Year Seven:Blindsided

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any of these characters or places; they belong to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. It’s her world; I just play in it.


Chapter 15-Join the Club


Draco and Hermione were nothing short of dumbfounded that they’d somehow managed to keep their romance a secret from the student population of Hogwarts. Little did they know that they’d not been as successful in concealing it among the numbers of the staff. Most of the teachers and even some of the House Elves took a similar standpoint to Dumbledore’s, that it was a beautiful ting to see young love flourishing between two people so similar and yet so different. And this had happened at the best possible time, Christmas.


There was of course one glaring exception to this trend of thought among the staff. It was no secret that Severus Snape was not at all pleased with the budding romance between the Head-boy and Head-girl. Fortunately enough for him, no one had guessed that his motives were driven by anything other than concern for the scholastic performance of his two brightest students. He could only surmise that Dumbledore had been too preoccupied with preventing the war from spilling over into Hogwarts to notice that he had begun to develop feelings that were, by his own admission, inappropriate toward Hermione Granger. There was no logical reason for his feelings.


Every time he thought of the kiss that the two of them had shared only a few days ago he would grow almost feverously hot and he could feel his body reacting in a way he knew that it shouldn’t. Severus loathed the feeling that he was becoming a lecherous old man. Not that he was all that old yet, but he was not going to fool himself into thinking that he was a man young enough for Hermione to be attracted to. ‘Unless…’he laughed to himself in bitter amusement, he’d have her one way or the other.


Draco sat up in the tangled silken sheets that covered his bed at the first light of the sun. He rolled over and was nearly in tears to see Hermione sleeping peacefully next to him. He took a few minutes to admire her every aspect. Her blondish-brownish curls, slightly askew from the activities of the previous night, brought the entire event back to him.


Her lips were set in an adorable pout as she took the deep breaths of a woman exhausted. She rolled over in her sleep and he laughed quietly at the pillow on which she’d been laying only an instant before. There was no way that Draco would have ever guessed that Hermione was the type to drool in her sleep. He felt sure that finding this foible cute rendered him legally insane, but somehow he was well past the point of caring. In fact, he’d decided that his life could do with at least a small element of adventure.


He put his weight on his left elbow and pulled her to him. She made a strange kind of torpid grumble and snuggled close to him. Draco nuzzled her behind the ear and tried to wake his sleeping beauty, “Love, its time to wake up.” She stirred a tad and he tried again, “Hermione, there is only one more day of classes before Christmas break. And I have a surprise for you.”


“What’s that, Dragon?”


“I’m telling that man that I am staying here for the Holiday.”


The cold fury with which Draco spoke of his father sent a chill up her spine. Since the two of them had been an item he seemed very different whenever he spoke of his father. Before this year she’d always thought that Draco loved his father, that especially in his younger years, he wished to emulate him in thoughts and actions. There was a part of her yet that was still startled when Draco showed his human side. The aforementioned chill gave the young witch in his arms goose bumps.


“Good. That way I can sleep late and not have to worry if a little morning romp will make us tardy for class.”


“Something like that my Dove.”


“Uggh,” she pulled a wry face at his latest attempt to find her a nickname that was to her liking, “I don’t like that, Viktor Krum used to call me that. Except, I think he meant love and couldn’t say it. ”


Draco had forgotten all about her fling with the Hungarian Wizard, who happened to be a professional Quidditch player as well. “Sorry Muffin.” She just shook her head thinking it best not to dignify that pathetic attempt with a response.


“You’ll find one soon enough my darling popinjay.”


“So I will.”


There was quite a commotion by the time Draco had reached the Great Hall to break his fast that morning. He was curious to know what all of the fuss was about as he made his way through the roiling crowd calling, “Clear off, Head-boy coming through,” and other such phrases in that pompous drawl for which he was so well known. He’d finally made his way to the cause of the fray only to have his heart nearly stop at what he beheld.


Hermione was lying on the floor motionless, a small trickle of blood running from her mouth. Pansy was standing over her with a malevolent grin on her face that only seemed to intensify when Draco met her half-crazed eyes. She was holding a club in her right hand, much like the troll she resembled. There was no way that that simpering little tart could possibly know that he and Hermione were together. This was the most difficult test that he’d ever faced since he’d begun dating Hermione. If he didn’t act she could die, but if he did they would be exposed and his father might kill her just to teach him a “lesson” about “following the rules.”


Draco was spared having to act by the arrival of the Potions Master. Snape gawked at Hermione’s prostrate form, which lay sprawled on the cold stone floor of the Entrance Hall. In all of his years as a teacher at Hogwarts he’d never seen a fight resort to fisticuffs over magic.


Then again, no student in his or her right mind would ever try to challenge Hermione to a magical duel. In a fraction of a second Snape scooped the unconscious girl from the floor and into his arms. As he spun on his heel taking her to the infirmary, Snape shot the dumbly staring Head-boy a look so frigid that it made Draco’s stoic exterior seem positively tropical by comparison.


It was this exchange of glances that told Draco that the two of them had not been able to hide the feeling that he and Hermione had for one another. He was nothing short of petrified, all that Snape would have to do was to send an owl to his father and the world as he had come to know it in the last few months would abruptly cease to exist. My loving Hermione, he now had the grim certainty that, he’d signed her death warrant. He paled even further, consumed by his own grief. He was pulled from this cycle of pity and anger by the whiny voice of the attacker of his beloved.


“Drakie, Drakie, Drakie,” she whispered into his ear, her voice a slow acting poison, “You should know better than to throw your lot in with a filthy little mudblood like that one. I wonder, what would your father say if he knew? Lucius is not well known for his tolerant and forgiving nature.” She ran her chubby fingers through his blond hair and looked at him with an expression of faux understanding.


“What in bloody hell are you talking about? I didn’t think it possible for you to be stupid as you look, but once again Pansy you have managed to astound me. The mere idea that I’d ever even look at that disgusting, filthy and loathsome bitch is so repulsive that I should show you what Malfoys do to people who make such wild accusations about our social connections.” He managed to contain his anger, but only just. An outburst at that moment would have only confirmed his feelings.


Pansy was undaunted by Draco’s harsh words. She turned to go to breakfast with a smile on her piggy little face, and a few of Draco’s hairs in her hand. “Not so fast Pansy,” Draco would not wait for a staff member to punish her, “Thirty points form Slytherin. Maybe next time you’ll remember not to speak out of turn to your betters.” He walked, with all the calm that he could gather, to his table. His malignant attitude hung in the air around him and no one was brave enough to disturb him as he ate.


Snape ran at breakneck speeds to the Hospital Wing, cradling the unconscious form of Hermione delicately in his bony, yet strong arms. He nearly crashed into the doors that led to Madam Pomfrey’s office, after setting the young Gryffindor gently down on the bed. “Poppy, there’s been an accident,” he said, his voice steady only because of years of repressing emotions.


“What is it Severus?”


Snape led the nurse from her office to the bed on which Hermione lay, still bleeding. “That’s no magical wound.” She surveyed the damage done to the young girl who lay before her and she tutted in disgust. It was new for her to see physical injuries caused by anything other than Quidditch bats or bludgers. “What happened here?”


“I don’t know as yet, but I will get to the bottom of this. There were ample witnesses; I should be able to divine the truth from their jumbled tales.” Despite his obvious concern he, left the Hospital Wing in search of the “culprit”, contented that there was no better care for Hermione than that which she’d find in the company of Madam Pomfrey.


The rest of Draco’s day passed rather uneventfully, as he found that he was alone, and quite lonely, in his classes without the cheerful and shrewd presence of Hermione. This abrupt change in his mood was duly noted by his teachers; Professor McGonagall in particular took pity on him. “Mister Malfoy, might I ask a favor of you?”


“Certainly Professor.” He looked up at her with a sullen expression on his face and his eyes were shining with tears that would not fall.


“I’d like you to take Miss Granger her class work for today, she’ll require a bit of assistance to do the work in her condition. Shall I assume that you are up to assisting her?”


“Yes, Professor.” He looked a bit better as he gathered their work for the day and a note from the Transfiguration Teacher, which would allow him to work with the witch who’s capacity was temporarily diminished.


Draco could not clearly recall his walk to the Hospital Wing. He knocked politely on the door before entering. Madam Pomfrey took his note and read it carefully and to Draco’s evident surprise she smiled and pointed the way to Hermione, who was sitting up on one of the uniformly spaced cots trying to read despite the enormous headache she had.


“Hey,” she said as she tried to smile at him. Her face was badly swollen; she couldn’t open her right eye. Draco grew even more angry and disgusted by Pansy, the nerve that that little bitch had to hurt Hermione, or anyone else, like that. He did his best not to let this seething anger show, lest he upset Hermione. “Did you find out what happened?”


“I have no idea,” Draco said, but on a piece of parchment he quickly scrawled, ‘I’ll tell you later,’ in his tiny writing. She shot him a look that she hoped he’d be able to interpret as confusion.


The pair of them made a great deal of progress in the work McGonagall had assigned them, in spite of her provisory aliments. The finished the entire days work in record time. It was good that this hadn’t been a normal class day, she have undoubtedly supplied them with a good deal more work.


She pretended to need clarification for the movement of her wand on one of the assignments. In reality she was writing Draco a note:

‘What happened to me? And who is behind it? Was it an accident?’ She passed it to him. Draco wrinkled his brow and replied.


‘It was no accident. Pansy clubbed you over the head. There’s something else as well, she knows. I don’t know how she found out, but she threatened to tell my father. We have to do something about this as soon as possible.’


“Thanks for the help Draco,” she said sweetly as he rose to leave for dinner.


“I hate having to bring everything to you. When can you get out of here so that I can stop being your nurse maid?” Draco was acting the snide little prig to quash Pansy’s rumors, had they started. Hermione was the only one in the room who saw Draco wink at her as he carried on like a spoiled brat about having to help a mudblood.


“Tomorrow before lunch, for your information Malfoy. So you needn’t inconvenience yourself any further your Highness.” An astute observer might have seen that the kiss Hermione blew Draco wasn’t nearly so malicious as it should have been. Nonetheless, Draco blushed in what those assembled would have considered anger, he turned on his heel and rushed from the room still muttering about having been reduced to doing the chores of a servant.