Know Thy Enemy
{ CHAPTER FOUR }
- Hermione -
Hermione tucked herself away in the farthest corner of the Gryffindor common room, with a book in her lap and a blanket wrapped around her legs.
It had been hours since she stormed out of the library once more, with Malfoy being the reason yet again. He really was insensitive, and why it concerned him at all that she wasn't talking to Harry or Ron was lost on her. She was thankful for the distraction her book provided; it was her worn out copy of Sense and Sensibility - it was actually once her mother's copy, but when her parents found their daughter's love of books grew beyond childish fiction and mystery novels, her mother gifted her the book. At times, Hermione could swear her mother's perfume was fossilized into the old pages. It brought her comfort - especially these last few days where she had started to feel truly alone at Hogwarts.
With the exception of Malfoy, who simply wouldn't leave her alone. But even then, he was no friend, and his company only reminded her of her inferiority in this new world.
While she held her own around him, his ego was a staunch reminder of just how he had always belonged. Magic was his birthright, something he had and has known since before he likely even knew his own name. Same for many of her other peers, just not for her.
While at first it had seemed that Harry was just like her, he seemed to fit right in; that the world of magic made him sure of himself, while Hermione felt even more confused than before.
Ron is insensitive, too. But he and Harry have each other, so Harry can't possibly feel as lonely as I do here... Ron doesn't understand it either, he's got brothers and they're all here at school with him. Even if he and Harry weren’t friends, he’d have them.
Sure, this new world explained much more than her parents had while she was growing up and experiencing weird occurrences with her magic, but everyone had treated her like an outsider in the muggle world prior to the discovery, and it was almost entirely no different knowing now in the magical world. She just seemed to remain isolated, with or without her magic.
She had written a letter to her parents earlier, careful not to spill any tears on the parchment - she didn't want them to worry; if they did, they’d suggest she return to school back home. It felt like failure. Not to mention, she was certain all of her old classmates had forgotten her already.
No, she couldn't go back to a life before magic. This was her life now - she had to keep reminding herself that, but while she spent most of her waking moments steeling herself with determination to make it through, she felt exhausted at the same time.
Hermione sighed quietly to herself, holding back another wave of tears. Maybe I should go to bed... sitting here with my lonely thoughts isn't helping, she reasoned.
At a quick glimpse, the common room was fairly empty with the exception of some older students lingering about. Most were studying or reading; concentration was hard to come by during the peak hours of the day, but the common room at night was peaceful. She wasn't sure what her peers were up to at this hour, but nobody included her, so it was just easier not to think about them. She closed her book and started for the stairs, relieved that her roommates were all asleep already, at least.
Careful not to wake them, she silently got ready for bed and found that sleep was quick to take her after crying out most of her energy.
xXx
Hermione walked to Charms class. Alone.
She tried not to think about that fact, while casting her eyes away from pairs and groups of friends paying her no mind down the corridors. It was Halloween morning, and the castle was vastly decorated with floating pumpkin heads, charmed sweets, and thousands of bats flying around the tall ceilings throughout the halls. It was regularly a short walk from the Great Hall, but Hermione took her time to admire the splendor. She was still early to class, making sure to pick a seat up at the front of the room.
As much as she loved her classes, she loved an empty classroom more. It gave her the time to collect herself, review her work, or catch up on some light reading while she waited for the others to arrive. A few other students trickled in periodically while she tediously set up her parchment and books, keeping herself busy.
She heard the all too familiar drawl of Malfoy soon after, who entered the classroom with a fellow Slytherin who was neither Crabbe, nor Goyle. He was talking about his father, as always. Hermione scoffed to herself; did he finally get rid of his not-friends? Perhaps his father didn't approve of them either. She didn't dare look back at him after that though, it was bad enough she was sure she could sense him; she didn't need to make it obvious to him, too.
Harry and Ron were a few of the last to arrive at class. Hermione rolled her eyes, predictable.
Professor Flitwick started class then, calling on names for attendance, and addressed the lesson by telling them they were ready to start making objects fly. Her magic buzzed with the knowledge that it would soon be put into practice, and for the first time in the last few days, Hermione smiled. She couldn't contain her excitement, and it was a welcome distraction from her melancholy feelings.
What she didn't account for was being put into pairs - she was partnered with Ron, who she had spent the better part of her week avoiding. She silently wished she had been paired with anybody else; Neville... Harry, maybe. Malfoy, even... she shook her head at the thought. Hermione wouldn't entertain that one; he was part of her problem. He would undoubtedly show her up for the sake of bragging about it. At least with Ron, she knew her wrist technique was steady compared to his.
“Now, don’t forget that nice wrist movement we’ve been practicing!” squeaked Professor Flitwick. He was perched on top of his pile of books as usual, looking over the classroom while students moved to sit with their partner. “Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too — never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said ‘s’ instead of ‘f’ and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest.”
Ron took his seat beside her, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else. Hermione couldn’t stop the involuntary glare she sent his way; the feeling is very much mutual. She could handle this – all she had to do was cast the spell properly and be done with it.
Students began their task, not having much luck with their feathers. Hermione watched as Harry and Seamus struggled with their technique, and Seamus inevitably set fire to his; Harry scrambled to put it out quickly.
Ron was by far the worst.
He was practically shouting the spell, and his arms were swinging like a windmill, but the feather remained on the desk, unmoving. He was growing more and more frustrated by the second, and Hermione had had enough by his third attempt. She snapped, “You’re saying it wrong! It’s Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the ‘gar’ nice and long.”
“You do it, then, if you’re so clever,” Ron snarled at her.
Turning her chin up at his tone, Hermione rolled up her sleeves, pointed her wand at their feather, and focused on her intention, the way Professor Flitwick had taught them to. If he only paid more attention, it’s not very difficult.Point, swish and flick, “Wingardium Leviosa!”
Their feather rose off the desk with practiced ease and hovered about four feet above their heads. I did it!
“Oh, well done!” cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. “Everyone see here, Miss Granger’s done it!” Her pride swelled at his praise. However, it hadn’t gone unnoticed that Ron was practically the same color as his hair, and that there were a few more glares directed at her than usual.
It was on the way out of Charms, when Hermione caught Ron complaining about her to Harry; he was angry, his words were full of scathe as he said a little too loudly, “It’s no wonder no one can stand her! She’s a nightmare, honestly.”
A nightmare! I can't be that bad, can I? Why would he think that? Then again, he hasn't been very kind to me since we met. Does he really dislike me so much? Harry isn't disagreeing either, and the rest of my peers don't seem to even like me... Her chest felt tight, and she hung her head to hide the hurt on her face. Her core clenched violently, holding back a sob and she pushed past the two boys and out of sight of her other classmates. She didn’t stop running until she found a girl’s lavatory on the second floor. The wing itself was deserted, and Hermione only felt slight relief that the bathroom appeared to be as well as she burst in and finally let herself cry. Alone, again… as always. Except this time, I actually want to be.
Locking herself into a stall, Hermione sobbed quietly to herself. She wasn’t sure what hurt more, overhearing them while knowing she was truly alone here, or why she even attempted befriending those who spoke so poorly of her, behind her back or to her face.
She heard a moaning sound from the other side of the bathroom and groaned. Please go away… she had no desire to be discovered in her current, pathetic state. Not by another student, professor or ghost. The moaning got closer, before a head popped over the stall and Hermione met the eyes of a translucent, young girl.
“Who are you?” She asked Hermione in a soft yet shrill, squeaky voice. Hermione roughly wiped away the tears from her cheeks and sighed. While it wasn’t another student, it was still an unavoidable interaction. She also couldn't pretend she wasn't locked in the stall, crying herself better.
“I’m Hermione,” she replied quietly, “Hermione Granger.”
“I’ve never seen you in this bathroom before,” the ghost said, rising higher to sit atop the door of the stall. She swung her legs over, and gave Hermione a friendly smile, “you must be a new student. Not many people come into this bathroom of mine.”
“This is my first year,” Hermione nodded. She didn’t miss the way the girl said ‘this bathroom of mine’. Perhaps that would explain why it’s deserted...
“You’ve been crying,” the girl pointed out, “I could hear you. I cry in here, too.”
“You do?”
“Yes,” the girl nodded morosely, “You're sitting in my stall. I’m Myrtle, though everyone calls me Moaning Myrtle. I hate that nickname. They don't understand me. I died right here in this very bathroom when I was just a fourth year, you know.” Hermione watched as she began floating away, almost up to the ceiling, letting out a loud wail as she did.
“Everyone bullied me,” Myrtle continued her tale with a sniffle, stopping at the large stained-glass window at the other end of the bathroom. “They made fun of my glasses, and my looks. I imagine that’s why you’re here…”
Hermione felt bitter at the mention of her looks. While she sympathized with the ghost girl, she didn't exactly agree on Myrtle's assumption. Not entirely, anyway. Other than her untamable hair, nobody had outright mentioned anything wrong about her appearance. Well, there is Malfoy, but he is rather pale and scrawny looking. And sure, she felt self-conscious about her teeth; it was something she had countlessly begged her parents to let her change when she found out about her magic. How could I have forgotten to look into that already? She silently vowed to herself to do some research on magic and spells regarding teeth later. Shaking her head from the distraction, Hermione cleared her throat, and replied, "Everyone bullies me for knowing too much."
"What is wrong with people?" Myrtle agonized, scrunching her nose up in protest. "You must be brilliant for your age, that's why. I suspect jealousy..."
Hermione clamped her lips shut. I don't think anyone is jealous of me...
She decided to spend the rest of her classes hiding out in the bathroom, getting to know Myrtle and listening to her stories over the years. It helped to take her mind off her own feelings, and she learned that Myrtle was tethered to this bathroom and how she died; it was sudden and she only saw a large, red eye. Hermione shivered, the stall suddenly felt eerie to be crying in. Rubbing the gooseflesh away, Hermione listened while Myrtle talked about how she often found herself wandering the drains and pipes to other places inside the castle; even mentioning the Prefect's bathroom on the sixth floor, and the Quidditch locker rooms near the pitch. Hermione cringed ever so slightly at the thought of spying on all those boys; what else can she do except watch other students, I suppose.
She wasn't sure of the time that passed, and while she was displeased to have missed the rest of her classes, Hermione reasoned with herself that she could catch up even without having attended today's lessons. It's not as if anyone has noticed my absence, and if they have, they're probably grateful for it.
"Somebody's coming," Myrtle warned in a low voice. She disappeared from sight and Hermione hurried back into the stall, listening as the door opened.
Hermione tried to ignore the voice of Lavender Brown, calling her name and peeking into each stall before stopping outside the one currently locked shut and occupied. She knocked lightly. Hermione closed her eyes, and said, "Please go away, Lavender..."
"You missed our classes today," Lavender insisted. Hermione heard her rummage through her bag, before she dipped down to hand a stack of papers under the stall door, "It's not much, but Pavarti and I took some extra notes for you, so you don't fall behind."
Hermione couldn't help but feel a small swell of gratitude for the two girls, going as far as copying down notes and for Lavender coming to find her. It was gratitude that somebody seemed to notice her, and that maybe she wasn't entirely alone... but they hadn't expressed any prior interest to befriend her, and they were often among the students who laughed or groaned whenever she raised her hand in class. She bit back the bitter feeling rising up, holding her composure, and hesitated before thanking her.
When she didn't grab the papers from Lavender's hands, Lavender set them down on the stone and stood back up. She said, "Keep them. Pavarti and I have our notes, so you don't need to return them."
"Thank you. Both. Please be sure to give Pavarti my thanks as well," Hermione sniffled, "I... I'll be up to the common room shortly. I just need a little more time to... make myself presentable."
"You aren't coming down to dinner? But it's the Halloween feast!" Lavender gasped, "Hermione, I don't know what was said but surely it couldn't have been that bad. What if you collapse from lack of nutrition? What if the Prefects find you here? It'll be getting late, and they will surely be doing their rounds soon, you don't want to be caught out of bed! Come down to dinner with me and join us - Pavarti and Padma are already on their way there, I told them to save us two seats!"
"I appreciate it, Lavender." Hermione shook her head, backing up into the stall at the girl's sudden hysterics. "But I don't really want company right now."
"Hermione, I think you should come down to dinner with us," she pushed, "Pavarti mentioned how you've been skipping dinner most nights because you spend all of your time in the library or reading in our room! It's ridiculous, if you ask me. What kind of Gryffindor are you hiding in a bathroom anyway? Boys are stupid and you can't live in your books forever!"
Her swell of gratitude was doused in cold water, and Hermione felt her anger take its place. Lavender was pounding on the stall door as she went off, and Hermione reflexively raised her wand. Her mind ran through a list of harmless hexes - she didn't want to hurt Lavender, but she didn't want to be dragged from the stall, either. She knew from their shared living quarters that Lavender wasn't fond of being turned down by anybody. That's not what scared her though.
What scared Hermione most was how she couldn't properly contain how conflicted she felt by all of it - All I've wanted was to feel like I belong here, and yet I'm the one hiding from everyone... Lavender and Pavarti are giving me a chance to feel just that. Lavender thinks of me like everyone else though... I can't say yes, but I feel like I shouldn't be turning them down either. I'll have no friends at all if I don't make the effort. They went through the trouble of providing class notes. Harry and Ron wouldn't do that. I gave my efforts to those boys, and they don't even want my friendship because I'm too much. What if Lavender and Pavarti treat me the same eventually? Lavender already thinks I live in my books. Her comments are no different to Ronald's. It should have been an easy answer, but Hermione was struggling to make it an easy decision. Lavender's comments upset her; while her offer was friendly, and her intentions behind writing down extra notes was respectful, Hermione didn't appreciate Lavender's underlying spite.
"Lavender, please just leave me alone." Hermione snapped, "I'll be up to the common room before curfew and I just don't want to socialize at dinner right now, so please! Go!"
"Fine!" Lavender shouted, stomping her foot outside the stall. "Have it your way, Hermione. But don't say we didn't try! If you're not back in the common room tonight I will find a prefect!" She stormed out of the bathroom, and Lavender's footsteps eventually faded but her words still lingered behind as Hermione stepped out of the stall a short while later. She breathed a sigh of relief.
"Who was that girl?" Myrtle reappeared then, floating above Hermione's head.
"Lavender Brown." Hermione stated. Her teeth started to worry her lip while her thoughts replayed Lavender's exchange. She wasn't trying to make enemies, but she couldn't shake feeling like it was easier than making friends. Hopefully Lavender doesn't stay mad at me... she'll come around. We have to share a room, so I don't want any problems with her or Pavarti. I'll explain it to them later. "Well, Myrtle, it was unexpected but pleasant meeting you. I should head back now."
"Don't be a stranger," Myrtle nodded, "it gets lonely in here by myself."
"I'll be sure to visit again," Hermione promised, smiling as Myrtle dove into her stall and Hermione was left to her own devices again. She was gathering her belongings, not wanting to linger around the bathroom much longer, and thinking to herself, if everyone else is down at dinner, I can get to Gryffindor tower fairly unnoticed and have a little more time to myself before most get back from dinner... when the floor underneath her began to quake. Fear settled in her stomach at the sound of the bathroom door slamming shut, and the quakes stopping suddenly.
Hermione turned slowly, and she came face to knees with a very tall creature - a troll!
She let out a bloodcurdling scream. A TROLL!? Where did it come from? What do I do? It sees me! Think! Think Hermione! Okay - trolls possess great strength, but they aren't very smart... they weigh up to a tonne so levitation spells can't help with their size. My magic isn't strong enough for that either. They can be violent and aggressive... but they aren't exceptionally fast if you confuse them!
The troll was advancing on her, and the bathroom provided her little to no protection, nor weaponry to protect herself. Her wand was in her hands, but her mind was too panicked to think of anything that could fight the troll off for very long.
She suddenly heard a loud metal clang, and her eyes locked on Harry and Ron behind the troll. Harry! Ron! They're here! How did they know where to find me? Did they let the troll loose? Oh, please don't let that be why this is happening... Question after question bombarded her thoughts, but she was relieved to not fight off a troll on her own.
The troll turned, raising its club high and directing its attention to Harry instead. Another metal clang sounded, this time from Ron throwing a pipe at its massive shoulder.
"Oy, pea-brain!" Ron yelled from the other side of the bathroom. The troll went after Ron, and Harry sprinted for her.
"Come on, run, run!" He yelled, frantically grabbing her arm and pulling her away from the wall she had just been trapped against. She couldn't get her legs to move, however, no matter how hard Harry tried to move her. Then he did something completely stupid and impossibly brave, and made a running jump at the troll, latching onto its large neck while he hung off its back. Hermione gasped in horror at the realization that Harry had gotten his wand stuck up the troll's nose when he jumped; the troll immediately began to howl with pain, flailing its club around and Harry had to hold on for dear life. It was only a matter of time before the troll managed to grab Harry off its back or hit him with a deadly swing.
Water burst from damaged toilets and sink fixtures, the floor began to flood and Hermione feared the troll would drop Harry to the floor or flatten him if it slipped in the water.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Ron suddenly cried. It must have been the first spell that came to mind, but it worked - the club in the troll's hand levitated above its head, rising higher until it stopped, and dropped with a sickening crack onto the head of its owner. The troll swayed, before falling flat onto its face, splashing up water and causing the ground beneath them to rumble from the weight.
Ron was frozen in shock, while Harry brushed off his robes and soothed over his side where the troll had dropped him. Hermione stood up, her throat felt scratchy and sore from her terror.
"Is it - dead?" She asked just above a whisper. They watched for signs of movement, but the troll remained unconscious.
"I don't think so," Harry replied with a shake of his head, "I think it's just been knocked out." He bent down to grab his wand, pulling with it a big, gray lump of goo. Hermione looked away, and she heard the boys groan in disgust. Harry cleaned his wand, wiping the troll boogers onto its trousers.
A loud slam caused them to jump, and Professor McGonagall had burst into the bathroom, trailed by Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell. Professor Quirrell gave one look at the troll before he sat down by a stall and clutched his heart. Snape bent over the troll, inspecting it, while Professor McGonagall looked between Harry and Ron. She looked furious.
"What on earth were you thinking of?" She demanded, cold fury lacing her voice. Harry and Ron exchanged a glance with each other, not meeting McGonagall's eyes as their heads hung. Ron had still yet to lower his wand. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"
So, they hadn't set the troll loose. Who did? Why is it here in Hogwarts? Harry and Ron must have known about it though, why else would they have come to find me? I can't let them get in trouble for this... they saved me from a terrible fate. If nobody had come looking for me, I'd probably be dead.
"Please, Professor McGonagall - they were looking for me."
"Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall cried, looking equally as disappointed. Hermione swallowed back her fear; she had been afraid to disappoint the woman who told her about her magical abilities, but she couldn't let Harry and Ron take the responsibility.
“I went looking for the troll because I — I thought I could deal with it on my own — you know, because I’ve read all about them,” Hermione lied, "If they hadn’t found me, I’d be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn’t have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived.”
McGonagall stared at her, speechless for a moment, while the shock wore off. Her eyes softened a bit, and her anger seemed to deflate a bit. "Well — in that case... Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?” She believes it! Hermione hung her head while Professor McGonagall continued, " Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for
this. I’m very disappointed in you. If you’re not hurt at all, you’d better get off to Gryffindor Tower. Students are finishing the feast in their Houses.”
Her stomach dropped at the realization that the common room would be full upon her return, but she didn't hesitate. She gave Harry and Ron one last glance before leaving the bathroom, with a lightness to her step despite losing Gryffindor five points. She was grateful for her convincing lie though, perhaps at least Harry and Ron would be free of punishment for their heroic timing. She nearly sprinted to the tower, giving the Fat Lady the password and waiting by the portrait for Harry and Ron's return.
It wasn't long before they arrived, and it surprised her a bit when they also thanked her; they evaded punishment and even got Gryffindor their five points back.
"Does this make us friends?" Hermione asked them over her own plate of food. Both boys nodded between bites, and she was grateful to not skip dinner. After the events of the girl's bathroom, she was glad to be surrounded by her peers. Lavender and Pavarti even listened to them recount the tale, as their battered clothing garnered a lot of questions. For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, Hermione felt like she belonged. She and Neville made plans to walk to Charms together in the morning.
Harry and Ron wished her a goodnight, and she surmised that there were just some things you couldn't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll was one of them.
xXx
November had turned the castle grounds cold and icy grey.
Since befriending the boys, Hermione had found herself on a regular schedule with Harry and Ron, helping them stay on track of their assignments. Harry and Ron always needed her help with homework, and she often offered to check their completed assignments prior to submitting them - but she vowed to never do their work for them ( because how will they learn? ).
Hermione had also learned to loosen up with certain school rules; time with the boys while they droned on about Quidditch allowed her to practice some minor spells she came across throughout her readings and assignments, and when she wasn't practicing spellwork, she was paying special attention to Harry's studies, who had become so preoccupied with Quidditch practice that he barely had time to eat or sleep most days. Harry had borrowed her copy of Quidditch Through The Ages in preparation for his upcoming match, but Snape had confiscated it a few days earlier, and news had gotten out that Harry was the new Gryffindor Seeker - news, that only a few on the Quidditch team knew about, or so they thought. Ron was convinced it was Malfoy who let it slip. Neither Harry nor Hermione disagreed though.
Speaking of Malfoy, her newfound (rekindled) friendship seemed to have caught Malfoy's attention, because he would sneer in their direction or taunt them at any given opportunity - in class, in the library, in the corridors. It seemed as though Malfoy had suddenly become obsessed with their trio, and he wanted them to know of his displeasure. Crabbe and Goyle still followed him around like guard dogs, so nothing had changed there.
Ron was nearly asleep in front of his assignment, while Hermione rolled her eyes and said, "Ronald, wake up! You don't want to drool all over your assignment, do you?"
Ron blinked awake, grumbling, "I don't drool..." Harry had just come back from attempting to find Professor Snape then, no book in hand, and Ron looked up to ask, "did you get it?"
"You'll never guess what I saw!" Harry looked a little spooked. Lowering his voice, he said, "I went to the staffroom to find Snape, and he was there with Filch - you know how Professor Snape's been limping the last few days, well Filch was helping him with the bandages. He mentioned something about keeping the three heads preoccupied at once. You know what this means? He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That’s where he was going when we saw him — he’s after whatever it’s guarding! And I’d bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!”
What!? That would mean Professor Snape let the troll loose... he isn't a particularly kind teacher, but Snape is still a teacher at Hogwarts for a reason! Dumbledore must surely trust him enough to be... Hermione stared at Harry in disbelief, shaking her head. “No — he wouldn’t. I know he’s not very nice, but he wouldn’t try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe.”
“Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something,” snapped Ron. Hermione met his eyes with an icy stare, “I’m with Harry. I wouldn’t put anything past Snape. But what’s he after? What’s that dog guarding?”
"Whatever it is, it must be powerful." Hermione reasoned, "If we can figure out what Snape is up to, maybe we can figure out what exactly it is that they're hiding."
-x-
Hermione had paid a visit to the library for some new books the next morning after breakfast.
Her conversation with Harry and Ron the previous night had left her reeling - she couldn't picture Professor Snape betraying the headmaster; while he didn't exactly like most students, especially Gryffindors, he was a fair teacher, and she often saw him approached by other professors and students brave enough. It was no secret that he preferred the Dark Arts position, and was denied for it, but that he also had a clear talent for Potions; Hermione didn't believe any of that held relevance to whatever Dumbledore was keeping away though, and she was having trouble coming up with a viable answer.
She glanced around quickly, making sure there were no watchful eyes as she unlocked and slipped into the Restricted Section. No other books in the library provided answers, and Hermione was frustrated that not even her Hogwarts: A History book mentioned anything about the third floor, or students being encouraged to avoid it. There was no mention of a three-headed dog either, and she rolled her eyes at the thought; of course they wouldn't mention that! If they're guarding something, one is unlikely to find the answer in such an obvious book. Which is how she found herself sneaking into the Restricted Section.
The Restricted Section was anything unlike the rest of the library. Despite the gloomy light streaming into the library, the Restricted Section was exceptionally dark. Candles floated around her as she traversed the thin aisles, reading every title and author's name as she went along the shelves. So far, she'd had no luck. She wasn't sure which books could help, and they tended to change their place once she passed by. She was growing increasingly frustrated, and the sound of the metal gate closing told her she was no longer alone.
Hermione kept walking, ignoring the footsteps as they grew faster, and she ran around a shelf only to come face to face with a wand. Hermione bit back a scream, and behind the light illuminating from the wand she caught a smirk and platinum hair. Her fear fizzled into anger.
"Malfoy!" She hissed, "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same, Granger," he said, lowering his wand. He didn't put out the light, but he crossed his arms and gave her an expectant look. She mimicked his stance then. He never answers my questions; he always counters them. "Sneaking around the Restricted Section? I didn't think you had it in you."
"It's none of your business, I assure you," Hermione snapped, turning on her heel. She started grazing the shelves again, and he continued to follow her, watching her. It made her uncomfortable; although she knew he wouldn't tell on her, because then he would have to explain why he was also in the Restricted Section. She wasn't about to lose Gryffindor anymore points either, if she could help it. She asked again, "Why are you here, Malfoy?"
"I was walking through the library when I saw the gate was unlocked," he shrugged, "And your bag, yet again unattended. I thought 'there's no way. Goody Granger? Makes nice again with her friends and now, she's breaking the rules, too?' First, she skipped her classes, then she chased down a violent beast, and now she's learning to tap into dark magic? Who are you and what have you done with the real Granger?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, but he wasn't done.
"No, really," He pressed, "I heard about the troll in the girl's lavatory. You're a fool for thinking you could take on such a creature. You're supposed to be a know-it-all, but you don't even know how to take down a troll, let alone how to not go off after one by yourself. For somebody who recalls her books in class with ease, you must have realized you couldn't rely on them in real danger! Surprise, surprise Granger, your books couldn't save you so Potter and Weasley had to come to your rescue; and now, you're all chums again. You'll all run off headfirst into more trouble soon, I'm sure. You lot are so predictable and pathetic."
"Sod off, Malfoy!" She growled, wheeling around to face him. Not forgetting where they were this time, Hermione kept her voice low, "Why do you care?! What's your obsession with me and my friends? It's not like you would have saved me from the troll yourself anyway! You would have let it squish me to death. Probably would have gotten yourself a front row seat, too, no doubt!"
He stood there for a moment, and the smirk on his face had been replaced by anger - he's under the delusion that I start all our problems, but he's the one that can't ever just leave me alone no matter how much I ignore his existence. He's got some nerve standing here, furious with me for calling him the worst when he never stops reminding me just how pathetic he finds me!
"I wouldn't have put myself in the bloody presence of a troll in the first place, you ninny," Malfoy hissed. Hermione exhaled a sharp, frustrated sigh. She didn't appreciate being called a ninny, but she didn't have an argument either. "Gryffindors are praised as 'brave', but I think the better word is foolish."
"I don't care what you think."
"Of course you don't." Malfoy rolled his eyes this time, "Do keep it up and you'll inevitably do another stupid and foolhardy thing even before the hols arrive. I'm sure Potter and Weasley will come to your aid yet again. You lot are just helping my House stay ahead in the running for the House Cup with your reckless actions. You'll be the reason Gryffindor loses, especially if you insist on going around chasing trolls; that includes your friends, by the way."
He was calling her friends trolls. Hermione snorted.
"Have you taken a good look at Crabbe and Goyle? They're closer to trolls in my opinion."
She could have sworn she saw a hint of his smirk return. Malfoy finished with, "So, when Slytherin wins, I'll be sure to credit you and the other two of the Golden Trio for notoriously losing Gryffindor House so many points back-to-back."
"How generous of you, Malfoy," her tone dripped with sarcasm, "I'd thank you for your concern, though I know Gryffindor's standings are not one since you feel the need to remind me of that fact so often; but rest assured that Gryffindor won't be losing any more points because of me."
"I'd bet my inheritance that's not true at all. One hand-raise too many from you and Snape will deduct points just because he can. Don't fool yourself, Granger," Malfoy shrugged, smirking at his own remark. Hermione felt the angry blush rise to her cheeks. "Do you know how many times you raise your hand in one class?"
Her eyes snapped up to his. It didn't sound rhetorical. This proves he watches me. "How do you know how many times I raise my hand? Keeping a tally, are you?"
His smirk fell, and suddenly his face twisted into an impassive grimace as he snapped, "As if I'd waste my time, but it's more than fifty for Salazar's sake! You can't even let anyone else get an answer in." His ruffled expression and evasive gaze told her he had in fact wasted his time tallying the number up at some point during their shared classes. Hermione's head cocked to the side ever so slightly.
A giddy flutter made her want to laugh at his subtle admission. It shouldn't matter that he did, and she wanted to find it endearing that he paid attention, but constantly bickering with him and meeting under irritating circumstances made it difficult to tolerate his presence - especially because he went out of his way to torment her incessantly. She'd been told many times before by her parents, muggle peers, and relatives that boys could be bullies when they had a crush, but his relentless provoking was rather spiteful in nature.
He always seemed to find joy in reminding her that her choice of friends was pathetic, that her blood was wrong, and that her magic was stolen. Hermione knew for a fact he didn't like her, even loathed her possibly, and she was certain that would never change. His focus on bringing Harry down was a problem for her, as well. Hermione just wanted to understand what exactly it was that he wanted from her, and to be left alone.
So, in short, not only was Malfoy spiteful, but he was also prejudiced and overtly privileged, and he made sure everyone knew it. She could never befriend somebody like him. She had to remind herself of that.
"You know, I actually thought there was a chance we were getting along the other night," except for when you threatened to hex my draft to dust... she steeled her expression, and continued, "That was foolish of me, but at least I know now that I could never be so foolish as to befriend somebody like you, who is so exalted in his own head that he spends every waking moment making others feel inferior for sport!"
"You're no better," Draco rebuked. "You make others feel inferior by needing to be the best at every class; there goes Granger, the first to answer every bloody question!"
"Well, unlike you, I don't intentionally make people feel bad about themselves," Hermione grumbled, shaking her head. She thought back to her classes, if anybody had gotten upset with her, but she could only recall being picked on whenever she'd raised her hand. "And for the record, I didn't chase down the troll... I didn't even know he was loose in the castle until he appeared as I was leaving the girl's lavatory. I overheard Ronald call me a 'nightmare' after Charms... that's why I skipped my other classes."
Malfoy's expression softened the tiniest bit, and confusion clouded his features. It's not the story he knows, and he's probably wondering why I'm telling him this, even after insulting me. Though knowing him, I only gave him more fuel to make fun of me...
"So, you were hiding from Weasley?" He asked sardonically.
"I wasn't hiding!" Hermione sighed. Her voice turned cold, "I just wanted to be left alone. Much like now. I don't know what your motives are surrounding me and my friends, but I don't intend to keep this up, Malfoy. Don't you have better things to do?"
"Who says I don't also need the Restricted Section for my own inquiries?" Malfoy countered, returning to his leisurely stance against the shelves. Did he always have to look so careless?
"Well, you did admit to following me. Wouldn't be the first time, either," Hermione retorted, folding her arms across her chest. "I wouldn't exactly call that research."
"Know thy enemy, and all," he said dismissively, with a wave of his free hand. She eyed him wearily. "You never did tell me what it is you're looking for."
"I told you it was none of your business," she warned.
"And I bet it has something to do with Potter, doesn't it?" Malfoy pressed, standing up straight. He always seemed to bring on a headache; Hermione dropped her head into her hand and groaned.
"Why do you need to know, Malfoy?" She snapped, "you do realize I have no intentions of telling you anything, no matter how persistent you are."
"Fine. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before Potter does something reckless anyhow, with you and Weasley in tow. My father will tell me once it's common knowledge between the professors." Hermione gave him a bored stare, resisting the urge to bicker any further. She turned away from him once again, and he began to retreat, throwing one last comment over his shoulder as he went, "By the way, Granger... whatever it is you're looking for, I'd start by finding out more about the wizard who's credited for it." And then he was gone. Hermione rolled her eyes; as if I hadn't thought of that.
Though she briefly wondered if Malfoy knew more than he was letting on... maybe that's why he comes off obsessed. Does he know what they're protecting because of his father's influence?
She had more questions than she started with; and maybe, just maybe, she'd have to find out from Malfoy himself.