CHAPTER 12
Draco didn’t know what to say or do, so he stood there and awkwardly held her as she pressed her face into his chest. She wasn’t crying, that was for sure, but something about her at that moment made her seem small and helpless. Without thinking, Draco lifted one hand and slowly stroked her hair.
They both froze before Hermione pulled back and swept her hair out of her face, her cheeks red. Draco felt the significant loss of her body heat, and promptly dropped his arms to his sides.
“I – I’m sorry for attacking you like that,” Hermione said as she and he both began to walk down the corridor.
Draco shook his head dismissively. “It’s all right. I’m glad you forgave me though. How did you know what I was going to say? I didn’t even get the right words out of my mouth.”
She gave him a weak smile. “Woman’s intuition.”
“Oh. Works for me, I suppose.”
Draco could tell she had something else on her mind, but he didn’t press the matter. He instead struck up a conversation about the ball. “Anyways, Hermione, have you been working much on the ball plans? It sort of just hit me that it’s only a few days away.”
Hermione rolled her eyes playfully before reaching inside her robes and pulling out a scroll. “Not to worry, my excessively forgetful and unhelpful assistant. I’ve got it nearly covered.”
Draco took the scroll from her and was once again impressed by her attention to detail and her management skills. The list covered everything from appetizers and confections to the closing ceremony for the ball. She had written everything in bullet formation, and for each thought and idea, she had about three extra bullets to fully elaborate every necessary accessory. There were loads and loads of diagrams, innumerable little notes on the side, and several scratch-outs.
He raised his eyebrow and looked up from the scroll incredulously. “Hermione, do you realize that you’ve turned this whole thing into a N.E.W.T level thesis?”
She sniffed nonchalantly. “It’s not that good. And besides, what did you expect I was going to hand you? A torn piece of scrap parchment with a few illegible squiggles on it?”
He shrugged. “Sort of.”
She quickly snatched the scroll away and put it back in her robes. Draco was perturbed to see that she actually had a slim and trim body, thus dashing all the thoughts he had deluded himself into about how frumpy she must be under the baggy school robes.
“Clearly, you don’t know me very well, then.” she muttered in response to his shrug.
As she straightened up her robes, her right hand sleeve slipped down, and Draco saw large red marks around her wrist that roughly looked like finger marks. She saw him looking and tried to drop her hand quickly, but Draco grabbed it and examined the harsh imprints.
“What happened here, Hermione?” he asked as she withdrew her hand and let the sleeve conceal her wrist.
“Nothing.”
“How did you get hurt?”
“It’s nothing, Draco.”
“Stop lying, Hermione, you’re ridiculously bad at it as it is.”
She bit her lip as she measured the weight of her words. “It’s really nothing, Draco, I was just walking with Ginny when she tripped and grabbed my wrist to keep from falling. It’s all right, you know. Even McGonagall once grabbed me around the neck to keep from slipping on the floor.”
Draco glowered at her with irritation, but his eyes soon softened. “Well, as long as you haven’t been hurt by anyone.”
She looked surprised at his comment, but smiled at his concern for her. “Don’t worry about me, Draco. I told you, it was just a, er, disaster prevention act by Ginny. That’s all.”
He gave her a strange look at her odd choice of words, but didn’t pursue the issue any longer. Hermione and he began trudging up the stairs towards Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the comfortable silence was only punctured by the chattering and laughter of the other students until she suddenly asked, “Hey, where’s Daphne? I haven’t seen her for a bit.”
He tried to clear his throat in a casual manner before saying, “She doesn’t have any classes on this side for a while, so there’s no need for her to stick by my side, now is there?”
She shook her head. “No, I guess not. Listen, Draco, I’m sorry for what I said the other day. I shouldn’t have said it and I didn’t mean for –”
Draco shushed her. “Stop it. You don’t have to apologize for anything. After all, you weren’t completely in the wrong about her. She is kind of…flighty.”
Hermione smiled ruefully as she hitched her bag up higher on her shoulder to keep it from falling. “But I need to apologize, Draco. I shouldn’t have jumped to such rotten conclusions so quickly. It was very rude of me, and I just wanted to say sorry for that.”
Upon hearing this, Draco once again thought of how cheap the girls he’d been with over the last few years were compared to Hermione. Hermione had proper decorum, the right mannerisms, and a polite disposition (when she wasn’t furious). She didn’t waste time wondering which hairstyle would suit her the best, or which nail polish color would make her look the most attractive…she was just real.
Draco pushed open the doors to the classroom and kept his arm out so that Hermione could walk through. She flashed him a quick grin before going over to the middle row and joining Harry and Ron at one desk. When she urged him to hurry up and get to his seat before the professor walked in, the two boys turned their heads to see who she was talking to.
Grey eyes met green eyes first before sliding to the right and meeting a pair of blues. Draco nodded slightly to each of them, and Harry and Ron both gave small nods back. Then without further ado, Draco rushed to an open seat next to Blaise and sat down just as the newly hired professor, Professor Armstrong, entered the class.
“Good day, everyone,” the tall man called as his murky brown eyes scanned the classroom for any absences. “I trust you all have completed the essay on the differences between Pseudospells and Irregular Spells? Good, good.”
He waved his wand, and instantly about thirty or so scrolls of parchment flew up into the air and dove into his outstretched arms. He flipped through each scroll, checking the names, and then clucked disappointedly as he reached the last piece.
“Draco Malfoy,” he called, “Where is your essay?”
With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Draco realized that he had forgotten to complete his DADA homework, and instead had wasted his time dilly-dallying with Daphne.
“I don’t have it, sir,” he said as he stood up.
Armstrong raised his eyebrows and said loudly, “Detention, Mr. Malfoy! My office, tonight, 9 p.m.”
Draco did not say anything and sat back down.
“Tough luck, mate,” Blaise whispered to him as Armstrong began a lecture on the Unforgivable Curses (something everyone had learned about three years ago). “I was hoping you could go patrolling with me today.”
“It’s fine.” Draco whispered back. “Just go with Hermione tonight.”
Blaise nodded as Armstrong droned on, “The Imperius curse sounds the tamest, but it could be, in fact, the most chilling of the three curses. Imagine not being able to hold on to a single strand of your own thoughts or desires, not being able to resist if someone ordered you to drown yourself or throw yourself off a tower, not being able to fight back against a voice that commanded you to torture your best friend into insanity or to murder him in cold blood…”
* * * * * * * *
That night, after Draco had left to do his detention, Hermione and Blaise were patrolling on the fourth floor. It was a quiet night, and having done their rounds once already, they were both idly talking and looking around to make sure nothing was out of place the second time through.
“Hermione?” asked Blaise.
“Hmm?”
“Do you like Draco?”
Hermione turned around with a smile on her face as she held her lit wand loosely by her side. “Of course I like him, Blaise! Why wouldn’t I? I would say he is a very close friend right now.”
Looking and sounding very much like an eight year-old, Blaise shook his head solemnly and asked, “No, I mean do you really like him?”
“You mean, do I fancy him?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
Blaise’s dark eyes bore into Hermione’s own lighter ones, and she turned her head and pretended to examine a painting so that he would not see her biting her lip and blushing.
“Hermione, are you hiding from me?”
She grimaced just the tiniest bit. “No.”
“Well, then, can I see your face?”
Hermione took a deep breath and faced Blaise again who was regarding her with something close to skepticism. His dark eyes zoomed all over her face, making her feel as if she were being looked at through a magnifying lens in some sort of lab. She knew what he was doing, and carefully composed her features as to not display any of the emotions she was feeling.
“So it’s you and Armani now, eh?”
She desperately tried to keep her face neutral as she rubbed her wrist unconsciously. “Yes.”
“Do you like him?”
“Mm.”
“Is he good to you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you capable of giving answers longer than one syllable?”
“Yes.”
Blaise sighed exasperatedly. It made Hermione roll her eyes and grin at him.
“Merlin, Blaise, are you planning to go into the psychiatric ward of St. Mungo’s when you leave Hogwarts?”
He laughed once, but then said thoughtfully, “No, I might not go into the psychiatric ward, but I am thinking that maybe I should become a Healer.”
“Why, that’s excellent!” Hermione exclaimed as she jumped at the change of subject. “You’re so good with healing spells, and so kind to everyone, I’m sure you’d be a bloody fantastic Healer!”
“Er, thanks, Hermione. That really makes me feel good about myself.”
She winked at him. “No worries, Zabini, I’ll always be here for you when you need a bit of cheering up.”
“My, my,” said another voice from behind them. “Such good friends.”
Hermione and Blaise both spun around rapidly with their wands pointed firmly in front of them as the person walked towards them. As brown hair, tanned skin, and olive eyes came into view, Hermione felt herself blanch.
It was Alexander.
He loped towards them with an easy grin on his face, but Hermione saw that his eyes remained quite unaffected. She immediately remembered his words from before: “Otherwise I’ll personally take care of our Death Eater Jr. myself...and any other dirty Slytherins along with him.”
Hermione could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and it sounded to her like a battering ram being hammered over and over into a stone wall. She began to take smaller breaths and could feel her mouth dry up in trepidation as Blaise stepped forward and extended his hand.
“Hello,” he said cordially. “I’m Blaise Zabini, friend of Hermione’s.”
Hermione nearly threw herself in front of Blaise out of fear of Alexander attacking him, but Alexander merely stepped forward and shook Blaise’s hand.
“Ah, yes, Blaise Zabini,” he drawled as his eyes flickered to the green and silver tie around Blaise’s neck. “I think I’ve seen you around before.”
Blaise shrugged. “You might have. My schedule has me running all around the castle, and I’m also Chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch team.”
Hermione didn’t know if she was just being paranoid or what, but she thought she saw Alexander’s jaw clench as he heard the word “Slytherin”. Her instincts now strongly urging her to grab Blaise and run, she swallowed nervously once before pasting a wide smile on her face and walking closer to Alexander.
“Hello, Alexander!” she cried in fake cheer as she kissed his cheek. “What are you doing up here?”
He had stiffened when she’d kissed his cheek, but then grabbed her around the waist and held her close tightly. “Oh, it was nothing, Hermione. Flitwick gave me permission today to try out the Refreshing Charm, and I haven’t been able to rest until I’ve gotten the hang of it.”
Trying to squelch her bubbling suspicions, Hermione nodded knowingly and said, “Oh yes, the spell that makes you feel completely new and clean. That was a tricky one. Have you managed it yet?”
Alexander shook his head morosely before his face brightened. “Hey, I have an idea! Why don’t I practice once on you two? It’ll be my last try of the day, and I promise there won’t be any grotesque side effects.”
Blaise glanced at Hermione before locking eyes with Alexander. “Go ahead, Armani. But I’m warning you, I’d better not have any tentacles sprouting out of me, or a sudden breakout of acne.” he said jokingly.
“Don’t worry, mate,” Alexander said good-naturedly. “It’ll be nonverbal, something that I’m a master at, so you shouldn’t be too apprehensive. All right, here it goes!”
He pointed his wand at Blaise and narrowed his eyes in concentration. After a few seconds, he lowered his wand and stood back to examine his handiwork.
“Blaise?” Hermione called a bit timidly. “Blaise, how do you feel?”
It took him a while to answer, but Blaise frowned and said, “I don’t feel any different. I don’t think it worked.”
“Damn,” Alexander pouted. “And I’ve been trying all day, too.”
Blaise patted him on the back. “It’s okay. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it tomorrow.” He waved at Hermione before saying, “Well, Hermione, I should be off now. I need to go see that Draco hasn’t fallen into a coma of boredom or anything, so if you’ll both excuse me…”
Hermione nodded. “Go on, Blaise. See you tomorrow.”
Blaise walked away, and as he turned the corner, Hermione felt cold fear wash over herself again as she realized that she and Alexander were alone.
“A – Alexander, I – I can explain…”
He looked down at her and smiled kindly. “What do you need to explain for, Hermione? He’s a good guy, and I’m glad he’s your friend.”
She was mightily confused as she as stammered, “B – but you told me that you would –”
He frowned and then sighed sorrowfully. “I know what I said, Hermione, and I’m sorry for that. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did…it was very wrong and cruel of me. And,” he whispered as he reached for her hand and softly grazed her wrist with his fingers, “I’m so sorry for hurting you, Hermione. I wasn’t in my right mind, and I just got riled up for no reason. I’m so sorry for hurting you. Can you forgive me?”
His olive eyes pleaded for reprieve, and Hermione felt herself nodding. No, no, NO, why am I saying yes!? He doesn't deserve it, the stinking brute doesn't deserve it! Oh no, hold it, mister! I've got some things to say to you before you leave.
He sighed in relief. “Ah, thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me as well, I need to go back to the Gryffindor common room. It’s getting late.”
"Hold on," she called loudly as he paused in mid-pivot and swiveled back towards her. "Alexander, you had better understand it right now that if you ever hurt me again, or attempt to harm my friends, I will not hesitate in hexing you into next week." Hermione knew her eyes were blazing, and hoped that the tall boy in front of her would get the message. "If I see or hear of you attacking someone, or if you try to threaten me like you did before, I will personally go to Professor Dumbledore and tell him about everything that happened!"
Alexander stared at her before quirking a crooked smile and pulling her into his arms. "Like I said, Hermione, I was not in my right mind that day. Of course I won't harm anyone of your friends, and I will never again hurt you like I did the other day. I'm sorry. I really am."
He put his lips on hers, and Hermione lost her train of thought for a few seconds as he enveloped her in a strong embrace. It was sweet, not fiery or mad...just a sweet and gentle kiss. "Forgive me?" he murmured against her cheek.
“All right. Good night.” she mumbled as he smiled, kissed her forehead and then began striding away. “Good night.”
Draco traipsed into the Slytherin common room wearily and fell back onto the couch with a groan. Blaise was sitting there too, and smirked at Draco before asking, “Had fun?”
Draco groaned again and lifted his right hand. “Armstrong bloody worked me to death copying the textbook onto thirty scrolls of parchment. I couldn’t take a break longer than ten seconds without him breathing down my neck and saying, ‘Mr. Malfoy, do you really want to stay an extra two hours?’ Ugh, it was a fucking nightmare.”
Blaise chuckled at his friend’s plight. “Serves you right, mate. You shouldn’t have been off snogging Greengrass when you had work to do.”
Draco shot him a pained look. “You think I enjoy exchanging spit with that hag? She’s got enough saliva stocked up in that mouth of hers to fill a lake! It’s disgusting!”
Blaise shuddered sympathetically, and then looked right and left as if to see if anyone else was there.
“I honestly don’t know why I bother with her,” Draco rattled on. “It’s not as if she’s the last mildly good-looking woman left on earth. Maybe I should –”
But Draco never managed to say what he ought to do, because the only things he could register in that last moment were the face of Blaise Zabini screwed up in ferocity and exertion above him, and the brown hands that were mercilessly squeezing his throat and cutting off his air supply.
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