Inverse

Mercy

Chapter 3: Mercy

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Hermione didn't get the chance to speak with Malfoy for another two weeks. He had made his way to the Slytherin Common Room with Crabbe and Goyle the first week, and didn't dare sneak in after them to be trapped in enemy territory. The week after that, he had visited the library again, only to leave a half-hour in of working, and walked down to the Quidditch pitch. She watched him fly around a few laps by himself, diving suddenly, twisting in the air, and practicing his maneuvering.

She would never admit it, but he flew incredibly well—that is, if he wasn't constantly taunting Harry or trying to cheat. He flew with the confidence of experience; the way he held himself on the broom, or dismounted it with ease as if he had been doing it since childhood.

When her third chance came to talk to Malfoy, it was already mid-October. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons' students were due to arrive in eleven days, and once the tournament started, she knew Hogwarts would be filled with more students so prancing around under a Time Turner wasn't going to be easy, no matter how developed her stealth skills were.

He sat in the library near the large window, writing his essay in silence. Again, she had to admit, the guy was actually smart. Hermione may have been the top in her year, but Malfoy was consistently right behind her, and she was sure Snape's favor couldn't extend into giving him higher grades in his other subjects.

She walked up to him from behind, lifting the disillusionment charm and cursing her lack of social skills to start a decent conversation.

"Hey Malfoy," she began; he turned to her, scowling again. "Er—I just wanted to say thank you for the book."

"I don't know what you're talking about," his upper lip curled slightly. He turned away from her and gave his attention back to his essay.

She decided not to press the matter, thinking that it probably hurt his pride to enough think he had handed the book to her. Wiping off her silly smile, she walked away from his table and began scanning the shelves for something to read. He had picked a great section to study in. There were plenty of books around that interested her, and she would be able to watch him from the corner of her eyes.

Picking up a rather thin text on elves, she began flipping through the pages. She felt Malfoy's occasional stare, but kept the direction of her eyes lowered.

After reading through the book, she returned it back to its place on the shelf, unsatisfied. Glancing higher into the ridiculously tall shelves, she noticed a few thicker books of interest, but the other ones were too high up to decipher. She pulled the rolling ladder towards her, clamping down her fear of heights. It wasn't even that high up, maybe ten feet. Firmly gripping the old wood, she climbed the steps slowly, and carefully. Hermione read the spines again, catching a few books on elf history and service. She slipped the book off the shelf, and added three more to her stack that showcased similar material. Determined to take the particularly interesting text on house-elves, she grabbed the spine and pulled. She realized a second later that she had slid the book too quickly, taking the other books that were stacked on top of it. For a terrifying moment, she watched in slow motion as the stack tipped over the edge of the shelf and began to fall straight towards her head. She pulled her face back, but it had been the wrong decision. The books came slamming down on her chest, causing her to lose grip of the ladder.

The next thing she knew, she was on her back, lying on the carpeted floor of the library. The right side of her head felt numb. She grunted incoherently, and muttered a stream of impressive curses when she felt her whole body respond in pain. There were several books on her face, and she tossed them off with extreme effort.