Hello, my fellow lovers for fanfiction. This is my first fanfic, so I hope you like it. I would really love reviews, especially reviews asking for more of this story, and for some other stories.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. And I'm glad I don't, otherwise I would not be able to write my lovely fanfic, and I would probably not enjoy other people using my idea for fanfic. So I am glad J.K. Rowling owns HP (even if she gets all the money)
Draco couldn't watch as Granger, his enemy of six years, whom always bested him in everything, got tortured by his aunt Bellatrix Lestrange. A few Snatchers had gotten a hold of the Golden Trio and deposited them at Malfoy Manor. Who he was pretty sure was Potter (for his face was most hideous) and the blood traitor Weasley, were left to rot in Draco's basement with Ollivander, Dean Thomas, and the goblin Griphook. Draco swiftly left the room to hide himself from the horror in Grangers eyes, and rid his ears of her terrible shrieks produced by the Cruciatus Curse.
Draco, given Grangers beaded bag, ran to his bedroom to scour the mudblood's belongings. He rumbled through, oddly happy that he got to riffle through the purse. He shifted around until his fingers grazed something that he didn't expect to find in Grangers emergency bag. He gripped the soft leather and pulled it out.
So Granger had a diary? Draco smirked. He expected to find entries of how much she hated him, or how Weasley and Brown were snogging their heads off, or even maybe notes for her schoolwork. But he did not expect to find hearts written all over the first page with an H.G. +? inside a heart. So, the Gryffindor Princess has a crush. I wouldn't be surprised if it was Potter or Weasley. Draco thought. He turned the page delicately to read on. He may be a snotty, rich, pureblood, but he still was a gentlemen when it came to personal items. Plus, he didn't want Granger knowing he looked. He doubted she'd last against his aunt, but still.
Dear Diary,
Ron has been awful to me since he's been going out with Lavender. It's not that I don't like her, its just that Ron has been bloody ignorant to my feelings. Lavender is getting a little possessive over Ron too, I might add. I know that everyone is saying that Ron and I should date. Or even get married. But I really don't want to spend my life with a prat like him. I mean, I did like him and all, but to see the way he treats his friends…… I just couldn't live with it.
Also, I've noticed, that ever since 5th year when Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad discovered Harry's plan and he saw me lie to her, he's actually acted like a civilized man. Well, as civilized as that particular Slytherin git gets.
Draco stared at that particular Slytherin git in mild bemusement. So, the bookworm went for the bad boy type, or at least, what she couldn't have,
being Gryffindor Princess. As the thought of her liking a fellow Slytherin, a gleam of jealousy flashed in his eyes. Almost gone unnoticed by even himself.
"Draco Malfoy!" his deranged aunt screamed. Draco dropped the book on his green, silken pillow and darted out of the gigantic green room, not wanting punishment from Bella. Draco slid into the foyer at the same time Potter, Weasley, and the Malfoy's former House Elf, Dobby, appeared.
()()()()()()()()
Hermione did not feel the glass of the chandelier shatter into a thousand glittering crystals next to her unconscious figure, or felt Ron pull her up as they apparated with Dobby to Bill and Fleur's cottage. She did awake with a migraine to Ron sitting next to her bed stroking her hair. Tears glistened on his cheek.
"Wha…what happened? Is something wrong?" Hermione started to sit up, then fell back on the coarse bedding when her vision blurred. Fleur Weasley walked in just as Hermione regained her focus holding a delicate, white porcelain tray with two mysterious looking bottles, and a steaming bowl of broth.
"Zis ees for your 'eadache," Fleur passed a sickly green bottle to Ron, who measured out the appropriate amount. "And zis will 'elp any more aches and pains," Fleur said in her flowery French accent. Hermione sniffed the foul smelling brackish liquid and hurriedly gulped down the foul medicine. "You should eat zis. It should 'elp settle the stomach." Ron passed over the now not-so-steamy soup when Harry appeared at the door. He had tear streaks across his face, and was up to his knees in mud
"Oh Harry, what happened?" Hermione asked.
"Dobby. He saved us, and Bellatrix killed him. She's killed a lot of people." Harry said with fierceness in his voice. "And she's gonna pay." He added as an afterthought.
"But Harry, what about the horcruxes? And Voldemort? Are you just going to give that up because Bellatrix killed a few people? This is war, Harry. People have got to die, and its just unfortunate that they had to be on the good side." Ron pleaded. It struck Hermione odd that Ron could say something that meaningful. Or even knew something that meaningful at all.
"I know what I'm doing. It was wrong of me to bring my best friends into this, so I have asked Bill and Fleur to look after you guys," Harry said with a calm certainty.
"You…you're leaving us? HARRY JAMES POTTER!" Hermione raised her voice to that shrill note that cracked Fleurs' porcelain and made the fine hairs stand up on Ron's neck. "We agreed that Ron and I knew what we were getting into when we signed up for this, and we agreed that we'd stay together! We know perfectly well the dangers of this mission and Dumbledore entrusted the secret to not only you, but us as well! Dumbledore meant for us to do this together, and you know that Harry," Hermione's voice got deadly calm. "We have to come Harry, and you know it."
Harry's face impassive, he turned around and stonily walked out of the room
()()()()()()()()
Draco scrambled back to his room as the events before him appeared in slow motion. Bella's dagger went flying, crystals bouncing off everything, the spin of bodies apparating. A scream pierced through his reverie. Thick black smoke engulfed the foyer…. Voldemort had arrived.
Dear Diary,
Today, Buckbeak attacked him. I mean, he did provoke him (the stupid git), but a long, thin scratch ran down the length of his arm. It didn't look deep, but I only got so close. His silver hair was swept back on his forehead as he was babbling about stupid things. Buckbeak is NOT a chicken, he is a hippogriff, and Malfoy was overplaying his injury. Madame Pomfrey said it wasn't anything that she couldn't cure completely, but he insisted that he sling his arm for at least another week or so.
Draco stared in bewilderment. Granger actually was writing about him! That was absurd! Good girl Gryffindor Princess was writing about bad boy Slytherin Prince. The thought amused him. He rolled over on his stomach and yawned. Now that he thought about it, she did stand up for him and not that oaf, Hagrid that day. A wave of satisfaction rolled through him. Draco shook his head, what am I thinking? Am I really happy that goodie-two-shoes Granger stood up for me? Even after all the crap I put her through?
Draco pushed back his silky white hair as he thought about Granger. She was fierce, loyal, smart, mildly pretty if she would try to look nice like at the Yule Ball, and had sharp wit to match his own. He pondered his thoughts to as why he actually did tease her, beside the fact that she was muggle-born. He really didn't have anything personal against her (except the punch, but he'd accepted that ages ago). Maybe it was because no one else would stand up to him like she did. Maybe it was because she had a mouth on her to make even his mother proud. Or maybe….no, he would not go there.
Dear Diary,
So, Harry was right in his obsession with him. Not that Dumbledore didn't already know, but still. He is actually a tortured soul, I learned after Dumbledore's death. He only has good intentions, but puts his faith in the wrong place. He also was not the one who Avada Kedavara'd Dumbledore on the Astronomy Tower. A plus. I know he has good in him, it was just his upbringing. And possibly the fear for his family from Voldemort.
Gods, she was good, he thought. Draco in his sheltered, spoiled life had never thought that anyone, especially someone who was raised as a muggle, could understand him, much less his family problems. But then came the brightest witch of her age, Hermione Granger. And she understood completely.
()()()()()()()()
Hermione's bare feet padded through the white sand towards her best friend Harry. "Harry, can I talk to you?" Hermione spoke in a soft voice, not wanting her friend to go on another irrational fit of anger.
"Yeah, Hermione. I actually want to tell you something."
"Yes?"
"Look, I hope you and Ron can understand, well…I care about you guys too much and I couldn't stand to see anymore of my friends get hurt. I know you guys think I'm putting on the hero act, but it's not an act. I care about you too much to let anyone or thing hurt you. You have to understand when I ask that you stay at the Shell Cottage," Harry said, with a pleading look in his eyes.
"Harry," Hermione stated plainly as day. "We will not for the thousandth time, stay behind. You'd have to curse us to a coma before we'd be stopped. And Harry, I know you don't want to do that," Hermione stated.
"If I have to," Harry muttered so soft that Hermione didn't hear a thing.
"Dinner!" Bill called in his deep, booming voice.
()()()()()()()()
"You have failed me for the last time Lucius, Bellatrix." Voldemort scowled.
"But my Lord!" Bellatrix pleaded.
"Nothing more is to be said Bellatrix! Potter is gone, and that is that," Voldemort raised his voice and sent tears to Bellatrix's eyes. "Punishment shall be given to those who deserve it."
Draco stood as rigid as the statue of his grandfather behind his mother. Narcissa spread out her arms in front of him as if to protect him from Voldemorts harsh words.
"He's just a boy!" Narcissa wailed.
"But he accepted and failed. It was not him who killed Dumbledore, but Severus."
"I can redeem myself," Draco's voice didn't waver, but his insides were buzzing.
"Very well. Come in private with me and I shall review your request," Voldemort said with amusement.
()()()()()()()()
Hermione dragged her body to her room. Her feet felt like lead and her head was spinning. "Oi," was all she could manage as she collapsed on the shiny floor, feet from her bed. Harry, who was following her, tenderly picked her up, and laid her in Fleur's guest bed.
"Good night Hermione. Sweet dreams."Harry creeped out of the room, thanking Bill for putting a sleeping draught in Ron and Hermione's food. Once he was past the boundaries of Shell Cottage, he apparated away.
()()()()()()()()
Dear Diary,
Personality: 0
Body: 10
I am still not quite sure why everyone (girls and I've seen some boys give lustful looks in his direction) is all fallen over him. I mean sure, he's got the body of a Greek god; pale, sculptured muscles, paper white hair, and steely gray eyes, but his personality-YUCK! He's a prat, a git, and he doesn't even treat his own friends nicely! He can't respect anyone that isn't a pureblood, or anyone that isn't a pureblood that follows Voldemort. He's a whinny, suck up, and oh how he infuriates me! He could care less about most things that don't include quidditch, and has an arrogant, conceited outward appearance that I don't understand what those Slytherins love about him. And yet all that I just said, makes me like him a little more.
Draco pounded his head into the wall. Gods! She's making it so much harder! Draco just did not know if he could betray this bushy-haired friend of Potters to Voldemort. He knew what Voldemort was capable of and really did not want her to that same fate. Maybe Weasley, yeah, and Potter. But not her. Ever since Draco had first seen the hopelessness in her eyes at Malfoy Manor, he felt a certain possessiveness over her. She really didn't belong to him, she didn't belong to anyone, she was too strong-willed and stubborn for that. But he did feel as if they had some special secret that was just between them, the teasing, the occasional standing up for one another. It just made him feel protective and possessive. He picked up his favorite green quill.
Dear Hermione's Diary
Personality: 7
Body: 8
You are stubborn in a way that I can respect. You set your mind on something, and go for it. You are open-minded and your judgment is not clouded by prejudices and you are bloody brilliant. You can be prudish, and yet, I am probably the world's biggest git, so who am I to call you prudish. You are loyal to your friends and are supportive. You will probably always be there for your friends. Your rats nest you call hair, well, let's just say that I'd love to tangle my fingers in it. It's the same colour as your eyes, a warm, chocolaty brown. Your teeth are too perfect though, I did rather like them large, but then you had Madame Pomfrey shrink them too small! You're curvy, not too curvy, like Lavender, but not a stick either, like Pansy. The only downside are your feet. They are just too small.
Draco snickered. It was all true. For the most part. He did actually like her feet just the way they were, but he still couldn't help teasing. But it was time to put all the play away. He had a mission.
()()()()()()()()
Hermione woke up refreshed, and scanned the light filled room. Her eyes caught the profile of Ron's stony face. "What's wrong, Ron?"
"What's wrong? What's wrong?! What do you think is wrong, Hermione?" Ron pleaded. He turned to face the sunset again.
Realization dawned on her. Her pink lips formed an O. Anger, hurt, and tears burned through her face, threatening to spill. "How could he do this?" Hermione whispered. If she said it any louder, all her emotions would burst. She got off the bed and tore through the cottage, heading for the beach. Tears streamed down her face, stinging the lips that she was biting. She brought her hand up to wipe away the torrent of tears that flowed from her brown eyes. "How could he?" She kept whispering. She turned her head to the sunrise; it was a beautiful redish-orange. An old rhyme came to her that her Uncle had taught her. Red skies at morning, sailors take warning. Well, I'm not a sailor, she thought. But I might end up swearing like one when Harry comes back. She looked back at Shell Cottage; it wasn't even visible now. Hermione took another step into a hole.
She took a sharp intake of breath just as she heard her right ankle crack. Pain consumed her, it shot up her leg like lightning, and her muscles felt like they were stretched the wrong way. Hermione scrunched up her face in agony as she reached for her want. Her face screwed up even more when it wasn't there. She bent over and carefully sat on the gravelly beach. She gently grabbed her leg and tried to pull it out of the hole. Pain sparked a shrill scream.
()()()()()()()()
Draco's ears perked at the scream. Hermione, he thought. He ran his long, pale fingers through his paler hair, and started off in a run.
()()()()()()()()
The salty tears not only came from losing Harry, but also from the shooting pain in her ankle. I'm going to waste away on this beach alone, Hermione thought. She gripped her forehead, tears still running, when the faint crunch of feet on gravel interrupted the soothing crashing of waves. When she looked up, her eyes widened in fear. It was Draco Malfoy.
Please review! It's my first, so i would enjoy not having to read ugly, negative reviews (unless you really hate it, then I prefer you not review), but if they're constructive, like ideas, well, then those are welcome.