27. Which To Bury, Us Or The Hatchet?
Hello all. Here is chapter 26. Chapter 27 is COMPLETELY done. I'll post it next week (unless I can be convinced otherwise by some awesome reviews (yeah, I'm a review whore like that). I've recently started a new super short 3 shot (maybe?) that is entitled “Outlet” so everyone should check it out. It isn't very long, so it won't take up much of your time!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter is not mine. The music isn't mine. Nothing is. I'm very sad.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: Which To Bury, Us Or The Hatchet?
Try to understand there's an old mistake that fools will make
And I'm the king of them, pushing everything that's good away
Wont you hold me now (I will not bend I will not break)
Wont you hold me now (I will not bend I will not break)
I am fairly agile
I can bend and not break
Or I can break and take it with a smile
And I am so resilient
I recover quickly
I'll convince you soon that I am fine
“Bend And Not Break” DASHBOARD CONFESSIONAL
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Hermione had never realized just how boring life was without a best friend. She hadn't exactly become best mates with Harry overnight, so naturally, she wouldn't be able to connect with Ginny or even Luna immediately either. The two girls were nice to be around, however, they—Ginny anyway—still had their own friends and Luna's case, odd interests. Hermione felt awkward when Ginny's friends—who she suspected grudgingly accepted Hermione—would be around, and if she had to listen to Luna rattle on about some fictional creature one more time…well, she could only take Luna in short doses when the peculiar blonde began to act like that.
No, she had never been so close with someone before, never depended on someone's company so much. A depressing void in that part of her life agitated her more than she'd care to admit. Lightheartedly, she blamed Harry. She had always been perfectly content with her solitude before he came along! She never realized just how much of her time he took up. She never noticed how much her day had been devoted to him or one of his activities. She would always watch the boys play Quidditch or Wizards Chess or even get involved herself. The first few weeks of their row, she just pushed herself into her coursework, as she had done most of the beginning of her first term at Hogwarts. She never thought she could over prepare for her N.E.W.T.S., but now she was beginning to think she may be almost there. She had also never noticed how boring it was to study for hours on end, alone. Ginny and Luna were both Sixth Years, and not only did they not knew the material, neither ones' end-of-the-year-tests would be as grueling (nor as important) as her N.E.W.T.S., therefore, they didn't need such preparation. Harry had always made such a great studying partner because despite his fun-loving attitude and adventurous demeanor, he never had a problem devoting a few hours to studying with Hermione because it was something she liked to do. Very seldom would he complain about it. All of these thoughts drove Hermione to realize she needed a hobby—a hobby to get over Harry.
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“So I suppose we need to get a list together of the songs we will be playing at Dumbledore's little party then, eh?” Ron asked as he, Harry, Draco, and Jeremy gathered in an empty classroom. Draco promptly sounded-proofed their working area.
Harry bent down to grab a notebook from his guitar case. “I've made a list of some possibilities.” He handed it to Ron while Draco and Jeremy read over the red head's shoulder. He watched with mild concern as Draco's face contoured into a scoff.
“ `As Lovers Go?' `Here Without You?' `How's It Gonna Be,' `The Crow And The Butterfly,' `I Need A Lover?!'” Draco read in half-disgust. “Have you gone nutters? We're not having a show dedicated to the trouble you are having with Hermione. You're going to look pathetic, mate. I mean, even if we were planning on serenading Hermione, we've never even played most of these—there isn't time to learn properly! Not to mention, they're all covers. We normally play at least most of our own stuff, Potter. What in the bleeding hell is wrong with you mate?”
“Blokes got a point.” Jeremy chimed in with a nod.
“What are you talking about? That isn't for Hermione. I just thought that would make a good
playlist. We can change it.” Harry replied, slightly insulted by their words.
“Damn right we are going to change it.” Ron said forcefully. “We are going to sing songs about strippers and partying…not pathetic love songs. Sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll mate!”
“Ron, shut up. We're going to do a nice, easy-going playlist, and not something that is going to make everyone want to kill themselves. Harry, mate, pick one song for Hermione. Any more than that, you are going way overboard. `Good Vibrations,' bloody hell, are we the bleeding Beach Boys?!” He asked, ripping the page from the notebook and balling it up before setting it on fire with a flick of his wrist.
Harry began to protest, “I didn't pick any of these songs for her! I don't need one.” Ron and Draco just stared at Harry, both with raised eyebrows. Harry sighed, “Okay, I'll pick one.” He said, knowing they were right. As he mentally ran down the list in his head, he knew he subconsciously picked out songs that came to mind when he thought of Hermione. What was this girl doing to him?
“So…what are we playing then?” Jeremy piped up, looking at his fellow dorm mates.
Harry suddenly remembered talking to Luna the day before. “Oh, Luna wanted us to play a song. She said she told her request to Ron. What was it?”
A slight blush crept over Ron's features. “Er, I can't even remember. I think Luna changed her mind. Forget it.” He lied, fiddling with the shoulder strap on his bass. “How about…er, shall we see Harry's list again?” He looked fruitlessly at the charred wisps of paper that used to be Harry's list.
The other three Gryffindor boys stared at the red head. “It's no problem. What does she want us to play?” Harry asked, trying to get the focus off his pathetic list.
“It's nothing. Forget it. I don't want to.” Ron replied, blushing even more.
A smirk slowly slid onto Draco's lips. “Ronniekins….what does your dove want us to play?”
“She wanted us to play a song…and dedicate it to me.” He said uncomfortably.
“What song?” Harry asked. “Don't make me go ask her—`cause I will!” He said, heading for the door.
Ron groaned. “Don't. Um…Hongrubeyes.” He said with a phony cough.
Jeremy leaned forward. “Sorry mate, didn't get that one?”
“Hondrubyes.” He said again, with an unconvincing sneeze.
“What?” Draco asked. “Just tell us, how bad can it be?”
Ron glowered at them all, his face redder than ever.
“Hongrubeyes?” Harry said slowly before a knowing glint caught his eye and he burst out laughing. “Ooohh I am not singing that, especially to you!” He sudden said, choking on laughter.
“What is it?” Draco asked, getting agitated.
“See? A bit embarrassing isn't it?” Ron sputtered. “Now can we please move on?”
“What is the bloody song?!” Draco half-yelled, eyeing Harry, who was holding his stomach in laughter, shaking his head.
“How about you sing it to her, mate? That'll be romantic.” Harry chortled.
“Like hell is that going to happen. Can we move on, please?!” Ron exclaimed, getting frustrated.
“I hate you both.” Draco said matter-of-factly, his gaze moving from his raven-haired friend to Ron.
00000
Most of March passed by quickly for Harry as he had three things to keep him busy at all times: Quidditch, band practice, and N.E.W.T.S. Despite his pitiful love sick puppy phase, Harry stood his ground with a renewed vigor—or at least, a façade of one anyhow. He forced himself to decide he would not to let his feelings get in the way of his last few months at Hogwarts, and was going to enjoy everything the ancient school had to offer, with or without Hermione at his side. Luckily, the upcoming weeks held a lot of distractions. Two Quidditch games left—Slytherin v. Ravenclaw; and Gryffindor v. Hufflepuff. The Slytherin/Ravenclaw game was coming soon during the last weekend of March before Easter holidays began, while his own game would take place three weeks later during the third weekend of April. Harry felt as if his team had never been more ready for a game in all his seven years at Hogwarts. It was only a matter of time before the Cup was theirs, again.
He wouldn't be returning home for the holidays, as he wanted to spend the spare time catching up on the mountain of homework the professors had promised would be coming their way. Also, the headmaster had decided to hold his small “celebration” before break, a way to kick off the Easter holidays, possibly as a reprieve from the homework they would all be given. Then, just over a week and a half later, the last Quidditch game would commence.
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Hermione walked across the courtyard, her arms crossed over her chest as she tried to shield herself from the violent wind, which drowned out most of the words coming from the trailing Ravenclaw behind her. Oh how stupid she was for not wearing an actual coat! `Stupid, thin fleece jacket.' Hermione thought bitterly to herself.
“And Harry came up to me and said Ronald wanted to play that song himself! Can you believe it? He is so dreamy, that Ronald Weasley.”
Hermione rolled her eyes and replied dryly, “Oh yes, so very bloody, fantastically dreamy, he is.”
Luna, however, was not put off by the obvious spite in her friend's voice. “Being so bitter is not helping your aura, Hermione. It has been ghastly these last few weeks—awful brownish yellows, dark greens, and muddied reds. It's a dingy mess. You're so angry, resentful, jealous…tense!” She said, ticking her list off on her fingers as she named each depressing quality. “Your aura has changed so much this year, it's a wonder it hasn't disappeared completely because of all the stress you have put on it!” She spoke urgently.
Hermione gritted her teeth. “If it's all the same to you, I'd like for you not to worry about my aura at all, if you please.” Hermione said as she stopped and turned to face the girl, now that they were safe from the fierce wind and back inside the Castle.
Luna tilted her head, an almost pitied look taking over her usual surprised expression.
Hermione, noticing this, stated evenly, “If I really did have an aura, then I'm sure it would be all kittens and rainbows because I am happy, Luna. I'm at school, right where I want to be. I have N.E.W.T.S. coming up. I am on the brink of finishing my magical education. I've decided to go home for Easter, so I'll be seeing my family—my parents have a surprise for me. I've just went and seen Hagrid with you. Ginny is going to paint my toenails later. And we're having Shepherd's Pie for dinner---what in the world do I have to be resentful, or angry, or even bloody jealous about!?” Hermione demanded.
Luna gave a half-smile. “You tell me. Enjoy your pie.” She said before turning and walking down a corridor.
Hermione pulled out her wand and aimed it at the bobbing head of the younger girl, her arm shaking slightly. She gave a frustrated growl before thrusting her wand back in her robes and stalking towards the Great Hall for dinner. She threw herself down beside Ginny, knocking over a goblet of pumpkin juice. With another huff, she cleaned the mess up with a flick of her wand, letting out a string of curse words under her breath.
Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Really?! Now was that necessary?” Hermione glowered at the redhead, causing the girl to lose the grin on her face. “I guess it was?” Ginny offered, scooting over a bit to give the ticking time bomb friend of hers a wider berth. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“NO!” Hermione snarled angrily, piling Shepherd's Pie onto her plate.
Ginny looked over at Neville, who shrugged his shoulders.
“I swear that damn Luna Lovegood needs to be locked up in St. Mungo's!” Hermione finally burst out, throwing her fork down and earning a few looks from surrounding students.
“That's a bit harsh.” Ginny said, casually taking the fork out of Hermione's reach and into a safety zone.
“Yeah, I like the girl myself.” Neville put in.
Ginny turned and rounded on her boyfriend. “You like her, do you? Perhaps you'd feel more comfortable sitting at the table of Ravenclaw then?” She asked dangerously.
Neville blushed. “You know what I mean…she's interesting.”
Ginny raised an eyebrow.
Neville swallowed uncomfortably. “Right bloody dull though. I can't think of a bigger bore.”
Ginny giggled and leaned over to kiss Neville on the cheek before rubbing noses.
“Excuse me while I go and vomit.” Hermione said, reminding them of her presence as she leaned over the bench and made retching noises before retrieving her fork.
Ginny turned back to Hermione. “So why are you suddenly upset with Luna? I've always thought you liked her.”
“Because she's nutters. Going on and on about how `dingy' my aura is. Like she bloody knows anything! `It's ghastly.'” Hermione mimicked with air quotes then gave a snort.
Ginny wrinkled her nose. “Well, I wasn't going to say anything, but it could do wish a good wash.” She said, and began to pluck the air surrounding Hermione.
“What are you doing?” Hermione asked, staring at her in bewilderment.
“Cleansing your aura, obviously. Don't want to offend Miss Lovegood. I don't think we have enough pumpkin juice left on the table for you to take it out on.” Ginny said with a laugh.
Hermione grinned, feeling better. “I'm sorry. And I suppose I ought to go and apologize, I was
rather short with her.” She said, letting out a sigh. She knew Luna wasn't trying to make her
feel bad or anything, it was just hard to hear the truth sometimes, especially when it was coming
from a girl wearing radishes on her ears.
After dinner, Hermione began to search for the strange Ravenclaw girl. Luna had told her earlier than she was going to go in search of the reclusive Sniggity Skorksnout Shumplpump,which liked to reside in wet conditions, so she was going to check the boathouse. Hermione looked out over the grounds, trying to decide whether or not it was worth trucking all the way out there if there was a good chance she wasn't there, especially with the clouds looking like they were ready to start pouring down at any moment. It wasn't like she had anything else to do. She vaguely pondered getting a thicker coat, but decided she didn't really care.
The fierce wind hadn't died down, and so Hermione to stuff the cherry turnover laden napkin she brought for Luna as a peace offering in the front of her jacket She thrust her hands deep in her pockets, leaving only her face unprotected from the biting currents of the wind. As the sunset began to settle over the grounds, Hermione came up on the crystal glass of the boathouse. The window on the closed door was open and she could hear voices, though only just because the whipping wind. She had to lean forward and crouch down to hear clearly.
“So what do they look like exactly?” A male voice asked loudly.
“Oh, you know when you'll see it.” Luna's voice floated toward Hermione.
“Have you ever actually seen one, Luna?” Another male voice Hermione recognized immediately.
“Oh no, but they say that if you come across one, it will bring the best of luck—unless you already have good luck! Then, it will jinx it and you will have terrible luck.” Luna replied, shifting something heavy and making a loud racket.
“Kind of makes you want to reevaluate the type of luck you have in your life, doesn't it?” Ron's voice asked with a hint of mirth. “Don't want to go jinxing the good now do we?”
“Well, what kind of luck do you have, Ronald Weasley?” Luna asked and silence followed her words, so she continued. “I have you here with me, looking for these magnificent creatures. I'd say I'm pretty lucky.”
Hermione had to physically stop herself from laughing as she tried to get a closer look. Oh how she would love to see the look on Ron's face!
“And you have someone to ask you to come and look for these Snoogie Doogie Dippies. She isn't holing herself up in her room, refusing to speak to you, despite all the crap you've caught this year for her.” Harry's voice spoke with a hint of bitterness.
Unsure why, Hermione felt a pang of guilt in her stomach.
Ron gave an uncomfortable cough. “Well I guess I don't want to find these Snorkie Snoopie Skeeks after all.”
“Let's go see if there's any dinner left then.” Harry said, walking towards the door. “I think it would be in all of our best interests to leave these creatures be. Don't you, Luna?”
“Yes, I think so, but it would have been nice to see them,” she admitted with a sigh.
Hermione realized they were all moving to the open door, and quickly jumped in the bushes to hide from their view. She tripped and got tangled up, and felt as if the bushes had swallowed her. She watched silently as Ron, Luna, and finally Harry trudged back up the stone pathway to the Castle, all pulling their collars up to shield their ears from the wind. She stared until the trio was no longer in sight, when she could finally pull herself free from the thorny bushes. Hermione felt her shoe sink into something soft and grimaced as she attempted to wipe the cherry mush from her sneakers by dragging them on the grass. After one last quick wipe, she hurried to the boathouse, grateful for shelter against the howling wind. Hermione settled down in one of the uncovered boats, shivering slightly. A white mist was gathering over the lake, creating an eerie glow. She sat in silence for several minutes, mulling over thoughts that grew more depressing with each passing one as the sun disappeared completely and was replaced by a full moon hanging high in the sky with no stars to keep it company.
After what felt like hours—had she dozed off?—with the moonlight as her guidance, Hermione walked over to the door and looked back to the Castle, which looked so far away from where she was now. She hadn't realized how dark it had gotten, or how daunting the inky blackness could look with the exception of a bolt of lightning lighting up to sky for a few seconds, warning of a possible storm coming. She had never been afraid of the dark, however, she had heard rumors of what sort of creatures lurked in the Forbidden Forest, and she didn't know if they roamed the empty grounds at night or not. Her eyes traveled over the dense blackness, and a light wasn't even on in Hagrid's hut. Another bolt of lightning lit up the grounds for another second, then darkness again. Another bolt, this time followed by a loud clap of thunder that caused Hermione to jump. She reached into her jacket for her wand but found that it was missing. Panic engulfed her as she racked her brain, trying to remember the last time she had used it. The Great Hall. She was sure she had stowed in it her jacket prior to her journey down to the boathouse, along with Luna's cherry turnover… A thought suddenly struck her: it must have fallen out when she jumped into the bushes and fell over, after all, Luna's peace offering had fallen out. She tried to find the spot where she had fallen, but the darkness had swallowed her surroundings and she didn't have the first clue where to begin. The lightning grew more frequent as the thunder became louder. Fear crept into her stomach as a cloud covered up the full moon, the only light she had and she slowly backed back into the boathouse, closing the door and window tightly to block out the ferocious wind as rain began to pour down.
What was she going to do? A vicious storm raged outside and she sat here, alone in almost complete darkness, without her wand. She tried to calm herself as she realized how cold it had gotten. What time was it? After midnight? She looked at her watch, but couldn't make out the time. As if answering her silent plea, lightning lit the sky and she caught a quick glimpse of the face of her watch, telling her it was indeed well past midnight. At a loss of what to do, Hermione climbed back into the boat and pulled the covering up as a blanket, trying to keep out the cold night air. For a second time that day, she mentally berated herself for not wearing a thicker coat. Closing her eyes, she felt tears sting at her eyes. Why was she crying like a baby? She didn't know, but she couldn't help it. Hermione felt so helpless. She was frightened, cold, and uncomfortable. Through her tears, she stuttered to the empty room, “T-this c-c-an't be go-ood for my a-aura.”
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Harry watched as rain pounded the window. He poured himself some water from a jug on the window sill and just enjoyed the storm. Ron's nightly snores were drowned out by the thunder and rain. Neville and Jeremy were both out as well. Draco was sitting up in his bed, writing a reply to his mother's letter that sat on his bedside table.
Harry knew he ought to write his parents, but he didn't know what to say. Both had strategically neglected to mention their findings on their visit after Christmas, and so Harry wasn't going to broach the subject. He finally sighed and walked over to his bed. If Draco could write his parents despite their differences, Harry didn't have any excuse. He shuffled through his things in his trunk, pulling out various objects that began to litter the floor of the boys' dormitory in search of his last letter from them. A particularly loud thunder clap reminded him the weather conditions, and so he decided he would write a letter tomorrow instead, as it wasn't like he could send it out at the moment anyhow with the storm and the time of day.
“I think I'm going to turn in. Actually I'm going to shower first. No, I'm going to go to bed, I will in the morning. Good night.” He called over to Draco, who yawned as he finished signing his name.
“Alright. I'm going to shower then.” Draco put his finished letter in his drawer and grabbed a towel and boxers.
Ten minutes later, Draco emerged into the dark dormitory, with only a few candles giving him light. He quickly pulled on a t-shirt before toweling his hair dry.
“Fuck!” He whispered to the dark room as he stubbed his toe on something on the floor. He lit his wand and saw that instead of putting everything back in his trunk, Harry had just shoved it under his bed. “Bloody lazy arse!” he muttered, dropping down and carelessly tossing everything into his friend's trunk. “Is it that hard to pick up after yourself?” He hissed to the sleeping figure, who only grunted in his sleep in response.
Draco folded Harry's infamous Invisibility Cloak and laid it neatly in his trunk before picking up the Marauders' Map. He loved this thing. It had kept them out of so much trouble, not to mention that it was an impressive bit of magic.
He touched his wand tip to the faded parchment and whispered, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” He grinned as ink spread like spider webs from his wand on the parchment. It was fun to see what people were up to at this hour. Sometimes, they would see two student dots in a broom closet or Dumbledore pacing his study for hours, just walking around in circles. More than once, they had even seen Filch skulking around the Library with Madam Pince, and the two of them had been quite close for about ten minutes. Honestly, Draco didn't know the squib caretaker had it in him.
His eyes roamed the map, looking for anything interesting. Snape was prowling the corridors. Filch was in the Astronomy Tower. Black was in his chambers, moving around. Draco gave a disappointed sigh and was about to close the map when something caught his eye. He brought his wand tip closer to make sure he had read the name correctly. Hermione was in the boathouse. What in the hell was she doing in the boathouse at one-thirty in the morning? He stared at her solitary little dot, which was unmoving, for a few more seconds before clearing the map and searching for his trousers. He looked over at the hangings that blocked Harry's bed from view, ready to wake him before stopping himself. “Someone's gotta fix this stupid fucking mess,” he said lowly to the darkness, reaching for a hoodie.
Draco ran down the steps that led to the boathouse, a difficult feat with the rain hammering down the way it was. He used the flashes of light from the lightning as a guide and kept his wand held tightly in his grip. Finally, he stopped about ten yards short of the boathouse and clutched a stitch in his side as he finished the journey in a brisk walk. He reached for the handle and turned it slowly, not wanting to startle her. He walked inside, wand alit. “Hermione?” He called anxiously.
Hermione's head poked up from one of the boats, squinting in the bright light. “Draco?” She asked, clearly taken aback from his sudden appearance. She quickly scrambled up into a sitting position. “What are you doing here?” She asked, utter surprise etched all over her face.
Draco gave a laugh of relief. “I could ask you the same thing.”
Hermione smiled. “I'm obviously trying to enjoy a nice boat ride.” She responded feeling lighter than she had all day. “The weather doesn't seem to want to cooperate, however.”
Draco grinned. “Need a First Mate?” He asked, and quickly closed the distance between the two and joined her in the small boat.
Hermione look at her fellow Gryffindor and repeated in a serious tone, “But really, how did you know I was here?”
“The map of course. I was looking at it and saw you down here. What the hell, Hermione? It's bloody freezing out. You're going to catch pneumonia.” He warned, wrapping an arm around her. “Don't you have a proper coat?!”
Hermione was suddenly very aware, as she allowed herself to be pulled closer to Draco and the smell of his cologne washed over her, that this was the most she had talked to Draco, or Ron for that matter, since the whole fiasco with Harry.
“But why are you here?” She asked quizzically.
“Because it looked like you needed someone.” He replied easily.
Hermione looked down. “Does…does Harry know?” She half-hated herself for asking. If he had known, surely he would have rescued her himself and not send Draco. But at the same time…he didn't owe her even that, so perhaps he would have ignored her completely. However, after everything, Hermione couldn't believe he would treat her like that.
Draco shook his head. “No, he's asleep. I was just picking up his stuff and saw the map, thought I'd take a look. You never know what you're going to find: two First years wandering about the Castle, Filch getting Pince in the Library with the lead pipe, or a troublemaker trying to nick all the boats.” He said with a wink and sly smirk.
Hermione giggled.
Now that Draco was close to Hermione and had conjured up plenty of candles, he noticed her puffy eyes. “Have you been crying?”
Hermione shrugged. “I was scared. I just came down here looking for Luna, but she was with Ron and Harry, and they left so I sort of stayed behind. I lost my wand in the bushes, and didn't realize how dark it was. Honestly…I was just too scared to walk all the way back to the Castle in the storm without my wand.” Hermione didn't know why, but Draco was so easy to talk to. She felt like it was pointless to lie to him because he would be able to tell. His gray eyes pierced into her soul. “It sounds silly, to be afraid, I know, but—”
He interrupted her, his tone anxious. “No, it doesn't sound silly at all, Hermione. You never know what is going to be out on the grounds. It wouldn't have been safe to walk around out there without you wand. Don't feel silly at all. Where is it, your wand?” He asked, craning his neck in the direction of the door.
“Just outside the door somewhere. I fell over and got all tangled up in the brush and I think it fell out then. I don't see when else it could have.” Hermione responded, wiping her nose.
Draco hopped out of the boat and went outside. Using a simple Summoning Charm, Hermione's wand zoomed right into his outstretched hand. He gave it back to the rightful owner and sat back down.
“Thanks.” Hermione murmured, allowing her hands to roam over the intricate vine-like designs carved into her most prized possession. It was like losing a best friend.
Draco conjured two cups of steaming hot chocolate. “Okay, now that you have your wand and a safe way back to the Castle, do you mind if I talk for a moment?” He asked, staring at Hermione intently.
Hermione knew what he wanted to talk about. She looked back at him, drenched from head to toe, his blonde hair messy on top of his head. She sighed and gave a meek nod. Really, it was the least she could do.
Draco was silent for a moment, staring out at the crystal windows where fierce rain lashed against the glass. Finally, he returned his gaze to Hermione. “What is happening between you and Harry?”
Hermione shrugged. “Nothing.” She answered truthfully, as in reality, nothing was going on between the two. They hadn't actually really talked in almost two months. Had it really been that long?
The blonde cleared his throat. “What about Valentine's Day?”
Another shrug. “It was a mistake,” she croaked.
“Bullshit.” Draco said, his voice hardened, his expression fierce. For a moment, Hermione cowered and looked away. Draco reached under her chin and slowly brought her face about to look at him. His expression softened. “I'm sorry. I'm not good at this sort of thing. But I just want you to understand.” He let go of her chin and hopped out of the boat and paced around it a few times, running his hands through his hair. Then, without warning, he hopped back in the boat, sitting so close that he was almost on top of Hermione's lap.
“Alright, I just want to tell you some things. I've been best mates with Harry since I was eleven years old. I was a spoiled, obnoxious prat, and he and Ron befriended me and gave me a chance. Anyway, I've known him for going on seven years now. We've hung out every summer, been dorm mates, band mates, co-workers…just trust me when I say I know him better than anybody.” Draco told her, his hands lightly gripping Hermione's shoulders. “Hermione, he's never had any charm with girls—he was always all about his best friends to the point where, not going to lie, we thought he might have been gay.” Draco said with a laugh, which earned a small giggle from Hermione.
“Then you came along. He told us about the day in the Ministry, before he even knew who you were,
and it was more than I had ever seen him talk about a girl. Then you came to Hogwarts, and you
should have seen the excitement in his eyes when he saw you standing in line to be sorted. I know
everyone had their differences in the beginning, but he was drawn to you anyway. I know Ron and I
were gits about everything, but surely you can appreciate what Harry did. I mean, we were his best
friends—for years! And he was okay with having a row with us, for you. Then we came
to our senses. And I'm really sorry for all that, by the way.” Draco told her as an
afterthought.
“All water under the bridge.” Hermione said, looking up at Draco before he continued passionately.
“I think Christmas almost killed him. Honestly. See, he didn't realize what it meant, the way you had him all befuddled and mad, but I did. Then the thing with his parents—Harry has never done anything to disappoint them, Hermione, but he did, for you. Do you see a pattern here?” He asked, but didn't wait for an answer. “Harry has done so many things, for you, things he never would have done for anyone else. He doesn't spend hours studying. He doesn't go through the trouble of making a unicorn-drawn sleigh ride. He doesn't let just anyone ride his Firebolt—especially someone who doesn't even know what they are doing on a damn broom! I've seen you, Hermione, you suck.” He added, but Hermione didn't feel even remotely offended. “Anyway…what else? Oh, and don't tell him I ever told you this, but I know I've never walked in to him jumping on the bed, playing his guitar and singing cheesy love songs after he's just had a fantastic snog with the girl of his dreams, Hermione.”
Hermione had to stifle a giggle. “Are you joking?!” She asked in disbelief, heat rising in her cheeks so quickly it was as if it had been Summoned there.
Draco mimicked playing a guitar, “'Da da da why don't yo, and I get together, something something take on the world and be together forever, something something love sick puppy. Head we will tails we'll try again.'” He pulled a serious, straight face, “Gospel as Paul, Hermione. He looked ridiculous.”
Hermione didn't know what to say. Oddly, she had no problem picturing Harry doing this, but the fact that it was over her just blew her mind.
“And look, I mean, I've had my share of romances, but I have never, ever felt even half the connection that he feels with you. It's like, he always told me when we'd tease him about not getting any girls that he was just waiting for the right one to come along, and he'd know. Well, Hermione, he's never made this sort of effort with…well, anything except Quidditch maybe. I know he may have come on a little strong when you guys talked after Hogsmeade, but he's a very passionate bloke, I don't have to tell you that. But what I am telling you…you aren't going to find a better bloke anywhere. He's my best friend, I love him to death, and this last month and a half…if I have to hear his sing one more sad love song, I'm going to kill him, Hermione, I swear I will.” He told her with a serious voice, though his eyes were laughing.
Hermione shook her head, “Look, Draco, this is all fine and dandy. I mean, do you think I don't feel the same? He's been a best friend to me too, and I think about him all the time. I've never had a problem focusing on my studies or, or, or…well, I've never wanted something so bad that I can't have, but the fact of the matter is, Voldemort and the war and—” She began to ramble, only to have a solitary finger from Draco press against her lips, muting her argument.
“Who are you?”
Thrown off balance, Hermione raised her eyebrows. “What?”
“Simple question. Who are you?”
“Hermione…” she said, unsure of where this was going.
“Hermione who?” He pressed.
“Hermione Granger.” she replied, still uneasy.
“Exactly. Granger. No one in the Wizarding World wants you here. Everyone thinks you are going to be the next Voldemort. I heard you are trying to bring him back. I heard you are trying to get close to Potter just to finish the job Voldemort couldn't.” He gave a shrug, “I heard you eat Muggles for breakfast. But hey, where are you? What are you doing?”
“That's terrible. Are people really saying those things?!” Hermione asked in horror.
Draco snapped his fingers a few times. “You know for being so smart, you certainly have difficultly answering simple questions. Where are you? What are you doing?”
“Hogwarts, completing my magical education.” Hermione said with a sigh.
“Whoa…you mean you aren't going to let the Wizarding World dictate who you are? Or what you're doing?” He asked in mock surprise.
“Of course not!” Hermione said, affronted at the very thought.
“But you're going to let Voldemort. And a war that might not happen in your lifetime. Or hell, a war that might happen tomorrow.” He said with a shrug.
Hermione didn't want to admit that she saw his point.
“Look, I'm not saying you have to get married to Harry. I'm not saying you still have to be with him in a month, or even a week. I'm just saying, live for the fucking moment, yeah? Life is short. I didn't let my family dictate who I became, and you shouldn't either, whether you're on the fighting end or not. I mean, you're eighteen, he's seventeen—stop worrying about things way above your years. You are at Hogwarts—just enjoy the magic. Hell, get shagged! Merlin knows you both could use it!” Draco ranted on before chugging down the rest of his now cold hot chocolate.
Hermione grinned at his hot chocolate mustache and reached over to wipe it off. She was suddenly struck with the thought that it was no secret how Draco charmed so many girls. He was by far the most charming person she knew, even more than Harry but in a completely different way. Harry had a clumsy, endearing charm; while Draco had the swagger of a suave boy, but the confidence of a knowing man—the kind of man who knew exactly what it was going to take to get what he wanted, and he had no problem going there. Hermione knew why it must be so easy for girls to fall for him, and the hard part was for the girls to get him to fall for them because honestly, who was good enough to win his heart?
Hermione shook away those dangerous thoughts, because she knew she was not attracted to Draco like that. She never got any male attention, so now, with Draco being so smooth, it was too easy to get lost in him. No, what she wanted wasn't too easy, though Draco's words certainly made it seem like it was.
“Hermione? You okay? You've been silent for a few minutes now.” Draco said, waving a hand in front of her face.
Hermione shook her head. “Yeah, just…thinking.” She said, shrugging her shoulders, trying to hide her blushing face.
“Well, how about we think inside? Let's get the hell out of here.” He said, hopping out of the boat and offering Hermione a hand, which she took after a few seconds of hesitation. Draco began to pull his shirt off, to which Hermione quickly intervened. “Whoa, what are you doing?” She asked, feeling her face flush yet again for what felt like the tenth time tonight as his bare skin was in sight for a fleeting second.
“Well, I figured I'd give you my hoodie to wear, seeing as how it's raining hippogriffs out. Don't worry, chivalry isn't exactly dead to everyone.” He said, handing her his almost-dry sweatshirt.
“No! I have a jacket. You'll be the one with pneumonia!” she protested.
“I'll be fine—I'm a hot-blooded male, Hermione.” He reminded her with a wink, offering her his sweatshirt again, which she took gingerly this time. What was wrong with her? She eased it on, unconsciously ensnared by his scent. It was very different from Harry's, how had she never noticed it before? Harry always smelled intoxicating, like something she could bury her nose in all day long. Draco had a scent that was almost a sin to be in the presence of and was, dare she say it, sexy? Her cheeks warmed again.
“Alright, are you ready?” He asked, holding out a hand. Hermione had to steady her trembling hand as she took his. “We're going to have to make a run for it. Just let me know if you need to stop.” Draco called over the thunder as he opened the door.
Hermione looked out upon a scene similar to the one she had looked out on just a few hours ago, but
this time, as Draco's warm hand was enclosed over hers, she didn't feel any uneasiness at
all.
Draco started off on a brisk jog, not wanting to run too fast for Hermione. She kept up well enough, though after only a few minutes, she needed to slow down for a bit before they took off again, laughing in the rain. Draco exercised regularly and running was his core workout, so finally, after they had slowed down for the third time, Draco finally lifted Hermione over his shoulder and started jogging for the paved courtyard, where they would be sheltered under the stone ceiling of the walkways.
Hermione laughed loudly at being handled like a rag doll and held on to Draco's drench shirt. “Are you sure I'm not too heavy?” She called cheerfully over his shoulder.
“`Course not.” He called back, and demonstrated so by jogging in a few circles before breaking into a run for the courtyard. Once he met the wall of the courtyard, instead of running all the way down to the entry way, he hoisted Hermione over the wall to the safety of the shelter of the pathways before easily jumping the wall himself. Once he cleared the wall, he picked Hermione back up and jogged down the long path to a door that led into the Castle. “Alohomora.” Hermione breathed with her wand pressed against the handle before Draco rushed them inside and finally put Hermione on her feet.
The dark hall was empty, and lit by a few waning torches that cast long shadows on the wall. Neither Gryffindor dared to produce a Lumos Spell, Draco grabbed her hand and quickly but quietly led her across the small hall into a corridor, which they took at a jog before Draco stopped and pulled her off to a narrow corridor. He led them about halfway down the corridor before stopping abruptly. He pressed his wand against a stone in the wall and muttered some sort of password, and Hermione could hear a small archway melt away to create an entrance. He hastily pulled her through and led her up a very skinny set of stone steps that spiraled upwards. They followed this shortcut up to the Fifth Floor, where they stealthily crept up to Gryffindor Tower.
“I really appreciate you coming and getting me, Draco.” Hermione said, pushing her hair from her face, slightly breathless.
Draco cracked his charming smirk. “No problem, always ready to help a damsel in distress.”
Hermione smiled back.
“So what are you going to do about Harry?” Draco asked bluntly.
Hermione looked up to meet his intense gaze as she thought about her answer. “Draco…look, everything you said was great and all, but he really hurt me with what he said. After the fact, I was ready to forgive him in a heartbeat, once I cooled off. But that was then. It's been going on two months and he hasn't shown even the tiniest bit of remorse. What he said…about me running away from everything…it really hurt, and it just isn't true.” Hermione told him, unconsciously hugging herself tightly.
Draco was silent for a moment and stared at the girl in the dim light. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on top of her head. After a few seconds, and leaned down so his lips were only inches from her ear. The blonde whispered softly, “What do you call what you've been doing? Maybe he isn't the one who should be showing remorse and apologizing.” With that, Draco disentangled himself from her before he disappeared behind the door leading to the Boys' Staircase, leaving Hermione alone in the Common Room, feeling slightly affronted, and slightly guilty.
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Now that I know what I'm without,
You can't just leave me.
Breathe into me and make me real.
Bring me to life.
(Wake me up)
Wake me up inside.
(I can't wake up)
Wake me up inside.
(Save me)
Call my name and save me from the dark.
“Bring Me To Life” EVANESCENCE
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Slytherin had slaughtered Ravenclaw in their last match, which wasn't exactly an upset, but the rival won by a larger margin than Harry was expecting. This put Slytherin in the lead for the Quidditch House Cup; however, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff both still had their last game. Harry's hopes were still high, and he was not deterred even the slightest in Slytherin's win. No, it was Hufflepuff that he was worried about, as he had been taught by his first Team Captain Oliver Wood to never underestimate the opposing team, whether they were Ireland's finest or a gang of First Years.
The game weighed heavy on the Gryffindor House Team's mind, especially the Captain's. He worried that the team would lose focus over Easter break. Also, Dumbledore's small celebration would prove to be a distraction. Harry wished desperately that the Headmaster would have held off until after exams, or at least, until after the last match. He wanted his team to keep their eyes on the cup. However, he just had to use the weekdays after the holidays and the last weekend before the match—despite their noses being rubbed raw against the grindstone of homework the professors insisted on assigning them—to ensure that his team practiced their hearts out. As Harry's mind buzzed with new special plays and every possible bad situation the team could run in to before the match, his feet carried him down the stone staircases on the familiar pathway to the Great Hall for breakfast. He was halfway across the Entrance Hall when a sight before him caused him to slow down to a stop, all thoughts of Quidditch gone.
Hermione smiled half-heartedly at Draco as she handed him back his sweatshirt. “Thanks. I…I really appreciate what you did last night. You didn't have to come out there and get me like that.”
Draco returned her smile with his trademark heartbreaker smirk. “Who am I to let a damsel in distress be stuck in a boathouse all alone during a storm? Hell who am I to let a beautiful woman be all alone at night?” He flirted suavely, taking her hand and tipping his head in her direction as a mock bow.
Hermione's face took on an embarrassing flush. “I never knew you were so chivalrous, Mr. Malfoy,” she replied back, giving a slight curtsy. After a few seconds, Hermione grew more serious. “And the talk…thanks, I really needed that. I haven't really been able to talk to someone like that since…well, let's just say it's been awhile.” She admitted, as her conversations with Ginny and Luna never had that sort of substance.
“I just hope you think about what I said. I don't think you realize what you mean to him, and how much this is driving him mad. Just…promise me you'll really think about what I said?” He asked, using his fingertips to lift her chin so his gray eyes pierced hers.
Hermione drew back. “I will—I have. I mean, I think that maybe…I dunno. Right now, I guess I don't know what I think.” She said, running a hand through her hair, at a loss for words.
Draco gave her a genuine smile as he reached over and fixed her hair. “That's okay. You don't have to have the answers all the time, only about ninety percent of the time.”
Hermione scoffed. “I'd say more about ninety-seven percent, thank you very much.” She retorted with a friendly shove.
“Hello. Am I missing all the fun?” A voice spoke behind the two, causing them to spin around to see the intruder. There stood Harry with a tight, forced smile and blazing emerald eyes.
“Harry.” Hermione breathed in acknowledgement, slightly surprised by his sudden appearance. She hated when he snuck up on her like that.
“Hello there, mate.” Draco greeted, nodding his head in his direction.
“So what's all this about?” Harry asked, still with a slightly manic expression.
Draco looked taken aback by his friend's cold behavior. “What are you on about?” He asked, concerned.
“Oh, I dunno. Just wondering what was so bleeding cheerful about today that brought out the smiles in everybody. I could use some merriment if you're just handing it out—go on.” Harry urged, crossing his arms across his chest.
Draco picked up his book bag from the floor. “Well, you can start by pulling the stick out your arse and go from there.” He said, putting the strap over his shoulder. “See you, Hermione.” He waved as he headed for the Great Hall.
Harry and Hermione stood in silence for a few moments before Harry repeated bluntly, “So what was that about?”
Hermione looked affronted at Harry's sudden rude actions. “Excuse me?” She asked incredulously.
“What's with all the touching and laughing and, and, and…and the giving him back his clothes?!” Harry shot back angrily, gesturing in the general direction of said sweatshirt.
“I don't believe it is any of your business, Potter.” Hermione angrily replied, standing up to her full height, her angry eyes only inches from his. She hadn't been this close to him in awhile.
A small audience had gathered in the Entrance Hall as people slowed their walk to the Great Hall, their interest spiked by this heated conversation.
“None of my business?” Harry repeated, towering over her in an intimidating fashion and not the least bit nervous as she pulled out her wand. “I just didn't know the two of you were so close. Why did you have his sweatshirt?” He asked, not bothering to keep the accusation from his voice.
Hermione's eyes narrowed as a devilish smirk crept over her lips. Taking a step forward, she taunted suggestively, “Use your imagination, Potter.” And with that, she swiftly swung her book bag over her shoulder and exited the Entrance Hall, her footsteps echoing loudly in the silent room.
Harry was rooted to the spot by her words, fury raging within him. Just who in the fuck did she think she was? In his fuming daze, he caught sight of all the onlookers staring at him, most with amused expressions. “Clear off before you all get the fu—just bloody clear off!” He half-shouted, whipping his wand out. The crowd quickly scattered, as Harry's admirable performance in hexing was quite common knowledge. Once everyone had gone, Draco appeared at the doors of the Great Hall with Ron by his side, both looking concerned.
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Think twice before you touch my girl
Come around I'll let you feel the burn
Think twice before you touch my girl
Come around come around no more
“Think Twice” EVE 6
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“What are you going on about out here?” Draco asked, closing the distance between the two of them. “What—”
Harry cut him off, grabbing the front of his robes. “What was that? What's going on between you and Hermione?” He asked threateningly.
Draco shoved him off. “Ease up. What are you talking about?”
Harry gave a cold laugh. “All the touching and talking and her having your clothes. You two looked quite chummy,” he accused.
“What? I don't know what you are talking about. We were just talking. I didn't know that was a crime.” Draco shot back, taking a menacing step towards Harry.
Ron stared between the two, having no grip on the situation at all. However, noticing how quickly things were heating up, he put his arms out between the two before matters escalated any further. “Whoa whoa whoa. Okay, what is bloody going on here? Draco, are you trying to take Harry's girl?” He asked, surprised.
“What if I was? Apparently he isn't man enough to just let things go.” Draco spat, his anger getting the better of him.
Harry pushed Ron out of the way and threw a punch at his best mate. Draco blocked most of it and staggered for only a second before he grabbed Harry around the middle so Harry's head was buried into Draco's stomach.
“Hey hey hey! Blimey, what is wrong with you two?!” Ron asked, running between the two again. Finally, he used his wand to spring the two apart and causing them to fall to the floor. Both of his best friends were breathing heavily.
“I can't believe you.” Harry sputtered, forcing himself into a sitting position.
“Fuck you, Potter. Your shit is your shit. Leave me the fuck out of it.” Draco retorted, standing up and spitting blood. Obvious contempt was etched on his face as he turned to walk away.
“You and Hermione getting all cozy behind my back, and you know how I feel about her. But you don't care—girls are just fucking expendable to you.” Harry spoke nastily, glaring at the back of the blonde's head.
His words caused Draco to stop in his tracks. “You don't even know what you are talking about, Potter. If I were you, I'd be careful about the next words that come out of your mouth. Trust me, get out of it.” He didn't even bother turning around.
Harry fired back, “Then why did she have your clothes? She said…she said, well she fucking implied you two were shacking up.”
Ah, there it was. Draco was grateful he still had his back to Harry so his friend didn't see him crack a smile at Hermione's actions. Baiting him further, he finally slowly turned around to see the mess of a man crumpled on the stone floor, his eyes begging for Draco to say that it wasn't true. Seeing his best friend in this much mental pain stopped the vengeful retort in Draco's throat. Finally, he sighed. “She was probably winding you up because you came out here, all Johnny Arsehole and fucking flipping out. And she had my hoody because…well it's not important. It was raining outside, so being a bloody gentlemen, I let her use it—not because I'm fucking her.” His hard expression softened and he offered a helping hand to the dark-haired, brooding young man. “You know I would never do that to you mate.” He said honestly, slightly hurt that Harry would even consider it.
Harry took his hand and pulled himself up. “I know. I just-” He ran a hand through his hair. “You know she has me on fucking edge. And I just saw and…” He trailed off.
“And had to balls-up, as per usual. I know. It's cool, just…hit me again, and I'm coming after you full throttle.” Draco warned.
Harry picked up his book bag. “Oh fuck off, will you?” He said, laughing.
Ron stared at his two best friends, making sure they were both in fact good. “So how about we go back to breakfast? And will someone please fucking fill me in here?!”
The three boys made their way across the Entrance Hall. “So what did she say about me?” Harry couldn't help but ask.
00000
“Potter, I had several complaints about your behavior this morning.” Professor McGonagall told Harry, her expression most severe.
Harry tried to contort his face into a look that mirrored remorse, while also resentfully going through the students in his head, wondering who would turn him in. “I know, professor. I just lost my head for a moment. Between N.E.W.T.S. and Quidditch…I just haven't been myself lately and apparently a ticking time bomb. I'm really sorry.” He said apologetically while his mind shouted that it had probably been some ruddy Slytherins.
His Head of House's stony features did not soften. “Be that as it may, Potter, as Head Boy, you are expected to conduct yourself with a particular sense of poise and composure. Threatening the other students, the use of foul language towards said students, arguing in the Great Hall with Mr. Malfoy then engaging in physical combat—it is embarrassing not only to Gryffindor house, but to Hogwarts itself. If you cannot handle the stresses of Head Boy and you Captaincy…these privileges can easily be revoked, Potter. Do you need these pressures to be lifted to ensure the safety of the other students?” She threatened.
Harry quickly shook his head. “It won't happen again, professor. I can handle it. I'm really sorry.” He apologized a second time, lowering his eyes to the floor.
“Ten points from Gryffindor, and detention on Saturday morning. My office. And because you have chosen such a bad week to get detention, I expect you there at 6:00 a.m. so it can get taken care of before break begins.”
Harry nodded, feeling resigned. “Of course, professor.”
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Hermione tried to make herself feel angry. She wanted to be livid at Harry's behavior. On the surface, she was. However, deep down, she knew her heart wasn't in it. She felt…drained. Hermione had been angry with him for so long, she felt tired of the feeling. If she was honest with herself, seeing him act so jealous…it was slightly adorable. She looked around the Library, almost bored with the irritated emotions bubbling inside of her. Closing her book (Most Advanced Charms for the Most Advanced Charmer), and simply crossed her arms over the cover and allowed for her head to drop onto of them, her eyes closed peacefully.
She would be going home for the Easter holidays, which was a relief. She really needed a break. The promise of an immense load of homework by the professors had been carried through to the tee, however, as they had assigned it all at the beginning of this last week before break, Hermione had finished it all—it wasn't like she had anything else to do. With no homework, no Harry, and nothing else to keep her mind buzzing, Hermione just tried to enjoy of prospect of nothingness. However, even the prospect of going home could not cover up the pain she was feeling ever more by the growing void in her life. She sighed, missing him.
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So let it be what it'll be
Don't make a fuss and get crazy over you and me
Here's what I'll do
I'll play it loose
Run like we have a day with destiny
It's just a little crush (crush)
Not like I faint every time we touch
It's just some little thing (crush)
Not like everything I do depends on you
“Crush” JENNIFER PAIGE
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“I'll mention to her that I could use some help Saturday morning and maybe she will let you have detention with me.” Sirius told his Godson, frowning slightly.
Harry shook his head. Sirius had bailed him out of more detentions that he could count. And after his behavior toward Hermione earlier that morning, he knew he deserved to be up on a Saturday at that Godforsaken hour. “No, it's fine. I just…I dunno. I feel so…worn, you know? I've been trying to just get on with it, enjoy the last of my time here at Hogwarts, but she is ruining it, without even doing anything!” Harry said accusingly.
Sirius smiled. “Well perhaps going home on break will be a nice little vacation.” He said knowingly.
Harry sighed. “I'm not going home. With the way things were left when they were here, I think that would just add stress and honestly, I don't feel like getting into a row every other day.”
“You need a break. Go to my house then. Some solitude will do you good, I think.” Sirius offered, sitting up from his chair.
The idea did have merit. Harry gave a noncommittal shrug accompanied with, “Maybe.” He looked at his watch and groaned. “Thanks. I've got to get going. The guys want to practice every day this week for Dumbledore's stupid party. Honestly, I don't think I've ever been less excited to play in my life.” He said bitterly, the previous vigor of getting the opportunity to play had worn off quickly as his mood slunk deeper and deeper into depression with his row with Hermione. “It's okay though,” He said optimistically, “I've got a rigorous plan ahead for the next week: Classes, band practice. Quidditch, then Quidditch strategy.” He said solemnly. “That shouldn't leave much room for thinking about Hermione.”
Sirius gave a half-hearted grimace. “It sounds like it doesn't leave a lot of room for anything else, really.”
Harry ignored him. “Time will fly by.” He said, more to himself. Classes, band practice, Quidditch, Quidditch strategy. He repeated in his head forcefully.
Classes, band practice, Quidditch, Quidditch strategy.
And that was what he did. The further Hermione got to him, the more he focused in the class, the louder he practiced, the harder he pushed himself and his team on the field, and the more strategic his plays became. His goal was Saturday afternoon. By Saturday afternoon, he would be on the beach. Dumbledore's little party would be over, most of his homework would be done, his detention would be finished, and he would no longer be at Hogwarts. Saturday afternoon.
Rushing through the week had been too good to be true. There had to be some sort of payment for being so lucky. Friday was that payment. Every minute of every hour crawled by. His focus had been stretched so much that he didn't have enough to make it through the day. His eyes burned but his skin chilled. His body ached but his mind was numb. His stomach felt as if he had eaten too much when he hadn't eaten anything, but his mouth begged for something to drink. Polar opposites rocked his body, making him severely uncomfortable. He couldn't sedate one need without provoking another. It was quite possibly the longest day of his life.
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Hermione never felt more ready to go on a break. She missed her family dearly, and was ready to go home. Her parents had said they had a surprise for her, a big one. She smiled as she dug into her cereal, not paying much attention to the morning post. Ginny idly chatted beside her, including Hermione every few minutes. Harry was sitting at the other end of the table, brooding over something. Hermione tried to ignore the urge to comfort him, and instead slowly pushed her Cheerios around in her bowl, not feeling as hungry as she had been a few minutes ago.
Miguel dropped down in front of her, a large, bulging envelope attached to his leg. He lifted his leg to her, allowing her to quickly untie it before he helped himself to her toast. Hermione recognized her mother's handwriting across the front, and ripped open the light envelope. Something soft spilled out onto the table, a piece of fabric of some kind. Slightly confused, Hermione picked it up to examine the gift. After a few seconds, realization dawned on her: it was a beret.
0000000
“So you're going to France?!” Ginny gushed excitedly. “Do you even speak French?” She asked quizzically.
Hermione shook her head. “No, but my mother does. She studied there before she went to medical school. And my parents went there on their honeymoon. She always said she wanted to take me. I mean…it fits, right?” Hermione asked anxiously.
Ginny nodded optimistically. “Make sure you take lots of pictures! Oh I'm so jealous!” She screeched, hugging Hermione.
Hermione laughed at her excitement. One would think it was Ginny going to France and not herself.
“Anyway, so classes are ending early, so we should have plenty of time to get ready for tonight.” Ginny carried on, as if continuing from an earlier conversation that Hermione certainly did not remember.
“Get ready for what?” She asked, already knowing that she did not want to know the answer.
“Tonight.” The red-head said exasperatedly. “Please try and keep up, Hermione.” She chided.
Once again, Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend. “Ginny, there is hardly anything to even get ready for.” She reminded her yet again. “It's just dinner.”
“It is a party.” Ginny corrected her.
Hermione ignored her and walked towards her next class.
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Harry fiddled idly with his guitar in a chamber just off the Great Hall. He could hear the other students laughing and chatting loudly in the next room. He tried to muster up some excitement, but found there was nowhere in his body keep a secret supply he could use for the next two hours or so. He ran through the set list for the tenth time, not because he didn't know it by heart already, but just for something to do. He allowed for his eyes to wander around the room, looking for something that needed done, but there was nothing. Nothing. He had never been so prepared for a show before. Nothing was left unchecked. Once again, not because he wanted it to be perfect, but he just needed something to take his mind off everything else.
“I've got a little present blokes. Gather round, gather round.” Draco said, coming into the room with two vials, a large one filled with an electric blue substance while a much smaller one filled with something that was a bright sunshiny yellow color. He conjured four large shot glasses from thin air and poured a generous measure of the attractive blue potion in each one before filling them to the brim with a shot of the happy-looking yellow liquid. “Just a little something to get the ball rolling, so to say. Get the blood pumping.” He explained as they all watched the potions hiss together to make a lime green color. Each of the boys took one. Draco held his up in a toast. “To seven of the best years of our lives. We've all had good times together, some better than others,” he said with a laugh, a meaningful look in Harry's direction, “But in all honesty…there isn't a single moment I would trade for anything. I love you guys. No better blokes in the world could be found.” He finally said, looking at each of them in the eyes.
“We love you too.” Harry said, coming out as a slight croak.
The four boys drained their shots in unison, the adrenaline almost instantaneous.
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Hermione didn't want to go. She would much rather go to the Kitchens and see if Dobby liked her enough to help her find something for dinner, or at least let her nose around and make something herself. However, Ginny wouldn't have any of it. She all but pushed Hermione from the Common Room, already frustrated that Hermione was being too difficult to let Ginny do much with her appearance. Hermione had outright refused to wear the dress Ginny begged for her to wear, she wouldn't let Ginny trying to straighten her hair, and only after the redhead's much insisting did Hermione grudgingly agree to put a little makeup on (as long as she did it herself). She felt good when she looked in the mirror in a simple pair of jeans and long sleeve orange shirt, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She didn't look like she was going to a party at all. Hell, she could be running up the street to the store.
Her game plan was simple, and as soon as she stepped into the Great Hall, Hermione was elated by how easy it would be to put into action. Ginny would not hang on her arm all night, Hermione knew this. She was too much of a social butterfly for that. Once Ginny would leave her side, Hermione would make a beeline for the door. Ginny would try to find her, but it was so crowded that she would give up. Round tables took up half the Great Hall, while a small stage had been erected on one wall. There was a large space for people to gather in front of the stage, perhaps even dance if the music was right.
Hermione only had to endure Ginny for fifteen minutes, before she said something about finding a friend from Hufflepuff, and Hermione found her escape. “Okay, I'm going to go see if I can find Luna. If you see her, tell her I'm looking for her.” Hermione shouted over the noise of everyone talking loudly, and finally, was away from Ginny and Neville. She watched as Harry and his mates began to climb onto the stage, all looking in high spirits. She quickly turned and pushed herself towards the doors.
The castle was mostly deserted, and she only came across a few stranglers who were running late. It seemed like Hermione was the only one not in the mood to party. She wandered through the corridors idly, not wanting to return to Gryffindor Tower. Every once in awhile she caught the sound of a familiar singing voice, but she mostly just ignored it.
She wished desperately that she could throw away her pride and make this right. However, she was never one to do that sort of thing. She was never often the one to make things right, mostly because things didn't seem to matter enough to her to be the one to make the first move. With Harry, she tried to convince herself that wasn't the case. She cared just as much as he did, she knew this. So why was she always running from him? Why was she hiding here in a lonely corridor instead of celebrating with her friends? She didn't have answers to her depressing questions, and for once, she didn't really care to have them. It didn't matter. It didn't change anything. It wouldn't change how anyone felt, and it certainly wouldn't change the damned situation she managed to put herself in.
Harry had called her out on always running away all the time, and what upset her the most now, is that she knew he had been right on the money.
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How to lie to yourself and thereby to everyone else
How to keep smiling when you're thinking of killing yourself
How to know them all too well to avoid going within
How to stay stuck in your life blaming them for everything
I'll teach you all this in 8 easy steps
In the course of a lifetime, you'll never forget
I'll show you how to in 8 easy steps
I'll show you how leadership looks when taught by the best
“8 Easy Steps” ALANIS MORISSETTE
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Harry strummed the last chord of his song and let the screeching of the final note ring in through the Great Hall. After a moment of silence, the crowd burst into applause. Harry grinned widely and looked over the faces of the guys beside him, each shining with excitement. The effects of Draco's potions had been a success. He felt on top of the world, and never had he played so well. It had been just the right pick-me-up—adrenaline mixed with a shot of euphoria.
After the cheering died down some, Harry cleared his throat. “Now this next one is a special number, dedicated to a very special little lady out there. She may not realize just how much she means to a certain bloke, but perhaps this will make that a little clearer.” He said with a wink. He stepped back a few steps, letting Ron take center stage. As much as Ron had fought this, Harry knew he would enjoy it. With having Fred and George as brothers, Ron never had a chance to be shy around a crowd. Not to mention under the jubilation influence of the mixed potions, Harry was sure Ron would relish the attention
Grinning and only slightly pink around his ears, Ron grabbed the mic prop (as it wasn't really necessary). Clearing his throat, waited for the music to start. “I've been meaning to tell you, I've got this feelin' that won't subside….I look at you and I….fantasize….You're mine tonight….Now I've got you in my sights, with these….Hungry eyes—one look at you and I can't disguise! I've got…hungry eyes—I feel the magic between you and I!” Ron sang, his voice growing louder as his confidence soared even further.
Harry had to force himself to stop snickering after he missed a note. He looked out at the crowd, searching for Luna. Once he found her, he found her face absolutely glowing—not at all like her common mildly surprised expression. He allowed his eyes to scan for Hermione yet another time that evening, but once again, found he could not make out her bushy brown heedful of hair anywhere in the crowd. He tried not to let her absence affect him. Even if they were fighting, this didn't seem like something she would miss, not for him. With an inward sigh, Harry felt the effects of Draco's concoction wear off as if its influence was simply leaking from his shoe. He knew there was no way the euphoric effects should be going away just yet, and knew it must have just been his system fighting it because really, did he want to be happy without her?
Pushing those thoughts away, Harry tried to focus. This was important to the guys, and he would not blow it. Concentrating on the memorized music, he sang the notes in his head, making sure he didn't miss a one.
“I feel the magic between you and I…I've got hungry eyes, now I've got you in my sights with those hungry eye—now did I take you by surprise……….I need you to see…….This love was meant to be.”
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Hermione never paid much attention to where her feet carried her as she moseyed around the castle, trying to her head clear of all thoughts. With surprise, she found herself standing in front of the open doors leading to the Great Hall. How had she missed the loud music? Without giving her mind the chance to object, she pushed herself forward, into the large room. People were milling around, some standing in front of the stage, worshiping the band; others were dancing here and there. There was a large buffet-style table against one wall, still littered with food. Hermione moved other to the table and surveyed the remaining grub. She picked up a few finger sandwiches and grabbed a butterbeer. Only when she looked up at the stage did she start laughing. Ron was dancing with the mic stand, looking half-drunk, singing at the top of his lungs. He pointed out in the crowd at a small blonde standing in the center of the crowd who Hermione recognized as Luna Lovegood. Hermione's laughs died down to a genuine smile. She quickly ate the small sandwiches before pushing herself toward the Ravenclaw, suddenly eager for her zany company.
“Luna!” She squealed, greeting the girl with a half-hug, which Luna earnestly returned.
“There you are! Ginny said you were looking for me, but I told her I think you might have stepped
out. You missed almost the whole show!” Luna reprimanded. “Where have you been?” She asked.
Hermione laughed at the girl's natural intuitive tendencies, feeling suddenly light. “It doesn't matter. Just needed some fresh air.”
The girl's blue eyes pierced Hermione for a second before Luna turned her attention back to Ron's performance.
Hermione sipped her butterbeer and let her eyes linger on Harry, who looked like he was concentrating with a little bit of difficulty. However, as if he could feel her eyes one his, his head suddenly snapped up and looked directly at her. Hermione only held his eyes for a second before scanning the rest of the stage. She felt her cheeks warm at him catching her staring. She fought the urge to rush towards him. Her reasons for refusing him seemed distant and trivial now as desperation for his company consumed her.
Ron's song drew to a close quickly, and Harry took over again. He cleared his throat, and went straight into his next song, his eyes looking above Hermione's head. For the next few songs, Hermione tried to catch his eye, but he neglected to look her way. Hermione waved to Draco, who grinned at her in response. An unfamiliar excitement began to course through her, as she watched Harry. She felt as if something was coming to an end, while something new was beginning. Perhaps, it was close.
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Harry tried to keep his eyes from meetings hers again. He didn't understand. He wanted her here, right? But now her presence made him feel uncomfortable and flustered. He had one last song. Now that it was time to play it, he wasn't sure if he could. Draco said he had one song, one song to play for her. He had racked his brain, played through every song he could think of, trying to find one that fit. He tried to write one, but no words came to him. Nothing. It had been very frustrating. Then he heard it. And it was perfect. How could he have missed that one?
He coughed. “This will be our last one. You guys have all be brilliant. I'd like to thank Professor Dumbledore for giving us this opportunity—it's been amazing. Thank you. Um, we didn't write this last one, but…it's pretty good. Enjoy. Thanks again.” Harry started playing, everyone else following suit. Nerves made his fingers start to tremble and he missed a few notes. He stopped. Feeling his face flush slightly, he mumbled a quick apology before starting again, a different song at his finger tips. None of the other band members had joined in, confused by his sudden change. They'd catch up. They all knew this one. Finally, he let his eyes center one Hermione.
“It's never enough to say I'm sorry….it's never enough to say I care….But I'm caught between what you wanted from me, and knowing that if I give that to ya, I might just disappear. Nobody wins when everyone's losing….Oh it's like,” Harry sang softly, vaguely aware everyone else had finally joined in. “One step forward and two steps back, no matter what I do you're always mad, and I can't change your mind….It's like trying to turn around on a one way street, I can't give you what you want and it's killing me and I…I'm starting to see, maybe we're not meant to be.” His voice grew stronger, his eyes never leaving Hermione's. Her brown eyes were wide and he could see the hurt there. “It's never enough to say I love…no, it's never enough to say I try. It's hard to believe that there's no way out for you and me, and it seems to be the story of our life.” Harry suddenly stopped as he watched Hermione turn and make a beeline for the door. He was making her feel terrible, he knew. The others behind him slowed down to a stop as well more confused than ever. The audience looked around at each other, oblivious to what was really going on.
Harry forced a small smile outwardly, while internally trying to figure out what would help the situation. “Sorry, I seemed to have forgotten that one. Um, how about another?” He asked, and before anyone could say anything, he started up again, his fingers strong this time. “You used to talk to me like I was the only one around. You used to lean on me like the only other choice was falling down. You used to walk with me like we had nowhere we needed to go, nice and slow, to no place in particular—we used to have this figured out; we used to breathe without a doubt—when nights were clear, you were the first star that I'd see. We used to have this under control, we never thought—we used to know: at least there's you, and at least there's me. Can we get this back? Can we get this back to how it used to be?” Harry's voice was loud and strong, his eyes following Hermione through the crowd. She had slowed her pace, though her back was to him still. By the time he sang through the next verse and chorus again, she was at the door, her arms crossed, gazing out at the Entrance Hall, refusing to turn around.
Harry put all of his heart in his voice, trying to make her understand. “I look around me and I want you to be there `cause I miss the things that we shared. Look around you. It's empty and you're sad, `cause you miss the love that we had…” His voice softened. “You used to talk to me like I was the only one around—the only one around!” He picked up the tempo again, his eyes never leaving the back of her head, pleading for her to turn back around.
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Hermione waited for his song to end. All of her excitement was gone. She felt like an empty shell as she was faced with what she had put him through, and in turn, what he was now putting her through. Why had he done this to her? Didn't he already know how horrible she felt? Didn't he know she wanted nothing more than to run up there and throw her arms around his neck and cry—cry for him, cry for herself, cry for her own stupidity? She felt tears slowly slide down her cheeks, grateful no one was paying any attention to her. Once the final note was played, without looking back, she quickly left the Great Hall, sprinting toward Gryffindor Tower—regretting every step she took because it was away from him. She did what she did best: run away.
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I'm only pretty sure
That I can't take anymore
Before you take a swing
I wonder
What are we fighting for
When I say out loud
I want to get out of this
I wonder
Is there anything I'm going to miss
I wonder How it's going to be
When you don't know me
How's it going to be
When you're sure I'm not there
How's it going to be
When there is no one to talk to,
Between you and me
'Cause I don't care
How's it going to be
How's it going to be
Where we used to laugh
There's a shouting match
Sharp as a thumbnail scratch
A silence I can't ignore
Like the hammocks by the doorway
We spent time in, it swings empty,
Don't see lightning like last fall when it was always
About to hit me
“How's It Gonna Be” THIRD EYE BLIND
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Harry sat at an empty table, pushing food around on his plate. He was angry at Hermione for leaving. He was angry at himself for making her leave. He wanted to follow, to tell her he wasn't trying to hurt her, but dammit, didn't she know how much she hurt him? After a few more minutes of sitting there, Harry finally trudged up to Gryffindor Tower and let himself fall straight on his bed, barely bothering to pull his clothes off. He felt more depressed than ever. When was he going to stop fucking this all up?
00
As soon as Harry's feet touched the ground, he could smell the beach. Cold, salty air filled his nostrils. He took a second to gain his bearings, taking in his surroundings. He had Apparated to a small cliff close to Sirius's house. He strode forward until he met the cliff side, and looked out upon the waves that crashed mutinously on the rocks. After a few minutes of watching the tides, Harry turned and descended from the cliff and headed for Sirius's house. The boardwalk was almost deserted, with a scarce amount of people walking their dogs or jogging in the crisp morning air. The gray clouds swirled above him, promising one hell of a storm to come. Harry grinned, feeling lighter than he had in days and trudged on until he found the handsome house that belonged to his Godfather. Sirius had a house called Grimmauld's Place that had been left to him, as the last heir in the Black family, which was large and ornate. He never felt comfortable there (as he had hated living there in his youth) and therefore found a second home on the coast. It wasn't particularly large and was much less elaborate than Grimmauld's Place, but Harry, who had been to both places, could definitely see Sirius's liking for the place.
Using his wand, Harry passed through the many protective enchantments Sirius placed on his house, especially with his long absences during the school year, and finally, made his way inside. He walked into the little foyer, shrugged off his jacket and hung it up on the coat rack. He was engulfed in the familiar smell of Sirius's house, feeling slightly sad that it had been so long since his last visit. He strolled easily through the house, reacquainting himself with his new surroundings. Once he through his bag in his bedroom, Harry made his way to the kitchen. He opened the cupboards and wasn't surprised to find them completely stocked. Sirius had a cleaning lady who took care of his place while he was away at the school, and he no doubt asked her to stock the place for his Godson. Sirius had relied on his house-elf Kreacher at one time, but the vile creature held so much disdain for him, Sirius had given up.
After grabbing a sandwich and some milk, Harry settled himself in front of the television and turned on Sirius's Xbox, ready for a few hours of gaming.
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Hermione had been right. They never even made it home. As soon as they had picked her up from King's Cross Station, her parents had whisked her away to the airport, ready for their departure to France. Hermione didn't mind. Keeping up with a busy schedule was exactly what she needed right now. She hadn't seen Harry since the night before in the Great Hall. He hadn't been on the train. She had come across Ron and Draco, but they said he was getting home a different way. Hermione had been glad she wouldn't run in to him now; however, if she had been honest with herself, she knew this particular set of news only depressed her further. She would have to go a whole week without seeing his face. She wished now that she had stayed, talked to him. Things she should and could have done differently haunted her thoughts, twisting painfully in her stomach. Hermione sighed as she stared out of the small oval window of the plane, willing these thoughts to leave her alone, but knowing she had a better shot at trying to will her left arm off.
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I think you know what I'm getting at
I find it so upsetting that
The memories that you select
You keep the bad but the good you just forget
and even though I'm angry I can still say
I know my heart will break the day
when you peel out and drive away
I can't believe this happened
And all this time I never thought
that all we had would be all for naught
No, I don't hate you
don't want to fight you
You know I'll always love you
but right now I just don't like you
Which To Bury, Us Or The Hatchet?” RELIENT K
What did you think?! Review because let me tell ya…the next chapter is a doozie! Haha.
His suddenly asked, his voice was suspicious again. “Are you in love with Hermione?”
“Hey Hermione, it's me. I…I just wanted to say that I miss you…”
“I think he's trying to drown himself in the shower.”
“So is the Hufflepuff team paying you off to kidnap the Gryffindor captain?”
“Hermione Granger giving up an opportunity to learn?!”
Almost an hour in, and they were only winning by ninety—and they needed to triple that before Harry could catch the Snitch.
Hermione was going to break the rules.
Woot Woot! Good stuff!
Anyway. Song list:
Song Ron sang: Hungry Eyes—Eric Carmen
Song Harry started to sing: Not Meant To Be—Theory Of A Dead Man
Song Harry actually finished—Used To—Chris Daughtry
Anyway…I hope you enjoyed it. I'll be replying to reviews from the last chapter here in the next few days (to those who bother reading my response) and…yep, that's all folks!
*~Archie~*
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