Contradictus Totalus

Contradictus Totalus - Chapter Seven

Hermione's legs buckled under her as she arrived at her destination, but she forced herself to stay upright, perhaps only because Malfoy still was standing. She staggered for a little bit, trying to regain her footing, and nearly slammed into a big oak tree, but in the end, she still emerged from the transition on both her feet.

On an impulse, she picked up the twig that had served as their one-way Portkey, and slipped it into a pocket in her robes. She doubted it would last until the end of their journey, but if it did, well, then she supposed it would make a nice souvenir. A great memory it would make: how she managed to survive not only a jaunt in the deepest part of the Forbidden Forest, but also how she had managed to survive prolonged exposure to Malfoy without getting burned.

But would she avoid getting burned? Ron's voice floated back to her: 'He'll Banish you to Nepal!' Hermione's tensed up, remembering the genuine concern in her friend's voice, but then, reason caught up to her. She let out a breath, and her shoulders relaxed. She was being absurd, letting Ron's silly Slytherin paranoia get to her.

Hermione looked at Malfoy, who despite himself was currently staring in awe at the surrounding expanse of thick, imposing trees. Maybe, just maybe, he was as apprehensive about this as she was. With that hopeful thought in mind to banish lingering vestiges of Ron's words of caution, she then followed Malfoy's cue, and looked around at their surroundings.

They were standing in a little clearing, and Hermione had no doubt that they were deep within the forest. The clearing among the trees that they had Portkeyed into was relatively clear of underbrush, and it resembled an island of scrubby, patchy grass in a sea of trees. Despite the fact that it was autumn, the trees in the Forbidden Forest hadn't lost any of their leaves, and were gathered in thick bunches on the branches. The only bit of sunlight that could be seen was a thin, pale shaft of light that managed to dodge the thick tree branches and leafy canopies to shine a pale spotlight on the scrubby grass between Hermione and Malfoy. Then, a cloud moved in front of the sun, and the already weak ray of sunlight disappeared quickly. The little light Hermione had was now extinguished, and all that was left around her was a wall of earthy brown and green.

There were few sounds to be heard - Hermione could not hear any calls of birds or any scrabbling noises made by the paws of little creatures. The silence was not a heavy silence, just a very still one. In the stillness, all Hermione could hear was the sound of an occasional gust of wind blowing in between the trees, and a sporadic rustling of dried grass whenever she, or Malfoy, standing across from her, shuffled their feet. What stood out the most for Hermione was the sound of Malfoy's inhalations and exhalations. She was not all that close to him, yet, the circle of trees seemed to create a cavern-like effect around them that proved otherwise - every breath of his was amplified. If Hermione had stopped to listen, to really listen, she would have heard his heart beating a warm, soothing sound that would fill up the emptiness of the forest. After all, no heart can always stay completely silent.

But Hermione did not try. Being able to hear these warm sounds that show life in humans seemed to be too personal, especially when the sounds came from Malfoy.

Malfoy stared at daunting size of the trees and felt outmatched and unprepared. Here he was, a mere student, about to match wits with the Forbidden Forest, which had probably worn many other people into submission before him. Malfoy gave a little sigh. If it made any difference, at least he was paired up to Granger. He had to grudgingly admit, her brains would be relatively useful in reaching his ultimate goal of leaving the forest safe in body and mind.

Then he heard Granger's bossy little voice. 'We should be getting on now, shouldn't we? I think we should try to cover as much ground as possible before it gets dark.'

Malfoy immediately took back his last thought. How dare she speak to him in that tone of voice? The bossy, interfering, little ... However, what actually irritated him more was the fact that he was actually about to voice the exact same thoughts (although perhaps in a tone that was a bit more snide than what Granger had spoken in). Why was it that Granger always managed to do what he was about to? How was it that she seemed to unconsciously anticipate his thoughts and actions? It was as if she actually had the same thoughts running through her head as he did. It galled him to even consider this. They most certainly were not 'birds of the same flock', after all.

'I'm aware of that, Granger,' he said testily, grounding out the last few syllables.

But then, so that she would know that he was not completely clueless, he cast his Object Specific Four-Point Spell. 'Dirigere objectus,' he muttered, while holding his wand flat on his palm. His wand spun around on its central axis in his palm, finally pointing somewhere towards the northeast.

'Well, I suppose that's the way we'll have to go,' Granger said briskly. Leave it to Granger to always state the obvious.

And so off they went. Neither of the students bothered making small-talk, or indeed, making any sort of conversation at all. They only walked and walked, skirting their way around large boulders, squeezing themselves through spaces between trees, climbing over fallen logs, always trying to stay faithful to the course set by the Four-Point Spell, to find their little seed that would send them home.

* * * * *

It was late in the afternoon, and Hermione felt like she was on the brink of total starvation. Indeed, if she hadn't known that the stomach lining was covered in a tough layer of mucus, she would have believed that her stomach had begun the process of eating itself for sustenance. It was a fortunate thing indeed that the twigs she stepped on cracked loudly, to cover up the sound of her rumbling stomach. Fortunate because the last thing she wanted was for Malfoy to know that she wanted to stop to forage for some food.

She heard a low rumble, sounding almost like thunder. She looked up, but unfortunately, she and Malfoy were standing in a particularly dense grove of trees, and she couldn't see the sky to check for signs of a storm. She fervently hoped it wouldn't rain - that would make an already horrible situation even worse.

Malfoy gave a private sigh of relief. Thank Merlin he was standing currently under the shadow of a large tree! It wouldn't do to have Granger spy the flush that had emerged on his face.

He hadn't been aware that he was that hungry until his stomach had betrayed him by giving off a thunderous growl. This would not have been so bad, but apparently, it had been so noisy that Granger had even checked for signs of an approaching storm.

Malfoy continued walking, holding his side, feeling waves of hunger strike him. He trudged along, following the little crests and dips in the earth, and occasionally nearly stumbling into a few particularly sadistic thorn bushes.

It had been interesting to observe, how at first, both students had set off towards the direction of their Portkey at almost a break-neck pace, despite Snape and St.-Marie's warnings of taxing themselves too much. Each student had not wanted to be in the position of the follower; each student was jockeying for first place in this long test of endurance. Neither person would utter a word to the other, but all of their senses were devoted to seeing where the other was, and their brain cells were occupied on the task of figuring out the best way to outstrip the other. First Hermione would be in the lead, hopping over Glumbumble burrows, and then, Malfoy would slip past her deftly to take the position of the leader. A few minutes later, however, Hermione would find a shortcut to cut Malfoy off again and take what she considered to be her rightful position. However, humans are not built for such little sprints over such a long period of time. After almost two hours of these impromptu, unofficial, but oh so very important races, both Malfoy and Hermione were exhausted to the point where they tried passing each other less and less often, and the person in the lead put less and less effort in trying to keep his or her position. In the end, both students had answered the tired pleas of their bodies, and had unconsciously ended their competition against each other. Instead, they walked alongside each other - mind, 'alongside' meaning as far apart as they could get without getting lost. And at four twenty-two post meridian time (according to Hermione), exactly six hours and twelve minutes after they had been spirited away into the forest (the figure again supplied by Hermione), both students were racked with so many hunger pangs that they no longer noticed.

'Stop. Direction check,' Hermione said wearily. She put her wand on the palm of her hands and threw out the words to the spell. Her wand spun around, and Hermione was pleased to see that they were still on course. Both she and Malfoy had gotten into the habit of checking their direction after the one time they had realized that they had spent about a half hour racing each other towards the wrong direction.

Unfortunately, it was at this moment when Hermione's stomach decided to betray her by vocalizing its displeasure. The guttural call sounded horrible, resembling the flatulent noise made by a Porlock. And in the eerie stillness of the forest, her belly's rumble seemed to be amplified by an impossibly large degree.

Although it was well into the afternoon and the sun was already beginning to set, Hermione's blush could still be seen very clearly by Malfoy: she had had the luck to be standing in a patch of light, and a stray ray of sunlight had worked its way through the dozens of leaves and branches to illuminate her glowing face.

'My my, Granger! I didn't think that prim and proper Gryffindors would ever do something so rude like that. And you're not even going to excuse yourself? I thought Gryffindors had more class than that, but seeing Weasley, I guess I shouldn't be surprised.' Malfoy laughed openly at her, rather enjoying the embarrassment that was making its way over her face and matching the same pinkish hue as the Cloud Candy he had seen at Honeyduke's. He also was immensely relieved at the fact that he was not the only person who was feeling a bit ... peckish.

'Stuff it, Malfoy,' Hermione retorted. 'For your information, that was my stomach.' And then, she started walking again with a huff.

'Wait! You're not going to stop and get some food?' Malfoy called out, surprised and dismayed. Damn! That was his one opportunity to grab some food without losing too much face - after all, he would never concede to Granger that he felt the same way as her.

Granger kept walking away from him. Malfoy could see that her shoulders were squared resolutely, despite the increasing distance between them.

Then Malfoy realized something else. Despite his near-crippling hunger, he began chuckling, and pointed out gleefully, 'Granger, you're heading in the wrong direction. Merlin's beard! You know, for someone supposedly so smart, you're being awfully dim.'

Granger turned around and headed towards him. Her face was no less red, and Malfoy could see that her eyes were determinedly focused away from his own.

When she was close to him, Malfoy said, 'Now, why don't you just stop for a moment and get some food? For you, of course. Because judging by that call that your stomach just made, if you don't eat something, then that silly little body of yours is going to collapse. And I really don't want to waste my time performing the Revival Spell on you.'

Hermione fought the (immature but surely not at all unreasonable) urge building up inside her to whip out her wand, and send the animal dung she had spotted earlier flying in the direction of Malfoy's perfect hair. 'I don't need food right now, you silly prat,' she said, successfully enunciating every word, despite the fact that her teeth were mashed together so tightly it would have hurt if she had stopped to think about it - a very notable achievement indeed.

Malfoy stared at her pointedly and raised an eyebrow as a new growl emanated from her stomach, vehemently contradicting her last statement. He smirked. He was starving to death, he swore his stomach was curling in on itself, yet, how was it that Granger could still make him forget this minor detail for even just a moment? Oh, Merlin knew it was always entertaining, seeing that emotional, indignant look on Granger's face. His hunger seemed to be temporarily alleviated even more as he watched Granger looking at him huffily with her face completely flushed. She seemed to be trying valiantly to ignore the latest sound to emerge from her stomach - a difficult task, considering it was about the same intensity as the roar of a manticore.

'Granger, that Gryffindor pride of yours is really irritating. I'll never get out of here if you're lagging behind due to starvation. Now just hurry up and get some food, before you collapse like a model under the weight of too many Beautification Spells.' Malfoy's brief moment of merriment ended as soon as he heard the word 'food' come out of his mouth. With that, it wasn't hard for Malfoy to inject a liberal amount of irritation into his voice. However, it took a lot more of his power to try not to let any bit of desperation creep in as well. It was difficult to quell the insistent call of his belly that was threatening to make its own public appearance to show Granger's growl up.

'Malfoy, I don't need you, some skulking, self-centred little wizard, to tell me what I should do.' Hermione squared her shoulders again, and began marching off again (in the right direction this time).

'Good God, Granger!' Malfoy called in exasperation (and hunger). 'I'm surprised Gryffindor Tower hasn't been burned down yet because of the sheer stupidity of you duffers! You're even worse than most of the Hufflepuffs I've seen.'

Malfoy noticed Granger turning around, no doubt wanting to refute his statement questioning her intelligence. Well, he might as well take initiative to encourage her a little. He scanned the area, looking for something that looked remotely edible.

His eyes fell upon a little patch of pink mushrooms covered by bristles. Normally, if he had been at Hogwarts, or at his father's home at the Manor, he would have turned his nose up at the mushrooms, and would have considered it an insult for even a Malfoy House Elf to be given one of those. But here, things were different. Malfoy could not ignore the sensation that his stomach was caving in on itself. Anyway, he remembered vaguely the day St.-Marie and Snape went over an in-depth look at plants that could be eaten. If his memory served correctly, the pink, bristly mushrooms were all right for ingestion ...

Malfoy headed towards the mushrooms. He leaned forwards, bent over, and extended his arm out towards the mushrooms. His hand came towards the mushrooms, closer and closer ...

Then he felt a spark of electricity hit him on his forearm. Something had shocked him, literally. His arm bounced up in this transfer of electrons, and he jerked his hand away from the desired patch of mushrooms. Only then did he notice that Granger's hand was being jerked away from him as well, as if it had been shocked as well. Granger? Malfoy realized that it had been Granger's touch that had sent the sparks flying.

He stared at her, speechless for a second. It was another moment where his mind moved quickly, zipping along with dozens of images and thoughts, while time seemed to inch along so slowly. It had been a very long while since his skin actually came in contact with someone else's. In fact, he could not remember touching anyone else at all last year. Even his mother had not touched him since, when? The end of fourth year when he had been rolled off the train, covered in suckers and boils? And before then, the last person to have her flesh come in contact with his had been ... Granger, when she had slapped him in their third year. It was strange to think that the first physical contact he'd had with anyone in two years had been with Granger.

But then, time seemed to return to normal, and his thoughts rearranged themselves. 'What the hell are you doing, Granger? Trying to get all matey with the Slytherins? You know, it's not even all that flattering to me when you're touching me with your sex-deprived hands.' Malfoy sneered, rubbing his hand on his forearm, on the spot she touched that still tingled.

'Don't worry, Malfoy, I've no intention of getting "all matey" with you. I normally wouldn't touch you if you were the last wizard alive. But I think that you'll be quite pleased to know that I just prevented your fingers from getting torn off by a Horklump. After all, I want to get out here as soon as possible, and I really don't want to waste my time casting a Coagulating Spell on your fingers.' Malfoy did not fail to notice the sarcasm dripping from Granger's voice that so easily matched the sarcastic tone he had adapted a few minutes ago.

But Malfoy wasn't too bothered by the insolence that Granger was showing. And he was much less annoyed by the fact that she had touched him. He stared at the pink, bristly mushrooms. Horklumps? But he thought the pink mushrooms were safe. He racked his brains, trying to think of something to refute Granger's statement. She couldn't possibly be right! Right?

Before he could even open his mouth to automatically contradict her, Granger took a stone and threw it at the patch of mushrooms. Before the stone even touched the earth however, there was a big pink blur. Malfoy watched with awe as well as horror as the pink mushroom that he was about to pick somehow developed an orifice that could be nothing but a mouth. A mouth filled with two rows of impossibly sharp teeth. He rubbed the fingers on his hand absent-mindedly as he watched the Horklump - damn, it definitely was a Horklump - jump towards the stone that Granger had launched in its direction. He saw a few sparks where the Horklump's teeth crashed against the rock. Both the Horklump and the stone hit the ground, and the Horklump, realizing that the rock was definitely inedible, resumed its innocent form as a pink mushroom. All of this happened in the elapsed time of less than one second.

Malfoy was stunned into silence. He remembered now. Horklumps: carnivorous creatures with the unassuming form of pink, bristly mushrooms. Often spotted in dense, woodland areas ... He peered at the rock that Granger had thrown - Malfoy was shocked to see tooth-marks gouged into it.

He looked up to see Granger smiling beatifically. Malfoy felt a shudder of rage pass through him. Of all the times he had thought to himself that at least Granger might prove useful in their test together, he never would have expected to feel so much ... irritation when her usefulness was displayed openly. How dare she help him! How dare she act like such a know-it-all! How dare she humiliate him like that! How dare she imply that he was inferior to her!

Malfoy's jaw clenched and his fists were balled up just as tightly as he tried to think of something suitable enough for Granger. To say something to wipe that serene smile off her face. To discount the fact that she had saved his fingers. His mouth poised to throw out an insult, his vocal cords trembling with anticipation at the angry sounds he wanted to make, his brain searching through his whole bank of memories, he tried to cobble together an insult suitable enough to stamp out the fact that Granger had saved his fingers. Malfoy opened his mouth to spit out a well-formed insult.

But he couldn't pull it off. He couldn't twist his mouth down into a sneer, and he couldn't pull it up to create a condescending smirk. He couldn't manage to coordinate his memories of Granger and his vocabulary to come up with a quick insult. The images running through his mind were not of him sneering condescendingly at Granger as she was properly put into place, but of her pulling his hand back in time to save it from being ravaged by the likes of a pink mushroom. He thought of the little chips of rock scattered around the stone, a mark of the strength of the teeth of those Horklumps. He thought of those teeth biting deep into the bones of his hands, scraping the skin off and severing a few fingers to boot. He tried, he really did, but he just couldn't think up of an insult. He closed his mouth.

Now, it was too late to do anything. Granger had already left to go and collect some nuts or whatever in the surrounding area. Malfoy felt his anger increase two-fold - he was not only irritated with Granger being so annoyingly arrogant in that silent smug way of hers, but now, he was furious at his own powerlessness as well. He had not been capable of doing or saying anything to put her in her place. He had let her win.

Malfoy stared at Granger's retreating figure, and promised to himself that if something like this ever occurred again, he would not allow Granger to get off this easily. He would not let himself have this moment of weakness again.

Hermione smiled as she began searching the area, looking for edible roots, berries, and mushrooms that were really mushrooms. She had proved her own point to counter Malfoy. Right now, no matter what she did, it would not be possible to lose to him - the fact that his fingers were not being made the meal of an eager Horklump could attest to that. She felt no need to gloat - she knew that Malfoy knew as well as she did that she was one up on him.

She turned around, and watched as Malfoy shook himself from his stupor and began gathering food as well. He seemed just as eager as she was to eat - perhaps he was hungry too? Hermione found the idea that Malfoy was someone to have the same human needs as most normal people did to be very foreign. She paused her own root gathering and watched as he skirted far away from another patch of mushrooms - never mind that these ones were bright green with red polka dots, and as different from Horklumps as they could get. Once bitten, twice shy seemed to apply to him here.

Hermione headed over to the mushrooms that Malfoy had avoided. 'Those ones are actually all right. Remember? Professor St.-Marie told us they taste like chicken. Oh, and also, we're going to need a little dish of water to wash the food in.'

'I know, Granger,' Malfoy said witheringly. 'I was just about to do that now.'

Malfoy waited off until Granger walked briskly out of sight. Then, he set his bundle of berries and roots down.

And it was at this moment that Draco Malfoy, heir to Malfoy Manor and all of the old Malfoy money that went with it, pulled down the zipper of his trousers and went pee into a bush. He might have been enraged at Granger, he might have been livid with his own weakness, he might have been starving to death, but still, like a good Slytherin, he knew that he should take all opportunities to go for a piss whenever he wasn't under Granger's watchful eye.

Now that he had carried out with his bodily functions, Malfoy headed off to search for a large leaf that he could use to fold into the shape of a pot. After finding it, he settled down to perform the difficult task of turning it into a durable water holder. His long fingers soon nimbly transformed the wide leaf into a little container. Malfoy suppressed a shudder when he thought of the tatters that his hand would be in if he had gotten any closer to the horklump. He cast a quick Flame-Retardant Charm on the little container, then took it over to the puddle of water he had seen a few metres away. He scooped up a bit of water into his leaf container, purified the liquid with an 'aquapurgo', and then headed back.

By the time Malfoy had returned with his little container of water, Hermione had gathered up enough food to make a relatively filling meal. She conjured a little fire, and they cooked the food.

They ate quickly and silently. Each of them felt immediate bliss as the warm food entered the cold, sunken sacks that their stomachs resembled.

After a few minutes that seemed too short, they both got up. Hermione doused the fire, and they set off again, walking in complete silence. But at least their appetites had been satisfied, albeit temporarily.

* * * * *

It was exactly ten oh-two, and it was beginning to rain.

However, Hermione and Malfoy did not stop. They did not even think of stopping. They were determined to get as far as possible, even if it meant slogging through the rain with only weak spots of light emitted from the tips of their wands as a guide.

Despite the layers of branches and leaves above their heads, the rain still managed to come pouring down on top of them with the same speed and urgency as words spat out in a heated argument. If Hermione or Malfoy had been able to see through the thick canopy of leaves to look at the sky, all they would have been able to see was a vast curtain of steely grey clouds, with jagged streaks of lightning tearing rents in them to skirt across the stormy sky. The raindrops became less like raindrops and more like buckets of icy water cascading over them repeatedly. Their robes proved to be too thin, as the water quickly soaked their way through. Hermione's robes, which usually were made of material so light that they could swirl around her as she walked, instead clung to her body heavily. Every few seconds, a gust of wind would come blowing in, shooting pinpricks of rain into their faces, and sending down waterfalls from the tree branches. Hermione's trainers were also completely drenched, their pristine white stained a grimy brown-grey from the veritable lakes of mud she and Malfoy had to slog through on their journey.

Impossibly loud thunder crashed overhead sporadically, and if Hermione and Malfoy had been speaking to each other, they would have found it impossible to hear each others' words. Every now and then, there would be a bolt of lightning, and for one instantaneous moment, Hermione's surroundings would be illuminated in an eerie electric blue colour. She'd barely have the time to see Malfoy's blond hair and his grey eyes before she'd be plunged back into shadows. Hermione often tried opening her eyes as widely as possible, ignoring the stinging sensation of rain pelting into her eyes. But her effort was in vain - she could not see a single thing in the storm.

As if to prove her point in a particularly sadistic manner, she tripped over a root that the weak ray of light emitted from her wand had treacherously failed to illuminate. Hermione landed on her hands and knees in an instinctual effort to avoid plunging her head into the ground. Hands covered in dirt, grit, and mud, she groped around in the darkness for her wand, which she found a few moments later floating in a pool of grime. In her preoccupation, she even forgot to worry that Malfoy had noticed, and that he would taunt her for it.

This was ridiculous. They were wandering around soaked to the bone, without even knowing where they were. The one second of light that occurred sporadically was far too brief for her to cast the Four Point Spell. The storm was veritably the heaviest storm that Hermione had seen in her life. Little needles of rain continuously jabbed at her, spurred on by the strong gusts of wind that pushed the immense trees surrounding Hermione inwards, causing their branches to reach towards her maliciously.

A leaf dragged down by the weight of the storm whipped through the air, attaching itself to Hermione's face like a leech. She swung her hand up to her cheek and brushed the leaf away with some difficulty: the constant gusts of wind had the leaf clinging to her cheek tenaciously. Her shoulders sagged as she realized what they had to do.

'Malfoy!' Hermione called out as loudly as possible, trying to be able to be heard above the torrent of rain. 'Malfoy, we have to stop! The rain's too heavy!' She shouted in the general direction on her right - for that's where she had seen Malfoy last, about ten seconds ago in the illumination of the last lightning bolt.

She hated telling him they needed to stop. She hated admitting that they were beaten by the storm. She hated that they had failed. But she knew that they were making no progress slogging through the storm. She felt a heavy sort of resignation upon admitting defeat, but it was true.

Hermione heard a voice off to her left then, and she swivelled her head towards that direction. 'What?' she yelled as loudly as possible - decorum be damned!

There was suddenly another flash of lightning, followed almost instantaneously by a deafening peal of thunder. In the abnormally long span of time where Hermione could see clearly, she saw Malfoy. If it wasn't for their current unpleasant predicament, Hermione would have found this tableau to be quite amusing. His body was bent forward, fighting against the rain lashing against his face, and bouncing off into the rivers of rain snaking through the mud below. His jaw was tight, and rainwater continuously rolled down his jaw line and dripped down to be caught by his robes. His hair was a mess, clinging to his face. However, although he looked absolutely miserable, like a poor traveller trying to hide under a newspaper in a thunderstorm, he wouldn't stop. Hermione wasn't sure if Malfoy had heard her, but then, right before the moment of clarity ended, she saw him shake his head in stubborn refusal. The reluctance to stop that she felt could be seen mirrored on his face.

No, but they had to. They were making no progress, and would surely only tire themselves out. Hermione looked around frantically, trying to find some spot in the forest where they could have a decent shelter.

Finally, as more lightning flashed, Hermione caught sight of the best spot in the immediate area. There! There was an absolutely enormous tree that had somehow cracked in the middle and crashed down into the ground to create a somewhat flimsy lean-to.

Hermione threw her left hand out, grabbed what must have been the sleeve of Malfoy's robe, and pulled him towards the direction of the broken tree. She felt him pull away at first, but after a few seconds, he seemed to resign himself to the fact that nothing more could be done for she felt no longer felt any resistance from him.

Hermione ducked underneath the fallen tree, with Malfoy trailing behind her, and was extremely pleased to feel the sensation of having no water being poured onto her. This tree was definitely large and thick enough to provide a decent roof for her and Malfoy to huddle under until the storm abated.

Malfoy took out his wand to cast a fire. Unfortunately, the flame did not appear immediately after his utterance of the incantation - damn rain! Malfoy opened his mouth to mutter the spell again but before any sound came out, Granger butted in. With a flick of her wand and a casually thrown incantation, there was a little fire burning merrily between them.

Despite Malfoy's ire that Granger had to go and show off her annoying know-it-all tendencies yet again, he noted that she was quite proficient at casting water-proof flame spells. And despite everything, he still unconsciously extended his hands towards the flame she had conjured, and felt immediate satisfaction as his cold and numb fingers regained a bit of feeling.

As he warmed up to the fire, Malfoy took stock of his surroundings. He looked up, and took in the sight of charred marks on the bark of the tree. Somehow, a stray bolt of lightning had once managed to find its way through the layers and layers of leaves in the canopy, and not only strike this tree, but somehow, strike it in just the right spot with just enough force to cause the whole towering tree to topple over. Malfoy shivered, and not only because of the cold: if the impossible occurred once, it could occur again.

Malfoy turned away, and something caught his eye. Apparently, the shelter that they had found was located a few steps away from a lake. He could hear the continuous drumbeat of the raindrops striking the surface of the lake. When the next flash of lightning came, Malfoy could see that the lake was quite big - almost as large as the lake at Hogwarts - and the water in it was tinted a muddy brown colour. Thank Merlin for Aquapurgo. Malfoy turned away from the murky lake, and scanned his other surroundings.

Outside, away from their little shelter, the world was a dark and dreary place. The rain beat down on all the plants mercilessly. The plant life in the forest seemed to have realized that they were the victims, for they had hidden themselves. Looking out from under his relatively snug spot under the fallen tree, Malfoy could not see any of the greens, reds, blues, or yellows that he and Granger had seen during the day. Under this rain, all colour seemed to have washed out of the world, leaving only irresolute outlines of objects, coloured in with dull browns and greys. Malfoy turned back to the lake, and watched listlessly as dark grey splotches could be seen whipping into the dark brown lake, creating sludgy brownish-grey splashes.

Malfoy looked away from the bleak landscape of his surroundings and returned to the warmth of the fire. The fire was rather cozy, and illuminated the darkness of their shelter. It gave what would have been the lifeless brown shade of the fallen tree a warm, firebrick glow. He bent forwards, trying to feel even more heat enter his body, and noticed Granger, who was sitting across from him, do the same.

Malfoy shifted his legs slightly. Unfortunately, in his distraction, he brought his leg too close to the fire. His boot smothered the flame and it quickly went out. Malfoy, and Granger, sitting across from him, were once again plunged back into a world of bleak darkness.

The fire was quickly restarted by Granger, and as soon as Malfoy felt the warmth again, he also saw the irritated look in her eyes and heard the tetchiness in her voice.

'Malfoy, could you please try to refrain from knocking my fire out? It's not hard to relight, but I really would prefer to warm my hands up without having to stop every few seconds to relight it.'

'What, are you implying that I can't light a bloody fire? Just because -'

'No, of course not. I'm just saying that it's horribly annoying to keep having to restart a fire every time you put it out.' Hermione spoke in a tone of voice that was as patient as she could make it under the circumstances. She eyed Malfoy warily. The last thing she wanted was to get in a row with Malfoy about something as silly as waterproof fires.

Unfortunately, despite the bit of effort she took to try to keep the conversation from heating up, it did not work. Malfoy had leaned even closer to her, and Hermione could see irritation in his eyes. His voice increased in volume. 'See, you are implying that I can't put together a bloody fire!'

'No, I -'

'Who the hell do you think you are, to be so presumptuous?'

Hermione nearly burst into laughter. This had to be one of the most laughable moments of her stay in the forest so far.

'Presumptuous? I'm presumptuous? You're informing me of this? You, the wizard who goes around bullying whomever you feel like, using your father and the precious Malfoy name to -'

'Shut up, Granger. Don't you dare talk about my family, you Mudblood!'

Malfoy's tone was as frigid as the rainwater dripping from Hermione's hair and rolling down her neck, but she did not flinch upon hearing it. She could hear the defensiveness in his voice, and the barely contained outrage as well. She leaned over the fire, until she could easily see the grains of mud splattered under Malfoy's ear as well as the shocking brightness of his face, compared to the obscurity surrounding it. She stared at his grey eyes levelly across the flames. She opened her mouth slightly, knowing that she should shut it and not aggravate him even more, but not being able to. Unable to control her impulses, she challenged him. 'Don't interrupt me, because it's true. You rely on your father so much for everything. I'm surprised that you - listen to me - still haven't found your own voice yet. Haven't you lost that naivety of yours?'

'Naivety? Granger, you, a goody-goody Gryffindor, want to tell me about naivety?' Malfoy's voice betrayed the scorn he felt. What did Granger know about anything? She thought with that typical arrogance of hers that she knew everything. Oh, how little she really knew. Being Potter's sidekick and top of her year did not make her infallible, and the sheer irony of her words struck Malfoy as being incredibly perverse. Perhaps if he hadn't been drenched with rain and splattered with grime, he would have actually found the situation amusing.

'Yes, because you're just so full of naivety, Malfoy, yet -'

'You don't know what this really is, Granger. You're following Dumbledore around like idiotic duffers! You - no, listen to me. What he's doing is complete bullshit, and you're too -'

'For your information, Professor Dumbledore is one of the -'

'- most bullshitty wizards to -'

'- greatest wizards in history! I'm -'

'- being manipulated by the old man who's probably only telling you a fraction of what he knows. Furthermore, Granger - stop trying to interrupt! I -'

'You are being - no. Let me speak. Malfoy, just -'

'Listen to me. He keeps the important stuff from you, leaving you the bare crumbs. Some utter rubbish about good versus evil and whatnot, right? I pity the poor sods who are -'

'Malfoy, stop interrupting! Think! You're -'

'You're thinking some sort of martyr, following around Scarhead sanctimoniously, but really you're just being manipulated -'

'- by your father! Malfoy! And you think you're not being manipulated by your own father?'

By this point, both Hermione and Malfoy could be heard quite easily over the relentless beating of the rain on the lake and the tree they were huddling under together.

'No, I'm not being manipulated by Lucius! And you -'

'I beg to differ! And stop interrupting me! You -'

'- should just shut the hell up! I know full well who I am, and I don't need you telling me about anything!'

Oh, how humorous the situation could have been, if Hermione had not been in the middle of it. An argument sparked by an insult that she had never meant to imply, regarding Malfoy's skill at waterproof fires of all things! And now, it was even more laughable. He thought he really was wise in the ways of the world, spreading his cynicism around like a case of the mumps. The irony was overwhelming - this was the wizard who constantly spewed the same angry words as his father without ever knowing why. This was the wizard who had spent years denouncing the presence of Muggle-borns at Hogwarts, yet, had never once met one until he had started attending said school. He was not a cynical, jaded, world-weary traveller, but some sheltered little wizard trying his hardest to prove otherwise.

Her response to his heated words were just as hot, and pushed out with a certain amount of urgency. 'You should stop and think, Malfoy. I'm not the one telling you things. It's your father.' Malfoy's answer to her statement, of which she was so convinced was truth, was a derisive laugh accompanied by a slow shake of his head. Despite the slow speed of his head moving, a few stray droplets of rain were still flung from their spot on his hair to land on Hermione's cheek and lips.

'What a load of rubbish! Granger, I don't even know why I'm still talking to you. You interrupt me constantly -'

'I interrupt you? Look who's talking, you hypocritical -'

'Good lord, it's even worse than holding a conversation with Crabbe or Goyle! At least they aren't hypocritical and hopelessly naïve -'

'I am not naïve! Malfoy, have you not been listening to what I've been saying!'

'- little Muggle-borns who preach a load of drivel without knowing anything themselves. Granger, I know you have some strange need for everything in your little life to be picture-perfect - shut up now - and as neatly arranged as the table of contents in a big book, but surely you're not so thick - stop trying to interrupt me - as to need reminding that my life is absolutely not part of yours. No, it's my turn to speak. I don't need you telling me how run my life.' Malfoy eyed Granger with a satisfied look on his face, watching as her deep brown eyes flashed, just as a bolt of lightning might do so.

'Oh, don't worry, I'm not in a rush to talk even more to you. In fact -'

'Good, because I'm sure as hell not -'

'Malfoy, stop interrupting me!'

'Shut up, Granger! You're the one who's -'

'Fine! Why don't you just step out and go create your own fire. At least then I'll have some peace!'

'Don't think that I won't, Granger. Merlin knows I'd rather jump into that lake behind me than sit here and listen to your little sermons,' Malfoy responded acidly.

Acting on his words, he stood up abruptly. The transition from the warmth of the fire to the bleakness away from it was brutal. His body quickly felt the change in temperature as it left its source of heat, and let its displeasure be known by sending a shiver that crawled up his back. Before his body could even register the shiver though, Malfoy immediately felt icy sheets of water slicing into his back.

Hermione could not help but feel that she had to get the last word. Why was it that she always felt so many emotions rushing around her agitatedly when she was around this wizard? 'Don't worry, Malfoy. I'm in no rush to listen to you boast. You'd rather jump into a lake than listen to me? I'd rather ...' Hermione ran out of steam here. She paused as she wracked her brain for a rejoinder good enough to be used against someone like Malfoy. Unfortunately, despite her need for it, she just could not find a suitably biting retort. She continued feebly anyway. 'I'd ... I'd rather talk with a giant squid than hold a conversation with you!'

'Gryffindors aren't known for being witty, now, are they,' Malfoy remarked dryly, not caring if Granger heard him or not. Ignoring the rain that was beating down on him, he began checking his pockets, in preparation of his leave of the cozy shelter under the tree. In the meantime, he stood there, waiting to hear what Granger might think up of next. It was quite interesting (and needless to say, entertaining) to say things to her, and watch her mouth open in that prim outrage of hers as she searched for an answer.

Hermione found herself opening her mouth to retort to Malfoy's remark. But then, something caught her eye.

Her eyes widened as something emerged from behind Malfoy, from the lake. What was it? She squinted, trying to make out the vague shape in the darkness.

'Malfoy,' she murmured. The shape was getting bigger. Either it was growing or ... it was coming closer.

'Malfoy!' she called, a bit louder. There was no doubt about it. It was coming closer! The form of whatever it was was still very hazy. The silhouette showed it to be long and thick, but beyond that she couldn't tell.

'What, Granger? Still trying to think up of a good retort?' Malfoy looked up from where he was tying his shoes. He smirked. 'I thought that most Gryffindors should know by now that they shouldn't try to match wits with a Slytherin.'

'No, Malfoy, get out of the way!' Hermione shouted.

The thing was getting bigger and bigger. There was no time to waste! She jumped up from her comfortable spot under the tree. Ignoring the fire that had started the argument and stepping on it unceremoniously, she ran out from under the warm shelter that had now seemed so familiar, compared to the darkness. She barely registered the icy cold needles that pricked her cheeks and immediately soaked through her robes. Instead, she grabbed Malfoy's wrist tightly.

'Malfoy,' she repeated, as she tried pulling him towards her, away from whatever was coming. The rainwater that was flowing down his arm immediately began to cross the bridge of their hands to run down Hermione's. It flowed down the sleeve of her robes, but she ignored the freezing sensation that it brought. She just concentrated on the feel of his water-slick skin on his, and tried desperately to pull him away from the danger that she felt was coming.

Malfoy instinctively jumped at the touch of her warm hand on his arm. He tried jerking his hand away from Granger's grip, but she would not let go of him. 'What are you trying to do, Granger? I -'

Malfoy's voice was drowned out by the earth-rumbling sound of a roll of thunder. A brilliant shaft of lightning then pierced the ashen clouds, illuminating everything as if it was day. The beam of lightning was so large that it lasted for several moments. Before the light was lost, Hermione's voice faltered; indeed, she was temporarily incapable of all usage of her vocal cords, and was only able to stare in horror at what she saw. Her hands fell to her sides. Less than a second after that, Malfoy's derisive sneer twitched as he registered the unabashed look of horror in her eyes. Less than a second after that, he bent his head to turn around.

But it was too late.

Hermione watched in shocked horror as, from the depths of the lake, a long, spiral cone rose with unthinkable speed. Along with the emergence of this cone, which was unmistakeably a head, she saw several long and thick tentacles surface, all of which were waving madly. Hermione saw on the misshapen head a single, blood-red eye. There was what was unmistakeably a mouth located underneath that travesty of an eye. The mouth was already open, and Hermione saw with clarity several rows of razor sharp teeth.

In the illumination of a single lightning bolt, she took in the ghastly image. But no - this was not all she saw. At the exact same moment the light disappeared, she saw a thick, sludge-dripping tentacle whip from the grotesque, over-sized squid. She saw it heading with purpose for the body of Draco Malfoy.

But Hermione did not see the tentacle wrap around his torso, forcing all of Malfoy's breath to be squeezed out of him. She did not see the uncomprehending look of horror on Malfoy's face as he felt all the contours and ridges of the suckers through his robes, as he felt the uncompromising pressure of the tentacle's tight hold around his abdomen, as he felt the viscous muck of the tentacle run between his fingers as he tried in vain to free himself from the relentless grip. She did not see any of this.

But she did hear his scream of pure, uninhibited terror as he was lifted up off the ground, and was pulled towards the monstrous mouth of the giant squid that had risen from the lake.