TITLE: It doesn't always have to start off like a firework
PAIRING: Draco/Hermione
TIMELINE/SPOILERS/WARNING: Seventh Year, BUT! Canon only until Goblet of Fire. No real plot, and I don't really want to have to deal with issues like the DA, Draco working with Voldemort and the Death Eaters (lol sounds like a band), Dumbledore's death, the full-time rebellion, etc. Also, I know they're not yet allowed to drink alcoholic beverages. But you can't convince me no one's snuck in a bottle or two.
DISCLAIMER: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, etc; its world, and other characters © JK Rowling. I am not making any money from this fanfiction, and wrote it purely for free entertainment. And because my shipper feels came back in a sudden rush.
A/N: Yes, I ship Draco/Hermione. It's on equal terms with Sirius/Hermione. I blame it on Prisoner of Azkaban and Hermione sassing him over the Nimbus broomsticks in book 2. I've actually written several stuff for them but never got around to finishing any until this time. Yesterday afternoon I was going through my otp tags at tumblr and saw some reblogs of D/H. Then I saw a recommended ff post and decided to read a couple of them. I think I stopped at the second one after reading Pansy being the 'other woman'/villain. It's been a long time since I've read HP fanfiction, and Pansy being a villain was something I got used to years back. But friggin hell after reading that ff I couldn't help but think, 'You know what, no.' That amateur shoujo bullshit has to stop. Not that I'm a pro, but you know. The trope has to end.
I apologize if there are any canon inaccuracies (until Book 4, that is). It's been years since I last read anything Harry Potter. I did consult the wikia from time to time, but who knows, I might have missed something. Sorry about that.
Last note: No idea what mungworms are. It just popped in my head when I was thinking of imaginary potion ingredients.
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It doesn't always have to start off like a firework
When Hermione Granger woke up that morning, she had planned to do only one thing during that year's first Hogsmeade trip— hang out with her best friends Harry Potter and Ron Weasley until it was time to go back later that afternoon. Usually she would lay out specifics, such as waking up at eight, meeting up with Harry and Ron at the common room at around eight-thirty, and then heading out for the Great Hall for a quick breakfast before strolling out to Hogsmeade by nine.
But it was the first weekend after a particularly hellish school week, and Hermione felt like taking whatever the day had in store for her. Basing from her experience, anyway, this wouldn't be the time of the year when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would attempt to make his grand comeback.
So yes, Hermione was contented with freestyling her weekend, even if it meant walking around more and fighting through the crowd for the whole day.
"You sure about ditching Pansy?" Hermione overheard a random female student from her line to the toilet. Three Broomsticks was overly crowded, and so the trio was forced to head to another dining place that wasn't named 'Hog's Head' or 'Madame Puddifoot's'.
Gossip never really interested Hermione, not when it didn't concern her friends. She usually just ignored them as engaging or even just passively listening didn't yield any productive results. She'd rather read a book or do her homework than to waste time in idle chit-chat that could turn quite malicious and destructive. The only time she would react was if her friends such as Harry, Ron, and Ginny were being targeted with spiteful nonsense, or when the topic was something that was critical to, say, saving the world. Rita Skeeter was a big example of how she dealt with gossipers who messed with her friends and her.
"Can you not mention that hag?" Another voice— a guy's one— said. "All she does is prattle on and on about anything and everything. The only time she'd ever shut up is if there's something in her mouth."
There was a light slapping sound and a short giggle.
"Is it true, then?" The female student said. "That all she's ever good at is talking someone to death and…" there was another fit of giggles.
Hermione glanced at the front of the queue. She was still two people away from getting in the toilet. She wanted to leave, but her bladder felt like bursting any minute now. Why didn't she go before heading out of the castle? Then she wouldn't have to suffer through people not having any decency to talk in a lower volume at a public place.
"She certainly is," the guy said. "But it's not really surprising, seeing as she's dated probably half the male population of Hogwarts. You can't be not good with that much experience."
"D'you think she's ever gotten pregnant?" The female voice gasped. "Sometimes I see her sulking alone in the common room or in our dorm room. Wait, you don't think she already had…? I mean, I never really see her stomach big, but who knows."
"At the rate she's gone," the guy laughed. "She's probably done it more than once."
Patience, Hermione believed, was one of her virtues. However, just as she had decided to abandon 'organization' earlier that day, she went on and chucked patience out of the metaphorical window.
Crouching behind a tall potted plant, Hermione finally saw the couple having a not-so-discreet reputation-smashing by a window-side table. With a light flick of her wrist and a muttered incantation, Hermione nodded in satisfaction as the two students she had recognized as Slytherins failed to notice the split-second shimmering of their tea.
Hoping she didn't look suspicious, Hermione dragged Harry and Ron away from the café before the unsuspecting couple would suffer from a horrible case of loose bowel movement. That should stop people from taking them and whatever bull they were spouting out seriously for a while.
Three Broomsticks was still full, but at least Hermione, Harry, and Ron were able to find a table— share, actually— with their Ravenclaw friend Luna Lovegood. It was cramped as the table was intended for only two people, but the three were deathly hungry and so they didn't let out a single complaint. After telling her companions what she'd like to have for lunch, Hermione headed for the toilet. There were four people in line, but whoever was inside left after just a couple of seconds and Hermione hoped the others would do their business quick as she didn't have any plans on peeing all over her pants.
"Just so you know, I still think you're beneath me, being a Mud— Muggle-born, and all."
Just as Hermione was about to turn her head, the girl who had fallen in line after her hissed that she didn't look. Of all the years hearing her taunts, Hermione was more than positive that Pansy Parkinson was the one behind her.
"Aah, some guys just can't take getting dumped," Pansy let out a heavy sigh. "I'm pissed that you got to them before I did, but I must admit that was an impressive job. I'd have mistaken you to be a Slytherin if I wasn't getting allergies just thinking about who you are."
And with that, Pansy left Three Broomsticks.
It was the closest thing to 'thanks' that Hermione could get from anyone in the Slytherin House, and hours later Hermione was still astonished that Pansy even bothered.
Perhaps not planning her day out wasn't such a bad thing, after all, Hermione decided.
Maybe it was the satisfaction of exacting 'justice' earlier that day, or perhaps she had one butterbeer too many, or maybe it was the shot of Firewhiskey that she took as punishment after losing several rounds of Exploding Snaps card games (she knew she shouldn't have, being Head Girl, but just once she decided to give in and make an exception), but Hermione volunteered to go out on a 'quest' to get more food from the kitchens. When the twins graduated two years back, it was much harder for the Gryffindors to grab food from the kitchens. With Harry possessing the Marauder's Map and Invisibility Cloak and Hermione wanting to constantly check up on Hogwarts' house elves to make sure they were being treated humanely and fairly, the trio often volunteered to be the food runners.
As it was already past ten in the evening, the hallways were clear though Hermione, Harry, and Ron rarely took them, opting instead for hidden passageways and stairs. After tickling the pear in a large painting that hid the way to the kitchens, the three slipped inside and Harry and Ron went on to gathering as many food as they could accept from the more than glad to assist house elves.
Had this been years back, Hermione would have been appalled and start giving away clothes to free the house elves. She didn't establish the Society for the Protection of Elvish Welfare for nothing. But after learning that going about her campaign through aggressive liberation wasn't working in her cause's favor, she decided to go about it slowly by first convincing people to treat house elves as more than slaves.
Dobby the house elf rallied more house elves to prepare more food, and he packed as many snacks and desserts as he could in a large sack. It was amazing how the tittering tower of knitted hats— courtesy of Hermione— he was wearing refused to fall.
After one last check on the unfortunately still alcoholic Winky, Hermione left the kitchen with Harry and Ron and four sacks of party food. All that was left was to go back to the Gryffindor Tower without being detected and they'd be good for the rest of the night.
Hermione was already giggling at the thought of pulling off another mischievous stint that nobody really expected of her when there was a loud meow coming from the top of the stairs they were taking. The three froze, hoping against hope that the blasted snitch of a cat of the caretaker Argus Filch would go away, but of course it was an impossible wish. As a faint light source came closer, the three raced back downstairs with the boys leading the way with the help of the Marauder's Map.
Inwardly cursing her recklessness losing a bet that she shouldn't have taken, Hermione stumbled after Harry and Ron and almost lost them when they jumped inside a small passageway hidden behind a unicorn tapestry on the second floor.
It would have been easy to catch up to them until Hermione realized she was going downwards rather than up. Deciding it was safe inside the passageway, Hermione lit her wand brighter. She'd just have to backtrack until she found a way that headed upwards. She made a mental note to memorize the different hidden passageways and possible routes they could take to go back to the Gryffindor Tower in case they got separated or she had no access to magical maps.
A quiet shuffling several meters up alerted Hermione, and to her horror she heard Filch's wheezing come closer. Cold dread filling every vein in her body, Hermione rushed downwards, following the spiral steps with such speed that she felt like she was flying. Which was actually partly true as eventually she lost her footing and took down another tapestry on her way out of the narrow exit.
Heart still racing, Hermione moved to disentangle herself from the tapestry, ripping the old fabric in her haste.
"Granger?"
There had been many times that Hermione had thought, 'This must be how it feels like to have a cardiac arrest', such as when she encountered the Basilisk back in second year or while watching Harry face his dragon during the Triwizard Tournament during their fourth year.
This was another moment that she would add to that mental list.
"Malfoy!" Hermione gasped, her breathing ragged and her chest hurting with her erratic heartbeat.
Of course she'd end up at the dungeons. There was no such thing as a 'perfect day' for Hermione whenever she was at the dungeons of Hogwarts. Only Slytherins experienced that.
She let out a short, choking sound as somebody yanked the back of her collar, and Hermione looked on in shock as her best friend's nemesis and one of the banes of her life Draco Malfoy dragged her to another hallway and to the back of a statue where there was a small, hidden alcove with a sliding entrance made of a stone wall. Hermione wanted to ask what the infamous Slytherin was doing, but Malfoy only shushed her before peering through the only crack in the stone sliding wall.
Hermione slid down the back wall, not minding anymore how dirty it could be or how cold it was. If she went back outside, Filch would catch her and she'd be put on detention. She didn't want to even imagine the disappointed look Professor McGonagall, the Head of Gryffindor House and her favorite Hogwarts teacher, would have once she stepped foot in her office. No, she'd rather be stuck with one of the worst people she's ever met than go through that.
"I think he's gone," Malfoy muttered. "But to be safe we should stay here for a couple more minutes."
A heavy sigh was all Hermione could think of replying to him with. Now that the firewhiskey's effect on her inhibition was wearing off, all she wanted to do was perhaps take a warm shower and then call it a night.
A dim light filled the cramped room, and Hermione swatted at Malfoy's wand when he brought it near.
"Isn't that a bit too much for a late night craving?" Malfoy said as he sat down on the other side of what would be more appropriately called a 'closet'.
Hermione crossed her arms as she mentally prepared herself for another Gryffindor-Slytherin tirade. "Shouldn't be of concern to you," she said with cocked brows.
"At the moment, it is," Malfoy said as he reached for the sack. "I was about ot head for the kitchens, myself."
He took out two custard tarts and a bottle of pumpkin juice before sliding the bag back to Hermione.
"I'm surprised you don't have Potty and Weasel," Malfoy said after taking a bite out of one of the tarts. "Or did they go off to have a little private session somewhere and left you dealing with Filch?"
Hermione only sniffed. "Jealous much?" She asked. She knew aggravating the guy trapped with her would be bad for the immediate future, but if he was going to make fun of her friends then she'd return the favor to his face.
"Yeah, not really interested," Malfoy said, and he finished his first tart.
Malfoy continued eating, and as the silence continued on Hermione was getting more and more restless. The guy was in the middle of finishing his drink when she decided to finally confront him.
"Alright, spit it out," she said.
She was only met with a stare, and then Malfoy wiped his mouth.
"Granger, don't mistake me for that ginger barbarian," he said. "And if you're going to make me spit out what I've already eaten, you shouldn't have let me have the food in the first place."
Hermione bristled. Of course. Malfoy had never made things easier for her.
"I meant what you wanted," she hissed. "There's no other reason for you to help me other than to force a deal out of it. So what do you want? Mind you, it's a one time thing only."
"Granger, I didn't save your ass," he said. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm another student outside of his dormitory during curfew. If I left you out there, I'm certain you're bringing me down to hell with you."
As if she would believe him.
"There's no point in pretending," Hermione said. "What do you want? A duel with Harry? Get an essay homework done? Play a prank on a teacher?"
"You're not the only smart person in this school, Granger," Malfoy said. "And as tempting as the other suggestions sound, I'm not interested. But if you insist on demanding a 'deal', then give me food to take back with me."
Hermione still very much doubted him, but she slid the sack over to let Malfoy stuff his own bag with pies, cakes, and bottles of pumpkin juice and butterbeer.
"You're taking an awful lot," Hermione remarked as she got back her sack which was how half the size it was before.
"I'm not the only one eating them," Malfoy said.
"Having a little party of your own?"
"You could say that," Malfoy leaned back on his side of the room. "Parkinson refuses to go to sleep until she's stuffed herself."
Pansy Parkinson. It wasn't too long ago that she somewhat had a conversation with the girl, and until now she still couldn't believe she did something to somehow defend her, and to add more to her surprise Parkinson all but thanked her for it.
"Still doubting me?" Malfoy smirked at her.
Hermione silently observed Malfoy. Parkinson was one of the few people she frequently found hanging around with Malfoy. Whenever Malfoy and them would have verbal sparring, more often than not Parkinson was there to chime in her opinion of them.
"Are you getting back with her?" Hermione couldn't help but ask. Malfoy and Parkinson had gone to the Yule Ball during their fouth year together. She didn't know how their dynamics went, but it seemed they got along well.
"Jealous?" Malfoy shot back at her with a sneer.
Hermione let out a snort. "As if," she said. "Let's just say I had an unfortunate run-in with her ex, and I was wondering if she'd be able to catch a break."
"Granger," Draco said in mock surprise. "I didn't know you cared for Slytherins."
"I don't," Hermione snapped. "Anyway, if you two are gonna get together, can you not treat her like that— that asshole did?"
Malfoy watched her carefully, his head slightly tilted as if assessing her.
"We're not going to get together," he finally replied. "And we've never been together at all."
Well that was news for Hermione.
"Then at the Yule Ball—"
"Last-minute decision," Malfoy shrugged. "We both didn't have anyone, and I prefer to not be a laughing stock."
Hermione paused before she spoke once more. If Malfoy truly didn't want to be embarrassed, why was he telling her about it? There was no doubt that Malfoy and his group distrusted and despised Hermione and her best friends as much as they did to his group.
Malfoy was confusing her more and more and Hermione wanted nothing more than to leave the small room and go back to the safety of the Gryffindor Tower. If Malfoy insisted that he didn't any ulterior motives in helping her, then she would stop insisting in case he changed his decision. With that in mind, Hermione got to her feet and dusted her pants and back. Malfoy followed suit. Wordlessly the two slid the stone wall aside and walked down the hallway and took a right turn.
"Bloody hell, I thought Filch had caught you."
Hermione rubbed the center of her chest. Yet another 'heart attack' moment to add to her list. Pale and looking like he had come at a run, Ron Weasley grabbed the sack from Hermione's hand. He stopped midway as he noticed Malfoy eyeing him with disdain.
"Sneaking around, Malfoy?" Ron said with a frown. "Careful, I'm pretty sure Filch can detect your stench even from a mile away."
"What a night to be out," Malfoy turned to sneer at Hermione. "Coming across a mudblood and a blood traitor. What's next, an encounter with a squib and a lunatic? Where's your ringleader? Passed out from all the food you've been pigging out on?"
Fred lunged at Malfoy, his fist cocked back and ready to strike. Hermione blocked him and pushed him back with a grunt.
"Don't waste your time with him," she gritted. And there she was, thinking Malfoy was being a little bit civil by referring to her by her surname and going mellow with the insults. "Come on, before Filch catches us."
Ron looked very much like he wanted to have another go at Malfoy, but Hermione tugged on his arm harder and he eventually walked alongside her.
"What were you doing in that room with him, anyway?" Ron grumbled as they turned at a corner and followed a grim-looking dungeon hallway.
"Came across him when I was running away from Filch," Hermione answered. "Where's Harry?"
"Keeping a lookout nearby with the map," Ron answered. It seemed it would take some time for his head to cool off. "When we realized we lost you we dropped off the food at the tower and came back. Nearly ran into Filch but we managed to get here through other ways."
"Thanks for coming back," Hermione said. "Don't know how I'd return to the Tower without being spotted otherwise."
Ron nodded in reply. "Let's hurry back, then."
Hermione was definitely going to bed after this, and hope and pray that Malfoy wouldn't demand anything from her with the excuse of saving her from detention and disappointing her professors and the headmaster.
Sometimes miracles astounded and impressed Hermione. Like how Harry and Ron didn't choke on their food as they inhaled as much as they could before they had to head down to their Potions class, or how their Slytherin classmates never ran out of things to insult them with each and every time they crossed paths with each other.
"What's the matter, Granger?" A Slytherin girl called out and pointed to dark circles around her eyes. "Busy sneaking around last night?"
"Oooh," another Slytherin girl said. "Is Miss Prissy actually a Miss Pu—"
"As if," Pansy Parkinson intruded with a smirk. "That tumbleweed-head's probably up all night reading her textbooks for the thousandth time. Wouldn't expect anything less from a nerd. Viktor Krum probably dumped her because she'd rather snog her books than an actual human being."
The rest of the Slytherin girls broke out in a fit of laughter and moved their sights on to Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown who were in line behind Hermione, Harry, and Ron.
It was for a brief moment that it might as well have never happened, but Hermione was sure that Parkinson gave her a curt nod before continuing with her jeers and taunts.
Hermione reached up for the bags under her eyes. As much as she wanted to sleep that night, the thought of Malfoy blackmailing her thwarted it. What if he did ask her to play a prank on one of their professors, or disrupt a class so they would be dismissed early, or— Hermione shivered— purposely embarrass herself during dinner at the Great Hall?
"You sure you're alright, Hermione?" Harry asked.
"If you don't stop asking me I might answer 'no' just to throw you off," Hermione suppressed the urge to yawn.
There really wasn't any reason to not talk about why she was with Malfoy last night, on hindsight, but at the time all Hermione wanted was to be left alone so she could finally get some sleep.
Should she tell her best friends about what really happened?
Yes. Yes, she should. Especially if there's 99.9% chance she'd be guilt-tripped or blackmailed.
"Move, Granger, we haven't got all day."
Shaking out of her reverie, Hermione let out a small tut and moved inside the Potions classroom. Everyone had already settled and Hermione joined Harry and Ron's table. To her annoyance and dread, Draco Malfoy had followed her.
"You're lost," she muttered as Professor Snape swept inside the room, the dungeon door slamming shut in his wake.
"I'm not," Malfoy answered, and he settled in his seat. Harry and Ron were both upset at the arrangement as well. "Because you were so slow, all the seats on my side of the room were taken."
Hermione scanned the room for Malfoy's cronies Crabbe and Goyle, and found them sharing a table with Parkinson.
"There's still space left," Hermione said. "Just take your seat and go away."
"Why so eager to kick me out, Granger?" Malfoy smirked.
"Why the bloody hell do you think, Ratface?" Ron all but snarled in his direction.
"Careful, Weasel," Draco said disinterestedly. "Everyone might mistake you for a beast and who knows, Professor Snape might consider making your spleen an ingredient for a new potion."
"Unusual to see you late, Malfoy," Harry said in pure dislike. "Been bullying a poor first year again?"
"Hah, from the looks of it he's out sneaking some more last night," Ron imitated Malfoy's sneer. "Do us a favor and get stuck in a broom closet with Filch, won't you?"
"Can't say I wasn't stuck in what seemed like a broom closet last night," Malfoy said with a haughty leer. "Though the company was a lot better than that filth. Want me to give you the sordid details, Weasel, in case by some miracle you managed to get a girl in with you and you're at a loss on what to do?"
Ron let out a low snarl as his face turned beet red, and Professor Snape promptly gave him extra homework for 'disrupting' his class.
Hermione, meanwhile, had gone pale. She should have told Harry and Ron what had happened before Malfoy made things worse. She shot him a glare, but Malfoy ignored her and continued writing down notes from Professor Snape's lecture. While it was suspicious indeed that Malfoy was nearly late for class, Hermione was more concerned about what he was planning.
"Never thought you'd be the type to be struck by a person's looks, Granger," Malfoy said quietly. There was a mocking tilt to his lips but he didn't turn to her. "Who knew you responded to sex appeal?"
She had a mind to kick Malfoy's seat, but instead Hermione moved closer to Harry and proceeded to ignore Malfoy the best she could. Knowing she had to act fast or she'd have to deal with a major misunderstanding and a huge headache later, Hermione wrote on a small piece of parchment that when she was running away from Filch last night, Malfoy had dragged her to a hidden room where they waited until they were sure that Filch wasn't in the dungeons anymore.
Folding the paper in half, Hermione moved to pass it to Harry—
— but someone else snatched it away from her.
"Ten points from Gryffindor," Professor Snape's cold voice reverberated from behind them. "Still passing notes at your age, Granger? Let's see what's been keeping your interest away from the lecture."
Yes, there were times that miracles have astounded and impressed Hermione. She never relied on them, though, and she'd rather prepare for anything and everything that might happen. She wondered if Ron or Harry had any dungbombs with them.
As half of the people in the class waited in anticipation and the other half in dread, Snape's eyes merely continued to move across the paper, his sneer fading into a frown. He then returned to the front of the class and ordered everyone to start working on their potions.
"Weasley," he said in a dark tone. "Partner up with Mr. Malfoy."
Ron let out a protest but stopped midway as Snape looked very much ready to give him even more homework. With a muttered 'sorry', Hermione grabbed her things and moved to Ron's seat while Ron begrudgingly took Hermione's place between Malfoy and Harry.
"What was that about?" Harry whispered to Hermione.
Snape must have been too shocked at what Hermione had written that he had chosen to keep quiet about it. After all, his favorite student Draco Malfoy was involved.
Hermione blanched.
"Are you really alright?" Harry asked as he leaned closer and patted Hermione's back.
Hermione nodded uncertainly. While she had written that she and Malfoy just 'waited' in the small room, it was possible that Snape would misunderstand and think there was something more, especially since Hermione hadn't written about the circumstances before getting chased by Filch and what happened after the caretaker was gone.
"I should've just stayed in the common room," Hermione grasped at her hair, making it appear larger in volume.
"Spill it," Harry whispered to her. "What's going on, Hermione?"
Much to Hermione's relief, Professor Snape hadn't called her after class, though he held back Malfoy. More than glad to get out of the dungeon room, Hermione grabbed Harry and Ron by their arms and didn't stop walking until they were out on the grounds on their way to Herbology class. She then finally explained what had happened and how she was now expecting Malfoy's blackmailing or guilt-tripping attempt.
"You should've just let me sock that Ferret on the nose at least once," Ron said.
"Yes, because that's a great way to avoid him blackmailing me," Hermione's voice dripped with venom.
She then turned to Harry, who had been quiet for the most part.
"What do you think, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"Maybe he really just didn't want to get into trouble," Harry said.
Ron let out a snort. "Yeah, right. Malfoy not scheming or taking advantage of an opportunity? I think I'd believe it more if Snape says he washes his hair with shampoo at least once a day."
"Malfoy doesn't have any proof against you, anyway," Harry told Hermione. "So just forget about what happened last night."
"Wish my conscience would let me," Hermione grumbled. "He did save me from a great deal of trouble."
"Didn't he say he was only looking after his own hide?" Ron said. "Just think about that and be guilt-free."
Hermione eventually agreed, and whenever she would start panicking from anxiety she held on to that thought until she had recovered fully.
The rest of Monday went by without any problems, much to Hermione's relief. She didn't overhear any horrible gossip about her or even encountered the person she was dreading the most at the moment.
That is, until dinner time at the Great Hall.
"Look who's got his knickers in a bunch," Ron snickered as he gestured towards the center of the Slytherin table.
Indeed, Malfoy looked mildly pissed. If the scowl on his face wasn't an indication enough, the empty seats beside and infront of him were. Crabbe and Goyle rarely left his side, though right now they were at the leftmost end of the table, casting worried looks at Malfoy before continuing to stuff themselves with porkchops and chicken drumsticks.
Hermione propped up a large book she had borrowed from the library and ducked behind it. If Malfoy was irritated, she wasn't going to attract any amount of attention until perhaps the end of the school year. Though embarrassed at the rate she was going, Hermione tried eating as fast as she could just so she could go out and escape. A couple of minutes later, she was bidding goodbye to Harry and Ron to find solace in the library. She rarely encountered anyone who disturbed her in there, and Hermione wanted to start working on all of her homework, even the ones due for the following week.
She was in the middle of her Arithmancy research when somebody took the seat next to hers. It was odd that the person would do so, as the library was large and there were plenty of other free seats and tables especially at this time, which was after dinner. However, homework was Hermione's priority and so she moved at an angle so as to not see the other person and be distracted further.
"Uhm," the other person cleared his throat. "Granger."
Said person let out a small curse. She had frozen at the voice that had called her name, and her quill spilled enough ink to have a significant amount of blot on her research paper.
Wanting to keep an air of calmness, she didn't bother to look at the guy.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" She said, continuing with her writing.
"Didn't anyone tell you to it's rude to not look at the person talking to you?"
"Hmm… If I recall correctly, you did the same thing during Potions class this morning," Hermione retorted, still refusing to look at Malfoy. As much as she'd like to think positive about her situation, Malfoy cornering her in the library didn't bode well for her. "So, what is it?"
But instead of an answer, Malfoy hooked his foot on one of the legs of Hermione's chair and spun her to face him. Hermione had a mind to kick him for ruining her handwriting with a large line accidentally drawn across the parchment, but she settled on crossing her arms with a huff instead.
"Whoever put you in a bad mood," Hermione said in a low voice, not wanting to attract the attention of the strict librarian Madame Pince. "I hope that person had a great day making you miserable."
"Believe me, he didn't," Malfoy said. He then let out a heavy sigh as he ran a hand down his face. "Granger, remember how I saved you from getting caught by Filch?"
Hermione's fingers twitched. 'I knew it. I'm doomed.'
It was one of those rare times that Hermione wished she didn't have a guilty conscience.
"Of course," Hermione said, still trying to act cool despite her rising panic in her mind. "You said you didn't want anything in return and settled on getting some of the food that I had with me."
"Well I changed my mind," Malfoy grumbled. He then let out another sigh before hanging his head low. Whatever he was planning to ask was eating away at him, and as Hermione watched him struggle she wondered if he actually needed help on something instead of ordering her to do something nefarious.
She let out her own heavy sigh.
"Alright," Hermione said, uncrossing her arms and putting down her quill on the table. "What can I do for you?"
Malfoy looked at her through his tousled hair. Taking a deep breath, he brushed the strands infront of his eyes aside and sat up straighter.
"Next Hogsmeade trip," Malfoy's hands clenched into fists. "Go out with me."
She knew it was generally rude to stare at people, but Hermione couldn't help it. This was the least she had expected to hear, especially from someone like Malfoy. She let out a derisive laugh but stifled it with both hands. Malfoy, telling her to go out with him?
"Malfoy," Hermione struggled through a suppressed laugh. "If this is a plot to infuriate someone, I'm not the most effective person to bring with you."
Hermione then thought for a moment. Unless Malfoy was attempting to make someone jealous? She was, after all, the least likely person he'd go out with. She was muggle-born and best friends with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, and she's always had better grades than Malfoy.
Hermione shook her head with a wry smile.
"If this is to annoy Harry and Ron, it won't work," she said. "I've already told them what happened and they wouldn't be surprised if you made me do something stupid."
To her surprise, Malfoy slapped a hand on his forehead.
'Aaaaaaalright…' Hermione started to doubt her line of thought.
As the guy seemed as if he couldn't believe with her own 'stupidity', Hermione figured it was something else. So perhaps her first thought was right and Malfoy plain and simple wanted to get somebody jealous.
"Why wait for Hogsmeade weekend?" Hermione asked. "If you're planning to make someone jealous, you can easily do it in a couple of minutes or even seconds within Hogwart's grounds."
Malfoy's left eye twitched.
"Granger," his lips curled into a spastic sneer. "Just how daft can you be? Has nobody else apart from Krum ask you out, that's why you can't even properly process what I just said?"
Hermione crossed both her arms and her legs with a glare.
"Excuse me for being unable to trust anything you say at face value," Hermione spat. "Why should I go with you on the next Hogsmeade trip? We're far from what you'd call 'friends', and don't tell me you simply wanted to go out on a date. Only an idiot would think it's that harmless."
Malfoy's expression and body language clearly said 'Merlin help me tolerate this fool any longer', but Hermione stuck by what she had just said. It was simply preposterous to willingly go anywhere with Malfoy. Was it an attempt to discredit her, then? To embarrass her out on the public?
Hah. She wasn't a sheep willing to get slaughtered. Yes, she was thankful for Malfoy's help that night, but she wasn't suicidal.
Malfoy got up from his seat.
"I knew it was pointless to go this far," he grumbled. He then turned and left the library, leaving a positively hopeful Hermione.
So glad was she to be able to dodge the bullet that Hermione continued working on her essays and research papers until Madame Pince kicked her out of the library.
... to be continued ...
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