*(IF YOU COME BACK)*
A/N: I'm this pathetic. Has it been 5 months, already? Time really seems to fly past when you're procrastinating. I can't even bring myself to say sorry, now. Just hope that you guys will forget my cant-get-butt-off-sofa syndrome and continue supporting me =).
Ps: this chapter is un-beta-ed because methinks SPIKA has given up on me. So do forgive me for any errors ^_^.
disclaimer: i don't particularly wish that HP belongs to me, but i would love it if someone gives me Draco. (",)
CHAPTER ELEVEN: REALISATION
The Draco Malfoy in third year would have turned and run away at the sight of a certain fainted bushy-haired know-it-all named Hermione Granger. The Draco Malfoy now, however, was scarcely a thirteen-year-old brat, and he hesitatingly kneeled down beside the collapsed girl.
I am a Prefect, he thought, trying to convince himself that what he was about to do was part of his duty to keep all Hogwarts students safe and unharmed and not because he felt stricken at the thought that Hermione might have come into harm. The fact that he had been the one who muttered the spell sure didn't help things, though.
I'm just... helping a fellow schoolmate. I am an adult now, yeah? I shan't be petty or... Oh. What the hell.
He slipped his hands underneath the unconscious girl, and heaved her up so that she was cradled in his arms. Her face was very white, and her forehead was soaked in beads of perspiration. She seemed to be having difficulty breathing, and he felt an unwanted tug on his heart.
Damn Hogwarts for banning Aparating, he thought, savagely, as he picked up his pace and almost flew to the hospital wing. He had never run so fast before... his legs were leaping out from beneath him, and he barely missed crashing into several irritating jagged corners before he arrived, panting heavily, in front of the patients' ward. The Gryffindor girl was surprisingly light, and he was glad, very much so-- I might not have made it in time, he froze in sudden realization, and in an act that was very much unlike the Draco Malfoy of the past... he shouted. He shouted, and stormed his foot, and he roared.
"Pomfrey!" he half-screamed, no longer bothering with the everyday courtesies. "Get out of here will you? Hermione's fainted!"
He dropped heavily onto a nearby chair, and shifted Hermione into a more comfortable position. Wearily, he leant his head against the whitewashed walls as the Hogwarts matron came bustling out.
"I'll take her in," she said gravely, looking at Draco weirdly. "I shall excuse your absolutely impoliteness... for now."
He turned his head slightly to watch her levitate the brown-haired witch into the emergency ward. He was worn out, considerably so, the distance from the lake to the hospital ward hadn't been short. Drawing in deep, shuddering breaths, he leant his head stiffly back against the wall.
She'd better be well...
The thought was an unexpected assault, another impact on his already-fried nerves. He didn't, couldn't, wouldn't understand what he was feeling, damn it! Concern, so this is called? Laughing bitterly under his breath, he turned sideways and punched his fist violently against the wall. The pain that shot up through his knuckles was unimaginable, but the confused state of his mind was worse.
Concern... A mere seven-letter word, for Merlin's sake. And yet it was freaking him out so, because he had never felt this way in his whole life before. He knew the definition of the word, sure, but it was the application that he'd never had the chance to understand. If what his parents showed him was real concern... to put it simply, everyone else's family would seem like the perfect lovey-dovey kind in comparison. His mother asked him about his health and his father interrogated him on his schoolwork, of course, but damn if the questions weren't just surface conversation that carry no real depth of love.
Now, to feel it himself... He had always been a lonely child, though he'd never admit it to anyone but himself. His life was devoid of any normal human emotions... his life was devoid of any care, concern, love. Because of his father's teachings and drillings since he was born, he had always thought himself incapable and needless of such (what his father termed as) 'weaknesses'. Yet, now, sitting here, in the waiting area, unable to stop himself from being anxious about Hermione's condition...
He cared for her.
He was concerned about her.
He li-
The thought train halted, abruptly. The dawning of the realisation that he cared for and was concerned about Hermione Granger was already too much to deal with. He didn't need to proceed any further.
Wringing his hands, he stood up, paced.
Okay, fine! So I'm worried about her. I'm troubled because of her. What's the big deal?!
His head was whirling... Stop thinking! he commanded himself. What mattered most then was Hermione's state of well-being and he had limitless time later on to sort out his thoughts. Impatiently, he glanced at the door leading to the ward. To hell with Pomfrey, he grimaced, her fat figure must be slowing her down.
Ruthlessly, he was about to ram his shoulder into the door when he remembered that he was a wizard and shouldn't be doing it the Muggle way. He drew his wand from his pocket, pointed it--
"Malfoy."
The tone was cold. Slowly, Draco turned. Came face to face with a red-faced Weasel, who was looking at him with as chilling a look as he could muster.
His face clashes horribly with his hair, Draco mused irrelevantly.
"What have you done to her?"
Admirable, actually. Six years ago, Weasel would have already been in a flying rage. Six years ago, his job would be easier- "I hexed her, whatdya think?" Six years ago, he would never have expected to feel guilt upon being asked that question.
Damn this, he screamed in his mind, but he couldn't deny the fact that he did feel guilty for causing Hermione's current state of pain. Still, he mustered a smirk in the Weasel's direction.
"We were practising our DADA," he returned, mock civilly.
"You made use of this opportunity, didn't you?!" The Weasel's voice was getting louder, now, and Draco recognised, clearly, the tell-tale signs of the former's ever-famous temper. "SHE TRUSTED YOU ENOUGH, FOR GOD'S SAKE, TO ACTUALLY PRACTISED WITH YOU, AND YOU, DAMNIT, WHAT SORT OF INHUMAN BABARIAN ARE YOU, YOU SUCKER OF A GIT?! YOU MADE USE OF HER TRUST, DIDN'T YOU, SO THAT YOU CAN LAND HER IN HOSPITAL AND THAT'S SCORE ONE FOR DRACO MALFOY, SCORE ZERO FOR THE GOLDEN TRIO? YOU LOVE SEEING HER LIE ON THE GROUND, I BET, YOU ENJOYED HER WRITHS OF PAIN AND MOANS OF AGONY, RIGHT?! DAMN YOU TO HELL, FERRETFACE!"
*
Agitatedly, Ron plopped himself down onto the bench. He was perspiring profusely, his forehead was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He wiped at it absently, with the back of his palm. The Slytherin git was still standing there, and Ron resisted the urge to punch him in his stomach. The most important thing now was still to make sure that Hermione was alright.
*
Far from shocked... he was numbed. For once, no childish retort, no smart-ass rebutt. He had to confess, if only to himself, that Weasel's accusation would have had been true... before this year. Now, Draco Malfoy stood in the middle of the room, fists clenched, hands hanging stiffly on both sides. He didn't even realise consciously that his mouth had opened and he was speaking.
"I care about her."
Corny as it was, he felt a liberating sense of relief flow through his whole being. It was almost as though he had been caged, all this while, and by actually speaking these four words out loud the door was open and he could regain his freedom. He stared, blankly, ahead, unaware of the Weasel's gaping expression. Scenes flew past, in his mind, scenes of Hermione Granger, laughing, chatting, bickering... scenes of Hermione Granger when he first saw her, that bushy-haired the tease of everyone, the know-it-all attitude, that bossiness, that stretching of hand in every single lesson, that pompous regard of rules... scenes of Hermione Granger in third year, slapping her, the only girl who ever dared went against him... her eyes then fuelled with the passion of anger, but, no, not hate, hate was reserved for Potter, Hermione just happened to be his sidekick and Muggleborn that's all...Scenes. Scenes of her at the Yule Ball, pretty beyond imagination, scenes of her kissing him, of her glaring at him, of her when he held her pinky, of her when she'd collapsed to the ground after that damnable spell...
He spunned on his feet, strode to the door. "Alohomara," he commanded, then barged in.
+*+*+*+*+*+
[JaE sPeAkinG]
As you can see, this isn't an update, but for those of you who've read this chappie before, I changed a crucial part of the chapter! I've decided to slow things down a bit because most of your feedback says that if he confessed now it would be too soon. I thought so too, so, yup, that's why I'm changing the crucial words to... another form. LOLx. Hope you guys like?
Not considered a cliffie, I hope? This chapter was supposed to be longer with another climatic event... but decided to split it up and post this first else will never get it done. Quite a short one, but definitely crucial, as I guess all of you can see ^^. Sorry once again for the delay! I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, either, I'm having O'levels this year so it's kinda hard for me to do anything else besides study. I'm sure you guys understand! Do continue reviewing, though... 200? *makes puppy eyes* LOL! But it's true, you know, that all of ya's encouragement have really spurred me on. I live for reviews~
I'm sorry, I can't do personal replies once again. But I'm sure my sooner-updating of chapter is much more welcomed than if I write personal notes and then end up posting this three months later! ^^ For each and everyone of you out there who has commented, I'm giving you luvs from the bottom of my heart! LOL! Thanks, all of you dudes! I really appreciate the comments!
-------*//
A/N: I'm this pathetic. Has it been 5 months, already? Time really seems to fly past when you're procrastinating. I can't even bring myself to say sorry, now. Just hope that you guys will forget my cant-get-butt-off-sofa syndrome and continue supporting me =).
Ps: this chapter is un-beta-ed because methinks SPIKA has given up on me. So do forgive me for any errors ^_^.
disclaimer: i don't particularly wish that HP belongs to me, but i would love it if someone gives me Draco. (",)
CHAPTER ELEVEN: REALISATION
The Draco Malfoy in third year would have turned and run away at the sight of a certain fainted bushy-haired know-it-all named Hermione Granger. The Draco Malfoy now, however, was scarcely a thirteen-year-old brat, and he hesitatingly kneeled down beside the collapsed girl.
I am a Prefect, he thought, trying to convince himself that what he was about to do was part of his duty to keep all Hogwarts students safe and unharmed and not because he felt stricken at the thought that Hermione might have come into harm. The fact that he had been the one who muttered the spell sure didn't help things, though.
I'm just... helping a fellow schoolmate. I am an adult now, yeah? I shan't be petty or... Oh. What the hell.
He slipped his hands underneath the unconscious girl, and heaved her up so that she was cradled in his arms. Her face was very white, and her forehead was soaked in beads of perspiration. She seemed to be having difficulty breathing, and he felt an unwanted tug on his heart.
Damn Hogwarts for banning Aparating, he thought, savagely, as he picked up his pace and almost flew to the hospital wing. He had never run so fast before... his legs were leaping out from beneath him, and he barely missed crashing into several irritating jagged corners before he arrived, panting heavily, in front of the patients' ward. The Gryffindor girl was surprisingly light, and he was glad, very much so-- I might not have made it in time, he froze in sudden realization, and in an act that was very much unlike the Draco Malfoy of the past... he shouted. He shouted, and stormed his foot, and he roared.
"Pomfrey!" he half-screamed, no longer bothering with the everyday courtesies. "Get out of here will you? Hermione's fainted!"
He dropped heavily onto a nearby chair, and shifted Hermione into a more comfortable position. Wearily, he leant his head against the whitewashed walls as the Hogwarts matron came bustling out.
"I'll take her in," she said gravely, looking at Draco weirdly. "I shall excuse your absolutely impoliteness... for now."
He turned his head slightly to watch her levitate the brown-haired witch into the emergency ward. He was worn out, considerably so, the distance from the lake to the hospital ward hadn't been short. Drawing in deep, shuddering breaths, he leant his head stiffly back against the wall.
She'd better be well...
The thought was an unexpected assault, another impact on his already-fried nerves. He didn't, couldn't, wouldn't understand what he was feeling, damn it! Concern, so this is called? Laughing bitterly under his breath, he turned sideways and punched his fist violently against the wall. The pain that shot up through his knuckles was unimaginable, but the confused state of his mind was worse.
Concern... A mere seven-letter word, for Merlin's sake. And yet it was freaking him out so, because he had never felt this way in his whole life before. He knew the definition of the word, sure, but it was the application that he'd never had the chance to understand. If what his parents showed him was real concern... to put it simply, everyone else's family would seem like the perfect lovey-dovey kind in comparison. His mother asked him about his health and his father interrogated him on his schoolwork, of course, but damn if the questions weren't just surface conversation that carry no real depth of love.
Now, to feel it himself... He had always been a lonely child, though he'd never admit it to anyone but himself. His life was devoid of any normal human emotions... his life was devoid of any care, concern, love. Because of his father's teachings and drillings since he was born, he had always thought himself incapable and needless of such (what his father termed as) 'weaknesses'. Yet, now, sitting here, in the waiting area, unable to stop himself from being anxious about Hermione's condition...
He cared for her.
He was concerned about her.
He li-
The thought train halted, abruptly. The dawning of the realisation that he cared for and was concerned about Hermione Granger was already too much to deal with. He didn't need to proceed any further.
Wringing his hands, he stood up, paced.
Okay, fine! So I'm worried about her. I'm troubled because of her. What's the big deal?!
His head was whirling... Stop thinking! he commanded himself. What mattered most then was Hermione's state of well-being and he had limitless time later on to sort out his thoughts. Impatiently, he glanced at the door leading to the ward. To hell with Pomfrey, he grimaced, her fat figure must be slowing her down.
Ruthlessly, he was about to ram his shoulder into the door when he remembered that he was a wizard and shouldn't be doing it the Muggle way. He drew his wand from his pocket, pointed it--
"Malfoy."
The tone was cold. Slowly, Draco turned. Came face to face with a red-faced Weasel, who was looking at him with as chilling a look as he could muster.
His face clashes horribly with his hair, Draco mused irrelevantly.
"What have you done to her?"
Admirable, actually. Six years ago, Weasel would have already been in a flying rage. Six years ago, his job would be easier- "I hexed her, whatdya think?" Six years ago, he would never have expected to feel guilt upon being asked that question.
Damn this, he screamed in his mind, but he couldn't deny the fact that he did feel guilty for causing Hermione's current state of pain. Still, he mustered a smirk in the Weasel's direction.
"We were practising our DADA," he returned, mock civilly.
"You made use of this opportunity, didn't you?!" The Weasel's voice was getting louder, now, and Draco recognised, clearly, the tell-tale signs of the former's ever-famous temper. "SHE TRUSTED YOU ENOUGH, FOR GOD'S SAKE, TO ACTUALLY PRACTISED WITH YOU, AND YOU, DAMNIT, WHAT SORT OF INHUMAN BABARIAN ARE YOU, YOU SUCKER OF A GIT?! YOU MADE USE OF HER TRUST, DIDN'T YOU, SO THAT YOU CAN LAND HER IN HOSPITAL AND THAT'S SCORE ONE FOR DRACO MALFOY, SCORE ZERO FOR THE GOLDEN TRIO? YOU LOVE SEEING HER LIE ON THE GROUND, I BET, YOU ENJOYED HER WRITHS OF PAIN AND MOANS OF AGONY, RIGHT?! DAMN YOU TO HELL, FERRETFACE!"
*
Agitatedly, Ron plopped himself down onto the bench. He was perspiring profusely, his forehead was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He wiped at it absently, with the back of his palm. The Slytherin git was still standing there, and Ron resisted the urge to punch him in his stomach. The most important thing now was still to make sure that Hermione was alright.
*
Far from shocked... he was numbed. For once, no childish retort, no smart-ass rebutt. He had to confess, if only to himself, that Weasel's accusation would have had been true... before this year. Now, Draco Malfoy stood in the middle of the room, fists clenched, hands hanging stiffly on both sides. He didn't even realise consciously that his mouth had opened and he was speaking.
"I care about her."
Corny as it was, he felt a liberating sense of relief flow through his whole being. It was almost as though he had been caged, all this while, and by actually speaking these four words out loud the door was open and he could regain his freedom. He stared, blankly, ahead, unaware of the Weasel's gaping expression. Scenes flew past, in his mind, scenes of Hermione Granger, laughing, chatting, bickering... scenes of Hermione Granger when he first saw her, that bushy-haired the tease of everyone, the know-it-all attitude, that bossiness, that stretching of hand in every single lesson, that pompous regard of rules... scenes of Hermione Granger in third year, slapping her, the only girl who ever dared went against him... her eyes then fuelled with the passion of anger, but, no, not hate, hate was reserved for Potter, Hermione just happened to be his sidekick and Muggleborn that's all...Scenes. Scenes of her at the Yule Ball, pretty beyond imagination, scenes of her kissing him, of her glaring at him, of her when he held her pinky, of her when she'd collapsed to the ground after that damnable spell...
He spunned on his feet, strode to the door. "Alohomara," he commanded, then barged in.
+*+*+*+*+*+
[JaE sPeAkinG]
As you can see, this isn't an update, but for those of you who've read this chappie before, I changed a crucial part of the chapter! I've decided to slow things down a bit because most of your feedback says that if he confessed now it would be too soon. I thought so too, so, yup, that's why I'm changing the crucial words to... another form. LOLx. Hope you guys like?
Not considered a cliffie, I hope? This chapter was supposed to be longer with another climatic event... but decided to split it up and post this first else will never get it done. Quite a short one, but definitely crucial, as I guess all of you can see ^^. Sorry once again for the delay! I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, either, I'm having O'levels this year so it's kinda hard for me to do anything else besides study. I'm sure you guys understand! Do continue reviewing, though... 200? *makes puppy eyes* LOL! But it's true, you know, that all of ya's encouragement have really spurred me on. I live for reviews~
I'm sorry, I can't do personal replies once again. But I'm sure my sooner-updating of chapter is much more welcomed than if I write personal notes and then end up posting this three months later! ^^ For each and everyone of you out there who has commented, I'm giving you luvs from the bottom of my heart! LOL! Thanks, all of you dudes! I really appreciate the comments!
-------*//