FALL FROM GRACE

Author: Harikari

Notes: Here's chapter seven. How long has it been since my last update? Forever and a day? Feel free to throw tomatoes and other such things at my head. Feel free. 0.o Thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story - I really do appreciate the comments and constructive crit and read every word of feedback I get. I know I can't possibly be sorry enough to make up for the unthinkably long delay – it was horrible of me, I know. But real life tends to get in the way of things. I have a break from Uni coming up, though. And FFG is now my primary project when it comes to fanfic. So, here's hoping I can get some chapters out quickly! Please tell me what you think of this chapter – I'm not sure about it, myself. Again, I'm sorry about the long wait, and I hope you enjoy!

Italics now stand for emphasis, and --- stands for scene change. Apparently /thoughts/ no longer works very well no matter WHAT I attempt to do in order to fix it, so I'll be putting character thoughts in italics, also. Sorry for the inconsistency - and be sure to let me know if it gets too confusing, so that I can try something else.

SIX:

Pansy trudged to class.

She didn't want to go to class. She didn't see the point in it anymore. The Slytherin seventh year had a strong feeling, a logical feeling, that she wouldn't make it through the end of the school year. She was a traitor, and she knew very well what happened to traitors of the Dark Lord.

I'm dead. I'm dead. This had become her internal mantra.

Some nights Pansy would wake up in a cold sweat, a scream trapped in her throat and her heart pounding much, much too fast within her chest. On those nights she would breathe deeply to calm herself down. She would listen vaguely to the familiar sound of Millicent's snoring, and to the steady purring of Mr. Puddles (this was Millicent's pet cat, who was as large and vicious and loud in his sleep as his owner). She would think of Draco. Was he also awake in his dorm, staring blankly at the thick, green curtains that surrounded his four poster bed? Did he feel as trapped and as helpless and as scared as she did? Would she really give a shit if she knew he felt scared? Should she?

She stepped out of the large, arched door that led into the castle and started down the steps. She didn't acknowledge the sun that shone down on her, warming her; she didn't hear the birds singing in the trees. She was pretty sure she was going to be late for Care of Magical Creatures class. She took her eyes off of the progress her shoes were making and squinted across the grounds. She could make out a gaggle of Gryffindor and Slytherin students already gathered around Hagrid's hut; the half giant himself stood in the midst of the students, waving his hands in the air enthusiastically as he explained something.

She sped up her pace a little.

-----

"...be discussin' Jobberknolls," Hagrid was saying.

Pansy took up a position in the back of the class, behind two tall Gryffindors, and tried to act as if she had been there all along. She rose a little on her tiptoes and tried to get a look at the half giant. He was grinning excitedly - grinning like he usually did when he was about to introduce something dangerous to his class. There was a line of what looked like birdcages on the ground in front of him, covered with thin sheets. The cages sat silent and unmoving, almost as if they were completely empty.

Pansy knew better than to believe that. She thought, considering the half giant's history, that the cages looked incredibly ominous. The seventh year Slytherin cast a look around at the rest of the class. Most of them had expressions of nervousness or flat out fear written across their faces. She noticed, however, that the Gryffindor girl Hermione Granger had a rather relieved looking smile on her face.

Hmm.

"Now," continued Hagrid, his voice loud and booming as always. "Can anyone tell me what a Jobberknoll is?" Before the question was even fully out of the half giant's mouth Granger's hand had shot into the air. Pansy fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"You!" Hagrid boomed, but to Pansy's great surprise he didn't point at Hermione. Instead, he raised his hand and pointed at a spot just behind Pansy. The dark haired girl hadn't realized that anyone had come to stand behind her. She spun around with wide, frightened eyes that she couldn't help. Maybe it was Millicent, maybe it was -

"They're birds," came a familiar drawl. "They're birds that don't make a sound until the moment of their death. When they die they let out a scream consisting of all the sounds they've ever heard."

It was Draco. Pansy's eyes went back to being their normal size; she tried not to look too relieved. Draco had, apparently, been late to class also. Well, that or he'd seen her arrive and had moved through the crowd of students in order to stand near her. She found herself wishing suddenly that her and the blond had all of their classes together this year. That way they could arrive to every class with each other, and she wouldn't have to worry about being ambushed or-

She cut off that train of thought quickly. I hate Draco,she reminded herself firmly. I've been trying to avoid him in the classes we do have together as it is. She gave the blond a long, disapproving sort of look that she knew he would notice before spinning around again.

"The Jobberknoll's feathers are often used as an ingredient in potions that effect memory," piped in Hermione, as if she just couldn't help herself. The whole class turned to give her a bored sort of look and her face became rather red. I'll bet it's impossible for her to not answer a Professor's question, thought Pansy. I'll bet it would absolutely kill her to not answer a question.

She noticed, absently, that Granger was standing next to Harry Potter (which was absolutely nothing new), and that their redheaded Weasel friend was off to the side, next to Dean Thomas. She narrowed her eyes. Weasley was alternating between glaring at his friends in a half-hearted sort of way and shooting defensive looks at...her? Surprised, Pansy lifted her hand to swipe at some stray pieces of jet black hair that had escaped her pony tail. Why would he be...? Oh, no. She shot a quick look behind her. The defensive looks were directed at Draco.

Hmm.

"...with your partners." Hagrid beamed and watched as the seventh years shuffled around. It took Pansy a moment to catch up. Everyone seemed to be migrating into little groups before moving over to the covered cages. Great. She turned around and grabbed Draco's forearm.

"All right," she said - and she was careful to put a lot of venom and displeasure into it. "If we must-" But before she could finish she noticed the Weasel making his way over to them. His face was somewhat red, and he looked determined.

"I need to talk to you," he said, and though it probably looked to everyone else who might be observing like he was speaking to her, Pansy could clearly deduce that he was talking to Draco. The Slytherin girl caught a glimpse of Granger's stunned face, and had no doubts that she looked very much the same at the moment. "I-" And before the redhead muggle-lover could say another word, before Pansy really knew what was happening, she was being shoved forward. She stumbled a little and just barely stopped herself from crashing into the Weasel's chest. Furious, Pansy spun around, ready to tear Draco's head off.

But Draco was gone.

The blond had grabbed Neville Longbottom as a partner and was making his way over to a Jobberknoll cage.

"Well," said Pansy, still fuming. "I guess you and I will be working together today, Weasley." Angrily, the Slytherin turned and hurried to a cage. She kneeled and tore away the cover to reveal a small, white-feathered bird hopping silently around its barred home.

Merlin, she thought, as a pained looking Weasley kneeled beside her. She looked to Draco, who was poking his fingers into his Jobberknoll's cage and pointedly not looking her way. What was that about?

-----

Hermione sighed and spread some butter onto her bread. Some of the yellowish goo landed on the level seven Ancient Runes text she had open in front of her and she groaned before reaching for a napkin.

She hadn't been in the best of moods lately.

Her year so far had been absolutely dreadful. Yes, it was good that she and Harry were a couple now but, somehow, that didn't seem enough to make up for all the bad going on. There was that whole mysterious mess with Lucius Malfoy and the Parkinsons - Hermione was still convinced that something bad, something spawning from that very event, was going to happen some day soon; she scanned the paper carefully every day. And then, of course, there was Ron. Poor Ron. The Gryffindor girl was overcome with a horrible, guilty feeling that made her stomach twist in an unpleasant manner just thinking about what she and Harry had done to the redhead.

And then, wouldn't you know it, they had to go and top it all off with refusing to go to the Quidditch Pitch with Ron yesterday. That was bad. Really bad. Ron had already made it clear that he wanted some space - he wanted some time away from his two friends. And then the redhead had gotten up enough courage and forgiveness in order to ask them out for some nice broom flying and both of them had flat out refused. Not that they hadn't had good reasons...Well, at least Hermione had had a good reason (it wasn't like she immensely enjoyed her Head Girl duties). She honestly wasn't so sure about Harry. Why in the world had he needed to see Dumbledore? She definitely had to remember to ask him about that meeting.

Biting into her bread, Hermione looked across the table at Ron. He wasn't sitting near her, or directly across from her as he normally would be. Instead, he was across from her and a little to the left - he was closer to Dean and Seamus. He looked tired, and as she watched he poked his spoon into his soup in an uninterested sort of way; he was more playing with his food than he was eating it. He had said hello to her when he'd first sat down to eat dinner, but after that had quickly fallen silent. He looked upset - bordering on angry. Hermione thought it odd that his anger didn't seem to be directed at her. What else could he be angry about? She got another bad, twisting feeling in her gut when she realized she couldn't just right out ask Ron that question. That would be butting in - which is exactly what Ron didn't want right now.

Space, she reminded herself, and sipped at her pumpkin juice.

Trying to steer her thoughts away from her troubled looking friend she shot a look behind her and towards the Dining Hall entrance. No sign of Harry. Where was he? She eyed the slim form of Draco Malfoy as he ambled lazily through the doorway and over to the Slytherin table before turning back to her food.

"If he doesn't hurry up he's going to miss dinner," she muttered. To her surprise Ron looked up from his mostly uneaten meal and shrugged.

"You're right," he said. "But...Oh, there he is." Startled, Hermione spun around in her seat in time to witness Harry as he strode through the entrance - right along with an annoyed looking Pansy.

What on earth...? Stunned, the Gryffindor girl watched numbly as Pansy hissed something - no doubt something nasty - at Harry before breaking away from his side and heading straight for her House table. Looking a little troubled, Harry headed over. By the time he sat down directly across from her he had a smile plastered across his face.

"Hey, Herm." He leaned over and, without really thinking about it, Hermione leaned too. Their lips met in an awkward, brief kiss before she pulled away with a nervous look at Ron, who didn't seem to be paying attention to them at all. "Hullo, Ron," Harry added, just as he was looking over the available foods. The redhead nodded at him without even moving his head - he had his eyes firmly fixed somewhere else.

Hermione followed the redhead's gaze and was surprised to find it directed at the Slytherin table. Well. That was a little odd. Maybe he was waiting for Draco to turn around in order to glare at him? No. That didn't make any sense - Draco had hardly looked at any of them this year. He hardly looked at anyone anymore. He was no longer worth fighting with; or rather, the Gryffindors had nothing to fight with him about. So then what? Was Ron still mulling over the killing spree Lucius Malfoy had gone on? Maybe the redhead believed the Slytherin was up to something, or...

Pansy. The thought hit her suddenly, like a bucket of ice water to the face.

Was Ron looking at Pansy? That would make slightly more sense. Hermione guessed the Slytherin girl wasn't horrible when it came to appearance. She had her own sort of...charm. So was that it, then? Was the redhead checking Pansy out? Ron no longer constantly shot insults at the Slytherins, nor did he spend most of his time with his old friends. So maybe his eyes had strayed lately - strayed to Pansy, and he'd liked what he'd seen?

It makes sense. Hermione had witnessed the odd exchange between Pansy and Ron in Care of Magical Creatures class. And then the two had ended up actually working together. She had been wondering what it could possibly mean but...Well, now she knew.

Quite suddenly, Ron pushed his unfinished dinner to the center of the table - it promptly disappeared - and stood. "I'll see you guys later," he said, only half-looking at Harry and Hermione, before hurrying away from the Gryffindor table.

"Oh. Yeah, bye," Harry mumbled around a chicken leg.

Hermione watched as Ron headed for the Great Hall's exit. He reached it and vanished from view - vanished only a few seconds after Malfoy and Pansy had.

Ron had followed Pansy out of the Dining Hall. Hmm.

Hermione turned back to her food. "Harry?" she asked, and when the bespectacled boy looked up at her she continued. "If there was a way you could make Ron happy again...I mean, even if it was a bit unconventional and you knew there was a way he could have what we have together would you make it happen for him? Would you help him get it?"

"Yes," answered Harry, and his tone was so matter-of-fact and fierce that Hermione knew he meant it.

"Yes," she repeated.

Merlin. Ron and a Slytherin. Ron and Pansy Parkinson. The only thing that could possibly be worse than that was...Ron and Malfoy!

Oh. Yeah. Right.

Hermione finished off her bread.