Chapter Five: Biting Words
Thoughts of Death Eaters attacking her in the secluded section of the library raced through her head as Hermione clutched her wand automatically. She took in a sharp breath and whipped her head around with her wand hand following to point at the shadow-maker.
“Excusez-moi,” came a small voice with a thick accent, “but the library is closing.”
Hermione quickly lowered her wand as a pink color rose in her cheeks; she seemed to have frightened the librarian. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll just put these away.” With a sweep of her wand, the papers flew back in order from where they came from and Hermione gathered her things. She couldn’t believe that she had spent so much time in the library; although, during her school years this had been a common occurrence.
When Hermione got outside she noticed that the sun was setting so she made her way back to the bookstore and her apartment. All that she had found whirled around in her head that she could hardly make sense of anything. The one thing that she could make sense of was that she didn’t know what happened to Malfoy.
Part of her brain registered that someone had given information, valuable information, about Voldemort. Obviously it was someone from the inside but Hermione couldn’t quite grasp that it was Malfoy. She was more likely to believe that it was Snape, but even that seemed far-fetched. But a small voice in the back of her mind said very assuredly, It was Malfoy.
“It couldn’t have been,” Hermione said out loud. A few people gave her furtive glances and picked up the pace as they passed her muttering to herself. Noticing their looks, Hermione decided it best to not talk to herself until she was alone and quickened her pace back to the loft.
When she got home she just raced up-stairs without speaking with the Bontecous. All she could think about was Malfoy; it felt like an obsession. Hermione immediately started pacing around her living room while she flung her bag onto the couch, narrowly missing a disgruntled Crookshanks.
After a couple of hours of pacing, Hermione finally collapsed on her bed and fell into an exhausted sleep. She hadn’t really made any revelations in all of her musings. Her brain seemed to be fighting with itself. Half of it was saying that Malfoy gave up the information; but the other half said that it couldn’t be possible because he had tried to kill Dumbledore.
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The next few weeks flew by in a blur. Beauxbatons was preparing to return to school so the book store was constantly flooded with students and their frantic parents. Hermione proved to be a very good help when the Muggle-borns came in for their books; especially, when they came in through the Muggle section of the store. When that happened she had to usher them to the back into the Wizard store.
Hermione had to work in the store for most of the day all week, running between the two halves because Muggles were going back to school as well. She was always so exhausted at the end of the day that she usually just had a light dinner with the Bontecous and then went straight to bed. All this excitement left no time to wonder about Malfoy and his disappearing act.
Finally, a Friday rolled around and the two stores were practically empty. Hermione was in the back of the Wizard half, stocking books when Mr. Bontecou came up to her again. Hermione half thought that he needed her help with a Muggle again like usual.
“Hermione,” he said as she stood up from her place on the floor, “you should take a break.”
“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind helping out. I’m just stocking books during the lulls.” Hermione had a bright smile on her face. She really didn’t mind helping and she really enjoyed the distraction.
Mr. Bontecou held up his hands to stop her protests. “No, no. I insist. Go take a nice long lunch break and rest.” And with that he scurried off to help a customer before she could protest any more.
Hermione sighed resignedly and picked up the box she had been working from and put it in an out-of-the-way place. She waved a good-bye to Mr. Bontecou and headed out into Muggle Paris to get something to eat.
Unconsciously, Hermione took a familiar route to find a good place to eat. She hurried along the sidewalk and looked up at the swirling grey clouds above. It was barely drizzling but the sky seemed ominous and she just knew that it was about to pour. She finally reached a café and didn’t even look up to see the sign that read Café Phillippe as she headed in out of the moisture.
Because of the impending weather, she was seated inside at a little table by the window. The place was pretty busy and seemed more crowded because nobody was seated outside. Right after Hermione had taken her seat, the rain started to lash against the window. The sound managed to drown out some noise and gain much of Hermione’s attention; so much so, that she barely noticed the waiter that had come to take her lunch order.
“Excuse me, miss,” came a voice with a distinct British accent that seemed slightly familiar.
Hermione looked up to answer the waiter but as soon as her head turned her jaw dropped and she couldn’t find any words.
Malfoy’s face hardened from the soft expression he usually gave customers into the one he used to wear at school. “You again,” he said with much exasperation.
“You are a waiter!” Hermione exclaimed.
“Well spotted, Granger.” The trademark smirk crept up on his face. Hermione huffed at his remark and inwardly groaned at seeing that smirk again. She couldn’t count how many times that smirk had laughed in her face and called her a Mudblood and she didn’t want to see it again.
“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked incredulously. She instantly regretted asking it because she knew he wouldn’t answer the question the way she wanted. She would get some sarcastic and snide comment instead.
“Working, of course. A couple years out of school and you’re already losing it, Granger. And you were the top witch? I always knew the teachers were cracked to think that.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Malfoy always had a way of getting under Hermione’s skin and he was doing it again. Her already frizzy hair from the moisture in the air seemed to crackle with electricity as she steeled herself for an argument.
“I know, but it’s much more fun to irritate you than to give you what you want.” There was a happy glint in Malfoy’s eyes as he watched Hermione squirm in discomfort. He also smirked as she tried to find something witty to say in return.
“I meant, why are you a waiter here?” The conversation had only lasted a couple of minutes but Hermione felt like it had been hours. Thinking about it, she glanced down at her watch on her wrist to make sure she wasn’t running late to get back to work. But however brief she thought it was, Malfoy noticed the action.
“Got a hot date, Granger?” Malfoy smirked again at the idea of her on a date and then figured he’d do it justice. “You and Weasley come on a vacation or what?”
At this, tears rose up unwanted into Hermione’s eyes. The sudden and unexpected mention of Ron was not one that she wanted hear and it only angered her even more. Especially, since it was Malfoy who brought it up.
“Shut up, Malfoy!” she said with a deathly glare in her eyes. “I thought you were supposed to be kind to the customers.”
“I thought I was by even hinting that you, of all people, might have a date with someone besides a book.” Malfoy knew that it was easy to agitate Hermione but he couldn’t really understand why she was on the verge of tears right now. He didn’t think he’d said anything to make her cry.
“You know you’re just as cold and heartless as your father.” Hermione stood to meet Malfoy’s gaze as her lip trembled as she tried to hold in the sob that was pushing to escape.
“What does my father have to do with anything?”
“I thought that since you brought up a dead loved one of mine that I’d bring up one of yours.” Tears started to splash uncontrollably down her face as she made to move around Malfoy but he reached out and grabbed her arm in a vise-like grip.
“What did you say?” A surprised look had crossed Malfoy’s face and a hard glint was coming to his eyes that matched the sky outside.
“You deserve the same end as he got,” she said in a cold whisper, “rotting away in Azkaban until you go crazy and die.” Hermione wrenched free from his grip but not before she noticed the look on his face. She couldn’t figure out if it was anger, confusion, sadness, or “ maybe “ relief.
“He’s dead?” Malfoy’s voice sounded almost normal without any sarcasm or coldness to it. It was completely vulnerable and Hermione didn’t know what to do. She brought her hand to her mouth in surprise as she suddenly realized, He doesn’t know! And with that realization she bolted out the door into the pouring rain and ran all the way home, leaving Malfoy standing there dumbfounded with his new revelation.
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That night Hermione lay in bed for half the night without falling asleep. She couldn’t believe that Malfoy didn’t know his father was dead. She had also figured that if he didn’t know that Lucius was dead then he probably didn’t know that Narcissa was dead too.
Even though Hermione despised Malfoy she knew it must’ve been hard to find it out today. And especially hard to hear it from your worst enemy who said it with glee and even wished the same fate on you.
Hermione slammed her fists down on either side of her as she lay there staring at the ceiling. Why was I so mean? She thought to herself.
Well that seemed obvious: they hated each other and they were fighting at that moment. Besides, her head said, you didn’t know that he didn’t know. It’s not really your fault.
“Yes, it is,” Hermione said out loud. The sudden noise made Crookshanks hiss and dig his claws into the sheets as he moved into a new spot. “What am I gonna do?”
Second Chance by WebSpinner
Chapter Notes: Well I'm really sorry for the long wiat and with a cliffy too. I stumbled into a writer's block that was suddenly defeated today. That I tried really hard to finish this chapter before my dad stole my compy for a week. So I hope you enjoy, and I really hope you review!