"What do you think is really wrong with Hermione?" Ron asked lowly, bending his head lower to Harry so he could hear better.
Harry shook his head, running his hand through his messy black hair. "I have absolutely no idea. I wish she could tell us what was wrong……"
Ron clenched his fists. He was angry. Angry that Hermione was troubled. Angry that she wouldn’t tell them.
Harry could sense that, so he quickly reminded him, "But remember what Professor Dumbledore said Ron, okay? Whatever it is, Hermione will tell us when she’s ready."
Ron relaxed, slumping his shoulders back. "Yeah, you’re right Harry. And if Dumbledore’s knows what’s going on, it can’t be that bad." He attempted a small smirk. "Guess we’ll actually have to pay attention in class tomorrow, eh? So we can tell Hermione what she missed."
Harry broke out into a tired grin. "Bugger that. We better sleep now then."
A few minutes later, the only noise in the room was the rustling of sheets. They fell asleep almost immediately. It had been a long day.
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////FLASHBACK//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
"Hermione?! HERMIONE!! Harry! What’s wrong with her?!"
"Hermione!! I don’t – please! Ma’am, it’s Hermione, she’s -!"
"Help her! She needs to see Madam Pomfrey! She’s out cold – oh gods, she’s barely breathing! Please help her!"
They managed to carry her to the infirmary, putting her on the closest bed. Ron ran to inform Madam Pomfrey while Harry quickly pulled the sheets over Hermione’s prone body. She was deathly pale and cold.
"What IS it, Mr. Weasly? This is an infirmary, not a cir – Ms. Granger?!" She dropped her folder of papers, the pages fluttering to the ground.
She quickly pulled out her wand and pointed it to Hermione. A sickly pale green glow started to surround the girl, but it suddenly disappeared and a normal golden aura glowed strong around her. Pomfrey blinked, uncertain she had even seen the green glow.
She walked over to Hermione and placed a hand on her clammy forehead. She must have just remembered that the boys were still there, because she suddenly turned and said sternly, "What, are you boys still here? Best you leave – this is an infirmary after all. No, don’t look at me like that, Mr. Weasly! I assure you your friend is in good hands! Now, shoo!"
She dismissed them with a wave of her hand and turned back to the girl. It seemed as if she had only fainted, but Pomfrey was still suspicious at that fleeting green light. She turned to her office and beckoned to the nurse inside.
"Nurse Bineslow? Please look after Ms. Granger here, won’t you? I need to research something immediately. No, I won’t be long."
As she stepped out of her office she was greeted by Professor Snape, who was gazing at the sleeping girl.
"Oh, I’m sorry Professor, but I’m in a bit of a hurry," she said briskly, brushing past him. He placed his large hand on her shoulder, preventing her from walking away further.
"Exactly the reason why I wish to speak with you," he said in his vibrating, silky voice.
Before she could ask him what exactly he meant, he pointed his wand directly at her forehead. Her eyes widened.
"Don’t worry, you won’t remember a thing."
*********************************************************************
Harry and Ron stood defiantly outside the Infirmary Doors, waiting for any sort of sign when the Headmaster walked up behind them.
"Now, why are two strapping young men wasting away a beautiful day by standing in the halls?" he asked amicably, clapping them both on the shoulders. They jumped and spun around.
"Professor, it’s Hermione she’s –"
"In the library, she just screamed and fell –"
Dumbledore held up his hand, motioning for them to stay silent a moment. His usually cheerful face because tired and somber; his eyes lost their mischievous twinkle. Quietly, he asked them, "Perhaps it would be wise to discuss this in a more private place?"
They walked up to the opening of Dumbledore’s office. He stated the password to the stone gargoyle ("Rainbow Liquorice!") and led the boys up the stairs. Seating himself in his chair behind the desk, he waited for them to pull up a seat across from him. Finally, after a moment of silence, he spoke.
"Now boys, I don’t really know what has been going on lately, but I am correct in guessing that Ms. Granger is not faring well these days?"
Not knowing what to say, they merely nodded.
Dumbledore regarded them gravely, calculating what he should say to them. "I understand your concern, but I must give you a difficult request. I wish for both of you to restrain yourselves from asking too many questions of Ms. Granger. She is going through hard times now, but she strikes me as the sort of person who wishes to tackle her problems on her own. She will tell you in time, I’m sure of it. I ask that for now, you be her friends and support her in every means necessary." He looked them squarely in the eye.
"She needs you now more than ever."
With that, he kindly dismissed them. He waited until they had left before he allowed himself to heave a sigh. He massaged his temples with one hand.
"Severus."
He emerged from behind a screen. "Yes, Headmaster?"
"Did everything go well?"
Snape nodded grimly. "It appears so. Pompfrey’s memory has been altered – she should not be an obstacle."
"And could you really find no evidence at all? This is a risky speculation, Severus. I understand if you wish to retract yourself from this. "
"I have no intentions to. Rest assured, I will not fail you Headmaster."
Dumbledore reclined in his chair and turned to face Snape. "It is not only me who you’ll be failing. It is those two. And," he said pointedly, "quite possibly, everybody. He is under your care. I hope you know what you’re doing."
Snape stiffly bowed his head as acknowledgment and walked out of the office, his robe billowing.
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////END FLASHBACK/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
The next day, Hermione watched the 7th year class of Caring for Magical Creatures from her window in the Infirmary. She smiled slightly when she saw Harry and Ron running frantically away from a skrewt.
"Run you wanker, RUN!!!"
She could hear Ron’s shrill voice even from where she was. She stifled a chuckle. She was too distracted seeing her friends run around like maniacs and shrieking to notice that a certain blonde was eyeing her.
Draco looked up at her impassively, studying the bemused expression on her face. He hated when her attention was aimed at them. He frowned. Didn’t he tell her to avoid those two?
He hexed a small rock and sent it flying at her window. It hit the window hard enough to cause it to vibrate, making her jump back in shock. She looked around and locked her gaze on his gray eyes. He sneered, satisfied her focus was now on him.
Her warm, chocolate eyes instantly turned cold as she narrowed her eyes in ill-disguised hate. But then, the look in her eye changed slightly. It looked vaguely like triumph. But that couldn’t be it. Could it? He cocked his head slightly, uncertain of the change that went over her. To his surprise, her lips curled into a cold smirk before she viciously pulled the drapes back.
He blinked. That was certainly unexpected. What confused him the most, though, was how closely her smirk mirrored the ones he usually donned. He shoved the thoughts out of his head, as it was his turn to handle the lethal creatures.
He must have imagined it.
*******************************************************************
Not usually the gloating type, Hermione nevertheless allowed herself to add a little skip to her step. She had just successfully talked her way out of spending the rest of the day in the Infirmary, on the strict instruction to return to Griffindor Tower. She was not particularly hungry (which was becoming an increasingly frequent feeling) and was prepared to take a nap before confronting her tormentor. She needed to be at full strength, after all.
Unfortunately, she spotted Draco walking out of the Great Hall and turning towards his own Tower. She had actually wanted to announce her triumph with a little more planning and fanfare, but she figured now was better than never. At least she didn't have to go and seek him out now.
The Slytherin Tower was in the opposite direction of Griffindor’s, so Hermione was prepared when he started to make his way in her direction. He must have been deep in thought because he didn’t even notice her striding over to him.
Never slowing down her pace, she brushed past him and murmured icily, "I know a way around your sick, twisted spell Malfoy. You touch me again and I won’t hesitate to kill you."
With that, she continued walking, not even looking back. Draco stopped in his tracks and turned to look back at her. He saw nothing but her radiant curly head disappearing down the hall. He frowned in concentration. What did she mean? Had she done the impossible – had she found a way to reverse an irreversible curse?
He turned and resumed walking to his respective Tower. Mulling over her words, he couldn’t help but smirk. That had sounded like a challenge, and a Malfoy has never been one to turn one down.
Ah, his intelligent prey; she was certainly one to make things interesting. Well, he was game.
<Bring it on, Granger. >
*****************************************************************
Even though she knew she had every right to say what she had said, she still trembled with excitement at her audacity. Had she really said that?
She quickly banished those thought and began reading her book again. She had already made up the homework assigned that day, and was busy memorizing spells in her new book, Destructive Forces, in case she ever needed them. She refused to be a victim any longer. She was in control now.
She hadn’t found a way to reverse the spell imbedded in the dragon, but she did find a way to protect herself No, that curse was permanent, much to her dismay. Not being able to hurt Malfoy directly was another huge blow for her – she would never be able to hex him again. A true tragedy.
However. She couldn’t direct any spells at him, but she was fully capable of aiming them near him. For example, the Rictohavan spell. Massive vibrations are emitted from the wand and when contacted with say, a wall or a ceiling, the structure will automatically crumble and be destroyed. So technically, the spell was not meant for Malfoy, but whatever the pieces of rubble did afterwards were entirely gravity’s fault. Or she could blast away at the floor below him, creating a hole, and have him drop an entire story.
Another positive factor was that she could still do defensive spells. Offensives were out of the question, but spells that created shields and intangibility were completely acceptable. She was confident that armed with these two weapons, she would never have to submit to Draco Malfoy ever again. She was disgusted she never even thought of this sooner.
<I still have to be on guard my though, > she thought wearily, flipping the page. <It would be silly of me to just assume I’m now invincible and attack him. He knows too many Dark Arts spells and curses. He still has a chance of defeating me. All I have is the element of surprise…..…..I just hope that’s enough to get away. >
With these deciding thoughts, she drifted asleep in her bed, clutching her book.
**********************************************************
Hermione woke up with a start. She wiped the sleep from her eyes and peered out the window, waiting for her eyes to focus. It was nightfall, from the looks of it. She glanced at the grandfather clock in her private room. It was around 7:30 at night – everybody should be in the middle of eating.
She thought for a moment. Dare she venture out? She hadn’t had a bath in a couple of days and felt extremely dirty. Especially from Malfoy’s –
It was decided. She was taking a bath.
She was pretty sure he would be eating dinner with his fellow Slytherins, so she didn’t need to worry about running into him.
<Not that I’m not prepared. > She reminded herself.
Besides, no one knew where the Head Girl’s Bathroom was anyway, and even if they did, they wouldn’t know the password. She was safe. She walked along a hall positively wallpapered with paintings. She waved and greeted a few that were friendly enough to get to know her. She stopped in front of a sinister looking painting of the cruelly beautiful enchantress, Morwena. That was probably the last painting people would have guessed was the opening to the Head Girl’s Bathroom.
The dark haired beauty asked, "Password?" in a voice as chilly as the night. Now used to it, Hermione whispered, "Hellfire and Brimstone."
The painting opened, showing the way to the bathroom. Hermione shook her head at that gruesome password. Leave it to a Dark Witch to think up such a thing. Although, it was better than the last password, which was Decaying Corpses.
She entered, breathing a sigh of relief. She loved her bathroom. It was almost bigger than her large Head room, and was fully furnished. Every possible amenity was available, and the whole bathroom was made of marble and gold. The ceiling was a dome, giving the room an even larger sense of space.
She quickly dived into a bubble bath and washed herself thoroughly with a sponge. She washed her hair in a honey scented shampoo. She hummed with contentment. She could feel all of her bad thoughts just flaking away. A bath was just what she needed.
***************************************************
Walking down the exact hall Hermione was in earlier, Draco whistled with his hands in his pockets. His tune vibrated around the room, echoing through the hall.
"That’s quite a tune there, young Slytherin," a dark, seductive voice called out.
He stopped and looked around, only to find the beautiful Morwena glancing appreciatively down at him.
"Well well, if it isn’t the Goddess of the Night herself," he said amicably, bowing slightly.
"And what is a handsome fellow like you doing alone in a hall like this?" she asked coyly. "Shouldn’t you be with some pretty young thing?"
"Alas, I should be, but I am a man on a mission," he said, with a small smirk. "You see, my lady Morwena, I’m trying to win over a young lady’s heart."
"You? Trying? My dear boy, you must be after a blind girl!"
He chuckled. "Perhaps. It seems she wants to kill me, but I like a challenge," he added wryly.
"Oh my, well, good luck with her. Once you’re done, perhaps you could turn your attention to my dear lady, hmm? She desperately needs a man," she sighed, flipping her midnight hair back.
"Oh? Does she, now? I’m not too fond of the desperate type," he said cautiously, suspecting something. Why would paintings have ladies unless…………
"Exactly the opposite, actually. She REFUSES to be with a man, which is all more reason to get her one. She needs to loosen up, the poor thing. It is not as if she couldn’t get a one either," she whispered conspiratorially.
"Out of curiosity, who is your dear lady?" He knew he was shooting in the dark, but his gut instincts told him otherwise.
"Why, the Head Girl of course. Really, all that nonsense about setting up a good example and concentrating on school; it’s not good for a budding beauty."
His intuition was right. He gave himself a mental pat-on-the-back. "Well, when you put it so eloquently, what can a man do?" he said smoothly. "For you, lovely lady, I’d be honored to put aside my mission for now and take care of your Head Girl. As a personal favor."
"Wonderful," Morwena murmured lowly, her lips curving slyly. "One can always trust the Dark Side to pull through in times of need. Would you care to have her now?"
"Now?" Draco blinked, taken slightly aback. He wasn’t expecting that.
"Yes, she’s inside right now." She saw comprehension dawning on his face and chuckled. "How else would I be associated with the Head Girl if I was not the opening to the Head Girl Bathroom?"
Draco could feel fire coursing through his veins. Now. He could take her now, unprotected, unclothed in the bathroom. He slowly broke out into a dark smile. This was brilliant; no one would disturb them, not with Morwena the Enchantress guarding them.
"I take it she’s bathing?" It took some effort to keep his voice nonchalant.
"Oh, of course." She bent down so that she was level with Draco. "Now, whisper the password in my ear, darling. Hellfire and Brimstone."
He leaned over and murmured seductively, just for her, "Hellfire and Brimstone."
Her painting opened, showing him the way. With a parting smile, he entered, adrenaline pumping. This was it.
"Enjoy yourself dragon," Morwena whispered wickedly.
********************************************************************
Toweling herself off, she wrapped the large, fluffy towel around her small frame. She then reached for the glass bottle of lotion and started smearing the white liquid on her. . She had never had such a refreshing bath in her entire life. She shook her head and sent droplets of water flying around the room.
Hermione thought she heard a creak., and stopped what she was doing to listen. After hearing nothing else, she continued to rub the lotion on her, but still, she felt uneasy. The feeling of danger had not left her, even after she brushed off the thought of someone entering.
Then, she heard a louder creaking noise. Her heart began to beat erratically. The hairs on the back of her neck straightened, tingling. She nervously clutched her wand and turned around.
"Who’s there?" she asked, trying to keep the quaver out of her voice. She heard footsteps and rustling of clothes. The distinctive sound of shoes dropping on marble floor echoed.
"You’re in the Head Girl’s Bathroom! You’re not authorized to be here!" She held out her wand, ready for anything.
"Oh, but I am," a deep, dangerous voice responded. "You see, your painting let me in voluntarily. If that’s not authorization, I don’t know what is."
Oh. Gods.
There was just no way it was him. But then she saw him, standing there with a condescending smirk on his handsome face. In nothing but the regulation gray pants and the crisp, white Oxford shirt – fully unbuttoned no less.
It made sense though, she realized with a groan. The professors could have placed a more reliable, less evil portrait to guard her bathroom. But no, they had to find, out of thousands of paintings, the evil one who totally disregarded the rules and regulations of the school. But now was not the time to criticize the faculty’s choice of security measures.
"Get out Malfoy," she spat, stiffening. She pointed her wand menacingly at him to show him she was serious.
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