Quiet Revolution

Chapter 4 - Clearing the Fog of Hallucination

I'll get tired of the heart attacks
Every time it rings
I'll put myself on the waiting list
And get it all cleared up
You're the one with the attitude
Don't try and make me out
To be the root of the evil in
The whole rotten affair

Lie back and suffer now
We've both earned our reward

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Feeling disgruntled, Hermione walked down the hall with a vial of bubbling liquid in her hands. The instructions had called for the final stage of the potion to be conducted outside. Honestly, it wasn't hard to brew up. It was simple enough for Ron to do it correctly.

She checked the last line of the page which ordered her to take the vial outside and run it under a gust of wind. Simple enough. She would just go up to the Astronomy Tower - it was usually empty during the day time and she went there often to clear her mind.

She stepped out into the hallway cautiously. It was, again, early morning. The smooth white skies above her threatened another foggy morning, but to her satisfaction, a light breeze floated in the air and blanketed just a bit above her head.

She promptly held up the vial high above her head with shaking hands.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Retractatio's got a revolting aftertaste."

She grasped onto the vial of bubbling green liquid in her hands and slowly turned around.

To her surprise she found herself looking straight into the mercury eyes of Draco Malfoy.

"You," she whispered in awe.

"Yes. Me," he said slowly, casually leaning against the wall with his arms crossed just as he had done so at Harry's funeral.

"I knew I wasn't seeing things," she cried, lowering the vial completely and turning to face him. "How are you doing this? Are you someone in disguise by Polyjuice Potion? Did you--"

"I'm dead," Draco said smoothly. "As dead as one can be."

"You're a ghost?" she asked, mildly fascinated.

She leaned forward in a hesitant attempt to touch him. Her hand landed on his chest and felt the hard embroidered texture of the Slytherin badge on his robes and quickly let go and shook her hand in the air as if that would rid it from the essence of Malfoy.

"Ahh... to be dead, the only time I'm careless enough to let you touch me." He didn't move from his spot.

"So, you're not a ghost obviously. What are you, pray tell?" she scoffed, now frustrated.

"Patience is a virtue. Now... get rid of that stupid potion, I have a proposition for you."

"What? First off, people think I'm insane for claiming to see you everywhere. Now you're trying to convince me to take some sort of deal from you?"

"Don't you miss Potter?" he demanded, ignoring her rant.

She froze. "Don't you dare speak Harry's name."

"Why not? I adore the Boy Who Lived just as much as the next person," Draco spat out sarcastically.

"I don't need this, Malfoy. Go away," she said coolly. "I'm... busy!" And apparently at a loss for words.

"Well. Since you're so... busy, I'll just get to my point."

She tapped her foot impatiently.

"I have something of yours, Granger. I know how you can bring Potter back."

"That's impossible," she said right away, her facial features unaffected by his words but her heartbeat rising at a quicker pace. "There isn't a known spell in the world to revive the dead," she finished smoothly.

"Says who? That idiot, Dumbledore? I really think you should stop listening to someone who's clinging to life and looks like a cheap Father Christmas impersonator, Mudblood."

She bit her lower lip and concentrated on looking at the vile of bubbling green liquid in front of her. Ignore him, she ordered herself. Just ignore him.

"Don't ignore me," he said. "I have what you want. I have Potter."

She studied him closely. "You're out of your mind," she finally decided.

"Excuse me. I'd take a look into the mirror if I were you. You still see dead people, so you are the last person you should trust right now."

"Right. I should listen to you instead?"

"Tempting, isn't it?" He grinned lazily, still leaning against the wall.

"Why?" she demanded again. "First off, how is this all possible? How did you die? And exactly what are you?"

He looked around cautiously. She noticed his hair was lighter than usual: it practically glowed. There was something odd about him. He certainly was material - she knew that from touching him. But he didn't have the same wind about him as humans did. He seemed...

She wracked her brain on other possibilities of what Malfoy could be. She had read about angels only briefly... but he... he couldn't have been that.

"It's freezing. Can we go inside?" he asked, cutting in on her thoughts.

She looked at him hesitantly.

"It's bloody freezing out here," he insisted.

"It's not that cold," she said. The morning sun was at its peak and it was fairly warm.

"Well you've got warm blood running through your veins," he said sourly.

Finally she nodded. "Will other people see you?"

"Only you can see me."

She shook her head. "I don't believe I'm doing this. I'm listening to a hallucination, I'm convinced that I see Malfoy everywhere and yet I'm still following his commands."

He flashed a nasty grin over his shoulder. "Been waiting for this day your whole life, haven't you?"

*

"This is the Gryffindor common room? Well... it's a bit... dodgy, no?"

"I like it," Hermione said coldly as she sat down. Draco stood up near the entrance.

"Why are you sitting down here? So everyone can see you talk to yourself? Do you want people to think you're mad?"

"Oh." Her voice had gone flat. Nearly everyone seemed to have grown smarter than Hermione over the summer, and that included a nearly live, nearly dead Malfoy.

He strode over to the general area of the dormitories. She looked at him.

"How do you know where the dorms are?"

He ignored her question. "Come along now... ladies (even in your case, Mudblood) first."

She got up and walked past him and stood at the entrance to the dorms, blocking it with her arms. "Don't try anything funny, Malfoy."

He crossed his arms and leaned in closer to her, so that their faces were inches apart. "I don't tell you what to do, you don't tell me what to do."

She took it for what it was worth and began walking up the stairs, Malfoy following. Driven even more by curiosity, she began to walk faster.

Boys were not allowed in the girl's rooms and yet Malfoy... completely solid, was able to get past that charm. She was sorely disappointed that he didn't end up sliding down on his arse and breaking a body part, preferably his jaw, or two. And she couldn't stand not knowing why.

"Oh, and by the way, Granger," she heard Malfoy call behind her and interrupt her thoughts. "Since we will be in an intimate sort of setting... please don't take advantage of me, tempting as it may be."

She clenched her teeth. This was starting out as one hell of a day.

*

The morning sun was peaking at its high. Hermione's room in the Gryffindor Tower faced the sun in the mornings and it was soaked in rich yellow warmth.

She was thankful that it was a weekend - had it been a school day... she would have had a very difficult time getting to her lessons. Because of her raging curiosity, not much could have torn her away from Malfoy, as odd as the thought of her willingly wanting to stay with him was.

That foreign concept was shot to hell immediately when she found that he had all the answers.

She hated not having the answers.

Draco talked, of course. He didn't want to seem too eager to offer her his proposition again, nor did he want to seem like conversation with a Muggleborn was like breathing air into his lungs. But it really was invigorating in this bizarre way. It had been months since he had talked to another human. There was Sabrina, the Angel that had guided him after he had fallen... but she was hardly human. She only visited him in his dreams and stayed for short periods of time, delivering instructions. She wasn't real.

Not real enough, at least.

He was careful about what he shared with Granger, seeing as how she had always been his common enemy. But he was also secretly very grateful that she was a bright witch - she listened closely and understood things as soon as he said them. Pansy was always very quick-witted as well, but she was so impatient that she'd dive into questions right away, not giving him a chance to even graciously tell a story.

Granger was different. She was disgustingly patient.

She finally asked a question.

"But why me?"

"Why is it that I chose you of all people to visit?"

She nodded.

He panicked.

Malfoys don't panic, he told himself.

There was of course a very good reason why he had chosen her. Because he didn't choose her, she was given to him.

It was simple enough. After the severe crime he had committed prior to his death, he had scarred Granger the most. Sabrina had sensed this (whatever the hell that meant... he was sick of her whispery know it all attitude, it was a sick combination of that loony Ravenclaw and Dumbledore's revolting high status), and she gave him simple directions - help Hermione, balance out the bad you've done to this poor girl with whatever good you may have left in you. You must heal her.

Sabrina spoke this in one sentence and made it sound as easy as peeling an orange. Something even Crabbe could master.

Well, at least when given a day.

Anyway. Whatever. Help Granger? Heal Granger? Right, okay. Right after I make my bed and feed the cat I'll get to that.

Draco knew that his personal mission was different. Sure, he would listen to Sabrina - obey her, even.

Just not the way she wanted him to.

He was out here to exploit the best of whatever resources he had at hand. And Granger was it.

Sabrina had been vague when she spoke in his dreams. She never told him that he had to tell Granger exactly what he had done to her. So he wouldn't. She didn't remember a thing about it either, thanks to Draco. Though it was obvious that she was experiencing a great deal of backlash from what he had done to her. Sabrina had never specified exactly how he was supposed to "balance" or "heal" her, so he would do it his way - by getting something out of it for himself.

Granger needn't know of his wrong doings, it would only turn her gruesome Gryffindor sensibilities against him. And he didn't need to waste even more time to convince her to talk to him.

The horror.

"Malfoy?" Hermione asked. "I asked you a question."

"Thank you; is stating the obvious your only hobby? Have you ever tried Quidditch? Nude chess, perhaps?"

She shot him a disgusted stare. He shrugged.

"I didn't choose you, Granger... I was assigned to you."

It was all a matter of mastering the art of deception. No lies, but no need to unravel the truth either.

Just clever wording.

"Assigned... to me?"

"Yes. From the Head Angel, call her what you will. She sensed your misery of not being able to function properly without Potter... and so here I am, here to protect you."

You sly genius of a bastard, Malfoy. Pat twice on the back.

"I don't believe you. You're surely not doing this out of your good will, whether or not you were 'assigned' to me."

He sighed. One of the many qualities he despised about her - her logical thinking.

"Okay. If I don't 'help' you like I'm supposed to, I'm convinced I'll stay like this forever."

"Like what?"

"A Wanderer."

She gasped shortly. "I knew it! Even before you said it yourself. A Wanderer! I've read about this!"

He feigned shock. "No, did you really?"

"Wanderers are like ghosts," she continued, ignoring him, "they're a form that wizards can take on after death if their death had come too soon or was not deserved. So your death must have been..." she trailed off when she saw the bored expression on his face. "The only difference between a wanderer and a ghost is that a wanderer is still flesh and blood, and no one can see them... and I hear they can't feel anything, is that true?"

She was fascinated.

"I can't feel... certain things. I can't taste foods, I can't feel heat. But I can feel certain emotions, and I always feel cold." He stopped himself before he told her more.

Well, what the hell... why did you tell her anything to begin with?

"That's because a Wanderer's permanent state is that of the wizard right before they died. So you must have been freezing right before you died..." She trailed off again. "How did you die?"

He flinched slightly before looking away. How did Potter and Weasel put up with her? Oh, right... they were idiots who didn't know anything.

"Can't tell you."

"Did you have anything to do with Harry's death?" It had always crossed her mind.

"Why would I release such privileged information to you?" He stretched himself out on Parvati's bed, making himself comfortable, resisting the urge to kick off his shoes and order her to bring him some tea.

She fumed and could feel her jaw clenching up as she grinded her teeth together. She wouldn't let this happen. She was not going to let Draco Malfoy get to her. But the ugly fusion of frustration and anger was slowly reaching its peak in her.

"Can you tell me what your dreams are like?" she asked coolly.

"No," he said gleefully, knowing very well her curiosity was shot to the skies.

And before she had the chance to ask him another question, he spoke again.

"We can make the best of this while I'm here, Granger. I don't intend on staying this way forever, and you're obviously a wreck without Potter... and I can help us both."

She looked at him skeptically as he continued.

"There was a spell I came across when I went with my parents to Egypt a few summers ago."

"Ooh! Egypt, you've been?" Her eyes widened.

"Pardon? Even Weasley's been."

She closed her mouth and glared at him.

He rolled his eyes and continued.

"It's an ancient spell, banned centuries ago because of all the destruction and because it toyed with fate. But it's effective. It'll revive the dead. So I can bring back my father, myself... you can bring back Potter. And along with this it has the power to patch up the rough cracks in time so that present wizards are under the spell and never knew that Potter's death, let's say, ever occurred, so---"

She shook her head in the middle of his tirade. "That's impossible. I've never hear----"

"Just because you've never heard of it doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Just because you don't understand it doesn't mean it's impossible," he said coldly.

"Well," she said, frustrated, "Am I going to understand any of this?"

"You get what you want out of this, I get what I want... what's to understand?" he snapped. His plan was being delayed. She was supposed to agree to this over half an hour ago.

"I'm not just about to perform some spell I've never heard of in my life, wake up to an alive Harry and not want to know exactly why it all happened."

He stared at her for a long time and didn't speak. So she did.

"Why are you doing this? Furthermore, why are you helping me?" she demanded.

"I don't have to," he responded coolly, keeping his temper down. "I can just insult you endlessly and you'll stay the way you are forever. And I'll stay this way forever. You tell me which sounds more pleasing. Really, decide for yourself. I'm not allowed to force you to do anything. I'm only trying to help."

"Why would you try to help me? I mean... I'm sure I'm not needed. You could just go back and save your Dad and all that is Dark. Why would you want to drag me, the 'filthy Mudblood Granger' into this... why would you want to help Harry?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"What?"

"Do you ever shut up? Like... I'm sure people have begged you mercilessly, but does it ever work? You just need to trust me."

She glared at him. "Really, now! You owe me that much, Malfoy! I just want an explanation, is that so much to ask?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. She truly, truly despised him. All her years at Hogwarts, she had tried so hard not to let Draco Malfoy get to her. She made excuses - he's complicated, you really don't know him. Just ignore him.

But it never worked - he always pressed her buttons, to the point where she wanted to hit him.

To the point where she actually did.

She wrinkled her nose every time his white blond head bobbed in the corridors. Her insides cringed when his cold drawl permeated in the air. And she always hated the way her food never looked appealing after a spat with him.

He shot her a disgusted stare. She was studying him. She was always like this - he despised her. Her moronic heritage, her know-it-all attitude, the way she always relied so heavily on those bloody books and even worse - belief in herself.

He would prove her wrong.

"There are some things you're not meant to know while you're still flesh and blood, Mudblood. And also, I owe you nothing. Life owes us nothing, Granger. I don't know about you but I've always been fond of taking advantage of things, so... go on, leave... I don't need you. Do you know how many of these little Hogwarts parasites would love to trade places with me? The idiot first year that wants to redo his Quidditch tryout, the stupid Mudblood second year who would do anything to bring her brother back to life... even your gruesome little Gryffindor pals... I'll bet the girl Weasel would love to go back in time and never have met the Dark Lord. She's still haunted by those awful memories, didn't you know? Poor thing," he finished, with an over-exaggerated pitiful smile

She glowered at him. "Will you ever change, Malfoy? Or will you die an unbearably intolerable bastard?"

"First off. Yes, I have changed. Had it been a year earlier, you wouldn't see the likes of me hanging around with someone of your status. And secondly, I am dead... that little detail slipped your mind, no? Losing your touch, aren't you, Mudblood?"

She was wearing his patience very, very thin, and he was doing the same to her as well.

She didn't answer. He continued.

"If there's a spell that can bring my Father and me back, why wouldn't it be possible for Potter? We're all dead, Granger... surely your grades should reflect some intellect on your part. If you'll just come with me, I'll show you the book and you can read up on the spell yourself. That's comforting, isn't it? Since you put your life's fate into reading and what not."

She fought hard to think of a clever comeback, but couldn't. All she could do was let her head spin as she thought hard about what he was offering her. But her eyes focused back onto him as she realized who exactly this was.

"I don't trust you, Malfoy."

He wanted to hit something. He wanted to hit her.

But instead, he expertly slid off Parvati's bed and grazed his stare on her face carefully as her lips thinned and she got up off her bed as well, and placed her hands on her hips, tapping her foot gently - she wanted him to leave.

He got up and pulled his cloak behind him swiftly and strode over to her, so that he was looking straight into her eyes. He was so close to her, she could feel his icy breath glide across her face.

"You'll be sorry that you don't."

"Get out," she said softly, not even flinching.

He made her so angry.

Maybe it was because Harry had died too. Harry wasn't given this second chance - call it what you may, to resurrect himself. Harry, who had been born with a predestined cursed life and who had suffered so much, had to be the one to leave. And Draco Malfoy, the selfish little brat who had his life handed over to him on a silver platter was still somewhat here.

These thoughts accompanied her as she watched Malfoy leave the room.

She had a feeling she would be seeing him again.