Chyeah, sorry for the painfully long wait for this chapter. I've been doing a number of things, all reluctant and annoying, since the last time I've updated. Now that summer is here, I'll be working on this story and another of mine (posted elsewhere) until school starts!
Enough of the rambling! On with the chapter!
By darkwing731
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((--Chapter Eight--))
Make Me Wild
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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.
-
"You look tired," Harry observed at breakfast as Hermione sat down. The Head Girl grumbled in a response, carefully choosing a bagel and pouring herself coffee.
"What kept you awake?" Ginny asked, nursing her coffee.
"Homework," Hermione muttered, eyes half closed.
That was hardly the truth at all; after confronting Malfoy again last night, Hermione had been impervious to sleep and had spent the night ruminating Malfoy's behavior. Somnolence had only struck once, pulling her into mist and confusion, before slivers of nightmares had shaken her awake.
"Skive your first class," Ginny suggested, grinning at Hermione's sharp look.
"Do you even know her, Ginny?" Harry chuckled. Hermione gulped the coffee, pouring more and sucking it down again as fast as she could.
"I've got Ancient Runes first, and I won’t miss it," Hermione informed Harry, and bit her bagel. "We're working on runes casting and Odin's Runes."
"Nod like you know what she's talking about," Ginny whispered to Harry, and they both nodded with mock-interest. Hermione scowled.
"Well, I'll have you know—"
"Morning." Ron collapsed into the seat next to Hermione, grabbing about ten different pieces of food and Hermione's third cup of coffee.
"That's mine!"
"Learn to share," Ron grunted, downing the mug in a large gulp.
"If you asked first, Ronald—"
"Don't Ronald me, Hermione," Ron snapped, ripping a large muffin in half. "I hardly slept last night."
"So that justifies you being rude to me?" Hermione growled.
"You know I bet we could sell tickets for these fights," Ginny muttered to Harry. "We'd make a lot of money."
"Ron always loses, though," Harry whispered back.
"He's getting braver."
"I don't need any sort of justification," Ron sniffed, shoving an entire muffin into his mouth.
"Yes you do!"
"You never do!" Ron cried defensively. "You're always ranting and saying these horrible things to everyone, but I can't do it because I'm not you, right?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Don't think for a moment that just because you didn't sleep a wink meant I did either!"
"What are you trying to say?" Ron retorted angrily. "That you're right and I'm wrong?"
"Yes!" Hermione cried without a moment's pause. Ron laughed, and Hermione snarled. "I'm going to class." The Head Girl snatched up her bag and swung off the bench, purposely hitting Ron in the head with her book bag, splashing hot coffee all over him.
"What the hell—"
"Whoops," Hermione spat sarcastically, and stalked off out of the great hall.
Still raging, Hermione sat down at her first class and pulled out her books and parchment. Classmates sat down around her, chatting and gossiping. Luna Lovegood finally sat down next to her.
"Morning, Hermione," Luna said, sounding as if she was daydreaming but had automatically said the words.
"Morning," Hermione replied. One of the things Hermione liked best about Ancient Runes was that, since it was a voluntary class, all the years that took it were mixed with other years. There were two or three classes in all, and students from different houses. Hermione's class consisted of sixth and seventh years.
The teacher entered and within minutes was lecturing, writing notes on the board, explaining the daily activity. The class moved into the pairs and groups they had collected in, and commenced with Rune Casting.
"Odin's Runes! I've been eager to do this," a Hufflepuff named Liam gushed. Luna chortled as she mixed up the bag of runes the professor had given them.
"Go ahead, choose," Luna offered, holding the bag open for Liam.
"My situation is my brother and I," Liam stated before he reached in and retrieved the rune Pertho.
"Beware your enemies," Luna warned mysterious, and Liam sighed, putting it back into the bag. "And don't get upset, Liam. Only you can choose to be upset, no one can make you."
"I guess I'll stop fighting my brother then," he muttered, knowing the Rune of Chance and Mystery had suggested him to do so.
"Hermione?" Hermione reached in, her fingers pushing the runes around and seeking one that seemed to be drawn to her hands. Wood touched her fingertips, wood that felt smooth and warm in her palm, an anomaly among the other tablets of wood.
"Situation?" Luna asked, smiling dreamily. Hermione shrugged before pulling the tablet out.
"Eihwaz, Rune of Defense," Hermione said softly. She struggled to contemplate its meaning, not knowing which situation she had chosen before she had casted her rune. "Associated with death, magic, and endurance, as well as many other things…"
"Like change, and meandering through time from the old, to the new," Luna said wisely.
"Well?" Liam asked curiously. Hermione mulled it over, staring at the rune and pondering.
"I guess… well I think I'll just be patient then," Hermione whispered. "Things are changing…"
It was correct, and the rune had given her a significant answer to a problem, but the thing was… she didn't know which one. She hadn't chosen. When casting Odin's Rune, she should've thought of it first, but because she neglected to do so, she was left with only uncertainty.
"My situation is the girls' dormitory." Luna dug vigorously into the bag and finally retrieved Laguz, Rune of Water. Luna squealed at the symbol.
"Converse of Laguz! I've got to watch out for those trying to trick me with water, its telling me. I was hoping I'd get this," Luna exclaimed. "I really didn't think much of the situation in the girls' dorm, but I know now! For example, if girls in your dormitory were stealing things of yours—"
"That's awful!" Hermione interrupted. "Who are they? I'll give them a detention faster than—"
"It's fine. I'm going to surprise them like a Blibbering Humdinger speaking logically!" Hermione didn’t know what to do at first—calmly explain that those creatures had never existed, or nod in agreement.
"Erm, they will be surprised then," Hermione said hesitantly, forcing a laugh. Liam snorted into his palm.
"I'm going to retaliate. When they're asleep, I'm getting my things back and setting a nasty ward about my wooden chest," Luna said lightly. "They'll never go near my belongings again, especially if I hit them with a dose of their own Potion: a water hex."
"They might not even go near you again," Liam predicted uneasily.
"My things will be safe," Luna said firmly, then abruptly switched her focus to Hermione. "Did you choose a situation?"
"Not really," Hermione sighed. "I meant to, but I was distracted."
"By what?"
Hermione frowned. "I really don’t know. I'm just a bit occupied lately, that's most likely the cause."
"It does not do to dwell on wishes," Luna whispered mysteriously, leaning forward and looking directly into Hermione's eyes. Suddenly, Hermione's chest seized up painfully, and the Head Girl was held tight by the Ravenclaw's words. "And not on nightmares do dreamers die."
Luna blinked, and settled into her seat, her mystic smile still intact. Hermione gaped at her, moved by the almost prophetic words.
"Stop doing that, Luna," Liam sighed.
"I hope that helped, Hermione," Luna said with a knowledgeable nod. Hermione couldn’t speak; her throat had closed into a tight knot, her jaw moving without consent as the her mind buzzed for an answer, like bees searching for honey they would never find.
Luna plucked Eihwaz from Hermione's fingers and dropped it back into the bag. Shaking it about, mixing up the tablets, Luna said, "Hermione, I think you should choose a situation and cast again."
"All right," Hermione said faintly. "I choose dreams. And nightmares." Luna held out the bag, and Hermione reached in and snatched the first rune without thinking, suddenly wanted to flee the class.
It was Eihwaz again.
"I would remember that rune from now on," Luna advised. "Something wants to hurt you. Defend yourself."
Hermione shoved the rune back into the bag, her fingers burning up as if the wooden tablet was on fire. "I want to cast again," Hermione said. I want to cast just to prove that I won't get Eihwaz.
"Situation?"
"Same," Hermione said hastily. "Make sure you really jumble them, Luna." Luna nodded, and shook the bag vigorously. After a while, she handed the bag to Liam, who did the same; he opened the bag, and held it out to Hermione.
I won't get Eihwaz, she thought firmly to herself. Closing her eyes, her hand dove into the bag, grasped a single tablet, and pulled it out.
"Well?" Liam asked. Hermione slowly opened her fisted hand: Eihwaz again.
Furiously, Hermione kept casting with the same situation, progressively adding more people to the mixing of the rune bag. Hermione forced Luna into switching bags with several people, but every time Hermione reached in, quick as lightning, and pulled out a rune, it was always Eihwaz.
"I need sleep," Hermione moaned at the end of the class, burying her head in her hands. The class was filing out into the corridor, departing for their next lesson. Luna was shaking the bag, swinging it around and throwing it in the air and catching it.
"My situation is Hermione's nightmares," Luna said. Hermione watched warily as Luna bit her lip, dug around in the bag and retrieved a single rune. "Oh look!" Luna said happily. "Eihwaz!"
"What's wrong with you?" Ginny asked, catching up with Hermione in the corridor. Hermione looked pale and a bit frightened. "It's not Mal—"
"No," Hermione interrupted. She quickly filled Ginny in about the Eihwaz Castings in Ancient Runes, and what Luna had said.
"You've been having nightmares?" Ginny repeated suspiciously. Hermione waved her hand offhandedly, trying to dismiss it. "About what?"
"They aren't important," Hermione assured Ginny.
"You sound like Harry."
"They aren’t!" Hermione blurted fiercely, and Ginny flinched. "I mean it," Hermione promised in a gentler tone. "Voldemort has nothing to do with them."
"How do you know?" Ginny demanded. Hermione sighed, recalling the screaming, the burning light, the devastation that had swept through her mind…
"I just do." Ginny remained silent and the two girls continued on their way to class, parting at one of the corridors. Hermione nodded briefly at Ginny, and turned to go to Charms.
I just don't understand what Eihwaz means, Hermione thought anxiously. I mean, I understand its actual meaning, but how does the interpretation apply to me? To my nightmares? And what about Luna? Her prediction was eerily close to home—
Her thoughts were interrupted as Hermione tripped over something and fell face-flat onto the floor. Hoping that no one had seen her fall, as the chagrin would follow her through the week, Hermione turned over and got up, searching for what she had tripped on.
It was Malfoy.
At the sound of Hermione's petrified scream, Ginny appeared in less than ten seconds. Panting, she demanded, "What? What the hell is it?" Hermione pointed a shaky figure towards Malfoy's still body on the floor, and Ginny jumped.
"Is he dead?" the redhead asked quietly after a moment, her initial shock settling. Hermione did not answer, but cautiously approached Malfoy, kneeling down next to him and feeling his neck for a pulse.
"He's so… sick looking," Ginny murmured, and Hermione nodded. His neck was cold and clammy.
"He's alive, but unconscious," Hermione announced finally. "We should bring him to the Hospital Wing."
"Agreed," Ginny said at once. Using Mobilicorpus, the two girls quickly brought the unconscious boy to Madam Pomfrey, surprisingly without anyone seeing them.
"Yes? Oh Merlin, what happened?" Madam Pomfrey rushed over, guiding Malfoy's floating body to the nearest bed. Hermione and Ginny exchanged a worried look.
"I don’t know; I stumbled over him when I found him," Hermione explained. "We thought it best to bring him here."
"What's wrong with him?" Ginny asked. Madam Pomfrey was waving her wand swiftly over Malfoy, a hand automatically placed on his forehead.
"Mild fever," the nurse muttered. "And exhaustion," she deduced finally as the tip of her wand glowed orange.
"Exhaustion?" Ginny reiterated. "It's not like he goes for jogs, or anything. And he's not playing Quidditch anymore."
"If he's not engaging in physically demanding activities, it can be from lack of nutrition and plain neglect," Madam Pomfrey said. Hermione understood suddenly what the nurse meant.
"I really don’t see him eating much," the Head Girl offered. Madam Pomfrey considered this, and then with a great shove, gathered the bottom of Malfoy's school shirt and pushed them up to his ribs.
Ginny gasped sharply, grabbing at Hermione's arm. Malfoy, in a word, was simply emaciated. Each rib was outlined over the stretched, grayish flesh that was Malfoy's skin. The arch from his ribs to stomach was dramatic and sharp, sharper than the shape of his sternum against the rest of the ribcage, sharper than the scar on his face.
"Oh my Lord…"
"He's starving himself," Hermione whispered, her voice very small and distant. There was an enormous sort of feeling that was threatening to come bursting out of her, pushing on her own healthy ribcage to be let free, to be screamed aloud. Hermione resisted, but could not quell the worried whimper that left her as a result.
"I think you two should go," Madam Pomfrey said as she pulled Malfoy's shirt back down. "I appreciate you bringing him here, but this really isn’t your business."
Ginny started to protest, but Hermione hushed her right away. "That's fine, we'll go."
"But—"
"Would it be so much to ask you something, though? A favor?" Hermione said politely. The nurse arched an eyebrow, waiting expectantly. "When Malfoy wakes up, or when he's better, whichever comes first, could you tell him that, erm, someone hopes he gets better?"
"Certainly," Madam Pomfrey said.
"But don't tell him it was me, or anyone really," Hermione said quickly. "But that someone wishes he's well." At Madam Pomfrey's nod, Hermione smiled, took Ginny by the arm and hastily left the Hospital wing.
"What was that about?" Ginny asked as soon as the doors had snapped shut. Hermione sighed.
"I've decided to take a leaf from your book. When Malfoy hears that, he's going to know that someone actually cares for his existence, instead of thinking the entire world hates him," Hermione said. She sighed again.
"He'll think it was Dumbledore," Ginny pointed out, but Hermione shook her head.
"Why would Dumbledore do it anonymously? If the man can face Voldemort, Malfoy's no problem at all," Hermione disagreed. "No, Dumbledore would tell Malfoy to his face."
"His skinny, anorexic face," Ginny muttered.
"Don't joke about that," Hermione said sharply, and Ginny looked mildly affronted. "This is serious."
"You're starting to care about this Malfoy Mission thing more than I would've expected you to," Ginny said slowly. Hermione looked away.
"I just…" She couldn’t find the right words to express just how deeply Malfoy was affecting her. "No one deserves the weight of the world," Hermione said finally. "I've got to get to Charms."
Ginny stared at Hermione's retreating back, pondering the brunette's mind. Why would someone who had always undergone Malfoy's tormenting suddenly be so concerned?
Maybe this is striking much closer to home than I thought, Ginny decided finally. Shaking her head, the Weasley departed for her own class.
"So, err, Therese has trouble in theory, and has a free class on, err…" Hermione was trying to plan a tutoring schedule for the fourth year she had agreed to tutor, and finding a way to do so without any free time that coordinated with Hermione's time-table was proving to be difficult.
Hermione released a weary sigh into her hands. "Maybe Justin has this done already," she muttered to herself. "I could ask him."
The portrait that led to the Gryffindor Common Room, directly behind Hermione, opened and shut with a slow creak. Hermione shifted and looked over the back of the couch.
"Oh. Hi," Hermione said flatly: Ron stood in the doorway, not looking very pleased—wearing the same expression as his girlfriend
"We need to talk," Ron said at last.
"You mean, you need to apologize," Hermione corrected.
"This is the exact sort of rubbish that's making me angry!" Ron snapped.
"Me defending myself?" Hermione shouted, standing up to face him. She marched around the couch, and poked him hard in the chest. "You've been a jerk to me lately—"
"Oh, I've been a jerk?" Ron repeated in mock-curiosity. "What about you? You've done nothing but yell at me!"
"For good reason!" Hermione snarled. "You won't sod off and let me deal with my own troubles!"
"I wanted to help!" Ron shouted furiously. "What the hell is so wrong with that?"
"When I say I don’t want help, I don’t want help!" Hermione screamed, shaking her hands exasperatedly.
"Look," Ron growled, forcing his voice to be calm. "You had bruises, and how? Malfoy hurt you. And you seemed to think that it was your fault—"
"It was!"
"NO IT WASN'T!" Ron exploded, and Hermione actually recoiled in surprise. "Think, Hermione! What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I told Dumbledore about it, Ron, and you didn't seem to care!" Hermione spat.
"I was more concerned with the fact that you willingly kept the quarters for Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed, shaking his fist in the direction of Malfoy's quarters.
"He needs a sanctuary," Hermione defended.
"He needs to be in a Looney bin!" Ron retorted sharply. "You aren't supposed to be dealing with him!"
"And why not?" Hermione asked fiercely. "Is it because I'm a girl? Is that it?"
"Don't try and make me sexist," Ron snapped angrily. "I know you're more than capable than most of the boys in this damn school!"
"Then why?" Hermione demanded.
"Because I'm supposed to keep you safe!" Ron shouted without a moment's pause. "Because you're not the one that's supposed to get hurt!" Hermione found herself silenced by this, but grudgingly; she kept mouthing words she thought might hurt him just as much, but her voice seemed to be gone.
"I only told Harry that Malfoy called you the M word," Ron said quietly, looking down at his feet. "Harry would've had a right fit if I really told him what happened."
"I—thanks," Hermione murmured, knowing that Ron was absolutely right.
"I don’t know what the bloody hell you were thinking," Ron said suddenly.
"You never let me explain myself!" Hermione sniffed indignantly. "I only get two words out, before you've judged me and just have to say what you're thinking—"
"Are you sure you're not describing yourself?" Ron asked, then a second later knew he had made a mistake.
"And I absolutely detest those sarcastic comments you make all the time!" Hermione snapped. "You just think everything is a joke, you take nothing seriously unless we're all about to die—"
"Hermione—"
"And you can be just as nosy as your sister, you know! I know what I did was illogical, but I fixed it and it's over now, but you just couldn’t seem to grasp the fact that I'm perfectly capable—"
"Hermione—"
"—of handling situations! You said it yourself that I was more capable than most of the boys in Hogwarts, so why are you being a hypocrite? You know I'm fine, so why not just—"
Ron seized Hermione's face in his hands and pulled her forward, kissing her fiercely. Hermione's ranting halted for a moment as she stared at Ron in surprise, cross-eyed from the close proximity, before she started speaking angrily again against his lips.
Taking no notice of her struggling, Ron wrapped his arms around her, kissing her harder than before, desperately hard it seemed, and Hermione decided to acquiesce all of a sudden, her fierce, applicable words gone to waste, her reason and logic and advise slipping away from her tongue as she grabbing Ron's shirt in her fists and pulled him closer.
"So this is why I'm dating you," she murmured against his lips, forehead pressed to his, and Ron laughed, together forgetting the argument.
He placed his grinning mouth against hers, a hand running through her untamed hair. She entwined her arms around him, fingers grazing over his neck and skin, pressing the curves of her body against his to see if the fire would ignite even through their clothes, even if they weren't skin on skin.
After all the worry that had been eating away at her, the problems of someone else's life slowly suffocating her, Ron felt good. Hermione could find no reason within herself, not a logical one anyway, that justified her being angry with Ron… Ron, and his logical words (for once).
Kissing him made Hermione forget what needed to be done, what homework she had, the fact that Malfoy would kill her if he had the chance; Ron replaced anxiety with pleasure, something reading had done, but not like this… no, never like this.
They were kissing each other hungrily, pressed against the wall and willingly without oxygen, simply to save the seconds they could spend gasping for breath for kissing instead. Hermione snaked her hands through his hair, pulling anxiously at his shoulders, willing him closer, feeling nothing but a euphoric, soaring feeling. Absently thinking that reading was not as enjoyable as this, she chuckled against his lips.
Ron pulled back at her noise, and they looked at each other, smiling. Hermione suddenly rubbed her nose to his. He laughed, the sound echoing even as he kissed her again, and even as he leaned down and picked her up.
"What are you—" Ron silenced her inquiry with another kiss, deep albeit playful. He pulled her into his arms, like he was the proudest man alive, holding his newlywed bride, and turned her around, setting her backside against the couch.
"Ron," she teased, grinning at him and fingering his collar. "What was that?" Ron smirked, and without warning pulled his arms away from Hermione. Before a shriek could even begin to rise from her throat, Hermione went tumbling back onto the couch.
Flustered and sincerely annoyed, she moved to a more comfortable position to nag him—Ron's body came gliding over the couch, laughter following him like a trail someone might follow in the woods, and landed on the floor next to the couch.
"Are you alright?" Hermione squeaked immediately. Ron smiled, and with a great pull grabbed Hermione's arm, forcing her to fall on top of him, and kissed her nose as she lifted her head from his chest.
"You're strange," Hermione whispered, sitting half on him, leaning into his body.
"You love it," he said, a dashing smile to his words. She dipped her head down and kissed him, tauntingly light at first, before they slowly were engrossed in each other, rolling around on the floor and kissing madly.
I could spend forever doing this, Hermione thought wistfully to herself, smiling against Ron's lips.
"This isn't fair," Ron grumbled as he, Hermione, Harry and Ginny, also accompanied by several boisterous Gryffindor walked to Hogsmeade.
Hermione squeezed his hand, smiling sympathetically. "It's only every third Hogsmeade trip, Ron, so don't worry."
"Can I follow you around?" Ron asked, grinning. Ginny snorted.
"Depends on what Justin says," said Ginny snidely, and Hermione gave her a sharp look; Ginny snickered.
"What?" Ron asked suspiciously, and Hermione sighed.
"I have to patrol with Justin," she explained.
"What's Ginny talking about?" Ron demanded. Hermione threw Ginny an angry glower.
"Nothing, Ron."
"It's not 'nothing'!" Ron insisted. "What's going on?"
"Nothing is going on!" Hermione said heatedly. "I'm patrolling with the Head Boy, is all! By requirement." Ron's bothered face did little to soften, but Hermione pulled his arm around her neck. "You know I'd much rather spend the day with you, Ron."
"Gag," Ginny said loudly, and everybody laughed.
"Real funny, Gin," Ron said sarcastically.
"She is amusing," Neville said.
"Entertains us!" Seamus agreed, and the Gryffindor boys gave a hearty cheer.
"Thank you, thank you," Ginny called, bowing slightly.
"Look!" Dean said suddenly, and the boys all turned together as one to look. "Parvati and her mates. All alone. No boys!"
"Let's ambush 'em," Seamus suggested. Another vigorous answer met this, and the boys swept quickly up the road, leaving the two couples to themselves.
"I'm glad we didn't stop them," Harry muttered.
"Look Hermione, there's your partner!" Ginny remarked, nudging Hermione. Justin was standing alone up the road.
"Will you please stop doing that?" Hermione growled. "It's upsetting your brother!"
Ron wasn't paying attention; eyes glued to Justin, the Weasley narrowed his eyes as the Head Boy spotted Hermione and waved.
"I don't like him," Ron said as Hermione waved back.
"Get used to it, Ronald!" Hermione said exasperatedly. "I have to work with him the entire year. At least it's not Malfoy."
Shouldn't have said that, Hermione thought when Ron stiffened.
"Erm, well I'll see you back at the castle," Hermione said tersely, ducking under Ron's arm. If they fought again, it would just strain Hermione's constant augmenting load of stress. Like another piece of laundry that she had to do, along with the rest of the chores.
"Hello, Justin," Hermione greeted with a smile plastered on her face.
"Afternoon," he replied. "So, do we just walk, then?"
She shrugged; "Patrolling is patrolling. All we do is watch for fights, really. Nothing else will happen."
They strolled along outside the shops, silently observing; the tense, nearly awkward silence between them was mutually ignored. Hermione enjoyed Hogsmeade trips, for there was never another time where her Muggle clothing was put to good use.
The abrupt recollection that Justin was Muggle-born made Hermione smile widely. "You know, I forgot you were Muggle-born," Hermione blurted, then laughed.
He grinned. "Neither of us seem it, do we? Head Boy and Girl, two of the smartest people in the school."
"Well I certainly love being a Muggle," Hermione said. "The perspective on both worlds is very… inspiring."
"Hundreds of opportunities on both sides," Justin agreed. "If you fail as a witch, which you won’t, you can go to Medical school or somewhere just as prestigious."
"Medical school sounds like something I would do," Hermione said. "I'd like to work at St. Mungo's, or you know, be a Field Doctor so that when the war comes…"
"They'll need you," Justin said quietly. "If you went into healing, and then went head first into battle, you'd be enough of a weapon against You-Know-Who."
Hermione threw her head back and guffawed. "Me? Certainly not, not as a Field Doctor!"
"Oh?" Justin repeated, smirking. "What would you be then, the spy?"
Hermione grinned. "Exactly. I fancy myself to be… the seductive spy that lures the foolish Death Eaters, takes their information and leaves them to rot," she exclaimed, giggling like mad. "That would be very interesting."
"It would," the Head Boy agreed. "Almost worth becoming a Death Eater for." Hermione blinked a few times, trying to verify the implication of his words. She forced a laugh, nervously, before speaking again.
"What's your expertise for the war, then?" she inquired in a rush. Justin didn’t seem to mind that Hermione had no response for his come-on.
"Magical creatures. Maybe help the House Elves finally start a revolution," he suggested.
"Did you join S.P.E.W.?" Hermione asked immediately. The Hufflepuff attempted to conceal the grin before he laughed.
"No, but I wanted to," he confessed. "My mates thought I was mad."
"Mine too…"
Patrolling turned out to be an event that compelled Hermione to think quickly; her sharp mind, always running, constantly jammed tight with fact, figures, knowledge, problems, was now overflowing with the fact that Justin was hitting on her, and she had to avoid it.
Yet, she couldn't find it in her heart to tell him about Ron… that was, if Justin didn't already know.
Ron drummed his fingers against the table, waiting for Ginny to come back with the butterbeers. "I don’t like Justin," he grunted.
Harry sighed. "We know, Ron."
"He gets to spend more time with Hermione than I do!" Ron complained. "I bet he fancies her… I should watch them, make sure that they don’t—"
"Don't go stalking your girlfriend or anything," Ginny warned. "Hermione would be raving mad if you did. You just need to trust her!"
"I trust Hermione alone with any boy as much as I do you and Harry alone," Ron snapped. Ginny and Harry smirked at each other.
"She's not Head Girl because she's lazy and untrustworthy, Ron," Harry pointed out. "Give it a rest. She can take care of herself, and when you're around—"
"Yes, but what about the thing with Malfoy? She refused to report that until I got in her face about it," Ron seethed. "She acted stupidly!"
"She had her reasons, Ron," Ginny defended immediately. "She doesn’t need to tell you everything!"
"She had reasons to not report what he did?" Ron repeated. "Logical ones? Hermione reasons?"
"Hermione's dealt with being called, well you know, before…" Harry started slowly. His emerald eyes flicked between Ginny and Ron, who were now avoiding each other's eyes. "What's going on? What did Malfoy do to Hermione?"
"You know last weekend was her eighteenth birthday," Ginny reminded Ron hastily, changing the subject. "Did you get her a gift?"
"Bloody hell, are you serious? I completely forgot!" Ron exclaimed. He grabbed his things and threw on his cloak. "I've got an idea. But it's Muggle related, so Harry, you advise me."
"What?" Harry cried. "How am I supposed to help? What are you getting her?"
"Like… I dunno, Dad was talking about month stones and things that go in necklaces… I thought…" Ron trailed off uncertainly.
"She likes silver," Ginny commented. "And I'm almost sure her birthstone is, err… sapphire."
"Positive?" Ron asked, and Ginny nodded vigorously. "Let's go."
The three of them left the Three Broomsticks in a rush, discussing other possible gifts for the Head Girl. Harry's realization that Malfoy had done something to Hermione, other than call her a Mudblood, was not lost; he would just have to confront her later, when he knew that Hermione would break if Harry pressed hard enough.
Hogwarts students, no matter the weather, no matter the omnipresent demand of homework and studying, and despite the security risks, alarms, or warnings, went to Hogsmeade. It had always been like that; if you were allowed, nothing could stop you.
But something stopped him.
The only reason Malfoy had actually crept out of his constantly locked quarters was he knew that both Mudbloods would be out of his hair. None of the seventh years would be in the castle at the hour, in this majestic season.
The Malfoy lit a fire in the grate with a simple flick of his wand, and settled into the closest chair. Frankly, he despised his room, and wished nothing more than to burn it to ashes that would flutter away in the wind.
Wind that would never, ever come.
Granger was preventing that, though—if only she wasn't the officious, conniving Gryffindor she was, he would've been able to frighten her enough. But of course, he was either too weak to do so, or the Mudblood was so uncannily on top of her senses that he simply couldn't frighten her.
You wouldn't be able to scare a bloody rabbit, Malfoy thought viciously to himself. The echo in his mind, not his, never his, reverberated involuntarily through his skull.
The weak do not thrive, Draco…
I'll die then, Malfoy thought impassively. I can't do anything. Father's right, always has been. I am weak… even if Mother—
He stopped thinking abruptly. The tired, aching body that was his had molded into the chair, but without warning he tensed up again, his throat the tautest of all muscles. Malfoy grinded his lips to stop them from shaking, and glared at the dancing flames. They seemed to taunt him.
Fire had always been a source of pleasure for him, igniting the joy of pyrotechnics in his blood. His father especially adored fire—Flames cause the quickest pain, the pain that lingers even after it is drenched. Scars will always remind its victims—and would continue to, dead or alive.
Wherever he is, Malfoy thought absently. Gazing into the fire almost brought back slivers of memories, shards of happiness and simplicity, times of just him and his mother.
"Aguamenti!" Malfoy snarled, trembling wand aimed at the fire. The coals hissed at him as they died, slowly, still trying desperately to burn. He placed his wand down on the table, his hand quivering as he dropped the wooden rod.
The murder wasn’t supposed to affect him like this. After all, he had been the one to kill her… right? Malfoy let out a bestial howl, kicking the couch over and grabbing the table. He pressed the table to the dead fire with a feral scream, a sound that should not have left a human's mouth.
But I am barely human anymore
"Burn!" Malfoy shouted hoarsely at the coffee, lashing out at the wood with his foot. The weakness in his throat, the lack of control over everything around him boiled over; he started whimpering, little gasps as the result of his attempt to stop, breath catching in his throat.
Malfoy fell back against the couch, breathing raggedly and pressing his palms to his eyes. Nothing seemed to be working; his nerves were slipping, and despite that he cleared his mind—no one can penetrate now, I'm safe—and despite that he forced music into his head, something of the classical era he would assume, his mother's face loomed in his mind, accusing him.
"Stop it," he moaned. His stone-cold heart was squeezed, clenched in a vice-grip that was seizing the rest of his body too. Malfoy gripped his knees, pressed his hands between them, anything to stop the shaking.
There was a slow, promising idea that lurked into his mind, darker than the summer that had condemned him, darker than his mother's dead eyes. Something that hadn’t gone unnoticed before—Malfoy wouldn't have made it this far without its help. He had to cope somehow, even if it only eased the pain a little bit.
He dug around in his bag until he found it; the same knife he had pressed against Granger's neck, the one he had most unwillingly took away from the dirty, muddy veins was the same weapon he carried with him. Always. It never left his bag, never left his possession.
The knife gleamed hungrily when Malfoy flicked it open. He pulled up his sleeve, and amongst the other scars, new and freshly scabbed being the majority, he chose a spot. Over, down, over. The chant whispered to him as he slowly dragged the hooked tip across his skin.
Over down over
Why was he even still trying? It didn’t appear that anyone understood. It didn’t seem likely that anyone would ever comprehend the message he was trying to send. Malfoy considered this, then took back the thought as his knife switched direction. Blood dripped down his hand in murky streams, the sizzling pain of his cuts nearly breaking his concentration.
Granger might figure it out.
Not her. Anyone but her.
Malfoy pressed his eyes shut, hoping to whatever cruel god that was still above him in the skies, or well, down below conspiring in the pits of hell, that Granger was not the person to solve him.
She's the only one that cares, Draco… the voice was not his own, but Malfoy could just imagine his mother's calm, soft voice persuading him.
To have his mother back, he'd let the Mudblood anoint him if she really wanted. He would let her do anything.
But she's never—coming—back.
Ignoring the steady stream of tears on his cheek, Malfoy carved just one more into his wrist. He hated how they all looked the same… Eihwaz was not a very interesting rune to look at.
But it was the only one he knew could help him.
-x-x-x-
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Author's Notes: Well long time no update? I think this is sufficient enough; we're finally dipping into the real clues! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, despite the horribly long wait.
So, predictions anyone? Oh, and this chapter is dedicated to FAITHFUL WHEEZY, one of my bestest fanfiction friends! And I did a hell of a lot of research on the runes… I'm not making anything up!
The wonderful beta is Weirdly! You're amazing!
Thanks for reading! Please review!