False Pretences: Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Previous Encounters

Pairing: Hr/D

Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own any of the characters presented in this chapter.  I only wish I did.  Characters belong to the very talented JKR .
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A stunned silence.  And then…


“Way to go Hermione!”  Harry cheered as he patted her back.


“That ferret had it coming.  I’m just a bit upset that I wasn’t the one to put him in his place!” Ron chimed in with a lopsided grin as he threw himself onto a couch.


She just stood there.


Gawking at them.


This was not how she pictured the conversation to go at all.


“Have you two gone completely – and utterly – insane?”  She managed to get out in a disbelieving voice.  “Do you even understand what I just said?”  She frantically searched for some sign of–of something that could explain their behavior.  Maybe they had a horrible mishap with a potion?  Wait, no, we haven’t had potions yet.  A hit to the head?  Mmmm… no bumps or bruises.  What then?  What could possibly be the reason for this?  I mean, they can’t be serious.


They couldn’t be serious.  


Soon after her encounter with Malfoy she had managed to find them again in the Great Hall and had proceeded to drag them to the Gryffindor common room.  She then told them everything that happened.  Well… maybe not everything.  They didn’t need to know about the way Malfoy looked at her.  Or her reaction to it.  


Especially her reaction to it.


Hermione Granger was not one to blush under scrutiny.  She was Head Girl, for crying out loud!


Anyway, she had expected shock or something along those lines when she finally got around to telling them.  She had by no means expected them to laugh and congratulate her.  At least not Harry.  Ron’s reaction wasn’t all that surprising, really.


“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you just said that you gave Malfoy a nice set of boils to go with that arrogant attitude of his,” Ron answered cheerfully, “I don’t see why you’re reacting so weird.”


She was reacting weird?  The nerve!  “Ron!  I. Hexed. Malfoy.  And that doesn’t faze you in the slightest?”


Ron weighed his words carefully (which in all honesty was unusual for him), trying to find the right combination.  One mistake, and he’d probably share Malfoy’s fate.  “Well, Hermione, to be totally honest… no.  I know you pride yourself in being this – I dunno – pacifist, or something, but you do have a violent temper when provoked.”  


Hermione sent him a death glare.


Obviously not the right combination.  


“I. Am not. Violent,” Hermione said through gritted teeth, “and I do not have a temper.  And you know what?  All this nonsense is beside the point.  You two don’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation.  I’m Head Girl, and I’ve been given a huge responsibility, which I am sure does not include hexing my male counterpart!  If Malfoy is mad enough, those petty points I took off this morning will be nothing at all compared to the fate that awaits me.  If word gets out to McGonagall (she looked like she was about to faint as she said this) I-I’ll be stripped of my badge!  Not without reason, mind you, but I really don’t want that to happen!”  She finished, her anger finally giving way to despair as she hid her face in her hands.


“Hermione, calm down!” Harry said as he grabbed her wrists and sat her down in the cozy armchair in front of the fire.  He didn’t say another word until he made sure she wasn’t going to break down and cry.  Her hair was a fizzy mess, her face was pale, and her robes – which were usually immaculate – were in a state of disarray.  Malfoy had to have been a real prick today if he was able to get her in this state.  What he wouldn’t give to set Ron loose on him…  “Look, Hermione.  Nothing bad is going to happen – ”


“Besides loosing us those points, you mean,” Ron interrupted.  Hermione sent him another glare, though not as effective as it could have been.  She felt like all her energy had been drained away – sapped by the pure evil that was Malfoy.  “Seriously, ‘Mione, did you really have to go that far?”  On a different note, did Ron try and make things worse?  Or was it a natural talent?  She really couldn’t stand him sometimes.  Most of the time.  I can’t believe I dated him, Hermione groaned inwardly, how could I have ever thought that was a good idea?


“You really need to learn to keep that mouth of yours shut,” Harry responded a short while later in an irritated tone.  Turning back to Hermione he continued, “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, there’s nothing to worry about.  Nothing bad is going to happen.”


Hermione looked into those charming green eyes of his, and she could see he meant every word of what he said.  How could he be so confident?  “How do you know?”  She pleaded, “Malfoy is probably getting healed by Madam Pomfrey right this second, and ranting to anyone within hearing distance about how I ruined his beautiful face.”


Ron snorted.  The other two silently agreed.  They were all thinking the same thing: Conceited prat!


“I don’t think so,” Harry answered, smirking confidently.  He seemed so sure.


“What do you mean?”


“Well, you remember what happened in our third year, right?”


A blank look.


“No?”


She shook her head.


“Well, umm… you kind of hit Malfoy.”


Oh, right, that.  I almost forgot… I still can’t believe I did that, but it was well worth it to see the look on his face.  A small smile graced her lips as she reminisced.


“Yet another example of your violent temper,” Ron contributed, oh so helpfully.


The smile was gone.


“And what happened then?”  Harry continued, raising his voice over Ron’s, and trying to get that look that said ‘murder’ out of the brunette’s eyes, “Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  And do you know why?”  He waited for Hermione to motion him to continue, “He’s got too much pride.  He would never admit to anyone that he was hit by a girl.  Especially a… uhh… muggleborn,” he finished rather lamely.


“You mean a mudblood don’t you,” she grimaced, “don’t worry about it, I got over that ages ago.  Words can only go so far.  Sticks and stones, and all that.”


“Sticks and stones…?”  Ron looked confused.


“Never mind, it’s a muggle saying,” Harry answered, still looking slightly peeved at his best friend.  He turned back towards Hermione and gave her a soft smile.  “Are you sure you’re ok?  You really do look terrible, now that I think about it.”


Hermione raised an eyebrow with a slight smirk on her face, “Gee, thanks Harry.  You sure do know how to sweep a girl off her feet.”


“No problem,” he grinned, happy to see that she was feeling at least well enough to joke around, “Now why don’t you go take a long, relaxing bath, or try on some new clothes, or paint your nails, or do whatever it is you girls do to feel better.”


“Thanks, Harry, maybe I will.  And maybe after that I’ll go and have a serious discussion about boys with Lavender and Parvati.”  She smiled despite the sarcasm.  This little chat had actually made her feel a whole lot better about her situation.  It was weird, though, because she was so used to being the moral support for him and not the other way around.  But hey, she wasn’t complaining.  She picked up her bag and walked out into the corridor.  


Once down the staircase, she checked the grandfather clock on the opposite wall for the time.  Nine forty-five.  If she moved quickly enough, she could probably stop by the bathroom before making her way to Ancient Runes.  She needed to clean up her appearance as soon as possible.  What would my mother say if she saw me now? She mused as she sprinted down the various staircases leading away from Gryffindor tower.  Her hair fought desperately against the confines of her ponytail and her robes flew wildly behind her.  She could hear her mother’s voice, full of shock, play dimly in her head…

‘Hermione Jane Granger!  I thought we raised you better than that.
What are you doing running around?
And – why – look at you, dashing about with your clothes looking like that all ove…’

With a short laugh she disappeared around the corner.



*  *  *


“Oi Harry,” Ron said in a low voice as soon as Hermione was out of sight, “You don’t suppose girls actually do that, do you?” He was fidgeting with the bottom of his shirt – twisting it this way and that – intent on seeming nonchalant, and failing miserably.


“Do what?” Harry asked, curious about his friend’s odd behavior, but pretending not to notice.


“You know… talk about us blokes and stuff. I mean, of course they talk about us… but do you think they actually hold complete discussions on it?”


Harry sat himself in the armchair Hermione had recently vacated and pondered his question for a moment, “Well… it does seem likely. Hermione did have a pretty good idea of which stupid git (he gave due emphasis to those two particular words) Ginny seemed to be dating at any given time. Come to think of it, all the girls did. It was just us blokes who were completely in the fog until those dim-witted prats started flaunting her in front of my face as if she were some kind of arm-candy! I should’ve pounded their ugly grinning faces in when I had the chance! I really don’t have much of an excuse to now and – ”


“All right, mate. I get it. They are total and complete assholes who don’t deserve to lick the bottom of her dirty shoe. Don’t ever think I don’t agree, but before you get off track and start ranting, could we get back on the subject?” Ron had to admit his duties as older brother were loads easier now that Harry and Ginny had started dating again. Harry was the ever jealous boyfriend – a fact Ginny adored and seemed to feed off of – which left Ron with only one person to keep his eye on: his best mate. He trusted him – he really did – just not that much.


“Right, so yeah, girls probably talk. So what?” Harry answered. Ron seemed to get even more nervous.


“So nothing. I was just, you know, curious. So we know Ginny talks. Parvati and Lavender definitely do – you don’t suppose she speaks too badly about me, do you? I mean I guess the way we broke it off was pretty awful… whatever, never mind – do you… uh… do you think that maybe… do you think Hermione talks?” He finally managed to get out, carefully avoiding looking at Harry as his face started to turn red.


“I have no idea,” Harry said carefully. He was, of course, completely aware that Ron was avoiding eye contact, “why do you want to know?”


“I don’t!” Ron answered quickly – a dead give-away, “I was just, you know… wondering. Hey, you don’t think maybe you could ask Ginny about it, do you? Ask her if they mentioned me at all?”


“Umm right… I’ll see what I can do,” he answered noncommittally. He had a feeling he knew what this was about, but he wasn’t sure.


“Thanks Harry!” Ron said gratefully. His mood improved almost instantly, though the previous awkwardness was still visible on his face. “Lets go. I think we’re going to be late for Charms.” He picked up his bag and swung it over his shoulder, whistling a tune Harry didn't recognize as he exited the common room.