Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own the handsome Draco, intelligent Hermione, or any others in the series of Harry Potter. Credit to all of these characters goes to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.
Author's Note: This is my first fan fiction. Please review! The setting is when they come back to Hogwarts for their 7th year after the war. Enjoy!
One pale, silver eyed fellow was prowling the corridors as usual. Well, not prowling, per say. Draco Malfoy liked to refer to it as 'patrolling'. On this particular night, the halls of Hogwarts were silent. This was because one Hufflepuff 5th year had decided to throw a little party – a party that Draco had been told not to go to. This had bothered Draco immensely, but he had merely pretended to not care. He had told Pansy earlier, "It's just going to be full of those bloody Potter idiots, anyway." This had calmed Pansy's nerves – whom he still shagged even though she was just as annoying as before the war – but not his own.
At nearly 1 AM, which was past curfew by 3 hours, he heard footsteps. Before this moment, he had not thought of where he was, but now his mind registered just which corridor he was 'patrolling'. Draco Malfoy had been spending his late hours in the Seventh Floor Corridor. His brows furrowed at the thought, thinking of how close he was to those blasted Gryffindors.
The footsteps were rounding the corner now, and would no doubt see Draco. He muttered a few choice words before stepping into the shadows behind a small statue. His eyes caught sight of a Gryffindor girl, all alone, with rather familiar hair. That brown bush of hair sparked a longing in his chest, and he knew who this was. The one girl that even he, the Slytherin Sex God, couldn't get his hands on – Hermione Granger. Draco hated to admit it, but he himself had harbored a terrible crush on the bushy haired bookworm since their 1st year in Hogwarts. Then, of course, there was that one mess up he made, that one thing he wished he could change most – Mudblood. Why did he have to call her such a thing? He regretted it terribly.
His silvery, piercing eyes scrutinized Hermione as she walked – no, stumbled – by the statue he was hiding behind. He realized only now how drunk she was. Her hair, though always bushy, was about twice it's normal size, indicating that those Potter idiots had done some major partying after all. His thin lips went down into a frown, even angrier that he had not been invited to this seemingly fun party.
He would have continued to stand silently in the shadows if Hermione hadn't fallen suddenly. She seemed to have tripped on her own two feet. With a slight twitch of his mouth – indicating the beginnings of that trademark Malfoy smirk – Draco stepped out of the shadows, and approached the bookish Gryffindor. Since this year began, Draco hadn't dared to tease the Golden Trio. This would be the first time that Draco talked to Hermione.
Her eyes, glazed and heavy lidded, gazed up at the silvery haired Slytherin. In a moment of sobriety, they widened in …was that fear he saw… shock. Still sitting on her bum, she crawled backwards away from him.
"Dun need your help, M-Malfoy..." She blubbered, glaring daggers at him. Looking down at her clothing, she cringed. For once, the Gryffindor princess was not in her usual school robes. In fact, she was barely wearing anything. A skimpy black dress with orange trim barely covered her breasts, and she vaguely remembered Ginny allowing her to borrow it for the party. 'Where is Ginny?' She thought to herself, but redirected herself to the current situation.
"Right, Granger." Draco said in a voice deeper than she remembered, and reached out to grab her arm. The arm quickly moved behind her so that he couldn't grab it.
"Bloody hell, Granger, I'm only trying to help!" The steely eyed Slytherin spat, grabbing her arm with a quick, firm grasp. He pulled her up to her feet in seconds, his hand lingering on the baby soft skin until she swatted it away.
"You just touched a Mudblood." She sputtered, confused as to why he would touch her at all. She was a Muggle born after all. This proved pointless, as Draco's eyes suddenly flared with an anger she had only seen a few times in her life. This time grabbing both of her arms – with a speed her drunken mind couldn't comprehend – he pushed her against the nearest wall.
"Don't call yourself that." He whispered frantically, gazing down at her. He was easily a foot taller than her, so this looked quite similar to an elephant attacking a mouse, and nothing at all like a slithering snake attacking a large, spunky lion.
"Call me what? A Mudblood?" She asked with venom, emphasizing on Mudblood. She raised her left arm, showing the area where Bellatrix had tortured her. The word 'mudblood' was scrawled there, still just as red and burning as it was when it was first put there. Draco cringed as he remembered that day in the Drawing room, watching her being tortured, and unable to help her. It hurt terribly to think of it.
"I said – don't call yourself that!" He hissed, quickly placing her arm back down to rest at her side. Giving her one last shove against the wall, he walked away without looking back.
Hermione stood there, paralyzed with confusion. She listened to his footsteps drift farther and farther away, unable to do anything. With a silent cast of the Disillusionment Charm, she finally regained her ability to walk. She felt sore from all of the shoving he had done, but she wouldn't dare tell anyone. No, if Harry or Ron asked, she would say that she simply had had lots of fun at the party. Yes, that would suffice, she thought.
Regret washed over Draco like a huge cloud of despair after he turned a corner, but he couldn't do anything about it. Malfoy's didn't feel pity, after all. However, they didn't help Mudbloods either.
So, what do you guys think? Terrible? Great? Want me to keep going? Review!