Notes: Congratulations to me! I won the analytical writing award at my school last week! *crickets
chirping* Oooookay then. On with the fic!

For Earth is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

by Pata
 
 

Chapter 2
Math Tutoring
 

I opened my mouth to tell the second half of my story, but no words came out. There was a very
pregnant silence.

"Mr. Malfoy," one of the judges prompted.

"I’m sorry, Justice, I was just…arranging my thoughts," I said, just a little too quickly.

The judge’s eyes rolled over me, and then over to Hermione, and back to me. Finally, he spoke.
"Please continue. We are eager to know why you committed this murder." The light tone of sarcasm
in his voice did not go unnoticed.

I nodded politely, finally gathering the selective facts I was going to use and shoving all knowledge
of the next fortnight and a half into the back of my mind. Nothing in the three weeks after the incident
on the rock could be heard or said in this court. My parents would kill me.

"While Granger claimed she felt fine after her dip in the lake, I insisted that she go to the Infirmary
lest I had hurt her," I said, clearing my throat nervously. "I wanted to count the injuries, and I had to
go myself, due to the broken nose she had given me."

*

We walked to the infirmary together, not talking. Upon our arrival, Granger wet and cold and
shivering and myself with a bloodied face, Madam Pomfrey threw a near-fit. She laid both of us
out in beds, giving us various soups and remedies and medicines.

Hours passed in silence. We spoke not at all, and the only sound was Madam Pomfrey rummaging
through cabinets and treating other patients.

And then, around four, Potter arrived. He peered cautiously around the door, and, upon spotting
Granger, took a tentative step into the room. "I brought your homework," he said, running a hand
nervously through his black mane. "Malfoy, I got yours from Pansy Parkinson. Here."

He placed a pile of notebooks next to my bed. I craned my neck in order to see what they were.
"Thanks," I managed to say.

He stared at me like Hell’s dogs had been unleashed through those words. I suppose he was
unused to any form of kindness from me. Granger took her books as well with a nod of appreciation
and Potter left us.

Granger sat up, taking her books in her lap, and began to work. I forced myself onto one elbow
and took the first book. Arithmetic. I opened the textbook and took a pencil in my hand, turning
to the specified pages.

Granger, having already done a good number of problems herself, peered over at me to see what
I had done. Half a problem, I’m ashamed to admit. She clucked her tongue disapprovingly at me.
"Malfoy, you’re doing it all wrong."

"Really?" I snapped, meaner than I’d intended. "Why don’t you do it?"

She threw off her covers and got to her feet, checking hurriedly make sure Madam Pomfrey was
preoccupied with another patient; she was, a small, nervous-looking boy with skrewt-related burns.
"Fine," she said resolutely, "I will."

She took a seat next to me on the bed, flipping the pages of the book to the original lesson plan.
Slowly, carefully, she read them to me, explaining it in laymen’s terms as she went. And as she
talked, the pieces gradually began to fit together.

It was fascinating. We got out of the infirmary a few days later, and my scores, in Arithmetic
especially, had skyrocketed. I’d had a B average before, and now it was rising to an A or A+. I
was stunned, but not as much as Granger. She was amazed at the way I was learning things, and
my new attitude toward education.

"Malfoy," she said to me one day, some weeks later, "you’re doing amazing in your scores! I
can’t believe I actually helped someone so much. You’re a very intelligent boy."

I smiled at her. I can’t explain it, but I did. "You’ve helped me so much. Look, can we make this
a regular deal? Can you tutor me…every Wednesday and Friday?"

She agreed. And every Wednesday and every Friday I would go to the library to meet her, and
we would study. Our meetings became increasingly more frequent, and longer.

I –

*

"Why?"

The comment was sudden, unexpected. It broke my rhythm of speech and made my heart leap into
my throat and veins pump harder with this new accusation. It was little Ginny Weasley who had
spoken.

"What?" I asked, bewildered.

"Why?" she repeated. "Why did your meetings become more and more common?"

I choked on my words. "I…uh…"

I glanced at the head judge for help, but he was clearly not on my side. He pursed his lips into a thin
colorless line and rested his hands on the table, slightly raised, fingers touching. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy," he
drawled, "tell us why."
 
 
 

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Chapter 3