Chapter Thirteen
MALFOY RETURNS
Harry stumbled down to the Great Hall the next morning looking a bit bleary eyed. Not only was he tired, but he was also a bit grouchy, and Ron's cheery smile and whistle wasn't doing much to help his attitude. Harry couldn't help but glare at him as they took their seats at the Gryffindor table.
"You look like you could have used a bit more rest, Harry," teased Ron, clapping his back. Harry just continued to glare at him, shaking his head.
"You shouldn't be talking," grumbled Harry, resisting the urge to rest his head against the table and go back to sleep. "You were out of the room a lot later than I was!"
"True, true," muttered Ron, still smiling. "The only difference is that I had a date with Anna while you had a date with your books..."
"Shut up, Ron," said Harry, about to remind him about why he was interested in the Dark scar, but Harry caught himself in time. It had been so long that he'd nearly forgotten the connection to Ginny that prevented him from telling Ron about Hermione. "It's not as bad as you and I thought it would be. It's actually pretty interesting one you start. The Sorting Hat obviously picked things that would interest us."
"Oh yeah," said Ron, "I'm interested in the Belwit Curse. I'm more interested in finding out who used it to try to kill me."
Ron had a point, but Harry shrugged anyway. "So write about it. The only real requirements we have are a basic definition, an interpretation, and a number of scrolls."
"I'm sure Lupin would really appreciate that," grumbled Ron. "I refuse to let some assignment spoil my good mood, so don't talk about it."
"Sure," agreed Harry, his eyes searching a group of Gryffindors just entering the Great Hall for Hermione. He didn't see her yet, so he looked back to Ron. "I'm guessing you want me to ask how it went?"
"No," said Ron, still grinning. "I just had a good time. You don't have to give me that look."
"What look?" asked Harry.
"You know," said Ron a bit uncomfortably, "that almost parental look. It's like you're accusing me of doing something wrong."
"I'm not," said Harry. "I don't care what you do as long as you don't deem it necessary to share with me the details I don't want to know."
Ron blushed to the color of his hair. "It's not like that," he insisted, "so stop giving me that smirk, Potter."
"What smirk?" asked Harry innocently, and he couldn't help but snicker. Ron looked away, and Harry smiled to himself. He knew Ron wouldn't do anything with Anna that that they shouldn't be doing, but gibing him about it anyway was fun.
"You're worthless sometimes," muttered Ron.
"Have I done something to anger you, Ron?" joked Hermione weakly. Harry hadn't even noticed her entering the Great Hall, but she dutifully took her seat next to him. She didn't look that much better than she had the day before, and he caught her rubbing her temples gently.
"Nah, Harry's just being a smart arse," said Ron. His tone suggested he was disgusted, but Harry knew he was only joking. Hermione did, too, but she still shot him a disdainful look for his use of a swear word. Ron shook his head when he noticed her glaring at him.
"What do you have against cursing anyway?" he complained. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm not half as bad as just about any other guy in our year, but if I slip just one time in front of you, you glare at me like I've-"
"Like you've just cursed, which you had," interrupted Hermione. "When I was little, my father's mum lived with us, and we went to church every Sunday without fail. We stopped going as soon as she moved out, but there are just some principals that always stay with you... but what was Harry doing, anyway?"
Harry shrugged, winking at Hermione. "I just said a bit about his and Anna's date last night, and he started squirming. A bit odd, if you ask me-"
The food couldn't have arrived at a worst moment for Harry. Before he knew what was happening, Ron was laughing again as he pelted him with bread balls. Hermione rolled her eyes, shaking her head. She had already taken a roll and some eggs, but she was pushing both around her plate like she had no real intention of eating them.
"Stop it, Ron!" said Harry, laughing as a grape bounced off Ron's forehead. Ron stopped throwing the bread pieces, grinning sheepishly as a couple of the older prefects shot them amused glances.
"And Dumbledore expected the two of you to withhold the school rules?" asked Hermione with a raised eyebrow. "Let me ask you just one question. Have either of you ever done a thing as a prefect?"
Ron scratched his head, looking thoughtful, but Harry blushed. "We patrolled once," he insisted, "but we haven't been asked to do it again."
"Probably because we decided to help Fred and George sneak down to the kitchen instead of turning them in?" suggested Ron. "Oh! We use the common room and the bathroom!"
"You two are a lot of help," said Hermione, shaking her head as she finally took a bite of her eggs.
Harry shrugged. "At least we do what we're told..."
"...But only when we're told," added Ron, which elicited another disapproving headshake from Hermione. She dropped her fork at the side of her plate.
"Aren't you hungry?" pressed Harry, quickly changing the subject. Hermione had always been a light eater, but she'd barely had a meal over the last few days.
"Not really," said Hermione. "I just don't have much of an appetite this morning."
"Not this morning?" said Ron, and he couldn't help but rush on, "And last night at dinner and yesterday at lunch and at breakfast..."
"I haven't stopped eating," Hermione cut in sharply. "I'm just not hungry. I know the two of you inhale great volumes of food any time it appears in front of you, but I'm just not like that."
"Whatever," muttered Ron, and he grabbed her uneaten roll because he'd already emptied the basket in front of him. He tore off a piece and chewed solemnly, and Harry noticed he was glaring at Hermione a bit. He crossed his fingers under the table, hoping this wasn't the start of a fight between them.
Whatever might have started, however, was averted when the owls flew in with the morning mail. For the first time in a long time, all three of them received some post. Hermione's was simply her Daily Prophet subscription, and, after reading over the headlines, she pushed it forward with disinterest. Hedwig delivered a scrap of parchment from Sirius to Harry. It was only a few lines assuring that he was okay and planned to see him soon, but it cheered him, nonetheless. Ron was the last to look up from his letter, and he was grinning.
"You're not going to believe this," he said, "but the Ministry is now my hero. They've decided to transfer Percy all the way to Belgium! Not only are they keeping him out of our hair this summer, but they're paying for all of us to go during Easter, so we can help him settle in!"
"Ron!" said Hermione, but Harry laughed and clapped his friend on the back. Finally, Hermione stopped glaring at him and laughed, too.
"My dreams have all come true," joked Ron. "Serious, this will be awesome. Maybe a few months away will make ol' Perce a bit less annoying."
Harry laughed, pushing his plate away. He was done with breakfast. He couldn't help but glance over at Hermione again, wishing she'd eat just a bit more. "So you're all going?"
"Er," said Ron, flipping over the envelope in his hands. "Yeah, we are. This is addressed to Fred and George and Ginny, too. I better go tell them the good news!"
He was up and out of his seat in seconds. Harry turned to Hermione again.
"Are you feeling better today?" he pressed.
"Oh, I'm fine," said Hermione airily, but her hand had floated back up to her head again. She sighed. "I just can't shake this headache."
Harry rubbed her shoulder soothingly. "Maybe you really should go Madam Pomfrey-"
"One more day," interrupted Hermione. "I want to go up to the library this morning. Madam Pince will probably have my books ready for me, and I don't know if I can afford waiting another minute to get started."
"'Mione," Harry cut in, "it's been a day."
"Oh yes, I know. That's why I really should get started," said Hermione, and he could practically see her resisting the urge to shudder. "I don't think I should waste another minute that I could be researching, taking notes, writing..."
"Think you can wait five minutes?" Harry cut in. "If you're going to the library, I'll go, too. I might as well work on mine. I don't have anything better to do, but I have to go get my books and stuff from Gryffindor."
"I'll meet you there," said Hermione apologetically. She had already pulled her book bag from under the table and slung it on her back. "See you, Harry!"
Harry shook his head as he watched her disappear from the Great Hall. He knew she wasn't being completely truthful in saying the only thing bothering her was a headache, and he was a bit worried. Still, Harry knew it was just like her to keep working on assignments and studying. Just as he was standing up, Ron returned from the twin's portion of the table.
"Where are you going?" asked Ron, with some interest. He was still grinning, most logically over his brother's transfer.
"Up to the Gryffindor tower," said Harry, "but only to get my bag. I promised `Mione I'd meet her in the library."
"The library?" muttered Ron, and he grimaced. "Don't tell me you're working on that essay-again! Come on, Harry, it's not due for ages. Is it really going to hurt to put if off for a few more days?"
Harry shrugged, noticing that Ron was still walking with him, despite his protests. "I'm actually interested in my topic, Ron," said Harry. "I know it's hard for you to believe, but I really am."
Ron scowled a bit. "Right," he muttered. "I guess I'll come up, too. I don't have anything else to do, since Anna has class."
"I'd hate to see what would happen if the fourth years had all the same breaks that we do," said Harry. "You'd never find time to do your essay."
Ron shrugged sheepishly as he gave the Fat Lady the password. "I'm not going to deny it because you're pretty much right."
"Yeah, I know," said Harry, scrambling through the portrait hole, prompting Ron to kick at him.
"I still think you're nuts," said Ron a few minutes later. They were on their way back out the portrait hole, going towards the library.
"Yeah, I might agree with that," said Harry as he reminded himself that he was only working so hard because of Hermione. He stared walking faster, leaving Ron behind him to ponder that.
* * *
An hour later, Harry was the only one still sitting at their table in the library. He and Ron had put their stuff down by Hermione's, but she had yet to return to it. Ron had left a few minutes later, searching the library for books on the Belwit Curse. He kept coming back to grumble that there wasn't anything about the Belwit Curse being used as Dark Magic. Harry would nod sympathetically, and then turn back to his own work. He'd filled nearly half a scroll with information, and he'd also started to turn over a beginning in his mind. He'd even got a clean roll of parchment and was about to start turning those ideas into words when Hermione reappeared, struggling under the weight of a huge stack of books. The table actually shook when she set them down, and he raised his eyebrow.
"It looks like you've got your work cut out for you," said Harry, having a feeling she would actually be thrilled with that prospect. She was.
"Oh yes, I know," breathed Hermione, straightening the towering stack, "but I'm ever so excited to get started. I'm sure Affinity of Relations is just fascinating, though I'm also ever so curious. Madam Pince kept shaking her head because she couldn't believe Lupin was allowing me to research it! It must be something powerful."
"Of course," said Harry, gulping. He was pretty sure that the dark stain on one of the books was blood, but he didn't dare point it out to her. "I think I'm ready to start writing."
"Have you found everything you need already?" said Hermione, and she blinked.
"Not everything," confessed Harry, "but I've found enough to get started. I have a few ideas for the introduction, and I figured I should write them down before I forgot it."
"I see," said Hermione, whipping out her own quill and parchment. She wished him good luck, and a few seconds later, she was immersed in her own work.
Harry turned back to the last book of his pile. He planned to finish the passage and then start writing. He adjusted his glasses and looked down at the old pages.
"The Dark Scar is associated with nearly every type of Dark Magic linked to the Death Eaters. The aforementioned group has modified several spells only to leave mark of their work. Several other groups used similar processes, but the Death Eaters, under You-Know-Who, were the first to bring it any accreditation..."
Harry skimmed the next few paragraphs. Nearly every book started with a similar introduction. He picked up his quill and started reading again when he came to a list of spells, curses, and charms used by the Death Eaters and associated with the Dark Scar. The aged green book was the first to offer descriptions of each of the spells, so he added them to what he'd already written down in his notes. He'd been paying careful attention to such information, resolving to figure out which might have been used against Hermione. Suddenly, something else on the page caught his attention.
"Many see the process of breaking down spells and modifying them to leave the Dark Scar as pointless. However, the Death Eaters had reason to invest their time in the painstaking process. The most obvious, yet least known, effect of the Dark Scar on its bearer is susceptibility to other Dark Magics.
"There are few documented cases of the Dark Scar inflicted further pain or injury past the spells, curses, and charms that create it, and it is therefore not considered to be a permanent affliction of pain. However, the effects of the mark are often just as debilitating.
"Early instances of Dark Scar, those being before You-Know-Whose Rise to power, were often used with mind control charms and the Imperius Curse. The Death Eaters never chose to infuse their mark with such power; instead, they often opted to make it into a tracking system of anyone they chose not to immediately kill. In the last years of the You-Know-Whose reign, it is suggested that the Dark Scar was tainted with the Affinity of Relations."
Harry stopped reading, and he looked up to tell Hermione what he had found. He figured he might need to know the definition of Affinity of Relations and use it in his report. He was surprised to see she wasn't there when he looked up. All her books remained where they were, and she had already started her own list of notes. Listening carefully, he could hear her on the other side of the library, talking to Madam Pince.
Harry leaned over and grabbed the notes she had already taken. Knowing Hermione, the first thing on the parchment would be exactly what he needed. Sure enough, it was. He wrote down her exact definition of Affinity of Relations next to the term in his own notes. He passed the paper back to her area before rereading the definition.
"Affinity of Relations, or Association of Situations," Hermione had written, "refers to the linking of a wizard or witch to another wizard, witch or group and is the result of many different situations and occurrences. It is unique in the fact that the link cannot be established through any direct magical means, though it sometimes precedes them. It is usually created through non-magical circumstance within the magical world."
Harry scratched his head after rereading the definition. He still wasn't clear as to what it was, so he resolved to ask Hermione about it when she'd gathered a bit more information. Still, he couldn't help but recall Lupin had only asked for a simple definition. If that was all it was, Harry couldn't understand why the topic would be in such restricted books.
* * *
"Class dismissed!" called Professor McGonagall as the bell rang that afternoon. Ron was out of his seat and out the door immediately; he'd told Harry and Hermione during their lab he was going to hang out with Anna after class because he already spent all morning working on his "blasted essay." Harry and Hermione weren't nearly as quick in leaving. She was struggling to cram the extra books she was researching her essay from into her bag, and Harry was standing at the table, waiting for her. Finally, he grabbed the three heaviest books from the stack, which she was having the most trouble fitting in, and nodded his head in the direction of the door. She gave him an odd look.
"Can't I do something nice for you?" said Harry as he walked through the door. He and Hermione were the last ones to leave class that day.
"You can," said Hermione, having to pick up her pace as they walked up the stairs. Her legs weren't nearly as long as Harry's. "Thank you, Harry."
"Now," said Harry, glancing to make sure the halls were empty before slipping an arm around her, "I'm going to ask you do something for me. I'm really not asking for much-just that you take a little break from studying sometime this afternoon and that you actually eat something for dinner. I'm starting to worry about you."
"You needn't," insisted Hermione, but her face softened when she saw just how much concern was displayed in his bright green eyes.
"Please?" said Harry, stopping at the landing. His arm was still around her.
Hermione looked at him for a long time before she finally nodded. "Okay, I guess I can do that for you, but why are you so concerned?"
Harry pulled his arm away from her and started to count things off in his fingers. "You're not sleeping, you haven't been feeling well, you're barely eating..."
"I really am fine, Harry," said Hermione. "Like I've told you before, I really can take care of myself."
"Then why aren't you doing it?" said Harry, cringing. He didn't want to sound harsh, but it was true. She looked at him like she'd been slapped and bit her lip.
"I don't know," she whimpered. "I'm sorry, Harry. The last few days haven't been the best for me. I've been having headaches on and off si-since... I've always been able to shake them, but this one I can't seem to get rid of. Then everything happened with-in my room yesterday-I'm not thinking clearly, I guess-"
"You don't have to apologize, `Mione," said Harry quietly, cutting her off. His heart went out to her, and he hugged her. Suddenly, it seemed to dawn on him that they were still standing on the landing in the stairwell. "We should probably move."
"Yes," agreed Hermione, her voice shaky.
"I guess you want to go back to the library?" said Harry.
Much to his surprise, Hermione shook her head. "It's okay," she said softly, "I'd rather just go back to Gryffindor for awhile. I can work there as well as anywhere."
Harry couldn't help but smile, hoping that he'd managed to reach her with at least one of the things he'd said. "Why don't you come watch our Quidditch practice again?" he offered hopefully. "I know you're not the biggest fan of it, but I know I play better knowing someone's watching, cheering me on."
"Okay," said Hermione, regaining her composure. "I'd like that."
"How's your essay coming, anyway?" asked Harry. While Ron had gone on and on about how much his was torturing him during lunch, Hermione had remained quiet about hers. Harry hadn't said much about his, either, because he didn't want to accidentally slip anything about Hermione's own Dark Scar in front of Ron.
"Oh, I'm find a lot of information," said Hermione, "if that's what you mean. It's an interesting concept."
"Concept?" questioned Harry. He hadn't realized it was just a concept.
"It's more of a theory than anything else," said Hermione. "It's complicated, and it encompasses many other ideas."
"Can you explain it?" asked Harry, and he explained his interest.
"Moonlight dewberries," said Hermione to the Fat Lady, and she turned back to Harry as they went through the portrait hole. "Some wizards and witches believe that some circumstances lead to a kind of unbreakable bond between those that experience it."
"Like friendship and love?" guessed Harry, but Hermione shook her head.
"No," she said. "No, nothing like that. It's not nearly that pleasant. Depending on how the bond was established, it has different results, everything from knowing what the other is thinking to influencing the other's thoughts to complete mind control."
"So you'd be able to think someone else's thoughts while they thought yours?" said Harry. His face was scrunched up with confusion, and Hermione shook her head again as they sat down in the regular common room.
"No, the Affinity of Relations only goes one way," continued Hermione. "I don't really know how to explain it yet, which might lead me into a problem with the essay. At least there are so many different forms and aspects of it that I won't have any trouble having enough to write about. For instance, one idea says it's an advanced version of déjà vu, and another says it's responsible for reoccurring thoughts."
"Kind of like how you can't forget what happened in the forest?" said Harry softly, squeezing her hand. To his surprise, Hermione recoiled from his touch.
"No," she said firmly. "It's not that. It's not that at all. Anyway, I'm going to work in my room for a while. I'll see you at dinner tonight."
"Hermione, wait!" called Harry, but it was no use. He slumped in his seat as he heard the door to the girls' dormitory open and close. He couldn't figure out what he'd done to upset Hermione so much. At first, he figured it hadn't been a good idea to mention what happened, but then he decided she might not have considered being raped as part of the Affinity of Relations. Eventually, he shook both ideas out of his head. He was wrong too often to theorize.
* * *
"You don't look too happy," observed Ron. The two of them were walking back to Gryffindor after their Quidditch practices. Harry had been concerned about Hermione throughout the entire practice, but he had somehow managed to still put everything into playing his best. He'd even been able to convince everyone that he was in a good mood.
Except for Ron, that is. His best friend had seen right through him. Harry sighed, kicking a rock in the grass and looking up to the sky. Any other day, the glorious sunset would have cheered him up, but not that evening. There was too much on his mind, but there had barely been a day that year when that wasn't the case.
"When did everything get so complicated?" wandered Harry out loud. "Even with the Triwizard Tournament last year things weren't this confusing."
"Hermione?" guessed Ron, and Harry nodded. Ron looked at him wisely. "I'm not going to say it, Harry. I think you know."
"Yeah," said Harry slowly, but that was all he said. He knew what Ron was getting at, and he didn't want to go there. Too many unsure thoughts already filled his mind on the subject. Instead, he expressed his concerns about Hermione's behavior for the last few days and told Ron what Hermione had said about the Affinity of Relations.
"Sounds like you hit dead on." This time, Ron kicked a stone across the grass. He looked up at Harry. "Why would we be assigned topics like that?"
"Topics like what-" Harry trailed off, and he nodded, understanding what Ron meant. "Everyone got something that would make them uncomfortable."
"Yeah, everyone but you," said Ron, opening one of the doors into the castle.
"That's not true," said Harry quietly, and he looked up.
"Oh!" said Ron. "Your scar... it's a Dark Scar, isn't it?"
"Umm... no," said Harry. He didn't know what to say without giving Hermione and Ginny both away. Instead, he decided to remain mum on that aspect of it. "I don't know. I guess there's just something about it."
"That must be it, then," said Ron. He explained, "I think that we were all given something unsettling on purpose. Maybe the whole point of the assignment is getting us to think."
"I don't think it's that easy," said Harry, "but that must be part of it. Lupin and Dumbledore, they're the one that structure the O.W.L.s. They must have had some kind of good reason to make us start writing essays this year."
"They like to torture us," said Ron automatically, and the subject dropped. Harry's mind lapsed back into his own thoughts, concerns, and worries. It wasn't until they were back in the confines of their own room that either boy spoke again.
"I think you should tell her," said Ron suddenly. He was switching his Quidditch robes for his regular school robes.
"Tell her what?" questioned Harry. "Tell her that I'm worried about her, again? It hasn't worked yet, so I don't think it'll start working now. Come on, Ron, how many people do you know that are more stubborn that Hermione?"
"One," quipped Ron, "you. Besides, that wasn't what I was talking about."
Harry ignored his last statement. "What am I being stubborn about?"
"Don't bother pretending to be confused," warned Ron, "I think you know what I'm talking about... and you really need to talk to her about it, not me."
Harry did know what he was talking about it. "Ron, I don't like Hermione."
"Of course you don't," said Ron, but his voice was muffled as he pulled his shirt over his head. "You love Hermione."
"This conversation is going in circles," said Harry in a monotone. "How many times do we have to go over it? There is nothing-nothing-going on between `Mione and I."
"We'll keep going over it until I talk some sense into your thick skull," said Ron cheerfully. "Talk to her, Harry. But first, come down and get something to eat with me. Quidditch practice always leaves me starving."
Ron was already out the door as he finished his statement, but Harry wasn't so quick to leave. He was still trying to figure out how Ron seemed to know exactly what he was thinking before he did.
* * *
Harry was about five minutes behind Ron in getting to the Great Hall, so when he arrived, food was already on the table. As he approached, Ron and Hermione also seemed to be having an intent conversation, but they stopped as soon as they caught sight of him. He was still wondering what they'd been talking about and didn't notice that Ron and Hermione had switched seats; he was sitting next to Hermione when he usually sat by Ron.
"How was Quidditch practice?" said Hermione as he slipped into the seat next to her. She gave him an apologetic smile. "I was honestly practicing my charms and lost track of time."
"It's okay," said Harry, helping himself to some chicken and mashed potatoes, "and practice was better today than yesterday. The twins weren't so preoccupied with Bludger practice. They decided it would be best to protect us from them instead of sending them at us."
Ron chuckled. "You didn't even get the worst of it, Harry," he said. "They didn't care about hitting you yesterday. They were more interested in torturing me."
He was right, and Harry sniggered. Hermione looked a bit confused. "How come they were aiming at you, Ron?"
"Ron's been getting on their nerves lately," explained Harry, "because he keeps complaining about their radio. They seem to like to rock, but Ron prefers country." He shook his head. "Bloody colonials."
Ron turned bright red, and Hermione burst out laughing. Harry was glad that Hermione had grown up with Muggles; it was easier when he didn't have to explain such things to her. She was still giggling a few seconds later, but she was also eating. Harry gave her an approving look when she grabbed a second dinner roll and started tearing off little chunks and popping them in her mouth.
"That's nothing to be shamed of, Ron," assured Hermione, but she couldn't help but add, "even though the last time I heard country music being played mum made me go upstairs to check on Crookshanks. Dad was singing along, but it resembled a wailing cat even before."
"You're nice," said Ron, stabbing his chicken with his fork. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "Isn't this weekend a Hogsmead weekend?"
"Yes," said Hermione. "I'm most looking forward to it."
"What? You're actually going to take a break from studying?" said Ron, and Harry glared at him. He would have elbowed him if he wasn't sitting on the other side of the table.
"I," she said, "can actually afford to take a break from studying because I've been doing it quite diligently for so long now. On the other hand, certain parties at this table," Hermione snapped, glancing pointedly at Ron, "don't have that reassurance."
Harry sniggered, and Ron blushed. "That's not true," he mumbled, but it was no use. He cleared his throat.
"Saying something, Ron?"
He turned around to see Pansy Parkinson behind him. Because they were on the opposite side of the table, Harry and Hermione could already see her. She was wearing a smirk on her face that Malfoy would have been proud of.
"Don't you have somewhere to be, Pansy?" said Ron.
"Yes, like at your own table?" added Harry.
"No," said Pansy, holding her hand out to inspect her freshly painted fingernails. "Is it really that hard to believe that I might intend to be here?"
"Yes," said Ron, unable to stop himself. "It's hard to believe you intending to do anything, you see, since that would require a brain..."
"Humph," said Pansy. "I should be offended, but I don't have time for that."
"What do you want?" said Hermione. "Just get to the point."
"Funny you should be the one to ask," said Pansy. Harry looked down the table, and he was vaguely aware that half the Gryffindors were now staring in their direction. "I overheard something dreadfully interesting today, and I just had to come over here and check its validity."
"Oh goody, we get to hear some Slytherin gossip!" said Ron sarcastically, his voice a high falsetto. He clapped. "Just what I've been waiting for!"
Pansy raised her eyebrows, obviously not amused. She seemed to be looking down her nose at them. She raised her voice, a wicked gleam in her eye. "I forgot my book in Transfigurations this morning, and I happened to go back for it after class this afternoon. You wouldn't believe who I saw on the stairwell!"
Hermione paled, as did Harry. Pansy smiled smugly, and she continued. The Great Hall had grown strangely silent, and it seemed that half the school was listening intently. "Even more important than who I saw-it was Potter and Granger, if you wanted to know-was what they were saying! Hermione, I just never expected that of you!"
"What are you talking about?" said Harry angrily. Hermione was staring at Pansy with horror.
"Oh Harry, don't be ashamed!" She moved her hand to her throat and laughed. "Though if I'd decided to have my fun, it wouldn't be with a Mudblood-an unattractive Mudblood at that. Really, going at in her dorm room? That takes some guts."
With an airy laugh, Pansy flounced back to the Slytherin table. Harry looked stunned, Hermione look stricken, and Ron looked angry. The rest of the Great Hall just looked shocked, but it didn't keep the whispers from starting. Before he knew what was happening, Hermione had dashed out of the Great Hall, and several Gryffindors had stood up, hurling insults right back at the Slytherin table. The noise was growing, but Harry was yet to make a sound.
"Are you okay?" said Ron suddenly; his eyes were still glued in the direction Hermione had fled.
"Yeah, I'm fine," said Harry. "We didn't-"
"I know you didn't," said Ron. "I was there, too, remember?"
Harry shook his head. "I have to go find Hermione."
"Me too," Ron said, and he stood up before Harry could protest. He had been about to warn Harry it probably wouldn't look good for them if he went chasing off after Hermione but solved the problem by decided to go with Harry.
Pansy and her group of friends had stopped a group of Gryffindor girls on their way out, and it was easy to tell a catfight was brewing. Ron and Harry managed to slip through the commotion undetected. Harry glanced at the staff table. Dumbledore was rising to his feet, about to do something. He seemed to be collecting his thoughts.
Harry and Ron were able to slip through, but someone else wasn't so lucky. The Ravenclaws had been in perfect earshot of Pansy's comments, and Anna had been on her feet immediately when she saw Harry and Ron rise. She was one of those intercepted by Pansy and her catty friends.
"I'd watch that one," advised Pansy as she saw Anna elbowing her way through the crowd that had assembled. She gave Anna a cold stare after she looked her over, head to toe. Pansy waved her hand airily, examining her fingernail polish again. Finally, she scoffed. "Merlin only knows how she amuses herself with Potter, but I wouldn't put it past her to have her fun with that Ron of yours, too, the way the three of them run about."
And with that, Pansy flounced off, a group of Slytherin girls trailing behind her.
* * *
Harry and Ron had expected to hear some kind of booming announcement coming from the direction of the Great Hall at any moment, but it never came. Instead, the doors burst open, and Pansy and her friend strode out, laughing and giggling their way to the Slytherin area. Harry had to yank Ron's arm to keep him from following.
"Stop it, Ron," said Harry. "We can't do anything to them. Snape would kill us, and I don't make it practice to hit girls."
"Oh, all right," grumbled Ron, still eyeing Pansy angrily. "Where do you think she went?"
"I don't know," said Harry. "There are not too many places she could have gone, either the prefect common room or her own dorm room."
"Okay," agreed Ron. Their quick pace allowed them to reach Gryffindor tower in no time. He barely glanced at the Fat Lady as Harry said the password, and they scrambled through the portrait hole. They went to Hermione's room first, figuring that they would only have a few minutes before everyone came up from the Great Hall that they wouldn't get caught. She wasn't there, and she didn't turn up in the prefect common room, either.
"Where else could she be?" muttered Harry, surveying the room. He was starting to worry.
"I don't know," said Ron, biting his lip. "Our room?"
"Maybe," said Harry, "but I don't think so, though. She probably didn't want us to find her, otherwise she would have come up here-"
"Prefect bathroom," said Ron suddenly, interrupting Harry. He shot him an unsure glance.
"It's worth a shot," said Harry. They took the back staircase out of the Gryffindor tower and had to go through one of the more confusing passages to get back to the main corridor. Ron gave Boris the Bewildered the password, and Harry checked the hand of the door that led into the actual bathroom. It was locked. He called, "Herms? It's Ron and Harry."
Ron shot Harry and uncertain glance, but they were both relieved when the door swung open. Hermione was standing there, tears already drying on her face. She had her arms around Harry before Ron even had the door shut and locked.
"I didn't think you guys would come after me," she admitted a few minutes later, once her sobs had calmed enough to allow her to talk.
"Why wouldn't we?" Harry wanted to know.
"Yeah, `Mione," added Ron, "what do we have to hide?"
"The whole school thinks I'm some kind of a... a..."
"Scarlet woman?" suggested Ron, his ears turning a bit pink. It was enough to elicit a small smile from Hermione.
"That's me, you know," said Hermione glumly. "I'm sure they think I have something going on with the both of you."
"Let them think what they like," said Harry, rubbing her back reassuringly. She was practically sitting on his lap. "If they're dumb enough to believe a word Pansy says..."
"Then they're too dumb for their opinion to matter," finished Hermione, fresh tears forming in her eyes. "I can't just ignore it."
"Well, if it helps," said Ron, "they're going to think the same things about Harry."
He received two identical death glares, and he threw his hands up in surrender. Harry was about to say something else to comfort Hermione, but he stopped when he heard two unmistakable sounds: someone muttering the password to the bathroom and the door creaking open. He looked at his two friends, wide-eyed.
"ALOHOMORA!" shouted someone, and the door swung open. For the second time that week, the three friends found themselves face-to-face with Draco Malfoy. With Hermione nearly on top of him, Harry wasn't able to grab his wand, but Ron was. Malfoy seemed prepared for this.
"Expelliarmus!" he shouted, and Ron's wand flew from his hand, into the swimming pool of a bathtub. Malfoy looked at them all pointedly. "Don't try anything, Potter; that goes for you, too, Granger. I worked too hard to get in here, and I'm not leaving until I tell you what I intended to tell you."
Harry and Hermione were on their feet in seconds. Ron was still gaping alternately at Malfoy and his wand, but Harry was poised and ready for action. He wouldn't think twice of hexing Malfoy unconcious if he took even one step closer.
"I hope I wasn't interrupting anything," Malfoy smirked, and he took a step to the side, blocking Ron's wand from his view. It was only one step, but Harry immediately noticed the way Malfoy threw his weight on his right foot, barely touching the other to the floor. It was even worse than the limp Snape had had for several weeks during their first year after he attempted to get past Fluffy, Hagrid's three-headed dog.
"Watch it Malfoy," warned Harry, keeping his wand pointed steadily in his enemy's direction.
"I'll watch what I want," snapped Malfoy. "I don't have to be here, you know."
"Oh, we know," said Ron sarcastically, "but you don't seem to know how much we'd appreciate it if you weren't."
"There's hope for you yet, Weasley," said Malfoy condescendingly. "Maybe you can use some of that quick wit to earn your family a Galleon or two. It's been awhile since you've seen a couple of those, eh?"
"Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry, putting his arm out. Even so, he was having a bit of an internal conflict over the gesture. He knew full well that Hermione had the capability of turning Malfoy into whatever kind of rodent he resembled most, but Harry couldn't help but wonder what kept Malfoy coming back.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "If I shut up," he said coolly, "that would defeat the purpose of my being here."
"So why are you here, then?" Ron wanted to know. "Hurry up, we haven't got all evening."
"Oh, really?" said Malfoy. "Is hanging out in the bathroom your usual routine? That's different, even for the three of you."
"Just get to the point, Malfoy," said Hermione bravely. She had lowered her own wand. "None of us wishes to spend a minute longer with you than we must."
"And the same to you, Granger," muttered Malfoy. Much to Harry's surprised, Malfoy's own wand found a place in the pocket of his tattered robe. It was still the same robe, and his other arm was still locked against his chest. "Would you stop pointing your wand at me, Potter? Maybe you should indulge a bit in your friends' sense."
"If you fought fair," said Ron angrily, "he wouldn't be the only one doing so."
"It's not an issue of fairness," sneered Malfoy. "It's simply one of speed-something you possess none of. Even Granger is faster on the draw than you, Weasley, and a wizard knows a witch is no match for him. Of course, that's just one more thing for you to be ashamed of, eh?"
"If he was ashamed, I'm sure it's nothing like the shame you feel every time I receive higher marks than you," shot Hermione, "and I'm not only a witch, but Muggle-born!"
"Such petty attack," said Malfoy, shifting his tone as if he hadn't been involved in the slightest. There was a pause, and he studied the three friends intently.
Harry and Ron were standing on either side of Hermione, each towering over her by more than a head. Harry's wand was still pointed in Malfoy's direction; likewise, Hermione's still remained in her hand. Her face was a bit puffy, and it was still tear-streaked from Pansy's attack at dinner. Ron was turning red at the ears in anger, causing Harry to glance from Malfoy to him frequently. Harry had a feeling her might have to hold his friend back if Malfoy made another remark. He wouldn't have cared, usually, in the situation, but Harry was keeping in mind that Ron wasn't armed.
Finally, it seemed that Malfoy had taken in all he needed or wanted from their appearance. He shifted, and there was something about his change in stature that made Harry finally lower his wand. He jerked it into his pocket, but he kept his fingers wrapped tightly around it. Malfoy looked at them, the look in his eyes nearly human.
"Are you okay, Granger?" he asked, much to all of their surprise. Hermione almost looked offended.
"Of course," she said firmly. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Oh, I have an idea," muttered Malfoy. He limped closer, and Harry's grip on his wand tightened. One more step, and he'd have Malfoy hexed right out the door. "I know what happened with dinner."
"What are you, everywhere?" demanded Ron, taking his own step forward. Malfoy didn't seem to like this, and he sent a spell at Ron that caused him to stumble over his own feet. Hermione jumped and nearly tripped.
"Er, sorry, Weasley," said Malfoy, looking down Harry's wand again. His wand-a closer look from Harry confirmed it was the two pieces that had been taken from Hermione's room-went back into his robes. He reached forward, repeating, "Are you okay, Granger?"
Hermione screamed when his hand touched her arm, and Harry's anger was enough to send Malfoy flying back several feet. He reached over to put a protective arm around Hermione, but she recoiled, fear growing in her brown eyes. Harry understood immediately.
"Stay away from her," ordered Harry as Malfoy rose to his feet.
"I barely touched her!" exclaimed Malfoy.
"Yeah, well, that's more than enough," said Harry, his voice cold. "You wouldn't know."
Suddenly, a look of understanding crossed Malfoy's face, and he stepped back, almost respectively. "You'd be surprised. I wasn't going to hurt you Her-Granger."
"It isn't the time to get personal, Malfoy," said Ron, glancing at Harry. Hermione had sat down on the marble steps, looking stunned, hugging herself tightly. She looked terrified.
"I'm not going to hurt any one of you! I came to help you, stupid gits!" Malfoy exploded, his pale face reddening with anger. He tried to stomp his foot in anger, but such a gesture wasn't the best idea. His foot made a sickening crunch as it impacted with the marble, and he grimaced with pain. Malfoy managed to grab a chair for balance, and he looked at Ron and Harry and Hermione through wild eyes.
"Is your leg okay?" said Ron after a long pause. Hermione seemed to have snapped out of it, and she looked between her two best friends. Without a single spoken word, the boys nodded, and she walked over to Malfoy; Harry was right behind her.
"Sit," ordered Harry, and Malfoy sat. Underneath his robes, a generous amount of torn cloth strips had been wrapped around his foot, ankle, and leg as makeshift bandages. Hermione was gentle as she unwound them, but Malfoy flinched in pain every few seconds. Harry shot him disdainful looks, wondering why he suddenly didn't have the heart to let his worst enemy suffer.
"What ever happened?" breathed Hermione suddenly, and Harry looked down. Malfoy's leg was black and blue and purple and even brown and red with blood. It was obviously broken, and his foot turned in at a jaunty angle. Even Ron had taken a bit of interest and stepped over to him-but not before retrieving his wand.
"Interesting creatures in the Forbidden Forest, a nasty fall in the ravine, frostbite," said Malfoy, nearly choking as Hermione put the slightest bit of pressure on his leg and foot. She pulled out her wand, muttering as she tapped it a few times. It didn't change in appearance, but Malfoy stopped grimacing.
"I don't know how to heal it," said Hermione, stepping back, "but that should at least reduce the pain for a few hours."
"Thank you," said Malfoy, leaning back in the chair. "Really-thank you."
"So why are you here?" asked Ron, back to business. He was eyeing Malfoy critically again. Malfoy didn't quiver under his stare.
"To help you," said Malfoy after a long pause. Harry and Hermione and Ron had all taken a step backwards by then, and even his words didn't make them eager to get any closer.
"Why would you want to help us?" said Harry finally.
"You hate us, Malfoy," reminded Ron, "Weasel, Potty, and Mudblood, remember? What's with the sudden change of heart?"
"A closer look at the obvious," said Malfoy. He stared up at them with his cold gray eyes, leaving them at their own interpretations. He looked thoughtful. "A lot's happened since I left."
"Yeah, you'd think that would take care of all the problems here," said Ron before Harry and Hermione could stop him. Harry elbowed him, but Malfoy just smirked.
"I know you've missed me, Weasley, but you should really try to contain your enthusiasm," said Malfoy. He was sinking back into the superior tone he always addressed them with.
"Why ever it is that you're here, Malfoy," said Hermione, "can we refrain from the insults and everything? I, for one, am listening."
Ron looked at her quizzically, but Harry nodded. For as persistent as Malfoy had been, Harry couldn't help but wonder if he truly had something to tell them. "So am I."
"Yeah, okay," said Ron, biting his lip, still looking angry. "I am, too."
Something changed in Malfoy's eyes. "Are you okay, Granger?" he repeated for a third time.
"Why do you keep asking?" said Hermione. She stepped back again, treading on Harry's foot in the process. She smiled apologetically, and he just held her arm lightly.
"Because the last time I saw you, you weren't," said Malfoy.
"You just saw me yesterday," said Hermione, perplexed.
"Before that..." said Malfoy, but he trailed off, and he shook his head. "Never mind. I don't know what I was going to say. I shouldn't be here."
He started to get up, a process made difficult by his very-injured leg. Harry reached out, grabbed his shoulder, and pressed him back into his seat. He summoned a few more chairs from inside the dressing rooms, and he sat.
"You said you wanted to talk," said Harry, "so talk. Just start at the beginning. Why are you here?"
Malfoy sighed as Hermione and Ron also took a seat. "I came back to Hogwarts because I didn't have anywhere else to go."
"Likely story," muttered Ron. "Don't tell me Malfoy Manner didn't have room for its youngest prick."
"Oh, there was room," said Malfoy darkly, "but there wasn't want. My father was disgusted with me. He accused me of going against Lord Voldemort and said I was an essential part of his plans."
"So your father is a Death Eater!" exclaimed Ron. He shrugged. "Not that there was much doubt. Or any. Or... I'll stop now."
"If that's the case," said Harry hesitantly, glancing at Hermione, "wouldn't he be proud of you, injuring a Muggle-born?"
"My father is not a mere Death Eater," said Malfoy without the slightest bit of indignation. Instead, he spat the statement as if it left a foul taste in his mouth. "Father was-is, without a doubt-Lord Voldemort's most faithful follower."
"Like father, like son," muttered Ron. Malfoy's face turned red, and he grabbed the back of the chair for leverage as he stood.
"Don't ever liken me to that man again," growled Malfoy.
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