When a Tornado Meets a Volcano
Chapter 3: Natural Disasters
It surprised him greatly. There she was, looking so helpless as she cried into her arms. He was so shocked for the moment; all he could do is stand there lamely. Suddenly, he was moving, and was now crouched down beside her, rubbing small circles on her back. It felt as if he was possessed as a giant wave of pity crashed down on him; why was he doing this?
Hermione looked up to find him beside her, his eyes full of a sympathy she did not expect to see. She let a small little wail; it was partially his fault why she was like this. She curled herself tighter, shrinking away from his touch. It was more in disbelief than in repulsion.
“Granger,” he said, though his voice didn’t hold its usual coldness. “Get a hold of yourself; class is about to start.” He’d stopped rubbing her back, staring at his hand (which seemed to- like the rest of his body- act of its own accord) for a moment. She let out a sniffle of protest, making him furrow his brow.
“You have got to be kidding me,” he mumbled, sighing. He looked down at her, another wave of pity flowing through him. He tried to fight back the feeling; just yesterday he was proclaiming how much he hated her and now here he was trying to (even if it was pathetically) to get her to return to her normal self.
He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sounds of approaching footsteps and voices. Looking at his watch, he cursed: breakfast was over and everyone would be headed for their first classes. With one last sight, he crouched down next to Hermione’s ear and began to talk.
“Hermione Granger,” he whispered furiously. “If you don’t get up off of the floor right now, everyone here for classes will come around that corner and laugh at you for looking so pitiful. Even Snape. Do you really want that? Come on. Up and at ‘em.” He tugged at her arms, a wave of relief washing over him when she didn’t protest.
Hermione gave him a strange look, surprised that he had helped her. Nonetheless, she picked up her bag and quickly wiped the tears from her face, just as the crowd of students rounded the hallway. Their chatter quickly filled the hall, and before Draco could speak another word, he felt a tap on the shoulder and turned, allowing her time to escape into the classroom.
Draco turned, to find Pansy Parkinson standing there, grinning at him. He sighed - he’d been doing that a lot lately - and rolled his eyes heavenward.
“What do you want Pansy?” he asked, not trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. She didn’t pick up on it (to his chagrin), and smiled at him flirtatiously.
“I just wanted to let you know that we are meeting in the abandoned bathroom tonight,” she said, her normally high pitched voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as she leaned in towards him.
Draco stiffened. In all of the things going on in his mind, the meeting must have gotten lost. How could he forget? Oh, right; he had been thinking about a certain frustrating Gryffindor. He brought his attention back to Pansy and gave her a curt nod, turning abruptly on his heel and walking swiftly into the classroom.
Meanwhile, Hermione was at a loss of what to do. She had walked into the class only to find the majority of seats already filled. She saw that Harry had purposely sat with someone else, leaving her the option to sit next to Ron and talk and make-up, but she was not ready for that just yet. His comments, combined with the argument she’d had with Draco the night before, and her lack of peaceful sleep lately had combined to form a very irritable Hermione; one that wasn’t about to give up a grudge so easily.
She walked past him with her head turned away from him towards one of two empty seats in the front of the classroom. No one had taken these seats and she couldn’t blame them. Not even she, Goody-Granger, liked to sit in the front of Snape’s class. She pulled out her books and laid them neatly on the closest corner of the table, ignoring the feeling she got when she knew both Ron and Harry were looking at her. Her hands still hurt, and she still hadn’t put a glamour on, causing some people to stare at her for a moment before she glared at they turned away. This day was not turning out to be one of her best.
And what was that with Draco just now? Had she really seen sympathy from the very same boy who, in the night before, had made her feel so angry? She shook her head to herself; it was odd how he had just been there, patting her back in an attempt to get her to calm down. Of course, she knew that the strange feeling had to be mutual. After all, he had reverted back to teasing her in order to get her up and moving. And, as much as she would like to deny it, she couldn’t help the fact that she was a little pleased at his show of kindness- no matter how strange it had been.
Speaking of the devil, just before she opened her notebook, he plopped into the seat beside her, looking a bit more tired that she had observed just a few moments ago. She gave him a sidelong glance, looking away quickly as he turned to face her. He looked like he wanted to say something, but just as he was about to open his mouth to speak, Snape walked into the classroom, commanding the attention of his students simply by appearing.
“Open up your notebooks,” he barked, giving a flick of his wrist. The blackboard suddenly began filling up with ingredients for a potion they would be making that class. It was the Oculus Potion, the potion that would reverse the effects of the Conjunctivitis curse.
“The person you are sitting with will be your partner for this class. No switching,” he said, a sinister smirk creeping upon his face upon the groans that emitted from several of his students. Most notably was that of Ron, who had been stuck sitting with Pansy.
“You will be handing in a small vial of the potion at the end of class,” he said, taking residence at his desk. “You will fail if even one thing is out of place.” Another round of groans could be heard, and his smirk widened as he pointedly looked at Neville Longbottom, who was positively frightened.
“You may begin,” he said, directing his attention to the work on his desk. Hermione began immediately copying down the directions and ingredients, while Draco began preparing their cauldron. The silence went on like this for a moment, only broken when Hermione declared that she would be getting the ingredients.
Draco sat down in his seat, eyes fixed on the back of her head as she walked towards the ingredients cabinet. Great, he thought to himself, sighing again. On top of worrying about worrying about Granger, I have this stupid meeting to fret over. Just how I want to spend the rest of my day. He rolled his eyes.
“Let’s start, then,” Hermione said tonelessly as she began preparing the ingredients. She split them up, giving him half and keeping the other half for herself. An unusually comfortable silence fell between them again, and they began their potion.
“Thanks.” It was said so quietly that Draco almost didn’t hear it. He looked up at Hermione in surprise. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of the list of instructions written down in her journal.
“For what?” he asked, turning back to his own work. To any outsider looking at them interact, it would seem shocking. Usually they would be yelling at each other at this point, not talking in hushed, civil tones.
“For earlier,” she responded, dropping a portion of stewed mandrake into the cauldron. It sizzled for a moment before turning a deep orange color. The potion was almost complete.
“Oh,” was the simple reply. In reality, Draco was stunned. He hadn’t been expecting her to apologize; in fact, he had expected her to be more distant that she already was. “It was nothing, I was just-”
“No need to explain,” she interrupted, holding up her hand. Her face gave nothing away, remaining neutral. He furrowed his brows, confused, but shook his head and remained silent.
The rest of the class passed in relative silence, with neither speaking much. As soon as they finished, Hermione carefully poured the concoction into a vial. She brought it up to Snape’s desk and was surprised to find that when she returned, everything had been cleaned up. There were no words exchanged between the two, but she was thankful for his help.
When class was dismissed, she left the class quickly. She could hear both Harry and Ron calling after her as she disappeared from sight, yet she didn’t turn around. She knew she was being childish, but if she faced them now, she would surely leave feeling a lot worse then she already did. It was no surprise then when in the next class, Charms, she avoided them, and indeed, for the rest of the day. It was at dinner, however, when she was forced into confrontation.
She had been sitting down for not a minute, when she heard - and felt - Harry and Ron plop on the bench beside her. She didn’t look up, but she could tell they were looking at her.
“So are you just going to ignore us?” Harry asked her. She could hear the hurt in his voice, and turned to look at the more sensible of her two best friends, giving him a small smile.
“I’m not ignoring you Harry,” she said, patting his folded arms. “I am ignoring Ron.” She turned back to her food.
“Hey!” exclaimed Ron in protest. She didn’t even acknowledge that he had said anything and began to fill her plate with food. She didn’t have much of an appetite, but eating gave her an excuse to not talk.
“What about me?” Ron asked, confused even more now that Harry was in the clear, but not himself.
“I’m sorry, Ron. Did you say something?” Hermione said turning to him after a very deliberately pregnant pause. “I was too busy being boring to notice.” Ron flinched, taken aback by her words.
“What did I even do?!” he said exasperatedly, throwing his hands up. Hermione snapped; she had been trying to keep her cool the whole day. That was her plan, to avoid them for as long as possible and prevent something from happening. But just as death is inevitable to all, so was the confrontation between Ron and her.
She slammed her hands on the table, causing many to flinch, startled at her outburst. She was glowering, her face turning red, and she didn’t even notice the intense pain rocketing up her arms from her drastic move.
“What did you do?! What did you DO?!” Hermione screamed, her body slightly shaking. “Besides insulting me, someone who is supposedly your best friend, you dare to ask me why I am so mad. What did you do wrong? Oh I’ll tell you what you did wrong. Since the time we became friends I have endured your off-color remarks; I have let you use my notes, and helped you study for tests. I even let you talk me into loads of things. Why? Because I thought you were my friend. I guess the feelings weren’t reciprocated.” At this point, tears were streaming down her face, and she stood there, clenching and unclenching her already pained hands. She bent down, grabbed her bag and gave him one last glare.
“Ronald Weasley, you are the most insensitive git I have ever known.” With a sad shake of the head, and for the second time that day, she walked out of the Great Hall, leaving silence in her wake.
Ron himself was stunned. He was so stunned in fact that he discarded the idea of eating (a big move for him). He looked to Harry for help, but his friend was also shaking his head.
“She’s right, you know,” Harry said, standing up. “You really should apologize.” For maybe the first time in his life, Harry turned his back on his best friend and followed Hermione out of the doors.
And for the first time in his life, Ron felt completely alone.
It surprised him greatly. There she was, looking so helpless as she cried into her arms. He was so shocked for the moment; all he could do is stand there lamely. Suddenly, he was moving, and was now crouched down beside her, rubbing small circles on her back. It felt as if he was possessed as a giant wave of pity crashed down on him; why was he doing this?
Hermione looked up to find him beside her, his eyes full of a sympathy she did not expect to see. She let a small little wail; it was partially his fault why she was like this. She curled herself tighter, shrinking away from his touch. It was more in disbelief than in repulsion.
“Granger,” he said, though his voice didn’t hold its usual coldness. “Get a hold of yourself; class is about to start.” He’d stopped rubbing her back, staring at his hand (which seemed to- like the rest of his body- act of its own accord) for a moment. She let out a sniffle of protest, making him furrow his brow.
“You have got to be kidding me,” he mumbled, sighing. He looked down at her, another wave of pity flowing through him. He tried to fight back the feeling; just yesterday he was proclaiming how much he hated her and now here he was trying to (even if it was pathetically) to get her to return to her normal self.
He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sounds of approaching footsteps and voices. Looking at his watch, he cursed: breakfast was over and everyone would be headed for their first classes. With one last sight, he crouched down next to Hermione’s ear and began to talk.
“Hermione Granger,” he whispered furiously. “If you don’t get up off of the floor right now, everyone here for classes will come around that corner and laugh at you for looking so pitiful. Even Snape. Do you really want that? Come on. Up and at ‘em.” He tugged at her arms, a wave of relief washing over him when she didn’t protest.
Hermione gave him a strange look, surprised that he had helped her. Nonetheless, she picked up her bag and quickly wiped the tears from her face, just as the crowd of students rounded the hallway. Their chatter quickly filled the hall, and before Draco could speak another word, he felt a tap on the shoulder and turned, allowing her time to escape into the classroom.
Draco turned, to find Pansy Parkinson standing there, grinning at him. He sighed - he’d been doing that a lot lately - and rolled his eyes heavenward.
“What do you want Pansy?” he asked, not trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. She didn’t pick up on it (to his chagrin), and smiled at him flirtatiously.
“I just wanted to let you know that we are meeting in the abandoned bathroom tonight,” she said, her normally high pitched voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as she leaned in towards him.
Draco stiffened. In all of the things going on in his mind, the meeting must have gotten lost. How could he forget? Oh, right; he had been thinking about a certain frustrating Gryffindor. He brought his attention back to Pansy and gave her a curt nod, turning abruptly on his heel and walking swiftly into the classroom.
Meanwhile, Hermione was at a loss of what to do. She had walked into the class only to find the majority of seats already filled. She saw that Harry had purposely sat with someone else, leaving her the option to sit next to Ron and talk and make-up, but she was not ready for that just yet. His comments, combined with the argument she’d had with Draco the night before, and her lack of peaceful sleep lately had combined to form a very irritable Hermione; one that wasn’t about to give up a grudge so easily.
She walked past him with her head turned away from him towards one of two empty seats in the front of the classroom. No one had taken these seats and she couldn’t blame them. Not even she, Goody-Granger, liked to sit in the front of Snape’s class. She pulled out her books and laid them neatly on the closest corner of the table, ignoring the feeling she got when she knew both Ron and Harry were looking at her. Her hands still hurt, and she still hadn’t put a glamour on, causing some people to stare at her for a moment before she glared at they turned away. This day was not turning out to be one of her best.
And what was that with Draco just now? Had she really seen sympathy from the very same boy who, in the night before, had made her feel so angry? She shook her head to herself; it was odd how he had just been there, patting her back in an attempt to get her to calm down. Of course, she knew that the strange feeling had to be mutual. After all, he had reverted back to teasing her in order to get her up and moving. And, as much as she would like to deny it, she couldn’t help the fact that she was a little pleased at his show of kindness- no matter how strange it had been.
Speaking of the devil, just before she opened her notebook, he plopped into the seat beside her, looking a bit more tired that she had observed just a few moments ago. She gave him a sidelong glance, looking away quickly as he turned to face her. He looked like he wanted to say something, but just as he was about to open his mouth to speak, Snape walked into the classroom, commanding the attention of his students simply by appearing.
“Open up your notebooks,” he barked, giving a flick of his wrist. The blackboard suddenly began filling up with ingredients for a potion they would be making that class. It was the Oculus Potion, the potion that would reverse the effects of the Conjunctivitis curse.
“The person you are sitting with will be your partner for this class. No switching,” he said, a sinister smirk creeping upon his face upon the groans that emitted from several of his students. Most notably was that of Ron, who had been stuck sitting with Pansy.
“You will be handing in a small vial of the potion at the end of class,” he said, taking residence at his desk. “You will fail if even one thing is out of place.” Another round of groans could be heard, and his smirk widened as he pointedly looked at Neville Longbottom, who was positively frightened.
“You may begin,” he said, directing his attention to the work on his desk. Hermione began immediately copying down the directions and ingredients, while Draco began preparing their cauldron. The silence went on like this for a moment, only broken when Hermione declared that she would be getting the ingredients.
Draco sat down in his seat, eyes fixed on the back of her head as she walked towards the ingredients cabinet. Great, he thought to himself, sighing again. On top of worrying about worrying about Granger, I have this stupid meeting to fret over. Just how I want to spend the rest of my day. He rolled his eyes.
“Let’s start, then,” Hermione said tonelessly as she began preparing the ingredients. She split them up, giving him half and keeping the other half for herself. An unusually comfortable silence fell between them again, and they began their potion.
“Thanks.” It was said so quietly that Draco almost didn’t hear it. He looked up at Hermione in surprise. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of the list of instructions written down in her journal.
“For what?” he asked, turning back to his own work. To any outsider looking at them interact, it would seem shocking. Usually they would be yelling at each other at this point, not talking in hushed, civil tones.
“For earlier,” she responded, dropping a portion of stewed mandrake into the cauldron. It sizzled for a moment before turning a deep orange color. The potion was almost complete.
“Oh,” was the simple reply. In reality, Draco was stunned. He hadn’t been expecting her to apologize; in fact, he had expected her to be more distant that she already was. “It was nothing, I was just-”
“No need to explain,” she interrupted, holding up her hand. Her face gave nothing away, remaining neutral. He furrowed his brows, confused, but shook his head and remained silent.
The rest of the class passed in relative silence, with neither speaking much. As soon as they finished, Hermione carefully poured the concoction into a vial. She brought it up to Snape’s desk and was surprised to find that when she returned, everything had been cleaned up. There were no words exchanged between the two, but she was thankful for his help.
When class was dismissed, she left the class quickly. She could hear both Harry and Ron calling after her as she disappeared from sight, yet she didn’t turn around. She knew she was being childish, but if she faced them now, she would surely leave feeling a lot worse then she already did. It was no surprise then when in the next class, Charms, she avoided them, and indeed, for the rest of the day. It was at dinner, however, when she was forced into confrontation.
She had been sitting down for not a minute, when she heard - and felt - Harry and Ron plop on the bench beside her. She didn’t look up, but she could tell they were looking at her.
“So are you just going to ignore us?” Harry asked her. She could hear the hurt in his voice, and turned to look at the more sensible of her two best friends, giving him a small smile.
“I’m not ignoring you Harry,” she said, patting his folded arms. “I am ignoring Ron.” She turned back to her food.
“Hey!” exclaimed Ron in protest. She didn’t even acknowledge that he had said anything and began to fill her plate with food. She didn’t have much of an appetite, but eating gave her an excuse to not talk.
“What about me?” Ron asked, confused even more now that Harry was in the clear, but not himself.
“I’m sorry, Ron. Did you say something?” Hermione said turning to him after a very deliberately pregnant pause. “I was too busy being boring to notice.” Ron flinched, taken aback by her words.
“What did I even do?!” he said exasperatedly, throwing his hands up. Hermione snapped; she had been trying to keep her cool the whole day. That was her plan, to avoid them for as long as possible and prevent something from happening. But just as death is inevitable to all, so was the confrontation between Ron and her.
She slammed her hands on the table, causing many to flinch, startled at her outburst. She was glowering, her face turning red, and she didn’t even notice the intense pain rocketing up her arms from her drastic move.
“What did you do?! What did you DO?!” Hermione screamed, her body slightly shaking. “Besides insulting me, someone who is supposedly your best friend, you dare to ask me why I am so mad. What did you do wrong? Oh I’ll tell you what you did wrong. Since the time we became friends I have endured your off-color remarks; I have let you use my notes, and helped you study for tests. I even let you talk me into loads of things. Why? Because I thought you were my friend. I guess the feelings weren’t reciprocated.” At this point, tears were streaming down her face, and she stood there, clenching and unclenching her already pained hands. She bent down, grabbed her bag and gave him one last glare.
“Ronald Weasley, you are the most insensitive git I have ever known.” With a sad shake of the head, and for the second time that day, she walked out of the Great Hall, leaving silence in her wake.
Ron himself was stunned. He was so stunned in fact that he discarded the idea of eating (a big move for him). He looked to Harry for help, but his friend was also shaking his head.
“She’s right, you know,” Harry said, standing up. “You really should apologize.” For maybe the first time in his life, Harry turned his back on his best friend and followed Hermione out of the doors.
And for the first time in his life, Ron felt completely alone.