Harry Potter in its entirety is the work of J.K. Rowling. The quote used for the summary belongs to Stephanie Meyer.
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This story will not include
~ A fluffy romance between Draco and Hermione
~ Morally perfect characters of which would be wonderful role models to you and/or your children
~ Relationships that have my stamp of approval
This story will have
~ Characters that exhibit questionable morals
~ A sinister Draco Malfoy
~ Eventual corrupted Hermione
~ Mature and explicit content
Warnings
~Everything is fair game except non-con, pedophilia, bestiality, and incest. If this changes (something I highly doubt) I'll let you know~
The more she trusted him, the more she wanted his hands on her. In her hair and on her neck. She longed to be vulnerable in their custody. He knew how to take her to heaven, but he preferred to drag her through hell first, and she felt the angel in her vanish, and the devil in her beg for more.
Hermione heaved a tired sigh, resisting the urge to close her book and settle for glaring at her dark-haired best friend instead. Or rather simply ignoring him altogether and opting for looking out the window at the scenery that flew by as the Hogwarts express flew along the track. Her other best friend entered the compartment, saving her from the temptation.
"What's got you lot in a twist?" he asked, taking note of the looks on both Hermione and Harry's faces as he sat down.
Hermione raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at Harry, a look that screamed 'should you tell him, or should I?' on her face. When Harry made no move to say anything, she rolled her eyes, turning to face Ron.
"Harry is under the impression that Draco Malfoy is now a Death Eater," she confessed.
Ron spluttered, and Hermione smirked, satisfied with his reaction. He turned to face Harry, a look of incredulity on his face.
"Malfoy? Sniveling daddy's boy Malfoy?"
Harry huffed, visibly annoyed.
"I saw what I saw, and what I saw looked like some kind of initiation," he started again.
"Harry…"
Harry glared at her, lips pressed together, and green eyes practically glowing.
"You are the brightest witch of this age, Hermione! I refuse to believe that you are this…dense."
"I beg your pardon?" Hermione gasped, offended that anyone would dare use the word dense to describe her.
Harry muttered something while running his hand through his hair before leaning forward.
"His family and his friends have always bought into that blood supremacy bullshit, Hermione. His father is one. His aunt is one. Surely, you didn't expect him to be on our side when the time came, did you?"
Hermione shifted in her seat, reluctantly mumbling a quiet 'no'.
"Okay, so… Why is the thought of Malfoy following in his family's footsteps so...so…outrageous?"
Hermione pursed her lips as they both kept their gazes on her, awaiting her response. Ron was merely curious, wondering if she would buy into this while Harry so desperately wanted to convince her that the possibility of Draco Malfoy being dangerous now was very high.
"You have…a point, I will admit. No, the idea of Malfoy sporting a Dark Mark now isn't…preposterous. With that being said, it's Malfoy, Harry." Harry's shoulders slumped, and she continued. "He's never been one to have much of a…backbone. He always has been what my father would call a paper man, taking almost nothing to make him crumble. I suspect that becoming a Death Eater requires…a decent amount of bollocks, one might say, something that Malfoy has never had."
She threw him one last sympathetic glance before returning to her book. She could tell that Harry wasn't very pleased with her answer. However, it did seem to placate him enough to let the subject drop…for the time being, at least.
"I…I don't understand," Hermione said, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she regarded her professor.
Professor McGonagall's face held a somber expression.
"The Headmaster and I feel that the chances of many of you returning next year are quite slim, especially with the way things are at the moment. We collectively made this decision to give you something that you've worked very hard for, something we fear you might not be able to experience next year," McGonagall explained.
Hermione could hardly believe what she was hearing, but her confusion did nothing to diminish her excitement.
"So there will be four Heads this year?"
"Not quite," McGonagall began as she stood and made her way towards her student. "You and the would-be Head Boy for next year are still technically Prefects. However, if either of the current Heads are not available, that responsibility will fall on one of you. If they should ever need extra hands, the two of you will be the first choice. You will have a bit more authority than the average Prefect, and lastly, the two of you will have your own dormitories just as the Head Boy and Head Girl would."
Hermione released a breath that she didn't know she was holding, eyes sparkling in delight. She took note of McGonagall's growing frown.
"I had hoped to tell you both this at once, but it appears that Mr. Malfoy is running late. I simply couldn't wait any longer, and I suppose that I'll have to inform him when he finally deigns to grace us with his presence," she tutted.
Hermione blinked, enthusiasm slowly dying as she registered McGonagall's words. Of course, Malfoy would be Head Boy. It didn't exactly come as a shock, but she was still disappointed, nonetheless. She nodded, taking her leave as McGonagall dismissed her.
She walked along the corridor with her head down and a blinding smile on her face. Her fingers were dancing and playing with one another, excitement coursing through her veins. She too had worried about next year, worried if they would be coming back, at all, and as superficial as it sounded, Hermione had indeed worried about not being able to be Head Girl. She'd worked so hard for that, and it was finally paying off. All of those late nights she'd spent bent over a book, and all of the teasing she'd had to endure from her friends was finally worth it.
So filled with excitement was she that she didn't notice the tall fair-haired figure that walked past her, only taking note of something being off when the smell of jasmine lingered in the air.
Hermione watched the beautiful bird fly off, already wondering how soon he would write back. She'd had no intentions of coming up to the Owlery so soon, but it was her first day back, and she couldn't contain the exciting news that she'd been privy too. Not even the fact that she had to share a dorm with Draco sodding Malfoy could diminish her spirits.
She released a happy sigh, looking out over the school grounds with something akin to contentedness. Fall was practically upon them, and the approaching season, her favorite season, only helped to lift her already good mood. The only thing that broke through was the faint smell of jasmine wafting through the air, and she frowned the smallest of frowns.
She looked over her shoulder to see a tall figure cooing to an owl. His back was facing her, but she recognized that blond hair nonetheless. He was sporting a simple black jumper with black slacks to match, the fitted shirt clinging to his arms and back. Hermione didn't realize that she was observing him so wantonly, admitting how well the combo suited his fair hair and complexion, and fit figure, something she'd never noticed before. She frowned before looking down and away, wondering what had gotten into her.
"Writing to mum and dad?"
She jumped, startled by his voice as she had not expected him to acknowledge her presence, at all.
"No," she softly replied, having no urge to elaborate.
"A boyfriend then, perhaps?"
She looked up again to see the dark feathered creature perched on his hand, perfectly content to allow the Slytherin to stroke her, long and gentle gingers trailing over her as if she had glass for bones.
"A friend… Viktor," she finally confessed.
He hummed, eyes never leaving his feathery companion as he spoke.
"I didn't realize that the two of you still kept in touch," he offhandedly commented.
"We don't talk regularly, but… We converse several times a year," she said, wondering why she was telling him this.
He'd made no derogatory remarks towards her nor attempted to curse her or anything of the sort. He appeared to be being civil, and so, Hermione returned the favor. Nevertheless, she still warily eyed him and took a step back as he approached the window, cooing at the bird one last time before allowing it to take flight. She felt heat rise to her face as he looked down at her, eyes the brightest she'd ever seen them, almost appearing to be white as they caught the sunlight.
"Do you mind if I have a word with you?"
She frowned, taking another step back as she regarded him, suspicious.
"No…I don't mind," she finally said, crossing her arms over her chest.
Malfoy leaned his shoulder against the wall as he copied her, forcing the fabric of his jumper to stretch over him.
"I want to formally apologize to you."
Hermione was sure that the shock she felt was displayed all over her face, if the small smirk that graced his lips was anything to go by. She took a few seconds to gather herself before replying:
"For what?"
"For everything. For my behavior from the very first moment that we both set foot into Hogwarts," he answered.
She blinked, taken aback and unsure of how to respond to that, so he continued.
"I was a foolish boy who was raised to believe certain ideals and beliefs, beliefs that I no longer agree with…" Hermione frowned at that, her confusion visibly evident "…I was trying to impress the wrong people, people that fool-heartedly believe they are better simply because of who their parents are. I find it quite…embarrassing that people who are supposedly superior can't even manage to go beyond the bare minimum of what is to be expected of them. Wouldn't you agree?"
He tilted his head, gazing at her in question. Hermione nodded in agreement, still at a loss for words.
"It takes more than simply saying you are the best to actually be the best. It takes skill and discipline and intelligence, something a lot of those people do not possess. It is something that we have, though. Hence, why we find ourselves in the position that we are in, now." He took a step towards her. "I'm not just apologizing because we're going to be living together for a year, and I wish to make my life easier. I'm apologizing because I sincerely regret my actions. I was ignorant and stubborn, and quite frankly, an idiot…in more ways than one."
Hermione still didn't know what to say, too rooted in her place by shock to utter a word.
"You don't have to accept my apology. You're not obligated to, and you have every right to continue hating me-."
"I never hated you," she interrupted with a shake of her head, finally speaking.
It was the truth. Despite everything, she found that she had never hated Malfoy, could never find it in herself to. She was, however, always at a loss as to why he seemed to hate her so much. Of course, she knew why, but hating someone over something that was out of their control, like their parentage, for example, was always a baffling notion to her. It was something that she had never been able to understand, that confusion only growing when she continued to prove that she was far better than any pureblood to have ever walked these corridors, and he continued to hate.
"All the same, here's to a year of us getting along," he proposed, hand outstretched.
She eyed him before hesitantly clasping her hand against his, a shudder passing through her when his fingers grazed her wrist.
"Okay," she agreed.
Even after Draco Malfoy was long gone, Hermione ran the ordeal over in her mind in awe, the scent of jasmine still clinging to her robes.
~SD~
