Something in the Air

Sasha returned to the Slytherin House entrance, and quickly changed back into her previous outfit; the silk shirt and trousers she'd worn to dinner with Lucius and Draco. Her hair was fixed, she looked as she had before, and entered the common room, with only a few qualms about being caught snogging Harry Potter by Hermione Granger. It was only a major embarrassment, but somehow, she figured she'd overcome it.

She muttered the password quickly and waited for the door in the wall to open. When it did, she stalked through, and instantly saw the glow of Draco's hair hovering in the darkness.

"Why is it so dark in here?" she asked her prefect boyfriend.

"I don't know," Draco said, suddenly holding up an unreasonably bright candelabrum. His face held an accusatory look.

"Where've you been this whole time?" Draco demanded.

"Your father held me up," Sasha replied.

"He returned to the Manor ten minutes after I left the restaurant," Draco informed her.

"I went for a drink afterwards," Sasha said. "God knows I needed it."

"Oh," Draco breathed, and he got up, walking over to her. He took her into his arms.

She pulled his wand out of his back pocket, and managed to tap her head, changing her into an itsy-bitsy nighttime ensemble that she knew Draco liked very much. It was a little plum silk dress, and Sasha really needed something other than Harry on her mind right now.

Slipping his wand back into his pocket, she pulled Draco closer to her, resting her head on his chest. The top of her head, when she stood barefoot as she did now, just barely brushed his chin.

"My feet are cold," she whispered into his neck. He rubbed his cheek against her soft hair before he bent down, slipping one arm under the backs of her knees and picked her up. He carried her over to the hunter green velvet couch, and placed Sasha there, cuddling up next to her.

Gently rubbing her arms, Draco whispered everything everyone wanted to hear into her freezing ears. Before long, she was begging him to get her out of the common room...anywhere, really...because it was so cold down in the dungeons during the snow. There were little barred windows at the tops of the thick stone walls which let in the barely-there glimmer of moonlight obscured by clouds.

As Draco cooed loving words to her, Sasha leaned her head on the arm of the soft couch, wondering what would become of her. Obviously, the Granger girl hadn't been happy with him. But Sasha had seen the way she stared at him during classes...she thought maybe that Granger would give Harry a second chance...something Sasha wondered if Draco would give her another chance.

"Draco?" she whispered feebly. She hadn't meant to sound feeble, it'd just come out like that.

"Yes?" he murmured, tickling her ear with his breath. She turned her head slightly so she could look into his eyes. Sasha loved his eyes...they were gentle and smoke-colored...beautiful, in the same way that rain was beautiful...the way where you couldn't help but to love it.

"Would you love me no matter what I've done?" she asked him, searching his face for a sign of his thoughts. She saw nothing until she saw a warm, pitying look spread into his perfect features.

"I would love you if you stabbed me in the back," Draco said. "I will love you until my dying day."

Sasha was struck speechless. All she could think to do -other than cry- was kiss Draco as hard as she could before hurrying off to bed.

Once nestled safely between her silk sheets and wrapped in her fleece blanket that her mother had sent from home in December, Sasha cried. Unfortunately, Pansy had apparently not been asleep, and heard her.

"Sasha?" Pansy asked, crawling out of bed. Sasha tried to ignore the shuffling footsteps as Pansy crossed the room; she tried to ignore the soft weight in the bed as Pansy sat beside her. But nothing could stop Sasha from sitting up, wiping her eyes, and hugging Pansy.

"Pansy," Sasha whispered between sobs. Although she wanted to tell this girl everything, Sasha knew that it would get out if she told Pansy. So, for lack of something better to do, Sasha remained silent, aside from the quiet sobs she emitted. Pansy gently hugged her, and not asking any questions. It was in that moment that Sasha thought that maybe Pansy wasn't as bad as she thought.

***

Hermione had lain in bed sobbing for the past three hours. Nothing could comfort her, not her comfortable bed, not a book, nothing. She was lost to the world, sobbing and sobbing; barely stopping to breathe, she drew from her nightstand her favorite picture of Harry. However much she tried, she couldn't bring herself to break it.

Instead, she dug out another, not-as-perfect picture of the pair of them, sitting on a log in the woods just outside of Hogsmeade. Hermione threw it on the ground and, slipping on her shoes, stomped on it until the shards of broken glass were ground into a fine powder.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, and Hermione wondered why she'd ever loved Harry. She'd always known that his fame, his popularity, would get the better of him someday; she'd always realized that someday he'd outgrow her and move onto bigger and better things. But she'd never imagined that it would happen so fast.

She then imagined Sasha sitting up in the Slytherin common room, snogging Draco. It was then that Hermione saw past the seemingly pleasant girl she'd met in the corridors near the dungeon prefect's bathroom, and saw the monster that everyone wanted to be.

She saw Sasha for something that she vaguely noticed probably wasn't what she actually was. Hermione knew that Sasha probably wasn't trying to hurt her personally; she just needed someone to blame for her sorrows, someone to place her laments on.

"I hate Harry," Hermione whispered, just sampling the words. As she did so, she felt her heart shatter into a million pieces all over again. Hearing herself say it made the wound hurt more, made everything hurt more.

"You don't," said a deep voice from the door. Ron. Hermione saw him enter, and watched him as he walked across the empty room to her bed. He sat beside her on the bed, gathering her into his arms.

"I do," Hermione whispered painfully, "I really do."

"You could never hate him. He's your best friend; you've always loved him," Ron reasoned with her. For the third time that night, Hermione's heart shattered.

"He has everything he needs with Sasha Borgen," Hermione said coldly. "She has money; he has money, a match made in heaven. They can buy whatever they want to keep themselves happy. I wish them luck."

"All the money in the world couldn't buy him a heart," Ron whispered.

"It's all Borgen's fault," Hermione snapped. "She probably used Imperius on him...he looked a little strange. That wasn't my Harry."

"It was," Ron said. "I've known for a little while that he's been out with Borgen before."

"WHAT?" Hermione wailed. "This has happened before?"

"Not this, per se, but they've gone out. I caught him with liquor on his breath."

"He was stressed out," Hermione corrected. "He was drinking in the bathroom."

"You can't tell me you believed that?" Ron scoffed. "He was out at a bar with Sasha. I used that memory charm Flitwick taught us two Thursdays ago."

Hermione said nothing. She groped around in her head for something to say, but came up with nothing. It was completely beyond Hermione that Ron would think to use a charm that Flitwick had taught them and she hadn't. It was beyond all thought, beyond rationality, beyond her wildest nightmare.

Now the nightmares she'd had lately had been so much more than this...they'd been horrifying, at the time the most frightening thing she could think of. This, however, had proved to be much, much worse.

***

Harry had been moping in the common room for almost five hours now. Briefly, he had considered breaking things off with Sasha-going back to the way things had been before Valentine's Day. True, Sasha had been a regular threat to his dignity, but he could deal with it. He'd dealt with Draco for almost seven years now, hadn't he? He could live with Sasha.

Draco had given him more problems since the happenings had begun with Sasha. And all this sneaking around was doing nothing for his nerves...but he'd never been happier. He'd never felt this much thrill in his life. Sure, he'd faced dragons, water demons, dementors, giant spiders and even the most evil wizard ever born, but he'd never felt quite as...exhilarated as he had since he'd begun meeting up with Sasha. This was the life he'd been fabled to live. This was the life that Harry Potter was supposed to be living: skipping around from girl to girl, doing what he pleased, running the Wizarding world. He was king of the universe. He was finally living the life he wanted to live.

Granted, he'd probably just lost himself a valuable friend, but he'd find another. Harry Potter didn't need friends. Harry Potter was an international superstar. He could befriend whoever he wanted to befriend. Ever since his acts in the fifth and sixth years, he'd become like...an idol to the magical world. Everywhere Harry turned, there was his picture, waving and smiling. He was on the cover of Witch Weekly more times than he could count; now probably beating Draco's record of thirty-seven consecutive weeks. Just then, a large owl flew in the open window behind the chair he was sitting in.

It dropped a letter in his lap before flying back out into the night. Harry turned over the letter and read the return address.

Teen Witch Weekly

1002 Diagon Alley, London

Mailbox 10

He tore open the envelope, and scanned the letter. It read:

Dear Mr. Potter,

Good day, Harry. This is Elmira Fitterwink from TWW. I am writing to congratulate you for beating our world record of Most Consecutive Weeks on the Cover of TWW! You've been featured on our cover for 49 weeks now, and we'd like to invite you back for your 50^th cover shot! The shoot will be at Hogwarts on Monday, April 14. Be ready!! We'll inform you of our arrival.

Thank you!

Sincerely yours,

Elmira Fitterwink

Harry rolled his eyes. He had, indeed, beaten Malfoy. By more than ten issues, in fact. However, he didn't particularly want to be photographed in less than two weeks. Besides, that date meant something...it was an important date....aha!! Harry remembered. It was the date of the first Quidditch game of the season. But it was also something else...what was it?? Harry racked his brain to remember what important event was happening on that date.

"Our anniversary," Harry mumbled sadly to himself. It would've been Harry and Hermione's two-year anniversary. If only he hadn't been caught snogging Sasha Borgen, this wouldn't have happened.

It was then that Harry went back upon his thoughts of "I'm an international superstar, heed my every order" and realized something. He had to apologize to Hermione. He might not want to get back together with her...no; he wanted to give Sasha and him a chance at a real relationship. But he at least had to apologize.

He got up off the couch to go up to the girls' dormitory, and saw Ron come out of the shadows from the latter's staircase.

Harry shot him a questioning look.

"She's asleep," Ron told him. "And she definitely does not want to see you."

"Why not?" Harry asked stupidly. "I just wanted to apologize."

"She's just not ready yet, okay?" Ron snapped. "Give her time. This is sort of a shock to her. I think you should leave her alone a while."

"But I need to talk to her," Harry pressed. "This is important."

"Hermione will kill you if she sees you right now," Ron insisted finally.

"Everyone has wanted to kill me at one point or another," Harry grumbled. He walked back to the common room, retreating to a shadowy chair to mope.

***

Hermione looked around her dorm room. Everyone else was asleep, one girl even snoring loudly. She rose from her bed silently, and tiptoed to the door. She glided down the spiral staircase to the common room. As she entered the large, comfortable room, she noticed that Harry was asleep in an armchair, the fire throwing beautiful red-orange light on his face.

Choking back a few tears, she passed him in silence, pretending she didn't see him. She continued to the portrait hole, and pushed it open, slipping out into the corridor. The stone floor was freezing beneath her bare feet, and she held back a squeak of surprise.

She didn't quite know where she was headed, but she knew that her subconscious had a purpose in mind. Hermione continued walking, down stairs, around corners, down corridors she didn't remember ever traveling down before, until she eventually found herself at the statue of a dragon.

To her horror, it moved. She froze to her spot, and watched as an all-too familiar person stepped forth from the hole that had opened out of the wall.

"Malfoy?" she sputtered.

"Granger! What are you doing here?" he whispered angrily. "You're not supposed to be here."

"I know," Hermione whispered back. "But I....I had to tell you something."

"What?" he demanded impatiently. "What?"

"It's...it's Harry...and Sasha...I," she took a deep breath, "I caught them."

"Caught them doing what?" Draco sighed. "Sasha was out drinking after dinner with my father tonight."

"You can't honestly believe that?" Hermione demanded. "They were out together! And then! AND THEN!! Outside the Gryffindor entrance, they had their tongues seven inches down each other's throats!"

"Quiet down," Draco snapped. "She was not with your beloved Harry Potter."

"How would you know?" Hermione rasped. "She wasn't with you."

Draco opened his mouth to speak then closed it.

"You're right," he sighed. "She wasn't with me. But I trust her...she couldn't have been with Potter."

Draco looked around at the stone walls surrounding them.

"Could she?" He looked pleadingly at Hermione. For the first time ever, he looked genuinely hurt.

"She was," Hermione said bitterly. "And I saw it."

"Oh," Draco breathed. He swallowed heavily, and bit his bottom lip. He wrung his hands around each other, the long, spindly fingers entwining themselves within each other. Hermione reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder, but yanked it away immediately as though she'd touched fire.

Draco's head whipped around and he stared her down with those cold, condescending gray eyes. Then he looked at his shoulder for a split second, but instantly shifting his gaze back to Hermione's face.

"What?" she asked, still a bitter tone in her voice.

"Why are you so bothered by this?" he demanded. "Why didn't you expect it?"

"Because Harry is a kind and loving person," Hermione explained coldly. "Or at least he was."

"When?" Draco asked her, grabbing her arm and steering her into an empty classroom.

"All up until now," Hermione snapped.

"Don't get snippy with me," Draco scolded, casting a sound-proof charm on the door.

"Why should I? You're the same way to the rest of the world."

"It's still not my fault that Potter's got a heart of stone," Draco said, pacing.

"HE DOES NOT!" Hermione yelled, tears streaming down her face.

"How can you still love him?" Draco demanded, his voice rising in volume. "How can you, after what he's done! You know he looks at other girls, you know it! So why do you insist on hurting yourself? You were meant to be smart!"

"I love Harry more than anything else in this world," Hermione sobbed. "It's not in my power to stop that."

"It is, though!" Draco insisted. "I promised Sasha..."

"You promised her what?" Hermione hiccupped.

"I made a stupid promise to a stupid girl that I would love her no matter what she did to me. I made a promise I don't feel compelled to keep. But I find that I cannot break it, no matter what I try." Hermione cried harder hearing this. It had never occurred to her that Draco could love anyone. Horrible as that was, he'd always seemed like a shallow, cold-hearted one-night-stand.

"This is so ridiculous...I never imagined that you could..." Hermione trailed off as Draco looked her hard in the eye again.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Here we stand, two broken-hearted fools," Draco said softly. "Ashamed of the love we still harbor for those who don't love us back...It's a vicious world, Hermione Granger. It's an imperative to have someone there to hold you through till morning."

Hermione was struck silent. His comment...it was poetry...and had touched her heart in ways that she couldn't imagine that Draco Malfoy could. Tears yet again flooded her vision, and she let them fall freely, unafraid of what he might say. Her sight was blurred by salty tears, and soon she felt herself being gathered into wiry arms and held tightly, a silky, smooth voice whispering comforting words to her.

"Draco," she whispered finally, as she got control over her tears.

"It's alright," he murmured back to her, patting her hair comfortingly. Hermione submitted to his touch, not worried about anything else, the bland awkwardness of this situation failing to make the slightest imprint on her. It didn't occur to her how it might look to someone who entered the room that Hermione Granger was crying in the arms of Draco Malfoy.

As if on cue, the door opened, and Hermione jerked her head up. Draco spun around. There in the doorway stood Ron, looking like he wasn't quite sure if he was dreaming or awake. Hermione nearly flew off the desk she was seated on to Ron's side.

"Hermione?" he stuttered. She put her hand on his shoulder, and he looked into her eyes. "Am I awake?"

"Yes," she whispered carefully. "Wide awake."

"Wow," Ron breathed. "This is awkward."

"Very," Draco drawled. "Thank God someone's come to collect her."

"What?" Hermione snapped, her head whipping around to look at Malfoy.

"You can't waste your life sobbing over Harry Potter," Draco explained coldly. "Sasha will realize that eventually."

"She'll be spared the pain," Hermione snapped. "She always is."

"Yet again you show your lack of social intelligence," Draco replied.

Hermione sighed angrily before pushing Ron out the door.

Draco shrugged and lay down on the desk, closed his eyes, and slowly fell asleep.

***

Hermione dragged Ron through the entrance hall, up the stairs to the Gryffindor corridor, and up to the Fat Lady. After angrily mumbling the password, she shoved him through the portrait hole and into the empty common room.

"What do you think you're playing at?" Ron asked shakily as he half-fell into a chair. "Getting all friendly with Malfoy? He doesn't care about you, Hermione, no matter what he says."

"He cares more than Harry ever did," Hermione retorted bitterly. "More than anyone ever did."

"Harry cared! Harry still cares! To him, you two aren't quite over! You two will never be over!" Ron exclaimed quietly. Hermione, however, stared coldly into the dying embers.

"I'm going to bed. No more of this Harry talk. It will just upset me," Hermione said as she strode across the large room and glided up the stairs.

Ron rolled his eyes, considering the current state of life at Hogwarts. Ginny was a sixth year, apparently doing quiet well, making her way from boy to boy at astonishing speed, as could be expected. Why Ginny came to Ron's mind first was something of a mystery. He thought a moment, coming up with an answer. She was his little sister. She was partly his responsibility.

Then Harry. Harry, what was he thinking? He'd become a superstar at a year old, but had never been one to almost...was it....take advantage of his fame. Malfoy took advantage of things like this. Harry just let them be. He was the passer-by, stuck into a celebrity's life. Ron could never have pictured this happening to Harry and Hermione: Harry running off with someone else without even stopping to consider Hermione.

Dearest Hermione, Ron thought lovingly. How he'd loved her these past years. He'd always adored her as a friend, but ever since third or fourth year, he'd loved her as so much more. She starred in his dreams nightly, littered his thoughts daily. She was all he could think about. But, up until tonight, Hermione had been Harry's property, and off limits to Ron completely.

Themy had been a ready distraction, a girl willing to ease his heartache whenever he wished. She'd been fun, but it was useless. He didn't feel anything for her. He wanted Hermione in his arms.

Ron was dragged from his thoughts as he heard muffled footsteps on the stone staircase. He looked over. It was Harry, shuffling down the stairs from the boys' dormitory, looking slightly miserable.

"Hullo, Harry," Ron mumbled from his seat by the fire. Harry's head snapped up.

"Oh," he said, surprised. "Didn't see you there, Ron."

"So, Harry," Ron began coldly. "How's your life as a teenage Lothario treating you?"

"Ron, please, I don't feel like discussing this," Harry grumbled tiredly. "I just need to relax."

"Relax? Fine, relax. You'll talk better if you're relaxed," Ron snapped. "Answer my question."

"Ron, I didn't want to cheat on Hermione. That was never my intention," Harry explained, exhaustion heavy on his voice.
"Well, lo and behold, you were seeing another girl! You were cheating. You knew you were cheating. And something tells me you had no intention of stopping until Hermione caught you snogging Borgen."

Harry lifted his head a few inches off the back of the couch.

"You know, I really don't think you're in the right position to antagonize me about this," Harry snapped. "You have no clue what it's like!"

"What what's like?" Ron shouted. "To break someone's heart?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Well, if that's what I don't know, then I hope I never learn," Ron snarled, stalking off to bed.

Harry was, once again, alone. He'd not only managed to lose Hermione, probably forever, and now had somehow pissed Ron off, and temporarily lost him as well.

"Oh well," Harry sighed. "At least now I can do whatever I want."