Adamo Fidelitas

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series and its characters are property of JK Rowling, various publishers, and Warner Bros. This is a work of fanfiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from it.

Adamo Fidelitas 12

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“Harry are you sure that Malfoy doesn’t have her under the Imperious curse?” Ron asked, his eyes agog at what the green-eyed wizard had just related to him. “Blimey, I must have hit my head harder than I thought,” he muttered.

“Possibly, but just because this is a dream doesn’t mean that it isn’t true,” Luna interjected in her dreamy voice. “Father ran a story a little over a month ago about a wizard in Bath who hit his head in cellar and had a dream that the cultures in a particularly old hunk of Roquefort were plotting to overthrow the Ministry. As soon as he woke up, he hurried upstairs to eat the cheese and save the Ministry, and he discovered that the cheese had rearranged the entire contents of the icebox.”

“And that’s how he knew it wasn’t just a dream…” Ron nodded, trying to hide his laughter behind his hands. “So how am I to know whether this is real or not?” Ron continued in amusement.

Luna stared off into space with a thoughtful expression for a moment. “Well, I think that I’m real, but it is such a difficult thing to prove at the best of times,” she answered philosophically, as she sat on the bottom edge of Ron’s bed.

“Ron, Harry!” Ginny cried out, her jogging footfalls click-clacking over the stone floor as she hurried into the hospital wing. She drew to a stop beside Harry’s chair, and paused to rub the ache in her side from running as she took in the familiar sight of the drab hospital blankets against the brilliant white of the sheets and flame of her brother’s hair. “Are you okay, Ron?” she panted. “I heard you were in hospital and had to find out what happened. There’s the most terrible buzz all over Gryffindor tower, and I heard you were hurt. I heard there was a terrific row between Hermione and Malfoy, but Hermione won’t tell anyone what happened. She’s shut herself in the dormitory, and told everyone to leave her alone for at least an hour. But she won’t tell us why or what she’s planning!” Ginny rattled off, forgetting to draw a breath until she had finished. Ginny’s delicate features were drawn in worry and confusion, as she drew another deep breath.

Ron straightened in his bed, his face falling at the reminder that Hermione hadn’t rushed up to the hospital to visit him. “With any luck maybe she’s trying to figure out the hex that will finish the git off,” Ron added sullenly, and Ginny looked down at her feet, shifting uncomfortably.

“Don’t worry about it, Ginny,” Harry whispered to her, “Ron has been upset all afternoon, and you didn’t mean to say something that reminded him of it.” He gave Ginny’s hands a firm squeeze, rising from the chair and offering her his seat.

Ginny grasped his hand in return, and sat without looking up. “Thank you, Harry,” she said quietly, but sincerely. She looked up at her friend at the bottom of Ron’s bed with a considering look, and the corner of her mouth turned up at the sight. “It’s just that the rumours floating around the school about Hermione hexing Malfoy and the teachers letting them fight make no sense. Did Dumbledore really let that Slytherin slime drag her down the hallway?” Ginny asked in a tentative voice, as she carefully kept from looking at her petulant brother.

“Oh no,” Luna admonished. “Malfoy carried her down the hall over his shoulder, while they screamed at each other. Everyone but Dumbledore and Snape thought he was going to kill her, but Harry said she didn’t have a mark on her when she returned,” Luna explained. She fingered one of Ron’s textbooks absently, as she stared off into space again lost in her own thoughts.

“Hermione said something about blaming Malfoy for the night that her room got trashed,” Harry interjected, “She hexed him for revenge, but it went wrong or something. I don’t know what he said, but she wasn’t blaming him for it anymore after the fight and was really upset about whatever she’d done.” Harry shrugged at Ginny, who quickly looked away and studied her brother’s profile apparently searching for any reaction to his friend’s words. Her hands knotted into the fabric of her skirt, and her shoulders tensed.

“So Hermione thought Malfoy was behind it, and now she doesn’t…” Ron said in a voice devoid of emotion. His features hardened, and Harry could see his fists clenching and unclenching.

“Yes,” Harry replied, “but that doesn’t bring us any closer to finding out who has it in for Hermione.” The other three all stared at Harry, as they weighed his words. Ron wore his temper openly, while Ginny stared at Harry with wide eyes and Luna looked on with one of her inscrutable expressions.

“Do you have any ideas what we should do, Harry?” Ron asked gravely, as he crossed his freckled arms over his chest.

Harry’s confident expression flickered, and he shrugged at his friends. “I haven’t the first idea how to find out what’s going on, but I think someone is going to have to keep a closer eye on Hermione in case she’s in more danger tshe she realizes,” Harry said reluctantly. “We’ll come up with a plan for dealing with Malfoy and her vandal later,” Harry promised, hoping that Hermione would say something to him the next time they spoke to plant a brilliant idea in his mind.

“Right. Since I’m the only one here who can go into her dormitory, I’d better get back to the tower before she takes off anywhere,” Ginny said, with a worried look. She rose from the chair and let go of Harry’s hand, which now felt a little moist from the warmth of her own hand. “I’ll try to drag her down to dinner later,” the red-haired witch promised, and she gave Ron and Harry both a quick peck on the cheek, before rushing out of the infirmary as quickly as she’d come.

Harry smiled after her, and Ron elbowed him in the ribs. “Just remember that’s my baby sister, mate,” Ron croaked out, and Luna giggled unexpectedly from her seat by Ron’s feet.

“You know, we had an article in the Quibbler once about what it meant for a wizard to have such large feet,” Luna told them, as she poked at Ron’s great toe through the blankets, and Ron flushed to the ends of his hair.

“I’m not sure that Ron’s ready to hear the details of that article right now, Luna,” Harry told her, as he cast a serious glance over at his blushing and spluttering best friend. “This all might be too much excitement for him,” Harry advised, as Ron gawped first at the Ravenclaw girl and then at his best friend.

Draco awoke early the next morning with the distinct feeling that a family of nifflers had taken up residence in his skull and had been rooting around inside his head. He could feel how dry and puffy his eyes were, as soon as he opened them, and he already wished that he could find an excuse to spend the rest of the day hidden away in his private room.

Tired of his view of the green bed canopy, Draco listlessly turned his head towards the window. Catching sight of a large box laying across the seat of the chair beneath the window, Draco immediately regretted the move. It was one of only three Christmas presents that he had purchased this year, and it was the first present that he’d ever purchased for someone outside of his immediate family. The inclination had seized him when Hermione had been bemoaning the loss of some of her more precious books several days ago, and Draco had suddenly decided to set right the lost book that she missed most. He could offer no explanation for the urge to do so, and at present he wanted no reminders of the stupid urges that overcame him when Muggle Know-it-all was involved.

Deciding that he’d put off rising for far long enough already, Draco reluctantly sat up, letting the blankets fall about his hips. He needed a pee, a shower, and some breakfast. He paused, suddenly sure that something was quite off about his morning but unsure exactly what. Pulling back the covers that had pooled around his hips, Draco realized what it was. For the first time since he could remember when, Draco had awoken without the slightest trace of an erection.

He sat as still as a statue as he tried to figure out how it was even possible. Had Granger somehow broken the spell over him with her actions? Ridiculous. Had what she’d done to him left him permanently damaged? He’d kill her! Remembering the cup of tea Professor Snape had given him the day before, Draco reached for the tiny amber bottle that Snape had left at his bedside. The painkiller! It was a nerve-deadening potion of some kind, and this must be a side effect of it! “Thank Merlin for Professor Severus Snape,” Draco whispered aloud. In that moment Draco decided to buy the second Christmas present for a person outside his immediate family, and he hoped there was a big green Slytherin bow big enough to put on it.

Draco didn’t assume that the painkiller would be enough to get him through until the end of March, but with any luck it w be be powerful enough to get him through his end of term tests and the holiday break. Granger could fend for herself and with any luck fail every class, as far as Draco was concerned. Feeling uncommonly cheerful, Draco hopped out of bed and headed off towards his private bath.

He was whistling to himself by the time he, Crabbe, and Goyle started up to the Great Hall for breakfast, and he was only brought up short by the sounds of a very loud fight when they reached the main hall. A large crowd had gathered around the commotion in the corridor, and Draco decided to force his way through the sea of closely pressed shoulders towards the scuffle at the centre. He could tell that Crabbe and Goyle were close behind him still. “What did you do to him, Mudblood? You stay away from my Draco!” echoed the shrill nasal scream that Draco immediately recognized as Pansy Parkinson, and with a curse he hurried through the throng faster intent on breaking up the argument before it could cause real trouble for him.

As the girls came into view, Draco’s mouth hung open. It wasn’t just Pansy and Granger involved in the fight, it was all their friends and roommates as well. Ginny Weasley was hanging off the back of Millicent Bulstrode’s neck, while Loony Lovegood tried to fend off the larger girl’s fists. Blaise Zabini and Lavendar Brown were rolling across the floor in a flurry of insults and hair pulling, and Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff were fighting more Slytherins alongside them. At the heart of the fracas Pansy had Granger by the hair and was trying to claw the Gryffindor witch’s eyes out.

“Gerrof!” Hermione howled, striking blindly at the enraged girl attacking her. She backed up looking for any chance to escape the onslaught of slaps and claws, but Pansy wasn’t letting go.

“You deserved what was written about you!” Pansy roared, hysterically. “I hope next time it’s not just your room that gets it, you abomination!” she sobbed, lunging at the terrified Hermione with renewed force.

On the other side of the scene Harry and Ron were likewise trying to decide where to intervene first. “Pansy!” Draco yelled, rushing forward and grabbing her by the wrists. “Just let go and stop it!” he warned between clenched teeth as the furious blonde struggled to keep her hold on Hermione. Potter and Weasel had both rushed to their friend and were trying to pry Pansy’s fingers out of Granger’s bushy hair, while preventing the furious Gryffindor from retaliating.

Meanwhile, Crabbe and Goyle and the boys from both houses were trying to pry the rest of the girls apart, and many were getting slapped and scratched for their troubles.

Having finally managed to separate the warring witches, Draco held Pansy tightly with his arms wrapped over her chest and waist to hold her still, and Harry and Ron held the snarling Hermione back by the arms. “I said enough!” Draco was bellowing at Pansy, while Harry and Ron shouted to Hermione, “It’s over Hermione, let’s just go!”

“All of you desist!” trumpeted Professor McGonagall as she hurried down the stairs towards the fray with Parvati Patil leading the way. The other professors were close on her heels, heading in from all different directions, as she demanded, “What is going on in here?”

With another loud sob, Pansy turned to Draco and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh my poor Draco! I was so worried,” Pansy cried loudly, as Draco tried in vain to pull himself free of her suffocating hug. “You never miss class, and no one could tell me what she’d done to you…” the tearful blonde squealed loudly.

“Pansy I’m fine,” Draco told her tersely. “It’s been dealt with already, and you shouldn’t have interfered.” Looking over he could see the bloom of a stupendous black eye forming across Hermione’s cheekbone, and his eyes widened in appreciation as he looked between the panting Gryffindor and the girl in his arms. “Although your concern for my well-being is deeply appreciated,” he conceded, admiring the magnitude of the devastation she had caused.

Granger stopped struggling against Ron and Harry’s arms, her expression tightening at his words, and she watched Draco smile down at Pansy as the witch finally released him. As Ron and Harry loosened their grip, Hermione wrenched her arms away angrily. She stepped away from the repugnant scene of Pansy fishing for Draco’s approval, and crossed her arms over her chest while turning her back to them.

“Worried my foot!” Hermione snorted. “She jumped on my back when I was heading in for breakfast and started trying to rip my hair out,” she clarified as Professor McGonagall and the other teachers looked on at the scene angrily.

“And when we tried to help Hermione get away the other Slytherin girls attacked us,” Ginny piped up. Millicent Bulstrode cracked her knuckles threateningly in response, and Luna took a step closer to Ginny in a show of solidarity.

“Miss Parkinson it is not up to you to take matters into your own hands, and all of you who went along with it should be ashamed of yourselves!” Professor McGonagall scolded, causing both sides to back away from each other, although the animosity between the Gryffindors and Slytherins remained thick enough to be felt from the end of the hall.

“Luckily at least Miss Patil had the sense to find a teacher instead of falling into the brawl with her classmates,” McGonagall continued, giving the members of her own house an equally scolding look with the exception of Parvati, who flushed with embarrassment as the other girls scowled at her.

“I have no choice but to dock you twenty points each for those who instigated the fight,” the Professor announced sternly, giving the Slytherins another withering look. “And five points each for those who joined in the fight instead of running to fetch a teacher,” she announced looking at Ginny and the other girls. “I award Miss Patil fifteen points for being the only seventh year girl with enough sense to call me,” Professor McGonagall announced sharply, as she looked over the various injuries around her. “Now all of you report to Madam Pomfrey to get cleaned up, and if this ever happens again the punishments will be most severe with many of you on the first train home.”

Ginny and Lavendar wrapped their arms around Hermione’s shoulders protectively, and, picking up Luna and Parvati along the way, they led the rest of their side down to the hospital ward. After dusting Blaise Zabini off, Millicent and Pansy each took an arm, helping her limp down the hallway as the last of the girls fell into step behind them.

The stunned boys whispered back and forth to each other excitedly as they watched the girls march off to the hospital. Despite the low hum of their voices, the hall seemed strangely quiet until Dean Thomas finally said in an awed voice, “If only that had been in a tub of pudding…” Ron thwacked him on the back of the head and rolled his eyes, as they started walking into the Great Hall again, and most of the other boys snickered.

Draco could still see the scene of Pansy latched on to Granger like a chimera on the attack, as he took a seat between Crabbe and Goyle at the table. The boys around him all chatted merrily about the morning’s events despite the loss of points, but Draco was too preoccupied to join the conversation. The biggest catfight that any of the boys had ever seen had just been fought out there, and it had been fought over him. Draco grinne he he helped himself to a plate of kippers.

Tensions were still high between the girls as they returned to the full Great Hall soon after. Students at every table started to cheer for the girls of their house, until the professors silenced them. Still house sentiments ran high at every table, and even Pansy and her friends were treated to pats on the back as they took their seats. Draco even blew Pansy a little kiss as she took her seat, and he was pleased to see Hermione watching angrily as she took a seat where she could see him.

He figured out her intentions when the mail arrived in a storm of owls overhead, and one of the school owls landed beside him with a note in its beak. The tiny precise script practically screamed Granger, as Draco opened the note in annoyance. She had at least had sense enough not to put either of their names on the correspondence, and it simply said:

I’m so sorry. Please let me apologize. Midnight. The Keep.

Draco gave Hermione an icy stare as he slowly and deliberately tore her message to shreds. Her eyes didn’t waver though, and he could see that at the moment she was just as determined to talk to him as he was to avoid her. He tossed the scraps into his goblet of pumpkin juice and hoisted his satchel as he rose with all the haughtiness that he could project. He could feel her brown eyes following him as he stopped at Pansy’s side and leaned in towards the suddenly beaming witch.

“Pansy,” Draco cooed. “I feel like having a little company while I study for our next Transfiguration test. Would you like to join me in the library?” he invited, placing his hand on the small of Pansy’s back.

She agreed with a giggle, and Draco could feel Granger still staring daggers at them as he led Pansy towards the library. Maybe a little flirting with a sensible pureblood witch would do him good, he reasoned. When the side effects from the painkiller wore off, he might even give Pansy a tumble before his next dose. He wondered how long it would take for Hermione to give up, now that he had made his feelings clear on the matter.

Hermione didn’t attempt to catch his eye or speak to him for the rest of the day, but the next morning he was greeted by two owls bearing notes in Hermione’s precise handwriting. He started for a moment in surprise before tearing them up without even opening them. Then he turned his attentions back to Pansy who nearly choked on her toast, when Draco’s hand started caressing her thigh under the table. From the corners of his eyes, he could see Hermione’s eyes flashing as she tried to pretend that she was paying attention to the conversation with Weasley.

When four school owls arrived at his seat the next morning, Draco could feel his temper starting to rise. What the bloody hell was she doing? Didn’t she understand the concept that Draco did not want to talk to her? Several Slytherins started to ask him about the letters until he threatened to hex them, and he didn’t like the look of interest that Pansy gave him as he tore up the letters and pocketed the pieces to burn them.

He could tell frommionmione’s lack of concentration in class that the potion was starting to seriously affect her concentration again too. He snickered unintentionally as she accidentally dropped a dung beetle into her Dragon Deodorizing potion and conjured up a smell worse than any of the sulphuric scents of the large fire breathers. He merely shrugged at her, when the room was evacuated and she hazarded him a desperately worried look.

The next morning he was bombarded by eight school owls bearing the exact same message, and students outside of Slytherin house could be seen whispering to each other and pointing to him. Worst of all the owls were refusing to leave, as though they had been instructed to wait for a response no matter how he tried to shoo them away. Despite the dark circles forming under her eyes, Hermione Granger was laughing along with the rest of the Gryffindors as Draco again pocketed the remains of the offending letters to burn and left the hall to escape the cloud of owls that was attempting to follow him.

He considered taking breakfast in bed the next day to avoid the scene that he knew lay before him, but the thought of a room full of owl droppings halted that plan cold. He wondered quietly whether Granger was barmy enough to actually go to what was inevitably the next number of letters. Worse yet, he wondered what she would do when she ran out of school owls. The image of being buried under an insane number of howlers made Draco shudder, as he entered the Great Hall with Pansy on his arm.

Sure enough, when the mail arrived sixteen small school owls jostled for his attention, and he had to snatch the letters away quickly before Pansy and the others, who were now intensely interested, could lay their hands upon them. In the flurry of commotion it took Draco several minutes to notice that the school owls were not the only birds present. His family’s eagle owl sat at the edge of the squawking creatures looking disdainful.

Draco reached out and took the letter from it’s leg as one of the school owls tried to peck his arm, and Ulysses flew off without need of any reply from Draco. There was no way for him to read his father’s letter in the midst of this chaos, so he tucked it into his bag for later. Breaking the seal on one of Hermione’s letters, he found exactly the same note as before. If he had to meet with her there was no possible way that he was going to meet her somewhere personal.

Taking out his quill, Draco quickly scribbled beneath her writing:

2:00 AM Trophy Room… Stop owling!

He folded it quickly so that no one could see. Then he grabbed the owl that had been trying to bite him the hardest, and he marched out of the hall with it in hand. “Just be discreet about it!” he ordered the owl, as he passed the note to the determined bird. Then he headed off to read his father’s letter and burn the rest of Hermione’s correspondences.

In the Headmaster’s office Professor Severus Snape thrummed his fingers on his crossed arms, while he shared his latest bit of bad news with the calm old wizard. He had uncovered more information about Lucius Malfoy’s plans for Draco, and the bitter potion’s master didn’t like what he had heard one bit.

“Albus, whatever the ceremony is that they have planned for Draco to participate in, Lucius Malfoy wants to begin preparing him for it and teaching him the spell over Christmas holiday. After his disastrous encounter with that… that…” Snape stumbled over his words, nearly spitting in his fury at Hermione. “That thoughtless girl,” he finally managed to spit out. “He is going to be more vulnerable than ever to Lucius’s poisonous words and manipulations. Blast all your nice thoughts about faith, if we don’t do something to fix this situation first or keep him here during the holidays, Lucius will have him!”

The man behind the desk raised his ancient silvered head, with a sigh. “If given sufficient time, I have no doubt that our Head Girl and Boy would be able to repair their relationship without outside interference. In light of Mr. Malfoy’s intentions, however, I am agreed with you that something must be done,” Dumbledore agreed, spreading his fingers as he spoke and looking around the room as he thought.

“Blasted Gryffindor righteousness,” Snape muttered to himself, in frustration. “There must be some pretext we can use to keep the students here for Christmas holidays, Professor. Or at least some excuse to throw both Malfoy and Granger into a dungeon together until they either kill each other or rectify themselves,” Snape huffed, as he studied the portraits on the wall for insight.

Professor Dumbledore looked up at his shelves thoughtfully, as he fingered his beard. “Yes, I think we could devise a suitable pretext,” he announced slowly, as his eyes came to rest upon the old and often mended hat upon the top shelf. “It will not be easy to get together in such a short amount of time, but I think I may have a temporary solution for our problem.”

Snape caught the pleased twinkle in the older man’s cornflower blue eyes, and he could feel himself relax slightly with the thought that Dumbledore had a plan that was good enough to set the old wizard to smiling. “What arrangements shall I make then?” Snape queried, anxious to hear Dumbledore’s solution.

“For years now this brilliant old hat has been warning us to unite the houses of Hogwarts,” Dumbledore explained, warmly. “I think it’s high time that we heeded its words and planned an event especially to foster interhouse relations. A Yule Ball is generally reserved for Triward Tournaments to improve relations between the various schools, but perhaps we could have a ball this holiday specifically to improve the relations between our own squabbling houses at the school,” Dumbledore mused aloud, as he crossed the room and gave the Sorting Hat an affectionate pat where it sat on his shelf.

“Yes…” Snape agreed slowly. The enthusiasm for the Headmaster’s plan began to burn in his coal black eyes. “Our Head and and Girl would have to stay here then in order to oversee the celebration, and Lucius Malfoy would be forced to accept the fact that Draco’s duties here require him to stay at Hogwarts for the holiday.”

“We will announce it to the students today,” Dumbledore declared. Since the fight between the seventh year girls, more scuffles had been breaking out between the houses, and the ill will between Slytherin and the other students was at an all time record. “As this is to improve the situation between the houses, students should be encouraged to pick their dates from outside of their own house,” the ancient wizard continued, pursing his lips as he continued to plan.

“Under the circumstances,” interrupted the portrait of Phineas Nigellus, “many from my house will simply come alone.”

“That is why seating will be arranged for them,” Dumbledore told him, with a hint of mischief in his wise expression. “The tables will be arranged so that every house is represented, and several group activities should be part of the festivities as well. Let’s give our houses a chance to work together for a change…” Dumbledore said with a satisfied expression.

“Good Merlin, this will either bring the students together or ensure that the little dunderheads decimate Hogwarts before the sun rises,” Snape breathed, nearly dropping the quill with which he was jotting down Dumbledore’s instructions.

“Let us hope that it does the former rather than the latter then,” Dumbledore told him merrily. “I need to have a word with Professor Sprout as well today. I think it is time for her to make mention of the contents of greenhouse five,” he finished, giving Snape a knowing wink.

The Gryffindor common room was bustling that evening with the excitement. “What do they mean springing a ball on us like this? I need at least a month to find something to wear!” Lavendar Brown cried, hopelessly. To which Parvti promised her, “Don’t worry! Padma and I have lots of dress robes at home that my mum can send, and they’ll fit all three of us.” “A ball… excellent…” Collin Creevey said to himself jubilantly, as he rubbed his hands together in expectation. “It’s just too nerve-wracking, having to ask girls to these things,” Neville moaned in exasperation.

“Oi, Hermione!” Ron called, waving her over to the corner of the room where he, Harry, and Ginny sat in front of the fire. Ron jumped to his feet and unable to wait for her to come to them rushed to her. “Hermione, listen the last time we had a ball you said that I should ask you first if I wanted to go with you. Well, I’m asking you first,” Ron told her, grabbing her hands in his. “Hermione, will you go to the ball with me?”

“Ron, the point of the ball is to ask people from outside your house,” Hermione reminded him patiently, wincing as his expression filled with hurt. “It’s not that I want to say no or anything,” Hermione reassured Ron, “but I’ve been told already by the teachers that Head Boy and Girl should be seen together to set the example of friendship for the ball. So most likely, neither Malfoy nor myself will be attending.”

Hermione flopped into an empty chair. It was evident to everyone lately that Hermione was looking quite worse for the wear, but nobody had any idea why. Hermione had covered with a story about starting to study in earnest for her NEWTS, and for the time being everyone had accepted it. Still the dark circles, fitful nights, and fuzzy headedness were only getting worse. She had taken to casting silencing spells around her bed even, in case during one of her few dreaming moments she let something revealing slip that another girl might hear.

She couldn’t detect the slightest hint of distress from Malfoy at present though, and she had no idea how he was managing it. He was unpardonably stubborn as well, and Hermione had been shocked by the lengths she’d had to go to just for an opportunity to say her peace. She only hoped that he really intended to come to their meeting, and it wasn’t just a set up like the time he had promised to duel Harry during their first year.

Hermione knew from experience exactly how much trouble Malfoy usually brought upon himself, although he would never see it that way. The times that he’d been hexed on the train and attacked by Buckbeak had been his own fault entirely. What had happened between them was different thou No No matter how he’d made her angry, Hermione knew that she had simply gone too far.

Knowing she would be unable to sleep anyhow, Hermione stole across the deserted common room early, and headed down to the trophy room to meet Malfoy. In her rush she’d forgotten to think of how cold the castle would be, and she had left without a robe over her nightgown or slippers on her feet. By the time she felt the cold she was too afraid of running into another student in the common room to go back for proper attire. Instead she waited shivering on the cold stone floor in the trophy room far too early and very uncomfortable. She finally curled up in a little ball against one of the far cases, drowsing in and out of sleep restlessly as she waited.

When Draco arrived nearly an hour later, he almost left without seeing her until the white of her long nightgown caught his eye. He knelt alongside her, feeling a little pang at the sight of her so pale and miserable looking. She lay curled in a ball shivering rather violently from the prolonged cold, and when he reached out to shake her awake her skin felt like ice to him. “Granger,” he hissed, patting her cold cheek as he prepared to hoist her to her feet.

Hermione opened her eyes, feeling herself being lifted by a pair of warm arms and cradled against a chest that smelled of wonderfully familiar expensive cologne. She stared directly into a pair of determined looking grey eyes from only inches away, and she felt a happy surge at the thought that he’d actually come. “You really showed up!” she whispered excitedly, wrapping her arms around his neck happily. “It wasn’t just some trick to get me in trouble,” she sighed in relief, and she could feel Malfoy fidgeting in her arms as he tried to find a way to distance himself from her.

“It seemed the only way to end your bloody plague of owls,” Draco jeered, uneasy at the prospect of having her so close. It would have been so easy to just stop everything and enjoy the comfort of having her in his arms. A disturbingly large part of him wanted to do exactly that, and it was only with great effort that he restrained himself.

“Why don’t you just say whatever you had to tell me so badly before you catch pneumonia,” he suggested in a prickly voice, as he forced himself to raise the walls between them for his own safety. Letting go of her he rose to his feet and put a couple of steps between them for security.

Hermione could feel the change immediately, and it suddenly felt like everything inside of her from her heart to her stomach had plummeted in disappointment. “I-I was afraid I’d miss you, so I came down early,” she stammered between chattering teeth, “but I didn’t realize how cold it was until it was too late to go back.” She pushed herself to her feet and stood rubbing her fingers and arms for warmth.

“If this is any kind of attempt to seduce me because of the potion, it won’t work,” he told her defensively, and Hermione shook her head.

“I promise it’s not. I wanted to apologize and explain things to you before,” she began nervously, “but you’re quite frightening when you’re that angry. What I did was so stupid, and wrong, and… and dangerous… and you didn’t deserve it.” Hermione tried to look him in the eye to see if he was really listening, but he refused to look at her. He looked almost fragile to her, obviously full of hurt behind the thin veneer of ego that he was presenting her with.

“I never intended for you to be petrified for so long. It was an accident that I got caught by Filch, but you’re right that it doesn’t excuse me from doing that to you in the first place,” she admitted, tears stinging her eyes and spilling over onto her chilled wan cheeks. “You have every right to be angry,” she said, “because what I did was inexcusable. It only makes it worse for me to know that until now you’ve never had a reason to hate Muggle-borns, and I… I gave you a reason,” she told him, her voice breaking around her silent sobs.

Malfoy shut his eyes tightly, running his fingers through his hair as an excuse to hide the beginnings of tears in his own eyes. He replied, “Honestly, why should you care what I think about other Mu-”

“Don’t say it!” Hermione yelled shrilly, interrupting him. She launched herself at him, raining half-hearted punches against his chest. “Don’t say that horrible, foul, disgusting word again!” she spat. She knotted her fingers in the front of his cloak, as she buried her face in his chest and began to cry.

Draco reeled, clutching her arms and unsure what to do. He knew exactly what word she meant, although he’d had no intention of using it. He had, in fact, been about to say “Muggle-borns”, but he was too surprised at what Granger was doing to correct her. Draco ran his hands up and down her cold, bare arms soothingly as he listened and struggled to make sense of her reaction.

“I never used to care about that word. I didn’t grow up with it, so it didn’t mean anything to me,” she explained quietly as she cried into the front of Draco’s pyjama shirt. “But you did, and it does mean something to you. Even in the face of someone threatening me, you could say it so easily, and for once it really hurt. It made me so angry I couldn’t think straight, because that’s really what you think of me. It hurt because now your opinion mattered to me, but you still viewed me as some dirty thing. That’s why I hexed you,” she sobbed.

“You make me so angry!” she told him in a much louder voice. “Why do you act like that?” she asked plaintively, and Draco finally wrapped his arms around her as he stared up at the ceiling wordlessly.

Feeling her shivering against him, Draco extended his cloak around Hermione and lifted her to stand on the tops of his feet instead of on the frigid stone. Her words swept through him like winter wind gusting through the leafless trees, and he knew there was no point in trying to give her rational explanations for his actions. At the moment it didn’t matter that he’d been trying to protect them both or the great danger that being labelled a bloodtraitor would mean.

“I won’t say it again,” he promised in a tight voice, and he could feel Granger relaxing against him although his chest still felt very wet from her tears. He felt himself kissing her temple and nestling his face in the calming cloud of her cinnamon brown hair.

“And… can you forgive me?” Hermione asked, looking up at him with hope glistening in her large brown eyes.

Draco closed his eyes while he tried to form his thoughts into words. He wanted to keep holding her, and he knew that whatever was binding him to Granger now was more than just potion induced lust. There was something beyond that, and it terrified him. “I forgive you…” he whispered softly, speaking every word slowly and distinctly. “But I’m not sure if I can trust you again…” he admitted helplessly.

He ran his hands up and down her back soothingly as she covered her face in her hands and leaned into his chest again, crying silently. He hated seeing her look so wretchedly unhappy, but the pain that she could bring him was too fresh in his mind. “Go back upstairs before you catch cold…” he told her, rubbing her arms to warm them again, before withdrawing his cloak from her shoulders and slowly pushing her away.

He watched her nod reluctantly before heading back to her dormitory, and when he was sure she’d left he headed back down to the dungeons to sort out his warring emotions.

******************************
Author’s Notes: First off, Luna’s story about the killer cheese was inspired by a story that I read in the Weekly World News over 10 years ago about a supposed scientist who believed that the cultures in cheese were intelligent and forming societies. The WWN was one of our favourite sources of cheap laughs in high school, even surpassing Mad Magazine. This article became a bit of a joke between my friends and me, and I think I found it even more imaginative than the Bat Boy series. It was certainly subtler at any rate. Maybe a few more of my all time favourites will get revised and end up in the Quibbler later on.

Obviously, Hermione’s inspiration for the owls would be the story of how Harry got his acceptance letter, which I would guess he’d have shared with the others at some point over the years. Let’s just be glad that she didn’t finally have to resort to sending Hagrid and his little pink umbrella, because I don’t think I could have written such a scene. As I said before, Hermione has proven in canon to be a character who does not take no for an answer when she feels something is important. When she finally gets to talk to Draco she does respect his feelings, but she was not about to give up without getting a chance to say what she needed to say to him. I’d call it a case of an irresistible force meeting an immovable object, but that’s D/Hr to the core.

The next chapter will include more about Helios Apple and of course Dumbledore’s Ball.

For those who are interested the Icicle Awards have started their second season, and voting is going on now. I’m not sure how long voting will last, but AF is once again nominated for any one who wants to add a vote. Here is a copy of the voting rules from Kathy for this season:

Vote
1. Vote only ONCE! I had a very big problem with this last time.
2. You can vote for your site.
3. In the space that asks \"What would you get if you put toothpaste and water together?\" put \"I hate dokinew.\" (In case you were wondering, I made that word up.)
4. If you vote, please try to vote for EVERY SINGLE CATEGORY.
5. Also at the top of the page, there will be a place that says \"Yay or Nay\". If you want the URL to the sites after winners are announced, write in Yay. If you don\'t, put Nay.

Hmmm.... when I was there I didn\'t see anything about that \"I hate doinew\" or Yay or nay... so I think that much of it has been revised.


Anyhow here is the url: http://www.crush-me.com/awards/ia-he.html