Forget About It (Dramione)

03| An Encounter

Herbology the next morning was a disaster.

The only good part of the experience was the fact that Hermione did feel a lot better, and although no memories had made an appearance, a few hours of sleep had definitely refreshed her.

However, they were studying Snargaluff pods, and the only knowledge she had of those was a little background reading she'd done a while ago, so to the great surprise of the whole class, Harry and Ron were able to answer questions she didn't know. It was an absolute nightmare, so by the time class was over, she wanted to run back to the hospital wing and hide. 

She stayed quiet as the trio walked back to the main castle through the grounds, the two of them discussing homework and Harry's Half-Blood Prince book, which she'd been right about in that he still had the damn thing. Harry and Ron were commenting on how much more awake and alive she seemed, but inside she was wishing she was still asleep.  

At this point, an unfortunately familiar obnoxious blonde Slytherin boy was the absolute last person she wanted to run into.

Malfoy was leaning against the door of the castle, and although unaccompanied, still looked as arrogant and snarling as ever. His arms were crossed, a permanent sneer etched onto his hardened face as he eyed Hermione intently. As the distance between their group and where Malfoy was standing lessened, Hermione noticed Ron stiffen.

"Bloody hell, look who it is," he muttered. "Don't say anything to him, Hermione. Don't even look at him," he told her. 

Hermione didn't doubt that Malfoy would probably try to bother them. Although, who cared? She could handle him, she'd proven that a long time ago. Clearly, Harry and Ron still had their suspicions that Malfoy had become a Death Eater.

Ron's green eyes were glaring at the Slytherin, the two of them having a staring match until they reached the point where Malfoy stood. He swiftly sidestepped in front of them, spreading his legs out to cover as much space as he could, blocking their way. The trio stopped in their tracks. Hermione watched Ron's defiant expression. 

"Piss off, Malfoy," he threatened in a deep voice. "She's not well, you bastard."

Hermione's eyes met Malfoy's cold, grey ones. He was staring at her, and this seemed odd; it was usually Harry who was on the receiving end of his abuse. 

"I need to have a word with you," he said coldly, directing it straight at Hermione, his eyes piercing with a strange expression she couldn't quite place. She was clearly still tired, and perhaps that could explain why this interaction wasn't making much sense. 

"No," Ron snapped, hardly giving Hermione a second to react. "She's sick, and she doesn't want to look at your face 'cause that'll make it worse. Leave her alone."  

Once again, his words looked like they barely registered. Hermione did want to tell Ron she could speak up for herself, but instead she just looked at Malfoy, folding her own arms to mirror his stance. 

"What do you want?" She asked angrily.  

Perhaps Ron was being a little too overprotective, and even though she couldn't deny she liked it, she was entirely capable of dealing with Malfoy on her own. Her mind flicked back to the time she'd punched him square in the face in third year, and a smile began to creep onto her mouth. She could take anything he threw at her. Besides, he hadn't even insulted her yet, or either of the boys. Malfoy frowned back, his slicked blonde hair reflecting January's premature sunlight.

"I thought you were supposed to be the smart one? Come on, ditch these two, let's go," he quipped sarcastically, his watery grey eyes boring into her own. Merlin, she hated him. In her six years at Hogwarts, she didn't think she'd ever seen a smile cross his lips apart from when it was at the expense of someone else's pride. 

"And why would I do that?" She retorted. Malfoy raised his eyebrows at her, and for a moment she could have sworn to have spotted a flicker of an emotion that wasn't pure hate for her. 

Ron grabbed her arm, trying to pull her out of the confrontation. "She's not interested," he said roughly, dragging her away from Malfoy, which she allowed him to do. Harry followed. 

She felt her robes brush against Malfoy's green ones as they hurried past and down the corridor, and a quick glance over her shoulder showed her he was watching them leave. His eyes turned away as they met hers, leaving her wondering why he'd bothered with seeking her out to talk to her privately. But she didn't particularly care. 

•

The majority of the rest of the day passed with no more Malfoy. She soon learned that her memory loss was becoming common knowledge, and that everyone wanted to know all the details. How long it had been, what the last thing was she could remember. People loved telling her the school's gossip, all of the drama that was old stories to Harry and Ron but news to her. 

One very interesting fact she found out was that Ron and Lavender had broken up only a couple of days before she woke up in the hospital wing. It had been music to her ears, and wonderful sight to behold when she saw Lavender grimacing at her and Ron from a distance with a couple of friends.

"Well, yeah," Ron was saying to her, with Harry tiredly listening along. "She just got annoyed with me for some reason, when I was in the hospital after this Quidditch match, and that was it. The next day she runs up to me in tears asking me if I was sure we were over, so I just agreed. I'm bloody relieved to not have her following me around any more," he finished. They were sat in the centre of the common room, a familiar weight of a book in Hermione's lap. 

"Is that everything that's happened?" He asked Harry, earning an exasperated nod, who looked like there were plenty of other things he'd rather do than listen to gossip he knew already.

"Hermione, do you remember Malfoy?" came Neville's voice from an armchair across the room, earning a snigger from Dean and Seamus, who happened to be passing. Hermione's head flicked round briefly to acknowledge him. He sat with a scroll of parchment and a quill, clearly trying to do homework but paying attention anyway to his housemates' conversation. 

"Ugh, luckily, no. What about him?" Hermione asked Harry and Ron, but the two boys just looked awkward and avoided eye contact with her. The flickering firelight in Ron's eyes matched the colour of his hair as he watched Harry's expression intently, leaving Hermione's question hanging unanswered in the air.

"What?" She asked again, indignantly. 

They had been more uptight about Malfoy lately, especially Ron, who was sat very close to her right now on the sofa. The sides of their legs touched briefly, making Hermione blush and meet his gaze for a lingering moment, dangerously close to his face. The room suddenly felt very hot. 

But she broke the moment, turning to face Harry instead, a little smile playing at her lips as she felt Ron continue to look at her. She wondered what she had done to make him like her so much, and so quickly? Perhaps she was the reason for his breakup from Lavender, and he didn't want to admit it. But that was a question for another day.

"Are you going to answer me?" She asked Harry. She didn't have time for secrets, not since she'd forgotten so much of her life. 

"Never mind about it," Ron said strongly. "It doesn't matter."

"Ron, she's gonna find out soon enough. Better she hears it from us than from some dickhead in a corridor," Harry answered, quietly.

"Find out what?"

Harry and Ron exchanged yet another worried glance at her words, making Hermione sit up more, starting to get a little annoyed. How bad could it be? 

"Come on, guys," she protested. Their avid stillness was starting to get to her. "Spit it out. I deserve to know."

Harry looked dead into her eyes before he spoke. "Basically..."

"You and Malfoy had a thing," Ron interrupted stiffly, and the silence that followed reflected only the shock and disgust that ran through every bone in her body.