Artificial Love (Dramione)

Chapter 4 - The Exchange

Hermione collapsed onto the wooden slats of flooring as soon as she felt the ground beneath her feet. Malfoy had brought her all the way back to the Gryffindor stands rather than just placing her on the ground, which she would have preferred. But she couldn't make herself say anything, for fear of vomiting out her lunch rather than actual words.

"Reparo." She could hear the swish of a wand as Malfoy fixed the wooden partition she had fallen through. "Didn't you notice the thing was splintered to begin with? Obviously, the smartest witch of her age hasn't got much else going for her other than book smarts."

Hermione felt tears well up in her eyes, and she reached up with a shaking hand to wipe them away. Realizing how pathetic she looked in front of the biggest bully of the school, she felt bile rise in her throat before she choked it back down. No way would she show even more weakness to this Slytherin.

Of all the people that could have been there to help her, it just had to be Malfoy. Why hadn't he just let her fall?

"I've heard sweets help with emotional things like this." Malfoy rustled around in his pockets, coming up with a wrapped foil after a few seconds. "Take this as an offering. Don't tell anyone I helped you today. I should have just let you fall, and if it gets out that I actually saved one-third of the Golden Trio, my reputation will be permanently tarnished. Nonetheless, a mudblood! Merlin, what was I thinking? I guess I wasn't."

He threw the chocolate into Hermione's bag, and she watched in silence. She didn't trust herself to speak. He obviously didn't want a thank you, and she was afraid her voice would come out all warped if she tried to speak.

"No need to thank me, mudblood. Just keep it to yourself." Malfoy mounted his broom once again and leaped off the side of the stands, almost in the exact spot from which Hermione had fallen. The difference, of course, was that he had a means of saving himself if gravity suddenly decided to take control of his movements.

Hermione couldn't hold it in any longer. She could do nothing as tears crept down her cheeks, dripping from her chin. To add to that, her stomach emptied its contents all over the front of her. That only made her cry harder.

Even the bravest of the Gryffindors had fears.

It took almost fifteen minutes for Hermione to crawl over to her bag, where her wand sat. What was the use of a wand if it couldn't help save her when she most needed it? On impulse, Hermione tried to snap her wand in half before her intelligence won out and she gasped. What was she thinking? She had trained herself not to act on impulse from an early age, and yet now it had almost won out, killing her most precious belonging.

Her shaking hand waved around in the air as she performed a simple cleaning spell, not wanting even a spot of her mess to remain behind. "Scourgify."

Every last spot disappeared, and the deck of the stands was even cleaner than it had previously been. But Hermione still felt dirty, and so she repeated the spell two more times. She still felt weak, but she felt more than anything that she had to have her feet back on the ground once again. Despite her feet being planted on something solid, Hermione still was not on Earth. She could still fall fifty feet from where she was currently.

She charmed her books to fly behind her. She felt too weak to carry them herself after what had just happened. As she slowly made her way down the many flights of stairs to the ground, she gripped onto the railings as if they were holding her and keeping her planted on the solidity of the wooden planks below her.

It seemed like forever before she actually made it all the way down, and her knees felt weak. But she pushed on, barely feeling the ground beneath her as she made her way up to the Gryffindor common room. Her schoolbag floated along behind her obediently.

A few people walked past, not knowing that she was so out of sorts. Perhaps she looked confident on the outside, or maybe she just blended into the hallway. After all, she was just another magical student in a school full of them.

She collapsed into an armchair near the fire, trying to steady her breathing. Maybe studying would help take her mind off of what had just happened. Her bag collapsed next to her with a loud crash.

She opened up a book in her lap, but none of the words dared to process in her mind. Certain phrases leaped out at her, "falling" and "death" in particular. A witch who was afraid of heights. She wasn't doing any good for all the children's tales that painted witches as broomstick-riding cat lovers. So far, Hermione was only the "cat lovers" part, and Crookshanks wasn't even a typical black cat!

A witch with fear of heights. How ironic.

"Hermione, can you help me and Harry with that Potions paper?" Ron, who had been previously stuffing his face with some form of junk food, had finally noticed Hermione. He stood and slouched over to her.

Hermione's words, rather than remain silent, began running from her mouth. She barely knew what she was saying, but she just had to let out her emotions on something. She would feel better after that, right?

"Ronald Weasley, you can do your own homework! Why do I always have to help you with things as simple as this? You never ask me if I want your help, but I'm always expected to help you! And Harry Potter, you're the same exact way! Why, I don't even know if the only reason you two are my friends is so I do your homework or if you actually enjoy my company! If I didn't help you two, you wouldn't give me a second glance!" She fumed, and Harry, who had followed Ron over, stepped back a few feet in shock.

"Bloody hell, Hermione. What's up with you today?" Ron swallowed the rest of his food, wiping crumbs from around his lips.

"And would you stop eating, Ronald! You're such a mess!" Hermione grabbed a pillow from her chair and clutched it over her face. A muffled scream followed shortly after. "I'm going to the library. I need some quiet."

Hermione got up as quickly as she could, grabbed her satchel from the ground, and was out of the common room before either Ron or Harry were able to say another word.

"You reckon we should go after her?" Harry asked his ginger best friend, a questioning quirk gracing his face.

"Nah, you know how she can be. She'll be ready to tell us exactly what happened as soon as she's been surrounded by books long enough. Wanna play some wizard's chess?"

"Yeah, I guess," Harry answered slowly, still wondering what had been wrong with Hermione.