Basketcase

Basketcase

'...These carbon shells

These fragile dusty frames

House canvases of souls

We are bruised and broken masterpieces

But we did not paint ourselves....'

--Switchfoot, The Economy of Mercy.

Chapter Eight: Owls, Apologies and Prefect Meetings

Hermione woke up to find the room gray and gloomy, as she yawned and tried to rub the sleepiness out of her eyes. She looked around the room, feeling her heart unusually heavy this morning, before she turned her gaze to the window. The curtain was drawn, a deep red piece of cloth hanging in to cover. Hermione sighed, remembering that she hadn't been taking her peeks outside anymore, for a reason she did not even know.

She folded her covers to the side and stood, before walking over to the window. She pushed the curtain back unhurriedly, as she looked out.

The sight was not extraordinary, or one that hinted to her that today was going to be a smooth and eventful one. The sky was overcast and the gray clouds hovered too closely, heavily. The snow below gleamed as it started to melt, and it no longer looked inviting or very pleasing. Hermione sighed before she quickly slid the curtain across and then turned on her heel and got herself ready for the day.

Her mind was far away and distinct today, and her thoughts were faded and soft. Though they demanded, it was as if there was some sort of shield that muffled its stern shouting and lectures. She got dressed and tied her hair into a ponytail at the base of her neck, before quickly fixing her things on her desk and book bag.

Her thoughts wafted to Draco, and she felt her heart sink as she frowned at herself, ashamed. She remembered the night before; though all she wanted to do was forget all about it. She remembered his haunting and dark silver eyes piercing through her nerves and thoughts, numbing her soul with jolting electricity. She remembered his words... cold and callous, yet so true. She had never thought the truth could be so hurtful, until it had come out of his mouth.

She didn't know what she was to do. She had to owl the Prefects this morning before heading over to breakfast in the Great Hall, about their meeting scheduled this evening. She would have put it off to tomorrow or the day after, so she could have a chance to patch things up with Draco to their usual terms, but she knew that the plans had to be discussed with them urgently, and that today was right.

'You know that you can't put off the meeting because of your personal problems,' her mind told her. 'It's unethical.'

'But he's Head Boy,' she said back. 'It wouldn't feel right if we were at the meeting and we did everything to avoid each other. We're supposed to show teamwork.'

'Teamwork?' her mind snorted. 'What's teamwork when it comes to Draco Malfoy? Really, you must learn not to put so much faith in people you can't ever know or understand. What happened last night was bound to happen; you're just too different. What with you and your morals and his doomed future because of his father. Just work through this year, and it will all be easier. You'll forget about him and it won't ever be a problem again.'

'But I want to help him,' Hermione retaliated mentally, biting her lip as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. 'I know he can't be like that. He knows the truth, and now I do too. I have to give him a chance. I've got to prove him wrong and show him that I'm giving him a chance. That I'm not like everyone else.'

'Just leave him alone. He doesn't want you to give him a chance. You're a Mudblood, remember? What would he ever want with you?'

'I don't care. I just want to show him that I'm not a hypocrite after all. That I'm willing to push aside all my beliefs about Slytherin and start over.'

'You're stubborn, but I'll have you know, it'll only come back to bite you in the arse in the end. Draco Malfoy's not someone you can just help and expect to welcome you with open arms.'

'I know. I'm willing to try. I really am.'

Hermione looked at herself sadly, before she slid her book bag on her shoulder and turned away. She walked out of her room, and headed to the owlery.

Once she was in the owlery, she made a note notifying the Prefects of the meeting, where and what time. She reminded them not to be late, before she signed her name. She drew her wand and tapped the note, muttering a spell.

"Multiplico," she said, keeping in mind the number eight, and soon there were eight copies of the note lying in a stack beside it. She returned her wand in the pocket of her robe as she quickly counted it, and then looked over at the owls beside her. She opened the door of one of the school's owl cages, and tied a note to its leg. The owl hooted at her, and she smiled at it weakly.

"Ginny Weasley, please," she informed the owl. The owl nodded, before stretching out its wings and soon flew out of its cage. Hermione went on to the other owls, telling them each of the Prefects' names, as they flew out without hassle.

But as Hermione was down to her last note, she paused and hesitated, looking down at her writing. There was only one more person who she hadn't sent a note to: the Head Boy. She sighed, looking up at the owl that cocked its head at her curiously.

"Well, what do you think I should do?" she asked the owl softly. The owl hooted in reply, trying to flap its wings, attempting to tell Hermione that it was eager for a trip. Hermione stared at the note in her hand, trying to decide whether she should write in an apology in her note to him, though it would seem awfully tacky.

"I might as well," she sighed. "I can't bear to apologize to him in person." And so, with her mind set on her decision, she tucked the note into the pocket of her robe, as the owl cried out to her, seeing that she wasn't sending him out for flight.

"Sorry," she said to it. "But I'll come back, okay? I'll be sure to send you out, I promise." Hermione smiled faintly at the owl before turning to leave the owlery, making her way to the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was chatty and lively as she entered, the familiar clinks and clanks of silverware and conversation surrounding the cheery atmosphere. Though she smiled and acknowledged those who bid their greeting, her smile did not reach her eyes and her replies were not as meaningful and heartfelt. They were short and simple with a swift nod, as she quickly made her way to the vacant seat beside Ginny.

Ginny Weasley beamed at her and also told her good morning, and Hermione just nodded and gave her a repeated response. Hermione grabbed her usual orange, set it on her plate before requesting her choice of drink aloud, and watched as her goblet filled itself with water. Ginny looked over, and looked at Hermione questionably.

"Water?" she asked Hermione, who was trying to peel her orange. "But you've always had pumpkin juice."

"And your point is?" Hermione said, without a hint of coldness. "I didn't feel like having the usual pumpkin juice today, Ginny." Ginny looked at her oddly, as she continued to observe her friend.

"Say, Hermione, you didn't stay up all last night studying, did you?"

"No," Hermione said, as she set aside her pieces of peeled orange skin on the opposite side of her plate.

"Then, what's wrong? Something's obviously bothering you." Hermione didn't respond, and Ginny decided that she would try and pry a response from her. "Did my brother say something impeccably stupid and rude to you last night? Or what about this morning? What did he say?" Hermione sighed, as she looked up at her.

"It wasn't Ron," Hermione said, wearily.

"Then who is it? Merlin, Hermione, just tell me."

"I had to talk to Malfoy last night," Hermione said, feeling her heart suddenly drop as she mentioned him. "About Dumbledore's plans and how we would go about trying to make it work." Ginny bit into her muffin, quirking an eyebrow at Hermione in curiosity.

"I take it that it didn't go so smoothly?" she said, after she swallowed. Hermione shook her head, smiling because she remembered their agreement and the sudden irony just hit her.

"No," Hermione said, smiling faintly up at Ginny, tossing another orange peel on her plate, "it didn't."

"You didn't hex him, did you?"

"No. I don't think I could have, for once." Hermione sighed, feeling weak and helpless. "It was going just fine, at first. We talked about the plan smoothly, and he was cooperative and attentive. But then... we got to talking about the Houses, and... all hell broke loose."

"Hmm," Ginny said, her muffin in her hand as she watched Hermione. "And so how did all hell break loose? I need specifics, you know. I won't settle for the idle basics."

Hermione stared at her peeled orange, which sat at the palm of her hand. Her thoughts were restless now, swimming and taunting her. She was thinking about him again, and it seemed to be no surprise at all. She had been thinking about him so often these past few weeks, and somehow, she didn't even fight to push it aside. She was deeply troubled at how he could suddenly do this to her.

"I don't really feel up to talking about it, Ginny," Hermione said, feeling glum. "I feel horrible, and I just know what I have to do." Ginny looked at her and nodded, disappointed to be cut off and shut out so quickly and abruptly, but didn't say so.

"Well, then... you said that you were talking to him about the plan. Are you going to be owling us anytime soon for a meeting?" she asked. Hermione broke off a slice, placed it in her mouth, and chewed slowly. She nodded, not looking at Ginny.

"I went to the owlery before I came here," Hermione said, swallowing, and reaching for another piece. "I expect you'll get your owls in a few minutes."

Just then, as she continued to eat her orange, she remembered. She dug her hand into the pocket of her robe and took out the note, thinking to herself about her message to him. She looked around, and found that Ginny was talking to Seamus who was across the table and a couple of seats from them, and decided to herself that Ginny would be distracted enough for a fair amount of time for her to write her note. But just as she was digging into her book bag for her quill, she heard the chatter become louder and she looked up to see owls swooping into the room. She halted her search and held out her hands.

She spotted her own owl and her mail dropped into her hands, her weekly issue of the Daily Prophet and a letter from Harry. She looked at the letter curiously, wondering what he wrote to her about. She took the letter in her hand, as she heard the familiar hoot of her owl as it landed beside her plate. Hermione smiled at her owl as she heard Ginny talk excitedly to Seamus, about one of her packages.

"Hullo girl," she said softly, petting her owl. "How have you been?" The owl playfully nipped at her fingers, as Hermione laughed quietly and reached for a cracker. She broke it into small pieces and offered one to the flint-feathered owl, who took it happily. Hermione rubbed the crumbs off of her fingers, before she slid her index finger inside the envelope flap. She looked up at Harry, who was smiling and laughing all the way on the opposite end of the table, and she felt her heart sink to the bottom of her stomach. She looked down as she finally opened the letter, her eyes reading his words.

'Hermione,

How have you been? I haven't spoken to you in quite a bit, and I just wanted to know if you've been well. I see you in class and it's good to see that you've put your academics in the lead again. Ron's chatting with Seamus and Dean for now, so he's got no idea that I'm writing to you. It's been odd and awkward without you, and I can see that Ron thinks so too. I ask him almost daily if he's still sore at you, and now he hesitates. I think that's a good sign.

I'll see you around,

Harry.'

Hermione smiled at the sweetness of his gesture, but it was a sad sort of smile. She sometimes found herself looking for them in the Great Hall, but then remembered their current situation and that she was no longer welcome to sit with them anymore. The thought of her two friends still saddened her greatly, but she still didn't feel the need to apologize. She just didn't want to be seen as the weak one anymore.

ooooooooooo

Hermione was in Transfiguration when she took out the note again. She was alone today, sitting in front of the class, but she didn't mind. She had wanted to be alone, and she had known that she still had to write her message for him.

She looked around the room, and her eyes landed on him, his pale blonde hair making him stand out from the rest of the class. He was looking towards the front of the room, where McGonagall stood, explaining and lecturing. She noticed how his Slytherin class ring winked at her, and she turned away.

She dipped her quill in her inkbottle, but hesitated and instead grabbed another piece of parchment. She tore it in half quietly, before she started to write.

'Malfoy,

I've notified the Prefects that there's to be a meeting this evening, at exactly nine o'clock in the meeting room.'

Hermione hesitated again, sighing silently, trying to come to a decision on what to say and how to say it. Finally, she put the tip of the quill to the surface of the parchment and began to write, slowly.

'Considering the events of the previous night, I realize that I'm the one with the due apology. I know that if things aren't settled before the meeting, it would be awkward and uncomfortable at its worst. I hope you accept my apology, and hope you understand that it is out of sincerity. I know that what I said was clearly out of line and that I shouldn't go about parading my opinions about your House. I should have never brought up such a thing, and if I hadn't, we wouldn't have had ended the meeting on such terrible terms last night.

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger

Head Girl.

Ps. You're right. I think it is only proper that I tell you so.'

Hermione reread her letter, and then sighed.

"It will have to do," she whispered to herself, so that it was inaudible to anyone else. She folded the parchment and placed it in her pocket, before turning her attention back to the professor.

ooooooooooo

Draco entered his room, closing the door behind him. It was dark, but he didn't bother to voice out the spell for the enchanted lights. He had decided that he rather liked darkness at a young age, and it had been so for as long as he could remember.

He dropped his book bag on his bed, as he strode towards his window. He drew back the curtain, and the moonlight spilled from his windowpane. He smiled, looking out into the night, observing at how the moonbeams could pour out so gracefully. He reached for the lock on the windows and turned it, hearing the click as it unlocked. He pushed it open gently, as one half of the window was released and moved forward until he could feel a new chill enter his room, embracing him as he felt stings of pleasure stab into his skin.

Draco sighed with contentment as he felt the bitter, fresh night air swoop in, inhaling as much as he could. He looked out, and found himself facing a full moon. The moon was whole and bright, and what fascinated him more than anything was the fact that it was surrounded with so much darkness, yet it dominated and shone so godly. It used the darkness to make itself glow brighter, and he found it strangely brilliant.

But looking up at the gracious moon, taking in its pure and untainted appearance, he found his thoughts drifting off to another matter.

He had seen her today, and somehow he felt different towards her. He had realized it while glancing up to the Gryffindor table and his eyes immediately landed on the brown-haired Head Girl. She looked weary, her skin was pale and her eyes weren't as bright as usual, but he knew that it was only so subtle that no one else would notice.

Last night had been an awful shock to him. A strange occurrence, a peculiar and unexpected event. He hadn't expect to go off on her like he did, but the only reason he could come up for his sudden temper flare-up was that he knew that he had been the only one to notice the House hypocrisy since fifth year. He hadn't spoken about it, but he remembered that he was bitter when he had realized. Everyone was still blindfolded, but at least he had made her see it. And somehow, that was all that mattered.

He wasn't angry with her, strangely. He did feel a coldness rush through him whenever he thought of her, but it wasn't as much as hate and anger. He just wanted her to admit it, to see it as clearly as he did. If she really was as clever as everyone thought she was, he knew that she would. But he really didn't know if she was the same Granger he knew before. Something about her had changed, but he just couldn't place a finger on what.

But the odd thing was that he found himself being drawn to her now, and it made unfamiliar tingles creep up his spine. In a crowded room, he found himself searching for her, and it disturbed him greatly. He couldn't have himself growing fond of her, though at times he wanted a good row and wanted nothing but to pick it on her. He knew that he had to shake this feeling away, whatever it was. All he knew was that it wasn't something he wanted and that it was so alien that it almost frightened him... and intrigued him.

Draco looked up as he heard a distinct sound of flapping wings. He looked over to his owl's cage and saw his owl there, sleeping. He looked suspiciously out towards the window, hearing the fluttering get louder as it came nearer.

Just as Draco expected, an owl flew in, with bright yellow eyes that almost glowed in the darkness. It landed on his desk, and Draco watched the owl closely. He hadn't seen this owl before, but it was strangely familiar. He knew it had to be one of the school owls. The owl hooted as Draco stroked it gently, and noticed that it had a letter attached to its leg. Draco untied the letter; curious, and heard as the owl flew back into the night, obviously instructed not to wait for a reply.

Draco looked at the folded parchment, aware of the fact that it had his name written on the front. He recognized the writing, but didn't let his mind dwell on it as he unfolded the parchment without haste. He read its contents, his eyes trailing each line with speed and grace.

Draco held the letter in hand afterwards, staring out of his open window. There was a bitter breeze that swept in and entangled itself around him before it disappeared, leaving him alone in the darkness and moonlight, with just his thoughts and the letter.

He turned to look at the clock on his wall, and saw that it was just ten to nine.

He raised his palm, looking at the piece of parchment he held. He had known that the writing was familiar, that he had seen it somewhere before. He stared at the way his name was written on the front, and remembered her words. He slowly uncurled his fingers that held it down, and he smiled.