the parchment in shock. Friends were reading it over his shoulder, smiling and laughing, and cheering him on. He finally began to laugh wildly.
"What’s he on about?" Ginny asked, watching the Hufflepuff yell in victory.
Hermione smirked. "He’s just been promoted to Head Boy," she said simply, and Ginny gasped.
"What about the whole 'Malfoy Mission' thing?" she asked at once.
"I think I’ve got it taken care of," Hermione said in a low voice, watching Justin get up and dance around. He turned around, spotted Hermione, and headed straight for her.
"By doing what?" Ginny demanded.
"You’ll see," she said out of the corner of her mouth, and then stood to greet Justin. "I see you've gotten the letter."
"This is amazing!" Justin cried, and suddenly seized Hermione into a euphoric embrace. Letting go of her, he said, "I’ve always wanted to be Head Boy, and my parents too, since I never got to go to Eton."
"Well, congratulations," Hermione said, smiling. He grinned at her. "Listen, I was wondering, do you have a free period today?"
"Err, yeah, right before dinner," he answered. "Why?"
"Come by the head tower then, as I’ve got one then too. There are just a few things I want to talk to you about, being the new Head Boy and all," she said. Justin smiled broadly at her.
"I’ll be there," he promised, and then left back to his proper table.
"I hope I can make this work," Hermione said anxiously, watching him absent-mindedly. Would Justin accept the idea she would present to him? Turning back to her friend, she saw that Ginny had an odd look on her face. "What?"
"He fancies you," the redhead deduced. Hermione scoffed, flabbergasted at the idea.
"No, he does not, Ginevra," Hermione said, and Ginny winced.
"Never ever call me that!"
"Then don’t tell me Justin fancies me, because he doesn’t."
"Does."
"Doesn’t!"
The rest of Hermione's day, besides Ginny giving her looks in the hallway, was rather uneventful. Ron now had Harry filled in, and unlike Ron, Harry somewhat understood where Hermione was coming from.
Approaching her, he said, "Ron is just worried, you know."
"I am well aware, Harry," Hermione sighed. "But he’s got to let me do things the way I want."
"Yes, I know that," Harry agreed. "But think about it: Ron had no idea, and when he found out that you were hurt, all you did was call him an idiotic fool and brush it off. How does that seem to you?"
"Horrible," Hermione muttered. "He’s got to trust me, though; I know what I’m doing."
"Sometimes you say that, but you really have no idea," Harry said quietly. Hermione gaped at him. "Just think about it."
"You cannot honestly stand there and tell me to swallow my pride when you never do!" she fumed. "Every time something goes wrong you shut up like a bloody clam, and Ron and I can never do anything about it!"
"That’s different, I”"
"Enlighten me again how it’s different," she interrupted, eyes narrowed. Harry remained silent. "Exactly. So keep your hypocritical nose out of it, Harry."
"Are you on your monthly?” Harry asked rudely. "Because you’re being a right bitch." Before Hermione could splutter an indignant response, he turned and stormed away.
She was glad when her classes were over. Walking as quickly as she could to the head tower, happy to get away from Ron and Harry’s angry looks, she collapsed on the sofa as soon as she stepped inside the common room.
"Idiots," she muttered to herself. "Expecting me to listen to them, as if they knew what they were talking about."
Wanting not to dwell on the fact that she was wrong, for one of the first times since she could remember, she huffed angrily and got up. Fixing up a quick snack before dinner, Hermione leaned against the wall, biting an apple and wondering how she might go about convincing Justin.
I’ve got to be clever, she mused. I have to say the right thing and seem very… caring. Ugh, no. If Ginny was right then he might suspect that I’m making a pass at him or something…
"She’s wrong," Hermione muttered, taking a bite out of her apple. "He doesn’t. That’s such rubbish."
Mulling over the strange thought of being fancied, Hermione did not hear the disembodied, confused voice in the Head common room. It was not until the kitchen door swung open that Hermione was actually snapped out of her thoughts.
"Oh, Justin, I completely forgot, sorry," Hermione said sheepishly.
He smiled and shook his head. "Doesn’t matter; a kitchen, huh? Much better than the Hufflepuff house," he joked, grinning at her.
Hermione smiled. "It’s very nice," she agreed. "And the quarters are very spacious; personally I like not having to listen to the other girls snoring." He nodded, smiling, and looked around, and Hermione realized that it was very awkward.
"Erm, sit down, I wanted to talk to you," Hermione said, taking a seat on a stool at the island. Justin sat opposite her, looking pleasantly expectant. "Has Dumbledore gone over the rules, duties, and such?"
"Some," he admitted, glancing around. "He told me that you’d fill me in, however, so he didn’t say much."
Hermione chortled under her breath; Dumbledore was always up to something. "Well, it’s basically prefect duties and much more," she started. "We’ve got to tutor at least two younger students, learn a foreign language, class observations, plan Hogsmeade weekends… it’s rather alarming, how many things we’ve got to do, since there's more than that."
"How’ve you been handling it so far? I mean, is the workload overbearing?" Justin asked, fiddling with his tie.
"Yes and no; I’ve been the overachiever longer than I can remember, so I’ve had this much work since, well, first year. And primary school“ I was bored easily," she replied. "But I have little free time."
Nodding, he said, "I did the same thing. My brother was accepted to Eton, and they came by our house for a dinner thing, you know how parents are, and they saw how much I did and they put me on a waiting list," he informed her proudly, looking smug.
He’s bragging, Hermione realized, but she nodded politely.
"It shouldn’t be too much then," she surmised. "You seem to be fine, not too stressed, and you’ll have actual work to do as Head Boy instead of creating an activity."
"That should be fun," he agreed, and it was silent for a minute. Hermione looked at him, blinking, and he looked back at her, and neither of them talked for a minute.
"I also, erm, wanted to ask you something, err… else," she said abruptly, breaking the awkward silence as the words spilled out of her throat. He remained silent, but raised an eyebrow, and the look on his face almost made Hermione blush.
This is ridiculous, she thought furiously. I let Ginny’s idea get to me and now I do think he fancies me! Obviously he doesn’t, he's always been like this… right?
"Well, err, you know about the murders over the summer," she started tentatively, and Justin’s expression changed entirely; his suggestive look evaporated to clear confusion. "Malfoy’s been a bit, err, how do I say this… antisocial? I just thought that, err, he would appreciate the privacy from his own house."
Justin stared intensely at her. "So I was, erm, wondering whether or not he could keep his quarters," she finished feebly, flushing scarlet; she wanted to wither and die on the spot, her suggestion sounding so bizarre Justin would think her to be insane.
"You want me to give up my new quarters?" Justin asked in a strange voice. "To the murderer?"
"Don’t call him that," Hermione snapped immediately, sounding a bit fierce. "He’s human just like the rest of us!"
"He killed his own mother!" Justin cried, looking outraged. "How can you call him human?"
"Because I believe that he’s still got a soul," Hermione defended stoutly. "And apparently, I’m the only student in this school that believes as such. If he were to go back to his own house, forced to share living quarters, they would rip him apart, Justin! I just think he deserves to be left alone."
"That’s fine and all, Hermione, but I want that room," Justin argued firmly. "I want to be living in this part of the castle!"
"Dumbledore would give you an entirely new room with equal quarters and privacy," Hermione promised on a whim, not very sure if the headmaster would do as much. "It would be like living in the Head tower."
"That’s not the only reason I want my quarters to be in this tower," Justin said in a low voice; Hermione almost gaped at his suggestion. "I don’t want him to be here, I want to be here."
"Justin, please," Hermione begged. "Don’t do it for him, do it for me. You can still be here all the time. You just won’t be sleeping in those quarters."
He was silent, and Hermione could've cheered in victory at his consideration. It was a tricky, sly thing for her to mention herself, and Justin seemed to be debating her words simply because she asked him to do it for her.
"Please?" Hermione asked softly, mustering up the best impersonation of a puppy-dog face she could do. He stared at her, frowning, almost grimacing at the favor she asked.
"I can still come here? Eat in this kitchen, relax on the sofa away from the rest of my house?" he asked suspiciously.
"Anytime you want," she confirmed, and with a sigh, he nodded. She deflated in relief. "Thank you, Justin. I just thought it would make things much easier for Malfoy."
"So you’re doing this for him, then?" Justin asked quietly, and she thought about it.
"In a way, yes. If he went back to his house, he’d crack under the incessant jeering he’s sure to get from his fellow Slytherins," she informed him.
"Why do you care?" he asked, looking peeved at the thought of her doing something nice for Malfoy.
"Because I do. Everyone in this school needs a sanctuary, and this is the only one he’s got," she said sadly. She stood and moved to throw her apple core away. Turning around, Justin was by the swinging door and looking at her.
"I better go, I’ve got things to do," he said.
She nodded. "Thank you again," she said.
"Not a problem; hopefully I’ll find a time when you can return the favor." Smirking, he left Hermione's mouth open in shock at his implication.
He fancies me, she thought at once. I have to tell Ginny!
Suddenly remembering the false promise she made, Hermione pushed aside the story she would later share with Ginny and began to write to Dumbledore. Hopefully, he wouldn’t mind, and would do just as Hermione asked. If he didn’t, then she would have an awful time explaining things to Justin.
Ginny seemed to be delighted with the fact that Justin fancied Hermione. "And then, he said, I’ll find a time when you can return the favor, and I just thought, Merlin!"
"See, Hermione, I knew it. This is hilarious," Ginny cried as they traveled down to the great hall for dinner. "And not only that, you can make Ron jealous when he’s being a jerk."
"By purposely misleading Justin? I will not," Hermione declared. "That’s wrong."
"And so is hitting on a girl that’s involved," Ginny reminded Hermione. "Justin won’t care; he’ll adore you for it."
"Ron won’t ever forgive me if I do, though," Hermione said anxiously. "I’m not going to do something like that."
"Well, fine, see if I care,” Ginny huffed. “All I’m saying is, get what you want."
"Yes, yes, I know."
They arrived at dinner a bit late, yet their normal seats were left open. Hermione cautiously sat down next to Ron, and argued with herself whether or not she should apologize.
He’s right, though, Hermione admitted. I was being stupid.
"So I heard Finch-Fletchley’s Head Boy now," Harry commented.
Hermione nodded. "He’ll put more effort into it than Malfoy ever did," Hermione said. "I’m looking forward to having him as my opposite; working with him will be easy." Ginny suppressed a snort and Hermione sent her a sharp look.
"Did Malfoy do something, like fail or anything?" Harry asked curiously and Hermione shrugged.
"All Dumbledore told me was that they reached a decision together; he wanted to withdraw from his title as Head Boy, and that’s all I know," Hermione answered.
Almost as if on cue, an owl came swooping down from above. As it dropped down by Hermione, she caught the letter it was carrying with her outstretched hands. Knowing it was from Dumbledore, she carefully opened it.
Miss Granger,
I have taken the request into consideration, and I will create new quarters for Mr. Finch-Fletchley. I find it very kind of you to ask him to let Mr. Malfoy have privacy, and I am grateful that you managed to convince him.
I will send a letter to Mr. Malfoy.
Thank you
Headmaster Dumbledore
Just as Hermione finished reading the letter, Ron suddenly snatched it out of her hands.
"Give that back!" she demanded furiously, grabbing at it.
Ron, however, easily kept it out of her reach with his long arms, read it over, and almost immediately inferred its meaning. "Are you mad?!" Ron yelled at her and she lowered her eyes; he shoved the letter back into her hands, his breathing livid and harsh. "Why would you do that? For him?"
"I told Dumbledore," Hermione said in a small voice, and Ron quieted. "You were right." Swallowing her pride, she managed to say in a tight voice, "I'm sorry."
"But why would you do this?" Ron asked, gesturing to the letter and ignoring the apology.
"Because… I just, I don’t know, I thought he needed to be away from everyone. I was just trying to help him," she mumbled.
"Why would you help that murderer, Hermione?" Ron demanded and Hermione bristled.
"Don’t call him that, he’s just as human as you are!" she snarled. “Look, I’m sorry if you fail to see things the way I do, but I have reasons for doing this that you obviously don’t understand,” she seethed.
"Which you won’t even share with me," Ron retorted angrily.
"I don’t have to tell you everything!" Hermione cried. She shoved the letter in her bag and pushed out of her seat. "I’m sick of you treating me like I can’t handle anything!"
"Because you’re being an idiot!" Ron shouted. Ginny had her face in her hands, clearly embarrassed by the fight; people were looking curiously at them, livid and red-faced.
"No, I’m just doing something the way I see fit!" she spat, standing away from the rest of them. He jumped to his feet
"Well, you’re doing it wrong!" he yelled back, right in her face.
"Is there something wrong here?” Professor McGonagall had strolled over, looking clearly annoyed at their row.
"No, we”"
"She won’t tell anyone that”"
"I told the headmaster!" Hermione growled. "Weren't you listening?"
"I’m sorry, it just seemed like you were LYING!"
“I don’t lie, you little”"
"CLEARLY you two are fighting, but fail to notice that you are disrupting a meal,” McGonagall interrupted coldly. “Be my guest and carry on, but do so elsewhere."
Hermione huffed indignantly and pushed past her boyfriend and Head of House. She stormed all the way back to her Head tower, her emotions rising in her, stinging and irate, and were ready to burst out like fizz from a bottle of soda shaken incessantly.
Slamming the portrait closed, Hermione threw her bag down and screamed out in frustration, cursing Ronald for all he was worth. Kicking at the sofa, Hermione dropped against the cushions, arms folded angrily over her chest.
But she was there no longer than a minute when Malfoy’s door swung open. Hermione glared at him for a moment, still consumed with vehemence over Ron, before she realized Malfoy was headed straight for her, looking positively furious.
"What the hell do you think you’re doing!?" Malfoy roared hoarsely at her, waving a letter about; Hermione suddenly understood why he was so angry and jumped up immediately.
"Don’t come near me!" she snarled, pointing her wand threateningly.
"I don’t want your filthy sympathy, Mudblood!" he spat, lips curled in disgust, referring to the letter.
"The only thing I feel for you is pity," she retorted swiftly. "As if I would do anything good for you," she sneered, despite the fear that was slowly freezing her nerves.
Malfoy snarled and lunged at her; shrieking, she ducked as he leapt over the sofa, knocking it over. She fell and scrambled to get up, driven by terror, but he latched onto her ankles and dragged her over.
"I should’ve killed you!" he bellowed. "You good-for-nothing”" Hermione abruptly turned and slammed her elbow into his throat. Gasping for air, he released her for a single moment where she turned and kicked at him, yelling in terror.
Despite his lack of air, Malfoy jumped on her, wrestling her wand out of her hands; flailing around like a helpless animal caught in a trap, Hermione could do little to control her fear as she struggled desperately. Grabbing at her wrists, he stood and threw her. She fell against the wall, smacking her head in the process.
He stood, panting and towering over her. Hermione groaned in pain, but still curled up in defense under his omnipotent, murderous glare. She could do nothing but rear back her head as he reached down and took her collar. Pulling her up slowly, intentionally scraping her head against the wall, he lifted her to his level, and she helplessly hung there, his fist her only support.
"Don’t you dare try and make me your good deed for the day," Malfoy hissed, bringing his face very close to hers.
"It’s so tempting," she managed to croak sarcastically; she was having a very hard time breathing. "Aren't you supposed to help the poor, sad, sick, and lost?"
Malfoy snarled and shoved all of his weight on her, pressing her into the wall and forcing all the air of her body; she spluttered and gasped, and was suddenly struggling, finally able to move her arms again.
"Let go of me," she wheezed, pressing her wand into his cheek. He gave her a malicious look, and at such a close proximity, she could see the animosity in his eyes. She had a feeling it wasn’t just from her threat.
He moved away, and as her lungs filled with air, he grabbed her wand straight from her hand. Startled, she tumbled back against the wall, still trying to breathe properly, and her body was seized with terror as he flung the wooden rod over his shoulder.
He was much more menacing now that she had no protection and he had more than enough. His lips pulled back in some sort of a twisted smile, he took a step towards her, eyes gleaming with malevolent revenge, and her mind scrambled for a way of defense.
Malfoy pressed his wand into her throat and his face twisted into a bestial look, like an animal poisoned with rabies, insane from the disease that overtook its brain. His scar was gleaming like a single fang, dripping with blood, and it disturbed her more than the delirious look in his eyes.
"Go ahead and kill me,” she croaked, shaking with terror and desperation; all she wanted was for him to be gone. "That’s not going to make Ginny forget what I told her." The dark gleam in Malfoy's silver, haunting eyes seemed to falter, vengeance replaced by anxiety. "I die, and just because of that she would tell Harry. Imagine that, Harry Potter knowing that you cried over your mother”"
"SHUT UP!" Malfoy screamed without warning and Hermione flinched. He withdrew his wand in a swift move, but as she scrambled away from him, she noticed he was shaking horribly. He backed away from her, and staring at him in confusion, it dawned on her that he looked like he had been utterly betrayed.
Hermione was so amazed that she tripped and fell against the staircase, gazing up at Malfoy. He was fighting an equally brutal fight within himself, his violent emotions so demanding and harsh that he was quivering and clutching at his face, as if desperately trying to rip off the mask that he constantly had on, but could not.
And then, she heard it, a faint tiny sound that almost escaped her hearing; a whimper rose in his throat, weakly fought, and bubbled out from trembling, pursed lips. Hunched over, Malfoy was tensing up and failing to succeed over his turbulent emotions each time he attempted to gain control of himself; before she knew what had happened, he had fallen to his knees and a dry sob escaped his throat as he doubled over.
Hermione was more in awe than anything else; awed that he could feel so deeply and be so miserable when she was knowingly in his presence. Caught up in the spiraling silence, tricked into thinking that he was yielding before her, Hermione carefully kneeled in front of him and cautiously reached out to touch his shoulder”
Malfoy seized her wrist like a serpent striking its prey and hauled her forward, twisting her arm around and shoving her body beneath his, a knee in her back before Hermione could even manage to gasp. Cheek pressed to the cold floor, she could feel his fingers shaking in their tight grip in spite of the fact that he seemed to have total control over the situation.
"Is this what you wanted, Mudblood?" he growled, voice tight; breathing jagged and forced. The tremor in his throat was evident, implying that he was overwhelmed by his own emotions, close to snapping.
"No," she whispered, comprehending what she had done to him. "I-I'm sorry."
"You're ALWAYS sorry, you'll always BE SORRY!" he screamed, rattling her twisted arm about, and she cried out silently in pain. He growled again and, holding onto her arm even tighter, rotated it slowly until she screamed out, her bones fiery and strained.
Clutching her by the shoulders, he lowered his mouth to her ear. "I don’t want your filthy help," he uttered colorlessly. He let go of her suddenly, and the pressure that had been on her, not only his weight but of the situation, was gone.
"But you need help, Malfoy!" Hermione yelled desperately before he had shut himself up in his room. She was grateful that she had stopped him right in his tracks. "From anyone!"
"No, and especially not from you," he snarled, and turned on his heel, slamming his door, and ending her next sentence before it could leave her mouth.
Hermione slowly sat up, rubbing her shoulder and staring worriedly at Malfoy's door. If this was how he would react to her confrontations, then, well… she had a long way to go.
-x-x-x-
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Author's Notes: Weeeell, I hope you enjoyed that! Things didn't exactly work out as I planned for this chapter, but I know I'll fit them into the next. The Malfoy scene, the one you just read, was completely improvised, so be grateful!
Thanks to Halo of Darkness for betaing this for me! Yaay!
Please continue to read and review!