Basketcase

Basketcase

'...Some might say that we should never ponder

On our thoughts today 'cause they hold sway over time....'

--Oasis, Some Might Say.

Chapter Four: A Shouting Spat With the Hothead

Hermione woke up feeling positively glum this morning. Over the last few days, she had been feeling the cancerous guilt grow and spread inside of her. It weighed heavily on her heart and conscience, and saddled on her shoulders, making it sag and slouch. She couldn't remember sleeping a wink these past nights, and she was tired to the bone. In class, she had trouble listening attentively and she didn't answer as often as she used to, which caused a few curious looks from her peers and some concerned questions from her friends and Professors. But, not wanting to worry them in any way and knowing that it was only to be her problem and no one else's, she told them that she had had just a great difficulty sleeping this past week, which was not a lie at all.

She had been released from the Hospital Wing that very same day, just about an hour after Malfoy made his very dramatic exit. Madam Pomfrey had checked her temperature and permitted her to head back to her room, since classes had already ended and dinner was nearing. Hermione had walked slowly to her room, her mind filled with troubling thoughts that made her guilt poke at her, and didn't bother to stop by the Gryffindor Common Room to tell Harry and Ron that she was out. Instead she went ahead to her room in a misty trance, and when she broke out of it, she couldn't even recall her path there.

To her great disappointment and shame, all her thoughts were about the Herbology incident and Draco Malfoy. She thought about it constantly, and it brought her greater remorse each time. The thoughts that encircled her mind were never new, though she had analyzed again and again, more determined each time. It ate her up inside, slowly but very quickly, as she didn't realize it until she had just suddenly started to cry in the middle of lunch in the Great Hall. Of course, she hadn't sobbed or anything of the sort, but she had to excuse herself before anyone could take notice or before the guilt would erupt. She ran to Moaning Myrtle's deserted bathroom and had a good cry there, despite the bitterness the ghost bestowed upon her when she taunted her about the incident, which, surprisingly, she knew all about. When she was sure that lunch had ended, she straightened herself up and walked out of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom without a goodbye, which caused Myrtle to throw a tantrum and flood another toilet.

Harry had been the first to notice, since he knew about Hermione's past of holding shame and tremendous guilt when it was never hers in the first place. He had reassured her and patted her back, even holding her hand sometimes when he knew that she was thinking those same guilty thoughts during meals. But though he had the best intentions, and she told him that she didn't blame herself for the incident, she was a liar and she had a perfectly good reason to lie to one of her best friends. She knew that if she did confess to him the whole truth and explained everything, he still wouldn't understand just because he was a sickeningly good friend. He would never see it from her shoes. He didn't understand because he wanted to be there to tell her that it wasn't her fault.

Ron was still absolutely clueless and only observed her when Harry brought it up and Ron felt obligated to, since he was her friend, but just told her simply that she shouldn't feel so down and then went ahead and started on the meal. Hermione didn't feel as comforted as Harry made her feel, though she knew that she shouldn't care. Harry tried; Ron didn't when he felt that he wouldn't receive anything out of it, therefore it was not worth any of his effort and time.

Ginny, Hermione noticed, had taken to watching her closely, even when she was with Seamus. Ginny had tried a couple of times when they were alone to get Hermione to talk about what was really troubling her, but Hermione always changed the subject or shrugged it off. But it turns out that Hermione had underestimated Ginny, and that Ginny was not as daft as she thought. Now, and it rather disturbed her at times, Ginny observed her and was always by her side, always trying to get her to open up or come up with some conclusions and assumptions to her peculiar behavior.

Professor Snape felt the need to remark on her lack of persistent answers and raised hands, and barked at her to see Madam Pomfrey one day, explaining no particular reason at all. Hermione, too tired to object, had just gathered her stuff lazily and went out the door, leaving the class's eyes wide and eyebrows raised.

Professor McGonagall eyed her suspiciously during class when she also noticed the absence of her eagerness to answer questions in her class, and asked her a question one day about a famous Witch who had created an even more famous theory in the Wizarding World.

"I don't know," Hermione had replied, and gasps were heard all around the room.

And thus, started the rumors.

After Professor McGonagall had asked to speak with her a bit after class and Hermione entered the Great Hall, she heard the vast room buzz more excitedly than she had ever heard this year. As she passed, she saw people point and look at her, but paid no mind to them, as she simply made her way to her usual spot. She sat next to Harry and Ron, with Ginny smiling at her.

Hermione was not in anyway amused at all of the rumors that were being thrown around the halls and Houses. They were all ridiculous and stupid, and she had told them so, after another rumor had been passed along that had irked her beyond her usual scale of annoyance. She insisted that she was just fine and that the rumors were all false, in an effort to clear her name and get them off her back, but they did not cease and desist not even for a moment. That was when she realized that a way to really clear her name, stop the rumors, and then therefore wipe them all out from existence, would be if she went back to her bossy and know-it-all self. Though she wanted to, she didn't think she had the energy to. The lack of the appropriate amount of sleep each night was catching up to her at a very fast pace.

It seemed, from her observation, that the only person who hadn't pestered or talked to her all week was the Head Boy, Draco Malfoy. At the thought, Hermione felt a twinge of sadness and disappointment, but shook it away as she understood why he hadn't made the effort to call her 'Mudblood' the last few days. He was still sore at her, and she was obviously still sore at him. Though she had caught him looking at her in class or at meals sometimes, she just shrugged it off as she wallowed in her guilt and faults. It wasn't as much as anger anymore, that sore feeling she had towards Draco. It had evolved into something much more, and the anger had really turned out to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. Now, much to Hermione's delight, guilt and more hurting emotions were swirling and attaching hands with the so-called anger, making a bond.

Over the past few days, she had made up her mind to apologize to him, despite her reoccurring argument and debate with her conscience. She knew that it wasn't necessarily his entire fault, because she had been there and she had had her wand right in her pocket; she could have put a stop to it all as quickly as it had been started. It wasn't right for her to just explode at him the moment he walked into the infirmary to check on her. He had had good intentions -- at least she thought so -- and she had just started to spit out rude names.... She didn't want to admit it, but she had gotten what she deserved. She knew Draco wasn't dense or dim-witted, and he had seen right through her. He had seen that she had just tried to put all the blame on him in an effort to free herself from the biting guilt. It amazed her that he could read her so quickly, when everyone around her could never have seen such a thing. Harry knew that she was feeling bad because they had been friends for ages... but Draco, he barely knew her at all. He didn't know her, yet he saw her secret in quick seconds.

So with her apology in her hands, she had tried to gather up her courage and say it, but... she just couldn't. She was scared. She, Hermione Granger, was too scared to approach him and admit her faults.

That had been a reason why she was so tired and her mind was so burnt out. She wanted to, and she had been so awfully damn close... but she just couldn't reach him. It was just impossible.

Hermione, feeling more zombie-like today than any other day, skipped her daily peek out her window and went straight to getting herself prepared and straightened up, though she never put much of an effort on prettying herself up for the boys.

ooooooooo

Draco straightened out his collar neatly, as he was in the process of neatly tying his tie. He smirked, awfully glad, as the mirror stayed silent. He had silenced the poor thing weeks ago, when it kept making unnecessary comments, making him irritated and uncomfortable. Sure, he liked having something remind him of how ridiculously good-looking he was, but not when he was trying to concentrate on his Potions essay due the next day. So, being ill and short-tempered, he shut the thing up with a simple spell, and slept very, very well that very night.

But as Draco's gaze was steady and firm on knotting his tie perfectly, his thoughts were wandering aimlessly yet again, but on a particular person.

He had never thought of her before, not this much. She was a person he didn't care about but cared enough to remind her of her filthy blood when he could. She never appealed to him in anyway, except when she had appeared in the Yule ball in fourth year, which he found her beautiful and not so filthy, though he'd never voice the sinful thought aloud.

But lately, when he was not thinking of new insults, ways to make Crabbe trip along with Goyle, or thinking about his assignments and Dumbledore's new plan that he had pitched to them days ago, he found himself thinking about... her. Hermione Granger.

Sometimes he would wake, after a reoccurring dream and flashback to that day in the Hospital Wing on the day of the incident. He remembered that his heart would be racing at an unfamiliar fast pace, and his thoughts would be swarming yet again with the doe-eyed Gryffindor girl. His dreams and conscious never allowed him to walk through a day without sparing at least one thought of her, and the more he persisted to forget, the more he couldn't. He saw her, every night and every time he let himself get lost in his demanding thoughts, with tears spilling down her cheeks and her deep brown eyes filled with hurt and guilt. He had never felt sorry or bad for anyone, especially when it involved him inflicting emotional pain... but he couldn't help but feel guilty and even sort of ashamed when he thought back to that day. He had hurt her, and a fresh batch of unfamiliar feelings and emotions had appeared on his doorstop that he couldn't push away even if he tried.

He fought it with everything he had. His pride, his logic, his biting sarcasm, his ego, and all the reasons he had conjured up while an uneventful patrol one evening, as he walked through the halls in an unhurried manner. He cringed every time someone brought her up in class, and walked away from the chitchat parading the ridiculous rumors. Somewhere deep inside him, he knew why she was acting the way she was, and he felt... bad. Really bad. He saw her each day, whether it was watching her during a meal or class, or on their occasional meet-up on their assigned patrolling night, which they had been partnered for, and it ate and tore him up inside.

It was like a bloody beast, crouching and hiding away behind some bush, and then he saw her and it attacked and pounced at him like dinner. It ripped at his flesh and bit into his organs... it was painful and it just wasn't reasonable at all. He just didn't know what was happening and who was behind it. It was evil, he knew it was. Otherwise, why on earth would he be thinking of her so bloody often? It was ruining his personal life.

He was a Malfoy, and he didn't feel anything except for glory and power, and wealth, if it was an exceedingly large amount. That was his argument each time, besides the obvious "But she's a Mudblood!" retaliation. He felt ashamed. A Malfoy thinking about stupid Mudblood Granger as often as he was? That was just too sad.

He ran his long fingers through his hair absentmindedly, as he gave his tie one final tug. He sighed, pushing his thoughts of the dreadful girl away, before he turned and put on his sweatshirt. He was silent as he prepared himself for the day, determined to make her pained eyes fade from his memories.

oooooooooooo

Hermione felt their eyes on her again, as she poked at her oatmeal. She hadn't had a bite during the twenty minutes she had been here, partly for the reason that she hadn't had an appetite these last few days, and partly because they had been staring at her like a frighteningly attentive student. She noticed the weak conversations, the way they had asked her questions in an effort to make her talk, and not to mention the way Harry had been trying to make her laugh with preposterously bad and lame jokes all morning. Her answers had been quiet and simple; so simple that she heard the disappointment in their "Oh" afterwards. She didn't enjoy that her friends were worrying about her that they were devoting breakfast to making her feel better or open up, and she knew that their intentions were entirely good and pure, but she was getting sick of it. She felt uneasy, and usually she was too tired to feel uneasy, but they were going to an extreme to make her feel uncomfortable.

Fortunately and unfortunately, one of the trio felt the same way.

"That's it," she jumped as Ron exploded. She looked up, disturbed by the sudden outburst. Ron's face was red with anger and his blue eyes were dim with annoyance.

"I'm sick and tired of this. Hermione, just bloody tell us what the hell is wrong with you so we can get on with our lives!" Hermione's eyes widened at his remark.

Harry was also very surprised by his eruption, and was now trying to calm Ron down.

"No!" Ron said at Harry, but his finger was now pointing at Hermione. "I've been bloody sitting here, making an attempt to finally get her to crack, but she's a stubborn and lying git so she ignores us!" Hermione stared at him, her mouth open, but she quickly closed it, as she felt her anger rising.

"You listen here, Ron," she said to him, infuriated. "I didn't ask for your damn attention and I never asked you to make an effort to try to get me to tell you what's wrong, so don't start insulting me -- and point that bloody finger somewhere else --" she fumed, hitting his pointed finger aside, as Ron's eyes blazed brighter. "And I told you! There is nothing wrong with me! So just stop bloody watching me like I'm some freak show, because what you're looking for is not there!"

Just then, Ron stood, very, very, very angry. This caused the whole Gryffindor table to quiet down and watch them, curious. The other tables noticed the sudden lack of volume, turned, and craned their necks to see. The Slytherin table looked over, and a concerned and wildly interested Draco Malfoy turned his attention over to the obvious spat going on between Weasley and Granger.

"Just shut up, Hermione!" Ron seethed. "You're lying, and we all can see it! Just stop feeling sorry for yourself and tell us, or else just bloody move on for all of our sakes!" Hermione gasped, offended, as she stood too, her anger rivaling his.

"How dare you, Ron Weasley?" she shouted at him. "How dare you speak to me in such a manner! And I'm not feeling sorry for myself, Ron! You don't know that at all! If you'd pay attention once in a while and just halt for one single moment from stuffing your face with food, then you'd see!" Gasps were heard all around the Great Hall, as were some nods and agreements.

"You know what you're doing?" he said, pointing his finger at her again. "You're just doing this for attention! That's it, isn't it? You're just doing this to make everyone feel sorry about you and shower you with attention and sympathy!"

"You're accusing me of wanting attention?" she shrieked. "Ron, you can take the attention and shove it up your arse because I don't bloody need it!" More gasps were heard.

"We can see through you, Hermione!" Ron shouted. "All of us! You're acting like this because you want us to devote every bloody minute of every day on comforting you --" Just then, she heard calls from the staff table behind her, telling them to calm down and cease their arguing. But Hermione, too enraged to listen, had her own ways of ending this argument.

"I never asked!" she screamed. "I never bloody asked! And you know what? I hate it! I absolutely hate it! Do you think I like people spreading ridiculous rumors about me? Do you think I like people staring and whispering about me? Do you bloody think that I like my friends watching me like I'm some bloody mutated animal and make lame attempts to try and pry into me? Do you? Because I'll tell you the truth now, Ron! I'm confessing, just what you wanted! You can take the damn attention and this argument and shove it because this is clearly a waste of my energy and time!" And with Ron staring at her, shocked and wide-eyed, and the teachers shouting threats of detention in the background, she grabbed her book bag, swung her legs over the bench, and stormed right out of the Great Hall, with a furious fire burning in her eyes.

Silence echoed in the Great Hall. People watched her, wide-eyed and amazed by her behavior, until she disappeared from the doors. They all looked back at Ron, who was still speechless.

To them, it was obvious who had won that one.

Just then, someone from the Slytherin table with pale blonde hair and amusement in his eyes started clapping loudly, which evolved into a thunderous applause that boomed from the Great Hall with whoops and shouts of praise.

Ron slowly sat down, defeated, as he glared at Harry, who was also clapping and laughing, shaking his head, repeating that he had told Ron not to start with her.

Even the Professors over at the Staff table were applauding, amused, unable to resist from the stellar performance of Hermione Granger.

Draco Malfoy was laughing heartedly, clapping while his gray eyes twinkled and danced like never before, feeling an infectious newly found respect for the fiery Head Girl burn inside him. After all, he had been the one to start applauding. It was clear that she had broken out of her shell and she had left everyone to stare after her and eat her dust, amazed.