Complicating Differences

Chapter Three: Interpretations

Hermione ran a brush through her somewhat tamed hair. "Twenty-five." It was an endless struggle to keep her bushy hair to a minimum. She usually had to stroke it at least forty some times for it to lay flat, only for it to puff out again as soon as the slightest breeze hit it. This would have to do, though.

She wanted to seem calm and serene eating lunch in the Great Hall. There would be questions, and she was dreading any sort of them, but she was hungry, and wouldn´t let her dream about bloody Malfoy ruin her meal.

In a half-vein attempt to look presentable, she applied just a touch of skin-tone eye-shadow and brushed on some mascara. Turning to the side and clutching her stomach, she scowled at her reflection. In her eyes, there was nothing special about her. Nothing that stood out, beautiful or ugly. She was just Hermione, and could blend in with almost any crowd. She was camouflage, well, besides her hair, she was like a wallflower.

Silently bickering with herself, she was finally convinced that life is too short to suddenly grow an ego, so she left the portrait hole and her tear-stained pillow behind to face her friends. Or Ron, for that matter.

Too busy coming up with explanations and lengthy speeches, she was unaware of a familiar face passing her in the hall. Lavender Brown came to a stop, turned around and ran to greet her. "Hermione!" she called out. Hermione stopped, gained composure, and turned around for what she thought would be an interrogation.

"I was worried about you. When you left Potions, I mean," she explained. It was then that Hermione noticed her disheveled and askew appearance. Her hair was a mess, reminding Hermione of her own, and her clothes, preferably her skirt, were wrinkly and crooked.

"Listen, you know, when I called out Draco-"

But Lavender help up her hand, casually slipping her other behind her back. She almost looked understanding. "Listen, I know how he is. If you´re anything like me, you want to hate him, but can´t. When you and him both arrived late, I knew. He can be a real twat sometimes, yes, but ten minutes in a broom closet and you´ll never be the same!" then, stepping closer and leaning in, she lowered her voice.

"Don´t tell anyone, though, alright? The boys just wouldn´t understand, and some girls could get jealous, you know? I would just tell them to sod off, but the Slytherins are so feisty, I´d be afraid for my life! Draco`s like an obsession in that house!"

All the while Lavender talked, her words lingered in Hermione´s head. Broom closet? Draco? Jealous? "Lavender, what on earth are you going on about? Draco Malfoy?" she emitted a sound that could be described as a psh! "Oh come on! I wouldn´t spend ten minutes of total silence in a broom closet with him, let alone snog him senseless. I can`t imagine why you would, either."

Lavender looked flustered. "But... but you walked in late. And so did he! And your dream, you were screaming his name like a crazy person!"

"It`s not at all like it seems, Lavender. It was only a dream. A-," she thought hard, trying to remember at least one of the absolutely hopeless excuses she had spent half an hour coming up with, "A really bad dream. A nightmare. Stupid, really," she went on, telling only half the truth. "With Harry being gone, I´ve been having dreams. Malfoy is horrible, so he´s been taking part in them, I suppose. No snogging involved!" Hermione let a look of pure disgust. Ewww. What is it with these girls, and Malfoy? It´s just distasteful.

Tired of the sudden infatuation with the wanker, she stormed off, leaving Lavender speechless. She was overwrought. She had always known of a certain beauty about him. He was attractive in a cradle robbing, creature of the night sort of way. That didn´t´ change the fact that he was, well, him. All she knew, though, was that he wasn´t going to get to her. Or Ginny, for that matter. He wouldn´t be robbing her cradle, she´d make sure of that. She didn´t want to have to pry Ron from Malfoy constantly, although she usually had to do so anyway.

As she entered the Great Hall, her mind was racing. How thick can she be? Lavender, actually thinking I had been with Malfoy? And if I had been, snogging him only so long afterwards! Frolicking around like that´s alright, well it´s not! She slammed her books down on the table and situated down in a seat between Ron and Colin Creevey. She let out a long, exhausted sigh.

Ron stared at her, spoon several inches from his open mouth, just staring. Finally, he let it fall to his plate, and confronted her the only way he knew how. "Hermione, really, having a dream about Malfoy in Potions! And screaming out his name!" he let out, completely flabbergasted.

"Draco! Oh Draco!" Hermione heard a mocking voice from behind her, followed by a set of giggles. "Like he would actually touch a Mudblood like her, let alone one as ugly!"

Hermione turned to find Pansy Parkinson and her gang frowning disapprovingly in her face. "I would tell you to stay away from my boyfriend, but you´re not a threat." And with that, she turned and approached the Slytherin table. She stepped behind Draco, rubbing his shoulders flirtatiously, a sly grin on her face directed towards Hermione, as if to say `See, he´s mine. Not yours.´

Rolling her eyes, Hermione turned away. Ron snorted.

"She´s off her trolley! She is, isn´t she?" he said, a sudden look of desperation in his eyes.

"Of course she is, she always has been. It was a dream, and for that matter, a nightmare. Nothing like it sounded. It was about Harry, he was trying to hurt Harry," she insisted.

"I knew there was a logical explanation for all this. I mean, you dreaming of Malfoy? Well in that way, of course," he let out a nervous laugh. "Like that could happen."

"Yea, like that could happen," Hermione said half-heartedly, her eyes practically burning a hole through Draco´s masculine chest. She shook off her sudden change of heart, or rather, hormones. Just because he´s beautiful doesn´t mean anything to me.

Draco turned to greet his girlfriend. "Bitch, where´ve you been?" he asked.

There was a slightly offended look that flashed in Pansy´s eyes, but as soon as he saw it is was gone. She seemed to have regrouped. "Draco, baby," she cooed, running her fingers through his hair. "I´ve just been poking fun at your favorite admirer, that´s all," she said, a devilish smile on her pug-like face.

She wasn´t drop dead gorgeous, he had to admit. But there was a certain confidence about her, maybe the way she carried herself, that made Draco attracted to her. It also helped that their families were close, and marriage ties were most likely certain for the near future.

He knew she was aware that she wasn´t his only. She knew he strayed. Sometimes the girl just couldn´t give him everything he wanted, and in a sense she understood that. Draco at Hogwarts, he could bag a girl in a day, and they just couldn´t resist him. He knew this, too, making him most often egocentric as ever. What he didn´t know was how it hurt her. She honestly cared for him, possibly loved him, somehow. He paid no mind to her feelings.

Draco´s muscles tensed. Secret admirer. He hadn´t thought about the scene the mudblood had made since his run-in with Lavender. He knew plenty girls who would dream of him, but Hermione? He hadn´t even realized she had liked boys until her and Potter hooked up. But then again, it really didn´t sound like that sort of a dream.

"Been teasing her, have you?" he inquired, trying not to sound too curious.

"Of course, my sweet little Dracy-Cakey," she practically purred, trying to sound cute. It only made her look young, and girly. She was still running her fingers through his hair, and ran into a knot, yanking until it broke free.

"OUCH! Honestly, I know it´s attached but only just a little. And for the love of Merlin, don´t ever call me Dracy-Cakey again!" he shouted. "Makes me sound like a Little Debbie."

"Well what can I call you, then? Shouldn´t we have pet names for each other?" Oh no, she´s going to ramble about this for awhile. "I think we should have pet names for each other! Like you could call me Cupcake, or Princess. Maybe even Pansy-kins! I´d call you Dracola, like Dracula! No, no, that makes you sound like a beverage. What do you think, Draco?" she asked.

"Yea, sure," he muttered, hearing the words but not processing them. "No!" he said suddenly, realizing what she was going on about. "Is it your obsession to name me after damn Muggle food? You could call me... Draco the Magnificent, or Sex God, Draco. None of the cutesy names, alright?"

"Oh fine. But you´re no fun, you know that? I´ll just call you Draco," she ended the conversation.

"Yea, ok. Listen, can I use your owl? I need to send a letter, but mine won´t even let me touch him. He´s so feisty, always biting at my hair like a maniac," he said.

"Oh, Draco, I´m so sorry. I sent a letter just a short while ago. Pickletons won´t be back for a few days," she told him. There she goes with the food bit again.

She then dropped a kiss on his cheek. He knew what that meant. She wanted him to come to the dorm with her for some alone time. But for once, he really wasn´t up to it. Her childish antics were finally taking their toll on him. He wasn´t sure how much longer this relationship would last, even if it did upset his father.

But who knows what he´d do if he didn´t get his way? This hardly ever happened. His second year, for instance, when Potter had freed Dobby, their house elf, he hadn´t healed his pride from that for quite some time.

If that got him irked, what would he do if I didn´t do as he asked me to? What if I don´t succeed in my task? He could only imagine. He could only hope that never happens.

No matter how many witches and wizards alike told him how he was just like his father, a spitting image, he winced inside. Power hungry as he might be, he didn´t want to be like Lucious. He loved his father, true, and often used him as a way out of trouble or for revenge of some kind. But he new he couldn´t, and didn´t wish to, live up to his reputation.

"Draco? Hello, anyone home?" Pansy called out, offended and annoyed. He had been lost in thought.

"I´ve got to go," he said briefly.

"Yes, I know, dear. You´ve got to go upstairs with me," she demanded, dropping her voice slightly at the last few words.

"No, I don´t. And I´m not going to. Take my books," he told her, deciding he needed some time doing absolutely nothing at all. He had been either studying, playing quidditch, or...well, you know. What else does a Malfoy do? But he needed a break. He needed to clear his mind, and just do nothing. He decided to head for the library, but first make a stop at the owlery and attempt to get that damned owl to cooperate. And anyway, the library was a place no one expected him to be.

Hermione´s eyes grazed the bookshelves in search of some light reading. Her afternoon, completely devoid of classes due to a massive explosion outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts room, was going to be boring and unproductive. Unless she forced herself into homework mode, which usually wasn´t a problem for her. But today it was.

She wasn´t thinking straight. Completely and utter embarrassment can definitely cloud the mind. As much as she didn´t want to read right now, she figured it could be a good, calming treatment for her symptoms.

She picked up a thick, musty book entitled `Divination: Dream Interpretations´. Knowing she wasn´t particularly good with the ridiculous art of Divination made her want to literally throw the book down and stomp on it until the binding broke and the pages were shred of any sort of knowledge they might have once held. But...Dream Interpretations? She had been having dreams. Maybe interpreting them could help. Maybe Divination was an interesting study, but Mrs. Trewlany was such a loony that she made the whole thing less appealing.

She sighed and set the book down at a near table. Opening it to it´s index, she ran her fingers along the words that made less sense to her than the rambles Lavender emitted while sleeping. Deciding to just skip around a bit, she fluttered the pages, stopping on page fifty two. Ceromancy, Hydromancy, Padomancy. Now I remember why I quit this damn class. She stopped to read a section.

With this art of predicting, you only need the knowledge of a book. The diviner poses a question, opens a book at random, and, with eyes closed, points to a spot on the page. The sentence or paragraph where the finger rests is then taken as an answer--or at least a commentary on the question.

This is ridiculous. But that didn´t stop her from trying. She had plenty questions that couldn´t be answered otherwise, and as stubborn she was about this subject, this opportunity seemed fun. Illogical, but fun.

Hermione flipped a few pages, and looked around to see no one was watching. Are my dreams based on some truth? She closed her eyes, and let her finger wander across the page. Her finger came to a halt, and she opened her eyes. She then read the sentence she had stopped on.

"When a subject you have been wishing to interpret recurs in the same manner, it most definitely resembles a past, present, or future event."

Wait a second. This is a Divination book. The whole text is about dreams and predictions. It´s not reliable. Hermione jumped out of her seat and pulled the nearest book off the shelf, opening it in front of her and sitting down once more. One more try: Are my dreams based on some truth?

She repeated the process, and laid her finger on a passage with her eyes closed. She then read this to herself.

"There have been several cases in which Muggles have somehow dreamt our world true.."

Hermione´s eyes skimmed the words several times. Dreamt, true.

"You´re being ridiculous, Hermione. There are probably millions of true´s in this book, you just happened to run across one," she whispered to herself.

"Studying again, Herm?" she heard a voice from behind her and slammed the book shut, sending her hair flying. So much for her constant brushing.

She turned and saw Ron. She really did miss him. They had been drifting apart lately. She realized she hadn´t even talked to him about her dreams. If she couldn´t tell Harry or Ron, who could she tell?

"Not really studying, exactly. Just looking up extra information," she explained. Ron´s eyes scanned the two books in front of her.

"´Muggles and Magic: How Much do They Really Know?´ What subject is this for?" then he spotted the Divination book. "Divination? Hermione, I thought you hated that subject. I thought everyone hated that subject," he added.

"Oh, um, I do," she explained hastily, "I just realized that I didn´t know much about it. We don´t have the best teacher, you know. Maybe it´s actually a fun class, or possibly not, considering I´ve found absolutely nothing useful. Well what would there be to find? It´s not like I need to interpret anything. Ha ha," she added a nervous laugh on top of her pointless ramblings.

"Oh, ok," Ron said slowly, eyebrows arched. "Well I thought I´d find you here. I´m going to go play a game of Wizard´s Chess, wanna come?" he asked. Hermione shook her head no.

"No way, Ron. You know I despise that game," she reminded him.

"Well, Ok then. See ya." He began to walk away.

"Well if it isn´t the Weasel and the Mudblood," Hermione heard from behind her. Instant recognition of the voice sent shocks through her whole body. No, oh no, please no. Don´t bring up the dream, don´t bring up the dream!

Ron turned around quickly, anger already swelling in his eyes. She noticed his fists clenched at his side, and felt worried.

But instead, Malfoy turned to her. "You know, Mudblood or not, I´d take you up on that offer."

"Offer?" she asked. She knew she should have fought him, tested his wits, but honestly, just seeing him after her dream in Potions made her confidence sink even more than usual. It had been embarrassing.

"I think you know what I´m talking about," he explained, and she couldn´t help but realize that every word coming out of his mouth was dripping with sexuality. He was a very sexual man after all, everything about him. From his chiseled bone structure and seemingly soft, moist lips to his toned chest and long, lean muscular legs. "It didn´t surprise me at all to know you dream about me. I do have that effect on people quite often."

Hermione´s thoughts switched back to that morning, when she had peered into Draco´s eyes. He had seemed surprised.

"Malfoy, I wasn´t dreaming of, don´t get too excited," she replied, trying to add a hint of amusement to her voice when really all she felt was furious, maybe slightly nervous, although she would never have admitted it.

"Oh, but you were. Why else would you be calling out my name?" he asked, mock seduction written all over his face. This was when Ron kicked in.

"Malfoy, not every bloody thing is about you!" he shouted.

If she wasn`t nervous before, she was now. She knew Ron was about to lose his cool, if he hadn´t already. Malfoy seemed to be keen on seeing Ron so furious. "Just because I could get anyone anytime, and you have to suck face with that wench, doesn´t mean you should take it out on me. Girls just aren´t appreciative unless there´s money involved, and you´re out of luck in that area," he bragged.

"Kate isn´t the wench, Malfoy, but all those girls you were with today are," he spat, ignoring the money comment and walking slowly towards Draco, looking intimidating.

"Well I´ll have you know, then, that `wench´ Lavender really knows how to-" but that´s all he got out before Ron pounced. Hermione got a glance of Ron gaining on Draco, but Draco´s shock finally wore off and now he was on top, pounding Ron´s face. Then he reached into his robes for his wand. Oh no, this will get ugly unless I do something about it.

"STOP IT!" she yelled at the top of her lungs. This didn´t phase Draco as he attempted to mutter a spell. "Expelliarmus!" she shouted, catching Draco´s wand, but just barely. I´ll have to work some of the kinks out of that spell.