Chapter 8: Happy Halloween (Hermione)
The library was jammed with people. Hermione had never seen it so busy. There was a crazy amount of people in there for a holiday. She squirmed her way through the dense crowd, bumping into other students along the way.
Hermione was after one particular book. With Umbridge teaching Defense against the Dark Arts, she would need a back up plan to pass her OWLs. This book was a practical reference guide to defending yourself against dark wizards. It was perfect. Hermione snatched it off the stand. The book was nearly bigger than her so she wobbled as she tried to hold it in her arms. Hermione lumbered over to the line and waited.
Finally it was her turn.
Madam Pince glared up at Hermione with her beady little eyes, red from squinting at small print for so many years. “You cannot check out that book. It's a reference.”
Hermione had to have that book. Umbridge's ridiculous class ruined any chance of Hermione passing her defense against the dark arts owl. It wasn't her best subject anyway and copying phrases from a thousand year old book was not going to help.
“Please. I'd like to use this to study but I can't always come up to the library.” It was true. She did spend a lot of time in the stacks of the library but she wanted to be able to look at the book somewhere more private. An idea was forming in her head – a special study group for defense against the dark arts. This book would be perfect for it. No one else had looked at that book in years. Why did it matter?
A couple of waiting students groaned behind her.
“Sorry,” she replied.
The Ravenclaw behind her leaned to a Hufflepuff and said, “She is trying to check out a reference.”
More groaning.
“People are waiting,” said the Ravenclaw.
“Just hold on,” snapped Hermione. People had no patience. None at all.
Hermione almost jumped as someone swept up next to her. Just what she needed. Malfoy. As if this moment wasn't horrible enough.
“Hello, Granger,” he said.
“Malfoy,” she sneered.
“Do you need help?” he asked. Help? What was he talking about? No she didn't. need help. Not from him. “No. I'm fine.” She rolled her eyes.
“Please leave, Miss Granger. You cannot check out this book,” snapped Madam Pince.
A charming smile spread across Malfoy's face. Hermione's face flushed and she had no idea why. He scooted her out of the way.
“Good afternoon, Madam Pince.”
“You too, Mr. Malfoy.”
“It's a beautiful night isn't it? I just love the fall, don't you?” Malfoy said to Madam Pince in almost a whisper. What was he doing? A rosy glow blossomed in her wrinkled cheeks. Seriously? “Happy Halloween.”
“Uh, Happy Halloween, Mr. Malfoy.”
“Thank you,” he said, graciously. “This is a book, isn't it?” he winked and pushed it toward Madam Pince. “Would you please check this out for me?”
Madam Pince smiled at Malfoy and took the book, writing Hermione's name on the card in the front. Hermione's mouth fell open. How on earth did he do that? Pince scowled at Hermione as she handed her the book.
“Happy Halloween, Granger,” he smiled and sauntered into the hallway.
Heat rose in Hermione's cheeks. Malfoy was the most infuriating, slimy little git she'd ever known. He could get away with anything. But at least she had her book.
Hermione made it to the Great Hall for the afternoon Halloween pre-feast. Big orange Jack-O-lanterns cast a spooky glow over everyone's faces. Hermione noticed Malfoy, sitting at the Slytherin table, laughing. Probably at her, she thought.
Hermione squished between Harry and Ron, happy to be surrounded by her best friends. Owls started swooping down. One flew down to her. Silverhawk. Her heart started pounding rapidly in her chest. It was a letter. From him.
Ever since the start of school, Silverhawk had been sending a different owl. This one was much more common. His other had been one of the most expensive owls you could buy.
“Who's that from?” asked Ron.
“My mum,” Hermione answered quickly.
“Your mum writes you a lot,” he said, stuffing a big spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.
Hermione waited to open it until she got to her room.
Meet? Hermione gasped and shoved the letter away. She couldn't meet him. She wanted to, but it was too perfect this way. It didn't matter who he was or who she was. They could just be – no strings, no interfering outside forces.
It pained her to write it but she had to.
Dear Silverhawk,
You can't be as mean as you think you are. At least, deep down because I've never seen anything but kindness and understanding from you. But it's good you can face up to it, if you think it's problem. Let me know what happens when you give up the chance to be mean. I'm sure you'll see it makes you feel better. Trust me. I have this... enemy. It's pretty much this person's life goal to make me as miserable as possible. Sometimes he even has this way of making me feel miserable by being helpful – like he's rubbing it in my face or something. I feel sorry for him, actually. About meeting... my life is complicated right now and I need this the way it is. I feel like meeting would ruin it. I'm so sorry.
Yours,
Vinewood
