CHAPTER 6
Draco stared at the tall boy whose name he didn’t know. The boy was a Gryffindor, he noticed, and he had an Italian look as well. Lean, brown-skinned, olive colored eyes, and of course, possessed with the damned heroic streak that seemed to emerge from Gryffindors every so often. Draco already despised him.
Wait, why am I sizing up another rival right now? Draco thought rapidly. Hermione’s hurt, she needs to be taken to the hospital wing RIGHT NOW!
The other boy apparently had the same idea because he held Hermione up bridal style, and called in what Draco considered an overly emotional and girly voice, “Please, stay back while I take her to the hospital wing.”
The crowd cleared a path for him as he nearly sprinted out of the Hall with Draco right behind him. As he ran behind the other boy, he felt a terrible pang looking at Hermione’s dark brown curls now matted with blood. But how had it happened? Who had done such a thing? After all, Draco knew that Hermione was no klutz, so obviously this all had to be someone else’s doing. Momentarily blinded by anger, he nearly collided with a suit of armor before turning away just in time and continuing to run down the long hallway.
Both boys then skidded into the hospital wing, nearly giving Pomfrey a heart failure as she gasped and quickly had Hermione set down on the nearest bed. Then she whipped out her wand and passed it up and down over Hermione’s body, making a quick and accurate diagnosis.
“All right boys, she’s broken her right leg and has suffered severe head trauma.” Pomfrey said grimly. “The leg I can fix up in nearly no time at all, but the head part is the part I’m deeply worried about. There’s no telling what the consequences of such a bad blow could be. But now,” she said not unkindly to Draco, who looked distraught, and the other boy who was intensely staring at Hermione’s unconscious face. “Now, you should let her rest. I’ll start with her leg, and then I’ll wake her up later, when I’ve reduced the wound area on her head. You can come back later.”
“If you don’t mind, Madam Pomfrey,” said the other boy quickly before Draco could say anything. “I’d like to stay with her, just so that when she opens her eyes, she’ll have someone new to see. I’ll just sit in a chair, and watch her.”
Draco nearly felt like ripping out his wand and screaming “Imperio” at the old lady so she would say no, but unfortunately, he couldn’t have pulled it off, so he had to stand there and watch as she gave the other boy a warm smile, (Oh, I’ll give you a warm smile, you smarmy, slimy git!), and said slowly, “We-ll, it’s fine, I suppose. You may stay. But Mr. Malfoy,” she said sternly as she pointed at him. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to go back to your classes. A trauma patient is only allowed one visitor in order to reduce disturbance and tension.”
Draco clenched his fists tightly at his sides as he turned angrily on his heel and began to stride out of the spacious room. However, he stopped right as he got to the doorway and looked back at Hermione. She was lying there peacefully, her chest rising and falling in a steady pace, and her hands at her sides with the palms upturned. So fragile and vulnerable. So serene.
Furious with himself again for harboring such thoughts, he left the wing and turned left, nearly colliding with Weasley and Potter.
“What did you do to he –” began Weasley hotly, his ears turning the same color as Pansy’s most horrendous red lipstick.
“Ron, calm down,” Potter said as he stepped in front of the Weasel and looked Draco in the eyes. “Out with it, Malfoy. How is she? Anything serious?”
Draco knew that now was not the time to spark another scuffle, so he answered back in a monotone. “Her leg was broken and she got severe head trauma. Pomfrey told us that the leg would be fixed instantly, but that she’s seriously worried about the head injury’s repercussions.”
Weasley made an odd sort of noise, kind of like a snarl and a groan. Potter seemed to be able to translate it, seeing as the next thing he asked was, “Are there any ideas as to who did it? Any thoughts you might have about someone who might hold a grudge against her from your house or something?”
“I don’t know, Potter!” Draco exclaimed exasperatedly. Why didn’t they understand that if he knew who it was, he wouldn’t be standing here chatting with them, he’d be busting up the arse-hole who’d done it. “And there’s no guarantee about the person being a Slytherin either. Nowadays, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws are getting just as vicious as us.”
Potter nodded. “I see.”
Weasley made to enter the hospital wing, but was stopped by Potter. “No, Ron, you can’t go in there yet. They only allow one visitor at a time in these sorts of situations.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “You know about that?”
Potter shrugged. “Well, I’ve been in there so many times; it’s like a second home now. Might as well learn the rules that go with it. And I’m sure Alexander’s fine in there with her,” Potter said as jerked his head in the hospital wing’s direction. “He seemed very nice.”
Draco unconsciously curled his lip. “Alexander?” he said lowly. “Alexander what?”
“Think it was ‘Armani’ Dumbledore said back there,” Weasley supplied with face scrunched up in obviously uncommon thought.
Draco was again simmering in resentment, so without saying anything else, he stalked off, his mind constantly returning to Hermione lying there on the hospital bed. He would find the bastard who’d done this. And when he did, only Merlin would know exactly how much hell there’d be to pay.
Hermione…
***************
Back in the hospital wing, Hermione opened her eyes to see a very good-looking, but completely unfamiliar boy gazing down at her. Seeing that she had regained consciousness, the boy smiled a breathtaking smile before saying in a velvet voice, “How do you feel?”
Hermione gingerly moved her legs around and then lightly felt the bandage on her head. “I’m feeling fine, I suppose. There’s just a bit of throbbing in my forehead, but other than that, it’s all right. If you don’t mind me asking, who are you?”
The handsome boy leaned back easily in his chair and grinned. “I’m Alexander Armani. I’ve just moved recently moved from Italy, and am now settled here in Britain.” He held up his red-and-gold tie and said happily, “I’m in your house too!”
Hermione smiled at him, but she didn’t really understand what he’d meant by “house”. Was this place her house? She couldn’t remember it being so cold and spacious.
“Thanks for sitting here, Alexander. But…how did all this happen?”
“I saw it all,” he said with a frown. “Professor Dumbledore had just called you and another boy up to the front of the Great Hall, and was about to announce my name as well, when suddenly, your legs completely flew up from under you, and you began sliding very fast towards the stand up front. And then,” he said as he looked at the white gauze wrapped partially around her head. “You crashed into it.”
“Oh,” said Hermione confusedly. “I don’t remember it at all.”
At that moment, the wing’s doors burst open, and two boys burst in: one with a mop of unruly black hair, and one with fiery red hair.
“HERMIONE!” they shouted together.
She jumped back at the combined sound of their voices and then turned to Alexander and asked, “I’m sorry, but do you know who those two boys are?”
**********
“No…” croaked Ron. “It-it can’t be…no…that’s impossible…”
“I’m afraid it’s very possible, Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore said sorrowfully.
Harry and Ron were both up in Dumbledore’s office, not fifteen minutes after being unnerved to the core by Hermione’s innocent question. The instant they’d told Dumbledore about their encounter, he’d swept out of the circular office and hastened to the hospital wing. Within a few minutes, he’d returned and informed them that while Hermione was suffering from amnesia, a complex spell had managed to retrieve all memories of Hogwarts, books she’d read, things she’d done, and magic itself. The only issue was that she could not remember a single person from the world of magic. All of her friends, her teachers, anyone she’d ever met with in Hogwarts had been instantly erased from her memory.
“But, Professor,” Harry cried anxiously. “You have to do something! She – she can’t just forget us all…forget everything…”
Dumbledore sighed. “Harry, it is a very terrible thing. But it is not incurable.”
Ron’s eyes widened. “So, she’ll be all right?”
“It’s possible,” said Dumbledore as he walked over to the Pensieve. “All she needs is to relive a powerful memory. It could be anything, anything…but it would be able to bring back everyone she’s known for the last six years of her life.”
“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said quietly. “We’ll do all that’s possible for her.”
Dumbledore sat back down at his desk, and gave the two boys a small smile. “I know, Harry. I know.”
Seconds after Harry and Ron left Dumbledore’s office, they fortuitously met with Blaise who sighed in relief when he saw the two of them.
Quickly walking up to them, he spoke rapidly. “All right, you two, listen. The other day, Hermione and I were patrolling on the sixth floor, when we’d discovered a disturbance in one of the abandoned classrooms. The source of this disturbance was a Hufflepuff seventh year, named Roger Hoffschwitt, who was trying to rape a girl from your house.”
“Which girl?” Harry asked immediately.
Blaise looked slightly uncomfortable and angry at the same time. “Ginny Weasley.”
Ron jumped forward. “WHAT?! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU JUST SAY? MY SISTER WAS GETTING RAPED?! TAKE ME TO THAT BASTARD, JUST LET ME AT HIM, I’LL RIP HIM TO SHREDS, I’LL FEED HIM TO THE GIANT SQUID, I’LL –”
“Hold it, Weasley,” Blaise said calmly as both Harry and Ron began to take deep, calming breaths in an effort to control themselves. “Luckily, Hoffschwitt hadn’t accomplished much when we’d gotten there, so while I was healing Ginny’s minor cuts and making sure there wasn’t any major damage, Hermione was on the other side of the room giving the little rat a good earful. I think she slapped him once before shoving him and telling him to get the hell out of there.”
“Figures,” Harry said, his face still slightly green from the terrible images he’d created in his mind. “Only would Hermione slap someone and then tell him to get lost.”
Ron cracked his knuckles threateningly. “This is why we boys should handle this sort of stuff. We know exactly how to deal out the punishment.”
Blaise grinned. “Yes. And that’s exactly why I was looking for you. Hoffschwitt not only tried to rape your sister, but he’s also the one who caused Hermione’s accident in the Great Hall. I heard him guffawing about it with some of his friends in the library a little while ago.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?” asked Harry vindictively. “Let’s go get that shithead!”
“Just one last thing,” Blaise said as his dark eyes began to gleam a bit with sparks of ruthless vengeance. “I know Draco loves taking revenge, and I also know that he and Hermione have made a kind of truce. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to miss such a good thrashing like this one, now considering it’s partially for her sake as well.”
************
It was a bizarre sight. Really, it was. Four boys striding down a corridor in a single line, two of them Gryffindors, and two of them Slytherins…and all of them with only one thought in their minds.
Kill Hoffschwitt.
Blaise had relayed to the other three that Hoffschwitt was currently in the boys’ bathroom on the third floor, and luckily for them, this bathroom was one of the lesser used of the castle. As they got closer and closer to the bathroom, they could hear laughter and voices.
“Yeah, I really struck gold with that one,” Hoffschwitt was saying. “She was just so damn hot, with that big rack, red hair, and those pale, lean legs spread apart. She might’ve been trying to push me away, but any idiot could tell she was dying to have me.”
Blaise saw that Ron was now practically pawing the ground like an angry bull and gave Harry a warning look that instantly made him hold Ron back by his robes.
“Calm down mate,” Harry grunted with the colossal effort it was taking to hold the infuriated redhead back. “Let’s just wait for him to admit to the second part.”
Another unfamiliar voice was then heard. “Tell us what you did with the Mudblood who tried to teach you a lesson!”
Hoffschwitt scoffed and said with evident malice, “I made sure that bitch paid for the humiliation she caused me. ‘Teach me a lesson’ my arse! I took revenge on her right with everyone there, even the bloody headmaster, back in the Great Hall this morning. It was a simple slip jinx, but as she fell, I added a bit of acceleration so that the impact would be more memorable for us all.”
By this time, all four boys had had enough. Draco brandished his wand and ran into the bathroom along with Harry, Ron, and Blaise. Inside, standing next to the sinks were three boys: two looked like fifth or sixth years, but the one who was leaning easily against the ornate porcelain was quite obviously Hoffschwitt.
Draco glowered at the other two boys and showed them his Head Boy badge. “Get out!” he barked. “Head’s orders. NOW!”
The two frightened boys ran out of there, leaving only Hoffschwitt behind looking apprehensive and slightly defiant.
Blaise, the calmest looking one, stepped forward. “Hello, there, Hoffschwitt,” he said amicably. “We couldn’t help but overhear your anecdotes about yesterday night and this morning. Care to tell us some more about it?”
Hoffschwitt only stared stonily back, trying to project an atmosphere of toughness, but they could all see the rapid pulse beating at the base of his throat.
Draco took a step closer and drawled in a dangerous tone, “Come, come, we don’t have all day. We’d like to get back to our lives you know.”
When Hoffschwitt still didn’t say anything, Harry said lightly, “Why I do believe that maybe he needs a little persuasion to talk. And I believe I have just the thing. Stand back,” he whispered to the two Slytherins before letting go of Ron’s robes.
It was like a volcanic eruption.
The second Ron was free, he leaped forward with an enraged yell and full-on tackled the startled Hoffschwitt to the ground. He threw punch after punch into the boy’s face and shouted a word with each one.
“DON’T – punch – YOU – punch – EVER – punch – TOUCH – punch – MY – punch – SISTER – punch – OR – punch – BEST – punch – FRIEND – punch – AGAIN – punch!”
Hoffschwitt screamed as Ron continued to pummel him over and over again. “Please, please, get him off! Please, please, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, let me go, please, let me go!”
Draco, Harry, and Blaise looked at each other before cracking identical remorseless grins and saying together, “Nah.”
Harry reached over and pulled Ron off of the now profusely bleeding Hoffschwitt who scurried backwards into a corner. All four boys glared down at him, with ice in Draco’s eyes, disgust in Blaise’s eyes, vengeance in Harry’s eyes, and fire in Ron’s eyes.
Hoffschwitt whimpered.
Draco pulled him off the floor in one swift movement and grabbed him in a chokehold.
“Are we ever going to get trouble from you again?” Draco asked with a voice not unlike a burst of arctic wind.
“N-no,” Hoffschwitt cried weakly as blood ran down from his nose and forehead into his mouth.
Draco threw him to the ground. “Good.”
Harry pushed the bleeding boy away with one foot, and then kneeled down next to him. “Don’t you ever let us catch you doing something like this again, you understand, moron? Because if I ever hear of you laying a finger on Hermione or Ginny – ”
Blaise continued it, “ – if you even go within twenty feet of them –”
Ron added, “ – if you even breathe in their direction –”
“ – we will kill you.” Draco finished.
Hoffschwitt got up on shaky legs, gave each of them a final, fearful look, and then ran…he ran like hell was behind him. Which, in a way, it was, as Harry, Ron, Draco, and Blaise all stepped out of the bathroom. Two houses, united under a single cause; four boys working together for the first time in their lives.
Oh, yes. This was hell, in all its frozen glory.
Ron.
Blaise.
Harry.
Draco.
…..alliance.
***************
When Draco returned to the Head Common Room, he saw Hermione sitting in one of the armchairs by the fire, her nose buried in a book. Her chair was facing the fire, and he knew there was no way she’d not notice him when he would walk by. Blaise and Harry (Harry?? When in fucking hell did this start!?) had explained Hermione’s memory problem to him, and that had made him want to just turn around and murder Hoffschwitt right then and there.
He would’ve done it too, had Blaise not dragged him back and taken his wand away from him. He acts like a bloody mother hen.
Now, he wondered what he’d do, what he’d say to Hermione. Would it all be just like before, sworn enemies till the end? Could they undo anything from the past? Was he still the “bad guy” even on a clean slate?
Taking a deep breath, Draco stepped forward on the rug.
Hermione looked up, vaguely confused, before smiling and saying, “Hello! I was told by a kind, old man that I had a roommate. Are you Draco?”
With his throat unbearably constricted, Draco barely managed to nod.
“Well, that’s good! My name is Hermione!” she exclaimed cheerfully before going over to him and extending her hand.
Draco looked down at her outstretched hand and then back up at her eager face. His heart pounded as he slowly reached out and shook her small hand.
“Excellent!” she said merrily. She saw his mussed up hair and his rumpled clothes. “Had a rough day?” she asked.
He shrugged and Hermione gave a tinkling laugh.
“You don’t talk much do you? It’s all right! I’ll find out all your secrets sooner or later!”
She winked at him before heading up the stairs and entering the bathroom.
Draco watched her walk up the stairs with a small bandage still on her head. He felt so confused and indecisive…should he talk to her? Should he ignore her? No, he – he couldn’t do that. He would have to do something, goddamn it! Look at how much she liked him already! She was probably already considering him as a potential friend.
He sighed as he turned with his head down low and walked through the portrait door. Her last words were still echoing in his ears.
“I’ll find out all your secrets sooner or later!”
And that was exactly what he was afraid of.
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