Dolor Draconum

Chapter the Sixth

The first Hogsmeade weekend had come and gone. Professor Dumbledore visited the Defence Against the Dark Arts class. A student suffered a minor injury in Care of Magical Creatures. Professor Snape managed to find an excuse to give Harry zero, and even managed to grade Hermione C on a technicality, which left her crying herself to sleep. In short, the term progressed as every other term had.

Now that the Ministry had confirmed Voldemort's return and the Prophet was once more free to type what it liked, over half the owls each morning came bearing a paper. Ron and Harry let Hermione read her subscription and tell them anything of importance, and they weren't the only ones with that kind of arrangement.

Hermione was finding it hard to put Draco out of her mind when they shared so many classes. She felt guilty for abandoning him by the lake, but if she'd stayed she'd only have said something she'd regret later. He never looked at her in class, never looked at anyone, really. As autumn progressed and the weather grew more and more dismal Draco's mood seemed to follow it, getting greyer and darker as the days went by.

It was in Potions, when Hermione was once again paired with Malfoy, that it occurred to her to wonder if anyone else had noticed Draco's moods. His house was still isolating him, and from the talk in her own common room those that had noticed Malfoy's depression were pleased about it. Not a single teacher had asked him what was wrong, or expressed a desire to see him in private. Of course, Hermione didn't know every details of Malfoy's day, he could easily be having counselling regularly, but instinct told her it wasn't so.

Hermione tried to catch Malfoy's eye, but he was pointedly not looking at her. It upset her to think he was still angry about the morning by the lake, but that had been weeks ago now. Of course, he was precisely the type of person to hold a grudge, and to expect others to. She found herself unsettlingly reminded of Ron. He'd been growing suspicious of Hermione's fretting over Malfoy, though she'd done her best to hide it. He hadn't said anything, yet, but things were strained.

She realised with a start that Malfoy was watching her. She stared back, undaunted, and he looked away again.

"Why do you bother?" he asked quietly.

"What?" Hermione stared at him. The first words he uttered to her in weeks, and she hadn't heard them over the clatter and bubble of the Potions lab. "Pardon?" she asked, more politely.

"They're upset with you, I can tell. Why do you bother with them?"

"I like them, I don't want new friends," Hermione said, a little mystified. "Besides, it's not even an argument. It doesn't upset me that much. It'll be forgotten as soon as Snape sets the homework."

Malfoy looked her in the eye. "Can you honestly say that it doesn't upset you?" he asked coldly. "I've seen you crying, Granger, when Weasley stops talking to you. I've seen you running to Hagrid each night when you've got no one else left. During the Hippogriff thing, you were miserable."

"Well, yes," Hermione admitted awkwardly. "I'm not saying it doesn't hurt, when we fight. But we always make up. It doesn't even need saying any more."

Draco cocked his head and eyed her shrewdly. "What would you do if you disagreed on something fundamental to you all?" he asked softly. "Say, a boyfriend or girlfriend. What would you do if you of you dated someone the others despised?"

"We... we tend to hate the same people." Hermione didn't like where this was going. Perhaps it was just her own screwed up hormones, but Malfoy seemed to be suggesting something. "I'm not much interested in dating just now. Being a prefect is very time consuming, and we've got our NEWTs coming up-"

"Which some of us are never going to pass at this rate," Snape drawled. "What colour is this potion supposed to be, Miss Granger?"

Hermione stared at the sludgy brown goop in horror. She'd been so busy talking to Malfoy that she hadn't been watching what she was doing, and had added at least three times too much rosemary. "Blue, sir," she said, mortified.

"Precisely. Really, it's unlike you to get things so wrong. Is Malfoy really that distracting?" Snape raised an eyebrow. Hermione, to her horror, blushed. Ron glowered at her across the classroom, taking her embarrassment as positive proof that she liked Malfoy, as did most of the class.

For Hermione, the rest of the lesson crawled by. More fodder for the rumour mill had been provided by Snape, who seemed to take a perverse pleasure in giving students evidence for speculation on the exact nature of Hermione and Draco's relationship. He seemed to delight in hinting and alluding to 'goings on' between the two, especially using it as an excuse to punish Hermione, while Malfoy, as usual, got off scot-free.

As they made their way to DADA, Harry managed to grab a few minutes with Hermione.

"Is it true?" he asked earnestly. "I mean, you and Malfoy..." he couldn't even say the name without screwing up his face.

"Of course not!" Hermione snapped. "What on earth makes you think I'd date such a thing?"

Harry chuckled. "Okay, so you're not completely insane yet," he conceded. "But you must admit, you've been acting pretty chummy with him recently."

"I have not!" Hermione drew herself up. "I wouldn't have anything to do with him if I could help it."

"So why do you keep defending him?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"I don't!" Hermione blustered. "Not more than I would for anybody. I'm trying to save you two from yourselves. Do you want to be like him?" she demanded.

"Well, no," Harry conceded, "but we're not saying or doing anything we haven't before."

"But the circumstances are different now. You heard what the Sorting Hat said last year: the houses have to make a better effort to get on together."

Harry sighed and glanced despairingly at his watch. "We have to hurry, or we're going to be late for Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Harry, be straight with me: did you honestly think Draco and I have a 'thing'?" Hermione touched his arm, hoping his sense would return.

"Since when have you called him 'Draco'?" Harry asked by way of a reply. "You call him by his first name, you defend him, you blush guiltily when Snape implies you found Malfoy distracting enough to get a potion wrong... Really, Hermione, what are we supposed to think?"

Hermione's stomach clenched, and she watched Harry walk off. Try as she might, she couldn't summon the good mood required to face one of Professor Kelp's lessons. She found them irritating enough as it was, without losing her house myriads of points. She'd find Professor Aurora later, and apologise, and offer her excuses.

For the first time in her life, Hermione decided to skip a lesson for no other reason than she didn't want to go.

With nothing better to do, she wandered aimlessly around the school, keeping out of the way of Filch and Mrs Norris, as well as any other wandering teachers. Her immediate impulse was to go to the library, but if she were the only student there she'd be somewhat conspicuous. She cursed the timetabling that meant every student in the school apart from her was in a lesson somewhere. She couldn't go back to the common room; the fat lady would report her for truancy.

With a dejected sigh Hermione wandered out through the entrance hall and down towards the lake. So what if she was seen? Her friends thought she wad dating Draco Malfoy; by now the whole school must think she was head over heels in love with him! Her friends had betrayed her. Tears stung her eyes.

Hermione threw her bag down beside the lake and sat down gracelessly. She was used to Ron's obsessive jealousy, but she had suspected Harry's suspicion. So what if she stuck up for Malfoy? She'd done it before. When he was 'the amazing bouncing ferret' she had laughed, but she'd pointed out the fake Moody shouldn't have done it. What was so different about now? She objected when the teasing went too far, but she had always done that. She stuck up for the underdog. That was what she did. She'd been the underdog; she knew how bad it felt. A large portion of her first year at Hogwarts had been so lonely it still hurt to think about it.

"I'm 'a thing'?" a cool voice asked.

"Huh?" Hermione snapped out of her self-pitying reverie with a jerk, angrily swiping tears from her eyes with the back of one hand. "Oh, it's you."

"What did I do to earn that tone of voice?" Malfoy said, sitting down opposite her.

"You disturbed me when I wanted to be alone," Hermione sighed, somewhere between an accusation and an apology. "It wouldn't hurt to announce your presence a little less suddenly, you know."

"A polite cough, a knock on the tree, that sort of thing?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow that made Hermione's stomach clench in embarrassment.

"How long have you been here?" she asked slowly, resignation dripping from each word.

"Well, let's say I waited, oh, thirty seconds to see if you'd notice me before I gave a polite cough, then perhaps another thirty before I rapped on the tree above your head, then a minute or so during which I tried both again... Two or three minutes, in total?" Malfoy smirked at her as he sat down a short distance away. "So, what drives the studious Miss Granger from her studies?"

"Oh shut up," Hermione dismissed him. "It's not as though it's even any of your business."

"Fine, then. I bet I can guess though," Malfoy's lips curled in a cruel smile. "Let's see: Weasel's being a bit of a prick because you're hanging out with me but doesn't have the guts to tell you so, but you can tell and yet still claim it doesn't bother you in the least; Professor Snape declared to the potion class, quite accurately judging from your reaction, that you're totally in love with me; you then went on to have a falling out with Potty, over me no less... Actually, it's all about me these days, isn't it?"

"I fail to see the humour in your joke," Hermione said icily.

"Who said I was joking? Face it, Granger, the odds are stacked against you. The world thinks we're paramours, why not give in?"

"I can't believe you!" Hermione gasped. "I thought you of all people would be against this. Think about it, you're being romantically associated with a mudblood, Malfoy. Aren't you always going on about how 'my sort' shouldn't be allowed to breed, let alone with 'your sort'?" Hermione asked bitingly.

"In the words of the inestimable Oscar Wilde: 'the only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about'." Malfoy lay back on the grass and pulled a book one handed from his bag. "Sure, I'm not pleased with it. No one's speaking to me anyway, or I'd tell the whole school how I wouldn't touch you with a broomstick. Right now no one gives a damn about what I think."

"Just because I was something resembling nice to you, and took your side and stood up for you, everyone thinks I love you," Hermione grumbled, more to herself than Malfoy. "I've defended you before. Not quite so vehemently, I can admit that, but you were always capable of defending yourself. And Snape made me sit with you, it wasn't my choice. And just because I blushed, it doesn't mean anything, it's not a confession of guilt. I-"

"Go on and on and on. Ye gods, Granger, when you talk about someone like that try and do it when they're out of earshot."

"What?" Hermione stared at Malfoy, whose face was hidden by the book.

"You make out I can't defend myself, that you wouldn't go near me given the choice, and when Potter asked if you had any feelings for me you said you wouldn't 'date such a thing'. Slight about face from telling me that things were going to be okay and people would be nice to me and it'd all blow over, I'd say." Draco sighed and put the book down, sitting up to face a bewildered Hermione. "I'm not a chore. If you hate me so much, why didn't you walk away as soon as you realised I was here? If you're going to be so degrading, why defend me at all? If I'm so loathsome, why didn't you stand back and laugh like everyone else?" Malfoy regarded her coolly. "I don't need your pity, Granger, or anyone else's. You act all high and mighty because you think your helping an enemy. If this is how you help your enemies, I hate to think how you aid your friends."

"What... what are you saying?" Hermione struggled to comprehend this epic speech from a boy who had taken a recent dislike to stringing two sentences together.

"I'm saying that before you judge Potty and Weasel taking pleasure in my pain, you ought to stop and think about how much pleasure you're getting out of it as well. You accuse them of going out of their way to kick me when I'm down, but you've just spent the last few minutes whining to yourself about me and generally implying worse things than either of them ever had the brains to. I'd rather you hated me openly than pitied me discretely."

"I don't pity you!" Hermione objected. "I think you're getting precisely what you deserve."

"Oh, that's a comfort."

"But that doesn't mean anyone has a right to make it worse for you," Hermione persisted. "That's makes them as bad as you. Well, the old you."

"As opposed to the new me?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow sceptically.

"Yes. The new you that's depressed and suicidal and lonely." Hermione folded her arms, body language daring Malfoy to challenge that description of him.

"So this is all about Potter and Weasley, not about helping me at all?" Malfoy tried another tack. "If that's so, why come to me in the library? Why not walk off? It's not as though that had anything to do with how Potty and Weasel treat me."

"That's different," Hermione squirmed. "I couldn't just leave you there. Maybe it's not what you would do if our positions were reversed..." Hermione trailed off.

"You don't seem to need a tissue," Malfoy said softly.

Hermione gave him a weak smile. "This is your way of cheering people up? Act all hurt at them until they feel more sorry for you than they do for themselves?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I don't want your pity," he reiterated. "I was mad at you, so I let you know what was making me angry. And you vented as well, so now you feel better."

"Hasn't solved anything," Hermione sighed. "Everyone thinks I've some terrible crush on you, which isn't going to be helped when they see us sitting out here together. Ron and Harry are still going to be standoffish, but I guess I'm less angry with them..."

"Are you angry at me?" Draco asked, lying back on the grass, laying the book over his eyes to keep the autumnal sun out.

"What? No, why?" Hermione lay down next to him.

"Because I didn't stick up for you, or deny anything. Because I just went out of my way to make you angry. Because I'm a chore."

"You're not a chore," Hermione said firmly. "Okay, I don't like having my emotions manipulated, but I'd be in Defence Against the Dark Arts any way right now, and at least I understand your reasons."

"Which are?"

"Misery loves company," Hermione looked across at him, lifting a corner of the book to catch his eye. "You can't put an altruistic spin on it, Malfoy. You were upset and angry and you took it out on me. Just as well I was already upset and angry too. You're good for a little perspective."

"Just as long as I'm good for something," Malfoy said, a trace of bitterness undermining the humour he was aiming for. Hermione sighed, but didn't comment.

"So, what are you reading?" she asked after a few moments silence.

"Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde."

"Jekyll and Hyde? That's a Muggle book," Hermione said in surprise.

Draco looked at her as though she was mad. "Have you read it? The guy make's Snape's potions look shabby."

"Isn't it awfully depressing?" Hermione asked.

"So? Suits my mood."

"I don't think you should be reading it," Hermione said superiorly. "It's not suitable for someone in your frame of mind."

Malfoy hit her in the nose with the book.

"Hey! Ow!"

"Serves you right," Malfoy laughed dryly. "You can't tell me what I can and can't read. Besides, do you really think Victorian gothic horror novels are going to affect my actions that much? If it were a book on ways to commit suicide, sure, but I'd imagine some of the stuff these archetypal characters do is out of even your league."

"What else have you read?" Hermione rolled onto her side. "Is there a lot of wizard fiction like this?"

"There's practically none," Draco sighed. "Even this is written with Muggles in mind. Still, not half bad. Almost finished it now."

"I have a copy of Frankenstein," Hermione said without thinking. "The creature is an amazing concept."

"Okay, I'd like that," Draco accepted. "Bring it to the next Arithmancy lesson?"

Hermione's eyes widened. She hadn't meant to imply she'd lend it to him, she still had her doubts about how suitable it was for him just now, but she wasn't going to be an Indian giver.

"Uh, sure, okay," she stuttered. Oh well, might as well go the whole hog. "I've got Dracula at home, and Dorian Gray, since you seem to like Oscar Wilde, if you want to borrow that. My parents won't mind sending it by owl. I could probably find some other stuff too."

"Yeah, if it's not too much trouble. I seem to be reading a lot recently."

"Perhaps because you've got more free time," a sharp voice said behind them. Both students sat up sharply and swung around to find themselves staring at Professor McGonagall's knees. "...What with all that lesson skipping," she finished.

Hermione and Draco exchanged a glance. "I was in a really bad mood," Hermione began.

"We both were," Malfoy interjected.

"And we're supposed to be in Professor Kelp's class-"

"-but since she's an empath she finds it really hard to teach when she's getting 'negative vibes' off the students-"

"-so we both thought we'd be better off going and explaining to her when we calmed down..."

Professor McGonagall wasn't buying it. "I expected better from you, Hermione Granger. In fact, I'd expect better from any prefect. Malfoy, isn't it? I'll be having a word with Professor Snape about this," she couldn't quite repress a shudder at that thought, "and both of you are to report to Professor Kelp's office as soon as lessons for the day are over."

"Yes, Professor," they chorused.

"And then, once she has decided on a punishment for both of you, you are to report to your respective heads of house for further retribution. As it is, fifty points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin. Now, inside."

As they walked, a gloomy parade, back up to the castle Malfoy hissed in Hermione's ear, "fifty points isn't so bad, we'd have both lost twice that in Kelp's class by now." Hermione had to cover her mouth quickly, before McGonagall saw her giggling.