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    Chapter 3


    And what do you think you’d say?
    I won’t listen anyway
    ―Goo Goo Dolls


    That wonderful feeling of security left as rapidly as it had arrived the moment Hermione walked through the intricately detailed doors of the Great Hall. The feeling of a million pairs of knowing eyes staring straight into her soul hit her, making the palms of her hands felt clammy, and her heart raced so fast it almost physically hurt. Hermione felt conscious of every person in the Great Hall looking at her, and felt as though they were all staring at her because they knew what she had done. If only she knew, no one was staring at her the way she perceived and one would ever blame her for what happened. They were simply startled that she, Malfoy, and Cho had walked in after the sorting ceremony.

    She hurried as fast as her quaking legs would carry her to Ginny—she had saved Hermione a spot at their House table—and sat down, dropping her gaze to the platter of food in front of her. She barely registered what it was holding—roasted potatoes—before she helped herself to it, hoping she looked more like a normal hungry student and not the murderer she was. Filling her plate with more of the delicious food the elves (slaving away no doubt in the kitchens) had prepared, she ate quickly and quietly until she noticed something was strangely off…

    “Where in Merlin’s pants is Harry?” Hermione asked, looking to both Ron—he sat in front of Ginny—and Ginny for answers. She also blushed, having never used wizardry—or muggle—cursing in her vocabulary.

    Ron, his mouth full of food, gave a shrug for an answer at the same time that Ginny told her that she hadn’t seen Harry since Snape had made them leave her compartment.

    “He didn't tell you where he was going when you two left?”

    “To the toilets, to change. Harry told me he would meet me back at the castle. I haven’t seen him since. We were hoping he was with you,” replied Ginny.

    “You don’t think he was spying on Malfoy, with his cloak do you? He seemed awfully determined that it was Malfoy who stopped the train.” Hermione said, worrying. The last time her friend was late for the feast he was nearly expulsed from the school for exposing magic to muggles. How much trouble was he going to get into tonight?

    “I hope he finds some dirt on the rudy git.” Ron grunted in between bites of his shepherds pie.

    “I hope he wasn't spying in the first place. Just because I don’t believe Malfoy was the one responsible for what happened today, doesn’t mean that I don’t trust him. He could try to hurt Harry if he were caught,” said Hermione, eyeing a mischievously laughing Malfoy from across the Hall.

    When Harry didn't come in the next ten minutes, and it was dessert, Hermione was fed up of wondering where her best friend was. If Malfoy knew, then Malfoy was going to tell her.

    Preparing to get up, she glared at the Slytherin table. But just as she was getting up, someone sat down on the other side of Ginny.

    “Blimey, Harry! What did you get on the wrong side of?” Ron sputtered, rightly so.

    Their best friend’s nose was dripping blood on the treacle tarts, trying to catch it with a damp rag. He looked a little more worse-for-wear since she had seen him last.

    “You were spying on Malfoy, weren't you?” she said disapprovingly, knowing he was going to say yes. Which he did. “Harry!” she scolded.

    “Hermione, I had to. What if he’s planning something else?”

    With another stern rant ready, Hermione opened her mouth, only to be interrupted by Ronald. “Did you find anything out?” she was going to scold Ron as well, but a glare at her friend would have to suffice, since Harry began talking.

    “Not exactly. But I know he is hiding something. Why else would he have broken my nose and left me for good on the train?”

    “Perhaps it’s because you and Malfoy aren't on good terms, you’re the main reason his father is in Azkaban and you were snooping on him—again?” Hermione suggested.

    Ginny, not one to step on Harry’s toes, said meekly, “She’s probably right.” Much to the surprise of everyone, then added, “but I don’t like that he did it.” To get back in Harry’s good graces.

    True to his form, Harry, decided to drop the case, and asked what the Sorting Hat had to say. Ron replied by saying it had spluttered rubbish about staying together in trying times and a whole load full of such nonsense about joining the whole school together, Slytherins and all.


    Draco was not having a good day.

    When Draco had tried teasing the Mudblood by saying, “What has gotten you all smiley for, Muddy?”, nothing that Granger usually did happened.

    At the name, Granger whipped her frizzy head in Draco’s direction, as if forgetting he was even in the same carriage. Stupid mudblood, he said while rolling his eyes. Granger kept quiet, which pissed him off. He wanted a reaction out of her. What else were Mudbloods good for besides taunting and being in superior? The Chang girl took points off Slytherins House. That only made him angrier. As if House Points were going to matter, not after what he had to do.

    No, Draco did not want to think about that. That sort of thinking was reserved for later tonight when he had to see what he was working with.

    The night only got better when that idiot midget of a Charms professor asked him for his name. Was it not plastered on the front of the Daily Prophet, or was the paper too big for the oaf to read?

    At dinner, Pansy stuck to him like a fly stuck to honey. Draco had mix feelings for Pansy. Certainly nowhere near romantic feelings, but feelings, nonetheless. He was flattered that so much of her time was devoted to him—what man couldn't be please by that?—, sorry for her that in the end she wouldn't get the ending with him she wanted, and a little annoyed, not to mention terrified, by the fact that she just about worshiped him obsessively at times.

    And now he was stuck with said person patrolling the completely empty halls of Hogwarts. It was absolutely pointless to do this. The only people brave enough to sneak out of their dormitories past curfew were the ones that Prefects, such as himself would let slide. Like Zabini. Or Potter and Granger, but she was a prefect (which kind of took the fun out of it) now, so she could now run around in her fuzzy muggle pajama bottoms and no one would give a hoot! Well, besides him. Fuzzy muggle pajama bottoms were hideous and filthy.

    Pansy was chattering on about how pointless it was as well. It was nice to know his point of view was shared, but hearing the same thing he was thinking was surprisingly grating on his nerves. He just had to do something about it.

    “Pans, I believe that if we split up the remainder of the grounds we have to cover, this pointless job will end much faster. Don’t you? Then we can get back to the common room and do more important things.” He said, trying to sound off-handed.

    “You think so?” she asked excitedly.

    “Yes, I do or I wouldn't have said it.”

    “Are you sure, Draco ,because it would seem boring to walk down the rest of the main and second floor alone.”

    “Pans, just go check out the dungeon floor. I’ll be back soon.”

    “Fine.” she said huffily, marching hastily to the stairwell.

    Draco breathed a heavy sigh of relief for finally being alone. The relief and loneliness, however, only lasted for several minutes.

    While making his way to the Room of Requirement, he was stopped by a Professor. It was the Head of his House, and while that should have made him feel nervous for being caught on the wrong floor, he was only miffed that his once favorite professor was following him for a reason of a different nature.

    “Draco, what a surprise to see you on this side of the castle.” Snape greeted.

    “Same to you, Professor.” He said back curtly.

    “You know, Draco, what ever you need I’d give it. Be it ingredients, tutoring, help with certain tasks-“

    “Glory?” Draco snapped. The Head of House sent him an ice filled glare. Yes, Draco knew he didn’t really want to help unless it meant getting in even better graces with him.

    That was what set Slytherins apart from the others—apart from being of pure unadulterated magic. They were endlessly ambitious to the bone. Any foothold they could find to each the top, whatever it could be, they would step on it. Using a younger person by pretending to be a helping mentor was one of those many footholds. Draco was not as blinded by youth as his elder professor thought.

    It only made the older man appear more desperate when he tried to convince Draco otherwise. “If you could only see how dangerous this is, whatever it is. It won’t be easy. If sharing the burden would help, you know you can at least tell me. I’m here for you.”

    “No you’re not. You’re here for yourself.” Draco replied back hotly. The aging fool was wasting his time. He could already be working on it. Instead he was having a pointless argument. Draco heard footsteps close by and by the way the professor was looking around the corner, he knew he was not imagining them. He lowered he voice as he ended their disagreement. “Do not bother me again. I can do this by myself. That’s why I was given this task, so good evening Professor.”

    Author’s Note

    First off, I apologize to Professor Flitwick, because he is not an oaf or an idiot midget. Draco's a mean person, so I have to bash on people. :( Secondly I apologize for not post in so long. Sooo what did you think? It’s my first chapter in forever and I know it’s a filler but the next chapter has more action. Please forgive me for making the chapter so short :( The next one is already in the works and so is my favorite one, which I’m so excited to post! ;) Please tell the poor, lonely box what you liked, didn't like, or want, or anything really… it’s quite a lonely box… and author… lol


    disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, but I can still pretend I'm J. K. Rowling

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