True Lies about Love

"True lies about love" by Vulcania.

Chapter 1. Eternal enemies?

Hermione woke up after a few hours of restless sleep. She knew that she had plenty of time, because the sun was just beginning to come up. She didn't have to hurry, so she could lie in bed and observe the sky getting lighter and pinker. After a few yawns she got up and quickly took a shower, then dressed in worn-out blue jeans and big, red t-shirt with gold-yellow lion on one side and an inscription in the same colour: "Don't mess with the witches!" on the other side.

She looked out the window, lost in thought. The sky was changing and it was obvious that it would rain soon. Big, fat and very dark clouds pushed by the wind's blasts came quickly and completely hid the sun. With a deep, resigned sigh, she decided to wait till she was on the Hogwarts Express to change into her school robes.

"Whatever I put on, I will look like a house elf wearing a dirty sheet..." she mumbled, packing up all her things into the massive wood trunk that stood on the floor. When finished, she sat down on the chair and looked into the mirror. She saw a little, miserable creature with pale skin and frizzy dark brown hair flying in all directions as though it had a will of its own. Dark circles under her hazy eyes showed her weariness at all the troubles in her young life.

Her parents had divorced this summer, because her mother had found forever-love in the arms of Mr. Gerard Lherme, a famous multi-millionaire from France and (Oh, hideous irony!) a patient in her dental practice. So, this year, Hermione had spent the holidays with her father, because she wanted to help him move to a new place. He settled in his mother's house in the suburbs of London. Grandma was happy that they were living with her, because after her husband's death some years ago, she felt very lonely. She would do anything to help someone in trouble - people like that are the salt of the earth.

For Hermione, the last months had been filled with her parents arguing and debating about such stupid things like furniture or fish bowl... She had always thought that everybody's parents could divorce but not her own. They had always seemed to be so much in love...

"Big mistake," she said to herself, looking out the window. It was raining almost as hard as Noah's flood. Heavy drops of water were falling violently against the panes, making noisy, regular sounds. The rhythm of the rain drops made her feel sleepy.

She was sitting in an old chair, absorbed in bleak thoughts. She leaned her arms on the top of the oak desk. This piece of furniture was very old and worn out, yet somehow all the scratches and cracks gave it character, in Hermione's mind. They were familiar and comforting. Her desk looked like a general who had fought and lost many battles, but that didn't mean he couldn't win the war.

Much like the desk's owner...

She had to find the strength to take care of herself and her depressed father. But even in such sad circumstances, she found time for learning. She believed that anything worth knowing could be learned in books, so she read as much as she could.

On top of the desk was a huge heap of books, papers, letters, postcards, notes, parchments and newspapers, including the newest issue of the "Daily Prophet" with moving picture of wizards and witches. On the front page was the screaming bol headline: "Will the leaders solve our world's problems?!", and a short article.

"The Conference of United World's Wizards will take place somewhere, sometime and somehow. All details are being kept secret. The leaders of all countries will gather together and debate about the problem of war and how to eliminate 'He Who Must Not Be Named'. We sincerely hope that this debate won't turn out to be a damp squib as none of the important speakers turned up as it was the last time. For further details, see at page 3."

"Ermi, are you awake?" asked a calm voice behind the doors.

Hermione came back from the world of meditation and ran to the doors. She hurriedly opened them and answered breathlessly: "Yes, papa. I'm awake... I just packed my bags. Good morning."

He smiled: "Good morning, little lark. The breakfast is on the table, grandma prepared your favourite sandwiches with cottage cheese and honey..."

"That's great! Oh, papa, do you remember that today we have to--"

She didn't finish the sentence because he interrupted: "Yes, yes... I know. We have to go to King's Cross Railway Station. As you see, I didn't forget. So now go and eat breakfast, while I take all your things down to the car."

"Thanks!" she said and ran to the kitchen.

"...Hermone, you should change your clothes now."

"Grannie, I don't think it's necessary," said the young witch, chewing her sandwich.

"Really, you should wear something... nicer, dear," said the old lady, unconvinced.

"What do you mean "nicer", Grannie? I like my t-shirts and jeans; they're comfortable."

"Maybe they are, but you should wear more girlish clothes, like dresses for example."

"Can I ask why you are so concerned about my wardrobe?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"Oh you know," said Grannie. "If you want have a real boyfriend... you shouldn't wear such large, shapeless blouses, and I am sorry, dear, but red is really not your colour," she added, seeing Hermione's blank look. "I think that with your dark brown hair, green would suite you perfectly."

"Over my dead body!" screamed the very frustrated witch. "I would never, NEVER wear anything green even if I have to walk naked! The green colour is reserved for disgusting Slytherins, and I won't wear anything associated with them!"

"Hermione, you're always making mountains out of molehills." Grannie shook her head in disapproval. "So, because of some stupid prejudice, you want to look like a gangster on holiday?!"

"Yes, Grannie! Yes, I want to!" Hermione answered defiantly, and left the kitchen.

Two hours later Hermione with her father were at platform 9 ¾ in a crowd of young wizards and their parents waiting for the Hogwarts Express. All the people, wizards, owls, cats and rats were soaked because of the heavy rain. Pets were protesting by hooting, mewing, squeaking and scratching.

"You can't wait to see your friends, I'll bet," Hermione's father said quietly, looking at the cage with the irritated ginger cat.

"Of course!" she admitted. "I didn't see them for all the holidays! I can't wait to see them, and find out how they are, and about school and my new subjects and the N.E.W.T.s exams!"

"Yes, I know! I know! I heard about that a thousand times..." he said teasingly. "What was it again? 'If I want be somebody, not a kettle washer in a lousy pub, I have to get the best grades'". He looked war,;u at her and continued. "Oh, Ermi... it's such a strange feeling... my little girl is beginning her 7^th year at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! You must know I am so proud of having a daughter who is as ambitious as you are, my dear."

Her face reddened with pride. She wanted thank him for the compliment, but the gleaming scarlet steam engine was rolling into the station with clouds of steam and whistling. She took the cage with Crookshanks and was going to find a seat, but she stopped half-ay when she heard a cold voice behind her.

"You look like shit, Granger."

"Malfoy!" she groaned and turned to his smirking face.

"Where did you buy those awful clothes?" Draco measured her with his gaze. "Don't tell me! Some homeless beggar didn't want them, so they gave them to you? Or maybe you were shopping with your I-have-not-a-galleon-to-my-name fiance Weasley and you didn't want make him feel like an idiot?" he said with a mean smile. "And is there any special reason that you look like a bag of rags? You don't want show people your precious mudblood body or what?"

"It's none of your business. Get lost!" She gave him scathing look.

"I can't. You're much entertaining," he said, laughing at her furious face. "So, tell me, how was your summer? I suppose you were making schedules for the whole year of school or learning all the spells from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7 or calculating exactly how much time you'll need to study for exams."

Mister Granger snorted, because what Draco said was more than true. Hermione rolled her eyes and said dryly, "Thanks, father. You're a big help."

"Ah, so this is the father of Mud--"

"Excuse me," interrupted an angry female voice.

Draco turned and came face to face with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was tall, dark-haired, silver-eyed, about 25 years old. Through the mist of rain, he could see that she was wearing tight-fitting trousers, a short leather jacket with silver hobnails, leather gloves, long motorcycle boots and a cap with hood, all in deep black. She wore many long silver pendants hanging down to her... you know what. Draco's eyes stopped to gape at that point, until...

"Ehm..." She cleared her throat. "Hey, daydreamer, stop staring at me like that, it's rude! By the way, I need your help!"

His face turned red but he asked politely, "Yes. Yes, of course madam. How can I help you?"

She pointed at her trunk-trolley full of luggage and asked: "Could you carry this to the last coach, young man?"

"Of course, madam. With pleasure." He gaped again and noticed Hermione's chuckling.

He didn't say a word, but simply turned and pushed the trolley. After a while he disappeared into the crowd, followed by the incredible witch in black.

"Who was that arrogant young man?" asked Hermione's father.

"Malfoy," Hermione answered shortly. Her father looked like one big question mark, so she added quickly: "Draco Malfoy is from Slytherin house, the same year as me. Hobby: playing Quidditch all the time and flirting with many girld. He give himself such airs! Grrr... What else... He is wealthy... ok, very wealthy. He has got everything! If a boy is as rich as that he's no right to be handsome as well. And he is handsome... Besides, we are eternal enemies and we hate each other."

"Ermi..." started her father looking at her with devil's smile. "Are you sure that he is your eternal enemy? Because from what you just said, I mean you know quite a lot about him, I would say you're interested in him, so maybe you should think seriously about that green dress, grandma mentioned..."

"WHAT?! Are you all insane?!" she screamed so loudly that people turned and gave her an astonished look.

At the same time, but a few steps away....

"...And young man, if I ever again hear of you calling people names, I promise that I will kill you without magic, with my bare hands!" said the beautiful witch, looking at him like he was a dead cockroach - a lot like Snape's favourite look when he glare at Potter, he thought. "Understand?" she asked, pointing her wand to his chest.

"Yes, madam." Draco audibly gritted his teeth.

"Good. So, now mister - whoever you are - go and help that young lady whom you so rudely offended with your caddish comment." Her silver eyes flashed dangerously. "Don't look at me like you don't know what I mean! Apologize and help her with her luggage, for heaven's sake!"

"Yes, madam." He wanted to turn from her and walk away, but she stopped him.

"And remember that I am keeping an eye on you, so don't try any stupid tricks!" She looked at him meaningfully. She waved her hand, indicating he was dismissed. He gulped and left.

Draco was feeling stupid and weird. How it was possible that some unknown lady could have such a big influence on his behaviour? Maybe it's just because that she's mysterious and beautiful, he told himself. He was sure that she must be a very important person, because he had seen that she had the last coach of the train entirely to herself. But why she was travelling by the Hogwart's Express? Maybe she is some kind of Headmaster's relative? Then a new idea came to him as he remembered her fierce silver-blue glare. Nooo... that's ridiculous! he thought. Still... even if she couldn't force him to do what she want, part of him wanted to do it as he felt those amazing eyes glowing on his neck. He was torn between obedience to that enigmatic lady and loyalty to his beliefs. That wasn't a pleasant feeling.

Then he saw Hermione's friends joining her. Normally his blood would have boiled at the mere sight of them, but now he almost welcomed the distraction. He strode toward the Golden Trio, sneering.

"Ah, what a view... Well-Known Harry Pothead and Nobody-Know-That-He-Exists Weasel. What a pleasure," said Draco. They gave him look of disgust and said nothing. Harry along with Ron tried to help Hermione with the trunk, but they couldn't move it one millimetre. The trunk stood like it was glued to the ground.

"You have a problem, Scarhead? Is this trunk too heavy or too frightening for you?" Malfoy howled with derisive laughter.

Harrys green eyes flashed like lightning. Anyone else would be scared.

Anyone but Draco Malfoy, who said with a gleeful smile, "I should write to Rita Skeeter about this... I can just see the headlines: 'Famous wizard H.P. can't even lift a trunk - is our world doomed?' or maybe something like--"

"Sooner or later I'm going to break your neck," warned Ron.

"In your dreams," scoffed Draco. The he noticed Hermione still struggling with the trunk. "Granger! Leave that bloody trunk!" he yelled at her. "I said - leave it. I. Will. Take. It. To. The. Train," Draco stammered, and went to do their dirty work.

Harry and Ron gasped in shock. Hermione was too surprised to say a word. Her father only chortled. Astonished, Hermione gave the cage with Crookshanks to Ron, who climbed on board. Harry went with him and from up they observed Malfoy's efforts.

Draco silently dragged the trunk, but after few puffs asked irritably, "Bloody hell! What the hell do you have here, Granger?! A dead body?!"

"No, I think I left that in my wardrobe between my t-shirts," she answered seriously. He let that go without answering. Finally the trunk was on the train. And not a moment too soon, because the whistle blew and the train began to move.

"Oh no! What about me?!" screamed Hermione, seeing that train was quickly leaving the station.

"Don't jump!" shouted her father, seeing what she was planning to do.

Of course, she did. Without thinking she jumped to the running train and completely lost her balance on the wet metal steps. She would have fallen out of the train, if somebody's strong arm hadn't grabbed her.

"Thank you," she said before realizing who her rescuer was. He released her, looking totally embarrassed.

"Drakkie!!! What do you think you're doing?!" screamed a blonde-haired girl right in his ear. He jumped like a rabbit and shouted: "Pansy! Don't do that! You'll give me a heart attack!"

"Yeah? And what do you think I felt when I saw you saving that filthy mudblood?" she asked and started sobbing.

Hermione started giggling. She thought that all what had happened to her today was worth the view of petrified Harry and Ron, sobbing Pansy and embarrassed Malfoy.

"Stop crying and move! You're in my way!" Draco said, irritated.

"Drakkie, you are so rude to me! I'm going to tell everyone in Slytherin that you helped that Gryffindor bookworm! You'll see! Nobody will talk to you and I'll write to your father and--"

"Don't you DARE threathen me, Pansy," he said angrily. "I'd like to kill her myself... I don't need the help pf a damn train."

"Oh, my poor Drakkie! Don't be angry!" babbled Pansy. "You're going to raise your blood pressure, darling. Oh, I know what's happened to you! Somebody forced you to do such a horrible, dreadful thing! Tell me who, my darling, and I will smash them up to pieces! But first - tell me something sweet - Drakkie, please!"

"Chocolate with sugar icing," he said sarcastically.

Hermione giggled and went to the nearest compartment together with her perplexed friends.

"I don't understand," said the astonished Pansy. Draco rolled his eyes and went with her to the next coach.

"My, my, my... pigs can fly!" Professor Snape commented sardonically. "Am I insane, or did I just see Mr. Malfoy HELPING Miss Granger? Hm, we're going to have an interesting year."

"You can't even imagine how interesting, sweety..." murmured malicious imps in the air. Unfortunately, nobody could hear them.