Everything You Think You Know
By: PhotoshopWhore
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I don't own any of these characters.
NOTE: Okay. I'm terribly sorry to all you Draco/Hermione fans, but this story has taken a 180 degree turn. It was going to be an epic Draco/Hermione love story called The Calm Before the Storm, but now it's now a Draco/Harry Oneshot. When I started this fic more than a year ago, I intended it to stay Draco/Hermione, but I lost heart along the way. I neglected this fic, and I'm sorry to the people who wanted to read the end. Since neglecting it, I have grown to love the Draco/Harry pairing more than all. I still love Hermione as a character, but I can't ignore the subtext that is Draco and Harry's relationship. I left the beginning of this story the same, but then I decided to change it up a little. I know it starts out slow and depressing and ends on a much different note, but I hope you'll forgive me and like it anyway. Please appreciate it for what it is; my first and probably only fanfiction. I think I'm much more suited to reading them than writing them, and there are far more inventive writers than myself. However, I am slightly proud of this story, and I really hope you'll enjoy it. I'm usually a fan of Sub!Draco and Hurt!Draco, but I can't seem to write it the way I want. This story is not very canon, but I feel that Draco can be written in so many ways that it doesn't matter. He is and will always be my favorite character to write and read about. Oh, and it hasn't been Beta'd. Please excuse any errors. Without further ado, here is this story:
Everything You Think You Know
Draco Malfoy had defied his father a total of three times in his young life. Once over a piece of muggle candy at age four, once when he was eleven years old and wanted to ride his broom after dark, and once again when he was thirteen.
The first two attempts had been, shall we say, mostly harmless. Young and naïve Draco had thought nothing of pouting over a piece of candy at the young age of four. He'd always thought his family was pretty normal. He loved his mother dearly, and wanted to be just like his father. It was an unspoken rule in the Malfoy household that he was never to cross his father. Even as a toddler his father never showed him excess in the form of affection. So when Halloween had come around that year and Draco was forced to attend the usual upper-class Soirée, he was, as always, extremely bored. So when the maid had become a little tipsy over the wine and turned her back, young Draco snuck away. He had reached muggle London in record time for such a small boy. They always knew he was smart, after all. He had been pleasantly surprised at all the little muggle children racing around in their homemade costumes, screaming and eating candy. Of course Draco had wanted to join in the fun, so he promptly grabbed a bag of candy off an unsuspecting child and set to work eating his way through the entire bag. It wasn't long before he was found by dear old Lucius; and the man had been simply furious. Draco had gotten a talking to over that one, and needless to say his rump was rather sore for a few days after that.
Draco's next brush with his father warranted a bit more punishment. This time he had disobeyed a direct order. It was the day of his eleventh birthday and he had just gotten a spectacular new broom. Aerodynamic, streamlined, beautifully finished, in essence; the works. It was getting late and the sun was setting after a lavish day of delicious cake and mountains of presents. Draco was dying to try out his broom; but his father would have none of it. He was forbidden to ride it until the next morning. However, this little order didn't sit well with young Draco at all. He longed to see if his broom was really as fast as the advertisement claimed. So, late that night he had sneaked away to test out the beautiful new broom. His whoops and cries of delight had woken Lucius, and he had had his first taste of the Cruciatus curse that night. Perhaps that was the night he had really started to fear his father.
The third and final defiance of Draco's father had happened after his first taste of Lucius''work'. He had been "invited" to attend his first Death Eater gathering, and was very pleased with himself. Draco had always wondered exactly what went on at these so-called gatherings. He had taken it for a sort of high class party, the type he usually attended around the holidays. The strong and experienced Death Eaters would welcome Draco into their secret teachings, imparting knowledge and teaching him their ways. He had always considered it to be a great honor. That is, until the night he went with his father. The night was vividly imprinted in his mind.
Lucius and his son walked briskly and quietly through the quiet cemetery. It was dark except for a few stars, nestled away in the inky black sky. Draco was about to make a comment about the duration of their visit, but Lucius silenced him with a glare.
"We are nearly there, my young son," He said. "Soon you will earn the honor of this visit, and learn to appreciate our higher cause." Draco only nodded, in awe of his father, perhaps for the last night of his life.
They neared the large crypt that marked the center of the graveyard and stopped, listening. Draco promptly began to hear the hushed voices of many men; they had arrived at the gathering. He looked closer and saw that the men were arranged in a circular formation. He couldn't see what was at the center yet, but the crowd immediately parted before them as they walked. Lucius had much respect among the others of his cause. Lucius motioned for Draco to step forward, and with a malicious grin, stepped out of his line of vision.
As the circle drew apart, Draco peered through the looming faces into the center. There, lying prone and beaten was the figure of a young muggle girl. She looked to be perhaps a few years older than Draco himself, no more. His eyes widened ad he viewed the sad form. No one knows why the girl chose that particular moment to open her eyes, but she did. Her thick lashes, crusted with dried blood, wearily heaved themselves from her cheekbones. Her eyes gazed around contemptuously, and then settled on Draco himself. His breath caught in his throat. She held no malice in her gaze, only pity for him. Thoughts raced through his head as he held her deep brown eyes with his own icy grey ones.
'Had his own father, who he respected so much, aided in doing this to her? Was this what truly happened at these meetings? The merciless beating of muggles, who had no defense against the attack?' Draco's mind filled with doubt. He had been taught all his life to hate muggles and muggleborns, yet had never really understood why. Ever since he first laid eyes on them on that cold Halloween night, he had only been fascinated with them. Surely he wasn't supposed to hate them purely for being what they were? Still he upheld his father's diluted notions while at school, but after his third year his heart was never really in it.
Moments passed. Lucius' cold hand gripped his son's shoulder.
"See her, Draco? See the filth? See how she litters the very ground she lies upon? She is worthless, unable to do magic, and a bane of this earth." He hissed. "Watch us now. Watch us and learn, Draco, for this is your inheritance." He then stepped away, walking slowly to the girl on the ground.
She attempted to raise herself, staring with loathing into Lucius' eyes. He mercilessly performed the Cruciatus curse upon her, pleasure lighting in his eyes as he watched her writhe in pain. She wrenched away her hate-filled gaze from Lucius, and glanced to Draco. He was clenching his fists, shaking, and he met her gaze full on. He was unable to look away as her eyes clouded over. He never once saw fear in those eyes, only the pain she was undergoing, and the pity she felt for him. He watched as her movements became stiff and slow, her breathing shallow and raspy, and he watched as the last shaky breath escaped her body. When she died, her eyes remained open. Pools of brown once so rich now clouded over in the haze of death. The image had forever haunted him.
Back at the manor he had been unable to form words. If his father had expected his wholehearted pledge of allegiance, he was sorely mistaken. Draco wouldn't speak to him, wouldn't look at him, and he became infuriated. He lashed out at the boy, harsh words coupled with the pain of his own hands, and later, wand. Draco just looked at him; just looked at him with such hatred in his eyes. Gone was the respect and reverence. Lucius was unable to cope with the fact that his perfect son, his heir, had more of a heart than he'd ever have. He was unable to grasp that someone who he had raised flawlessly to support his cause, could now barely look him in the face. Their voices fought for control as Lucius verbally abused his son. Draco had made the mistake of opening his mouth in the first place. The next morning, he didn't get out of bed.
Seventeen year old Draco lay awake in his room at the manor. It was five o'clock in the morning, and he couldn't sleep. Often he was plagued by visions of that night in the graveyard, and this night had been one of them. He slowly raised himself from bed, brushing aside the thick silken quilt, and placing his feet on the cold stone floor. Yawning silently and running his hand through his silken hair, he slowly made his way to the bathroom. He splashed his face with water from the tap, wincing from the cold. Draco stared at his face in the mirror. Looking back at him was certainly not the young boy he had been at thirteen. His stunning silver eyes, pale skin, and luminescent hair stared back at him. He knew he had the looks that the Malfoy's were famous for, but didn't really pay attention. He knew he was beautiful, really. A dark angel. He was seventeen now, just about to enter his seventh and final year at Hogwarts. The train was leaving that day, and he had packed the night before. Sighing, he started the slow process of waking himself up. As he stood under the steaming water from the shower, he was almost glad to go back to school.
Hermione Granger laughed at her redheaded friend's joke. She was sitting comfortably on the Hogwarts Express, with her three favorite people in the world. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and his sister Ginny. She was having a wonderful time, and was perfectly content, but alas for Head Girl duties. Yes, that's right. Hermione Granger had gotten the title of Head Girl over the summer. Her friends weren't surprised. They knew that with her outstanding grades and winning attitude she was sure to get the position. She wasn't officially sure who the Head Boy was, but she had a fairly good guess. Draco Malfoy had been second to her in grades for as long as she could remember. Who knew that under that egotistical shell he was one for knowledge like herself.
While her friends were busily engaging in a rousing game of Gobstones, she excused herself from the compartment on the pretense of using the loo. She walked slowly down the corridor on the way to the Head's Compartment, and her thoughts drifted back to the infamous Draco Malfoy. Yes, he was a puzzle, wasn't he? Last year his insults had steadily declined. He no longer called her that awful word. Hermione cringed as she thought this. Mostly he was silent, always looking so lost, even when he was surrounded by his housemates. She knew he didn't really have friends. He'd just sit in class day after day, diligently doing his assigned work. He barely spoke but to answer a question, and Hermione worried about him. Being a Gryffindor, she was forever compassionate towards anything and anybody. Even Draco Malfoy. She didn't really hate him anymore. Sure he had always annoyed her, and his insults stung, but she was too old for that nonsense. She knew he hated Harry, and despised Ron, but for herself she didn't really know. Sometimes they engaged in a good match of verbal sparring, which she felt refreshing and fun in a twisted sort of way. Hermione craved the intellectual release that he provided; no matter that she got made fun of in the process. She wished she knew his story better; his eyes were always so stony and closed off. He shut away everything and anyone who tried to get close to him. Hermione knew his history with girls. He'd have a little fling with them and then cast them aside, breaking hearts wherever he went. She feared she'd never understand him. And if there was one thing Hermione hated, it was not being able to understand something.
Her wanderings had finally taken her to the Head's compartment. She paused outside the door, unsure of the reaction she would receive. After a lengthy mental battle she resolved to just get it over with. Her delicate hand turned the knob graciously, and she stepped into the compartment.
Draco Malfoy glanced up as Hermione opened the compartment door. He gave her a withering glance before returning to the book in his lap. Hermione gazed around awkwardly, surveying the room, before flicking back her unruly hair and settling in the bench across from him. Malfoy looked up from his book once more and studied her. Well she's always been pretty. He thought. She just doesn't know it. He didn't really hate her all that much. Sure she annoyed him to no end, but not solely because of her blood. She was infuriatingly perfect, and if there was one thing Draco hated more than anything it was perfection. Perfection was demanded of him on a daily basis. Perfect clothing, perfect grades, and perfect manners. He knew in his heart that no one could ever achieve absolute perfection; the issue was getting that thought into Lucius' head.
Hermione had been eyeing him out of the corner of her eye for some time now. He appeared to be immersed in his book, but he glanced up now and then when he thought she wasn't looking. She couldn't deny that he was beautiful, sitting there with an absentminded frown on his flawless face. His movements were graceful, eyes darting rapidly across each line of his book. She decided to break the silence that pervaded the compartment.
"What are you reading?" she asked halfheartedly. He glanced up; puzzlement etched in his features, wondering why on earth the girl was talking to him in the first place. He opened his mouth to put forth a biting comment, then frowned and shut it again slowly. Hermione waited with baited breath for his answer, dreading the outcome.
"…book about Quidditch.." he finally said in a slightly annoyed voice. She nodded. He gave her one last confused look and returned to the pages of his book.
Thoughts raced through his head as he read the same line over and over. Why on earth is she being friendly with me? I've certainly done nothing to deserve even a passing glance from her. He thought. Stupid Mud-Muggleborn. He thought halfheartedly, not really feeling it. In his opinion it was complete bullshit to keep calling her that. She was definitely smarter than many of the purest witches and wizards he knew; certainly her blood had no say whatsoever in her magical ability. He supposed that he'd best ignore her while they shared their living quarters. Draco already ignored most of the people around him anyway. It shouldn't be too difficult to add one more to the pile.
.
The rest of the train ride passed without incident. The lady with the food trolley came by twice to offer them sustenance, and while Hermione bought a bit of everything, Draco settled for a few chocolate frogs. Halfway through the ride Mcgonagall came by to outline their duties, and then she left them to their own.
After a lengthy silence Draco finally looked up from his book, which was nearly at the end.
"We should change into our robes." He said quietly. "Almost near the castle."
"Right," Hermione nodded. "I'll just, err…go change in the loo. I'll knock when I'm finished." She supplemented. He only nodded and started unbuttoning his shirt. Hermione quickly hurried out of the compartment with her clothing.
On her way back from the bathroom she popped into the compartment where Ron, Harry, and Ginny had been before. Harry and Ron had started a rousing game of Wizard's Chess, which apparently had bored Ginny to sleep because she lay with her head in Harry's lap. Harry looked quite pleased with himself, and Hermione could tell that Ron was a little uncomfortable with the situation. The tips of his ears were quite pink.
"Hey everyone…I have to return to the Head's compartment but I just wanted to let you know that Malfoy has gotten Head boy." Harry stared up at her looking a little confused, and Ron's face darkened in anger.
"That git is Head Boy?! Blimey…how on earth did he manage that one?" he said angrily.
Hermione shrugged. "Well his grades are right behind mine…so he's alright in that department. I suppose his father may have exuded his influence." She quipped.
"Yeah, well if he gives you any trouble, just let us know alright?" said Harry. "He's been acting very odd lately."
"Of course I will, Harry. But I have a feeling he's changed over the past year. He barely paid me any attention when I entered the compartment, and the 'm' word hasn't been uttered once." Said Hermione.
"Yeah, well I still don't trust him. You know what his father is..," said Ron, still slightly pink.
"I'll be careful guys. You know me, I'm always prepared." She said, in a tone not unlike Mrs. Weasley's. She said her goodbyes and headed back to the compartment and Draco.
Later at the castle the feast was just getting underway. Dumbledore's speech had stressed inter-house unity, a prospect which Gryffindors and Slytherins didn't seem too keen about. The food as usual was delicious, and Hermione shook her head at Ron's atrocious eating habits. Yes, life at Hogwarts was normal and comforting.
After the feast, the Gryffindors headed up to their dormitories, Hermione in the lead. She gave them the password, "Pesky Pixies" and bid them goodnight.
Harry looked at her, puzzled. "Hermione, aren't you coming to Gryffindor tower? Or have you all of a sudden been re-sorted into Slytherin without telling us?" He laughed.
"No Harry, I'm afraid that this year I have my own dormitories. The Head's are forced to share, but don't worry I have my own room. You can come by later in the week if you want to see it." She explained.
"Oh well that stinks. Sharing quarters with Malfoy, of all people. Sometimes I think Dumbledore's off his rocker." He smiled genially.
"Yes, well, I'm sure it will turn out all right. I'll see you around, Harry. Be sure to let Ron know where I am so that he doesn't scare any first years while trying to find me." She said, starting off down the hall. Harry laughed and waved, and entered the portrait hole.
Once Hermione had bid him goodnight, she made her way to Professor Mcgonagall's office, where she would be given directions to her dormitory. When she arrived, Mcgonagall gave her a small smile, and began to explain her duties. Draco was already sitting in the room, looking slightly bored.
"As you know, being Heads is a large responsibility." She said, glaring down her nose.
"I have no doubt in my mind that you two will be able to handle it. You must patrol the hallways on Mondays and Wednesdays, no exceptions!" She stopped for emphasis.
"In addition to this, you know when a student is misbehaving you must take points. I expect you to be role models for your fellow classmates, and take this position seriously. I'll also expect you to maintain your grades and not to argue. If you have no questions, I will show you to your dormitories now." She finished.
Hermione shook her head, and glanced at Draco. He had been listening attentively, and also shook his head. Mcgonagall nodded and swept out into the corridor. The two teens followed her at a brisk pace.
Soon they reached the portrait hole that held the entrance to their home for the next year. There was a large picture of an old lady rocking back and forth in a chair. She looked up from her knitting and eyed the new Heads.
"Good evening Dottie, these are the new Head students. This is Draco Malfoy, and Hermione Granger. I trust that they will get along and will not misbehave during this year. Now that that's all settled, the password is "Leviosa. Goodnight." She walked away.
Hermione stood awkwardly next to the portrait hole. "Well, I suppose we'd better go inside."
He rolled his eyes and let her go in first. Hermione was surprised as he held the portrait open for her, but she didn't show it. She was immensely tired, and didn't pay much attention to her surroundings; instead opting for a nice sleep in her warm bed. She practically sprinted to the door with her name on it, noting that her things were already there by the bed. She dug through her clothes until she found a pair of pajamas, and after washing up, hopped into bed and was instantly asleep.
Draco's night went much the same. He opted for a shower before going to bed. As the hot water flowed down his tired body, he contemplated his new year at Hogwarts.
Hermione Granger slowly lifted her head from her mercifully soft pillow, and gazed around blearily. Sunlight streamed in through the semi-drawn curtains in her new Head Girl quarters.
"Sunlight!? Oh no! I'm late for class!" She screamed. She always got up before the sunrise, and last night she must have forgotten to set her alarm! Hermione gathered her unruly hair into a loose bun, threw on her robes, grabbed her book bag and fairly flew out the door. She figured she would have to shower during break.
Hermione had thankfully gotten her schedule the night before, yet the delivery of her schedule didn't help to lesson the fact that the first class she had was potions. She flew down to the dungeons in a huff, and finally arrived mere seconds before the bell. She crept as quietly as she could through the classroom doors, looking for a seat. Unfortunately for her the only seat available seemed to be next to a certain Slytherin. Harry and Ron shot her apologetic looks but remained silent. Hermione slowly sit into her seat next to Draco Malfoy. He didn't even look at her as she took her seat, instead staring intently at the front of the classroom; seemingly lost in thought.
Professor Snape gave her a withering glare. "Ms. Granger, how nice of you to join us." He sneered.
Hermione could see the wheels turning in his head. She was surprised that he hadn't taken off house points, even though she had made it before the bell. But of course that didn't matter to Snape. She needn't have waited long. Noting where Hermione had seated herself, Professor Snape thought of an adequate punishment.
"Students, note where you are sitting. Next to you is your potions partner for the rest of the year. Congratulations on your rather excellent decisions." His eyes narrowed dangerously in Hermione's direction.
She sighed; she should have known he wouldn't let her off easily.
The rest of the class groaned. Harry and Ron seemed perfectly content with their partners; themselves, but their expressions fell a bit upon settling on Hermione. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair next to her new "partner" and then focused on the front of the class where the Professor was outlining the lesson.
Draco was a bit peeved, to say the least, as to who his potions partner happened to be. He watched her with interest as the bobbed up and down in her seat during the lesson. The girl always seemed to know every answer, and certainly wasn't shy about spewing forth that information for the rest of them. Draco smirked a little as the word 'spew' popped into his brain. He had found out about her little society in fifth year, and found it rather ridiculous.
It appeared that that day they would be creating truth potions. The Professor explained that the end of the lesson they would be testing their potions on their partners. Draco watched as Hermione's eyes widened as she realized the implications. Her darkest secrets divulged to her enemy? Draco simply wondered what question to ask her. She was such an enigma. He glanced back at the front of the dungeon as he realized it was time to start the potion.
"I'll get the ingredients, why don't you set up the cauldron." He asked, although it was more of an order than a suggestion.
"I suppose that'll work." She said, not wanting to argue with him. Hermione took out her own regulation pewter cauldron and watched as he stood gracefully from his seat. He was almost cat-like as he prowled up to the teacher's desk.
Some minutes later he returned; arms laden with various ingredients. Hermione set to work immediately, deciding that it was best if she did most of the work. Draco however, didn't seem to share her motives.
"What shall I do while you are busy with our potion? You don't expect me to just sit here do you? I want this grade just as much as you do" He said with contempt, his silver eyes darkening dangerously.
Hermione looked taken aback, and handed him the stirring spoon. "I suppose you can stir it while I add the next ingredient." She said.
"No," He replied. "I'll chop these roots up; you do the stirring this round." Hermione sighed in defeat. She really didn't want an argument. She re-tied her hair securely, grabbed the spoon rather harshly from his outstretched hand, and set to work on the stirring.
Every once and a while she glanced up to check Draco's progress. He seems to be doing an excellent job. She noted with surprise. He was bent over attentively, cutting the roots into thin, equal slices. His hair was falling in his eyes, and every so often he would reach up and irately brush away the flaxen locks.
He really must love potions. That's probably why he beats me in this class. She thought. Hermione was always one for Transfiguration. She also simply loved Arithmancy and Charms. She wasn't quite as good as some in DADA; namely, Harry, but she did enjoy the class. The only classes she really sort of disliked were History of Magic and Potions. In History of magic she loved the subject matter, but was constantly bored by the droning voice of Professor Binns. Potions, on the other hand, she disliked mostly because of Snape. Also, though her potions always came out up to standard; she lacked the certain finesse of someone who really loved the subject. She much preferred wand work.
The class passed most uneventfully, until Professor Snape stood up and yelled "Time's up!" Hermione and Draco had been finished for a few minutes, and were sitting quietly; seemingly lost in thought.
"You can all test your potions on each other now." Snape said with a vile grin. "Remember to choose your question wisely."
Hermione looked at their perfect potion. She was quite happy with the results, but was still hesitant to test the potion. Draco eyed her expectedly.
"Ladies first Granger," He said with a hint of amusement in his cold eyes.
She sighed, figuring she might as well get it over with. Any other day she would have argued with him, but she figured she'd had enough stress that morning as it was.
She raised the clear vial to her lips and unceremoniously downed the clear, viscous potion. It felt cool and refreshing on its journey down her gullet, and as she swallowed she waited for it to take effect.
All she could really feel was a sense of overwhelming vulnerability. She watched Draco's face in expectation.
He looked thoughtful for a moment, then, quirking a perfect eyebrow, he asked his question.
"So Granger, why are you such a know-it-all?"
She glared at him, knowing he would ask some lowly question such as that. It was too late to retort back though, she could already feel the potion making her answer.
"I-I'm not sure, really. I do love to learn. My parents never really made me get good grades, but I suppose I just do it for myself. I think they make me a more special person." She answered. "I suppose that I do overdo it occasionally. I mean, it's just that no one else seems to want to answer the questions!" she added as an afterthought.
"Perhaps." He said. "It makes sense. But maybe if you stopped raising your hand for every question, you would see that some people besides yourself actually do their homework. You don't have to be perfect." He said, spitting out the last word like a swear.
Hermione looked a bit angry, but she was looking forward smugly to her own turn. She knew the question she would ask. "Your turn." She said.
Draco was nervous, but tried not to show it. He nonchalantly gulped down his potion, as easy as his morning pumpkin juice.
Hermione wasted no time in asking her question.
"A-Are you a, um, D-Death Eater? She asked. Then, she squeaked, gaping at her own boldness.
Draco's eyes widened in fear. He had no wish to let her in on his deepest secret; her being quite possibly the last person he wanted to tell. He had expected her to play dirty after his little jibe at her academics, but certainly not to ask that question. Before he could guard his answer however; it was torn from his lips."
"..N-no…" he said in a voice so small that Hermione could've sworn she'd imagined it.
Before she could stop herself, she stuttered out a "W-why!?" She clapped her hands over her mouth, glancing at him fearfully and expecting a harsh retort.
Draco simply replied in a quiet, cold voice. "I don't believe you're allowed a second question, Granger"
She could only stare at him in wonder and disbelief.
Thoughts still raced through Hermione's head as she left the potions classroom. Ron and Harry were arguing over a new Quidditch move, and frankly, Hermione was just not in the mood. She quickly gave them an excuse about studying in the library, "Seriously, Hermione? It's the first day of classes! Give it a rest…" and ran away to think.
Later that day she entered the dormitory half-expecting Draco to be there, ready to give her a swift verbal kick in the behind. Her hopes were shattered, however, as she noticed it was completely empty. However, as Hermione was heading up the balustrade to her room, she noticed Draco's cloak thrown carelessly over one of the chairs down below. That's odd. Malfoy has always seemed like a stickler for tidiness. I always thought he thrived on perfection. Too tired to really give it much thought, Hermione retired to her room, making sure to set her alarm clock.
Curiously, lately Hermione hadn't seen hide or tail of Malfoy, except when they had to patrol the corridors. She had tried numerous times to broach the subject of the potions class, but ever time she opened her mouth she could feel the tension in the air. Hermione was not accustomed to this kind of rejection. She was going to pester the icy fellow until she figured out exactly what his problem was.
Over the past few days, Hermione had been observing him closely. Draco Malfoy was certainly the biggest los---loner, that is, that she had ever seen. He barely talked to anyone. Crabbe and Goyle had faithfully followed him around for the first few days, until one day he had lashed out at them. "I don't need you, and I never have! You stick to me like glue only because you think I'm some kind of cheap thrill! I have nothing to offer you, and I never will! Leave me ALONE!" He had then stormed down the corridor, glancing menacingly towards the poor Gryffindor, knowing she had heard every word.
The next morning at breakfast, Hermione had started watching him more carefully. Now that Crabbe and Goyle were out of the picture, Draco sat alone. Mostly he just sat there sneering, picking at his toast and not eating much. Hermione's motherly instincts made her want to march right over there and just shove the damn toast in his mouth. Somehow, she didn't think he'd appreciate it. Besides his poor eating habits, Draco spent quite a lot of time staring into space. Or more specifically, staring into the space near the Gryffindor table. At first Hermione thought he was glaring at her, but upon further inspection she realized he was actually looking at Harry. Oh, no. Not my Harry. If Draco Malfoy is plotting something evil, I'm going to find out what it is. Strangely enough, his gaze did not seem to hold much malice. Hermione vowed that she would corner him that night during their patrols.
"Hasn't anyone ever told you that it's rude to stare?"
"Ngguh." said Hermione.
"Stop staring at me, Granger. It's unnerving and frankly annoying." replied Draco.
Hermione didn't know what to say. She HAD been staring at him. She was just trying to work up the nerve to ask him. She decided to ignore his quips and go for a more civil approach. Mustering her courage, she spoke.
"I'm sorry, Malfoy. I know that it's rude to stare. It's just that…oh, goodness…how do I say this? What you said the other, you know, during Potions? It really made me start to think."
Draco seemed vaguely amused under his mask of annoyance. "Oh, you started thinking. What a change from the norm, Granger. Tell me, what brilliant revelation have you come to?"
"Well…" said Hermione. She was still struggling with the fact that she wasn't currently being throttled to death. "I guess I believe you. I mean, of COURSE I believe you, you were under the effects of a truth serum. A truth serum that I made."
"Yes, Granger. We are all aware of your abilities. Please, enlighten the class. We're all listening." Draco said, in his snarkiest voice.
Hermione sighed in exasperation. "Anyway, I've decided that I'm going to get to know you. I'm going to figure out what makes you tick." Hermione braced herself for his wrath.
Draco's mouth was hanging slightly open, and he was staring at her as if her teeth had suddenly started growing to beaver proportions once again. Hermione was about to respond, when his face abruptly closed again. His dark eyes glared at her. "And just what makes you think I'm going to tell you anything?"
Hermione was at a loss for words. "I…I…um, well, I just figured that you were sort of misunderstood. You know, that you just…need some body to listen to!" She said in a rush.
"I am not one of your pet projects, Granger! Now, BACK OFF! Run to your little Gryffindor friends and reassure them that the great Draco Malfoy is as cold as ever. And if they ask, HE DOESN'T NEED FRIENDS!" Draco stormed off down the corridor.
Hermione stuttered. She wasn't completely, totally sure that Draco wouldn't get violent. Sure, he had been more subdued of late, but that didn't mean he wasn't a volatile person. She teetered back and forth on her heels for a moment, before puffing out her chest and running after him.
He was already several yards down the hallway. His tall, lean frame swept gracefully, even as he walked furiously. Hermione hesitated for a second before reaching out and grabbing his shoulder, spinning him around.
"Nyyeah! What do you think you're doing, you stupid Mu-Muggleborn?!" He said, shoving her hard into the stone wall. He held her there, searching her eyes and breathing erratically. Those eyes. Her eyes are so brown! Just like…no! Don't think about it! She is nothing to you, and you are not WEAK!
Hermione inhaled sharply, suddenly afraid. Malfoy was pinning her tightly to the wall, looking at her in horror. Suddenly, he began to shake, and his hands loosened from her shoulders. He spun around and sank down to his knees, staring unseeing at the floor.
"M-Malfoy?" No response.
"Malfoy! Dr-Draco!" His eyes snapped open in surprise. Hermione knelt down in front of him, putting a hand gently on his shoulder. He flinched.
"Whatever has gotten you so shocked, you can tell me. We're Heads, and we're supposed to work together. I don't care about what happened before; it's all in the past. Can't you see? I want to help you!"
Draco stared into Granger's imploring brown eyes. He scoffed, then frowned, and then his face seemed to crumple. The look he gave her was all she needed.
"Okay."
The Head Boy and Head Girl sat across from each other on the two couches located in their common room. Draco was frowning, and Hermione looked pensive. Finally, he spoke.
"You know, I never really questioned my father when I was younger. He was the most important person in my life, and I admired him beyond anyone else. I rarely disobeyed him, but when I did, he was merciless."
Hermione nodded, and Draco continued. He told her about the muggle candies, and the unforgiveables his father had used upon him. He told her about the muggle girl. His tone was tight and controlled, but she could tell it weighed heavily upon him. Hermione was horrified when he finished.
"I knew that they did that sort of thing, but I never though they would let you witness it, especially so young! It seems so…"
"Heartless?" He replied. "Well, now you know. Are you happy that you asked?" Draco's face was guarded.
"I'm not…well, I'm not happy, but I think I understand you a little better. You say that this instance finally convinced you of the wrongness of the Death Eaters' actions, yes?" said Hermione.
"Well, it didn't all happen at once. It wasn't all sunshine and daisies, I'm going to join Dumbledore. I still think that he knows much less than he lets on, and that he willingly puts far too many people at risk. But yes, I did know at that moment that I never wanted to see somebody suffer like that muggle girl. So, I began to change my ways. I still have to keep up a front, however. Voldemort can detect unfaithfulness to his cause, and I don't need to get myself into that. I've stayed fairly neutral, but now I don't really know what to do." He hung his head.
Hermione was surprised that Draco had said Voldemort's name. Most people would cringe to hear it, but he said it with such venom in his voice that she knew he was trying to master his fear.
"And…there's another thing, too." he said. Hermione looked back into his eyes. He looked faintly embarrassed.
"Some time during my years at Hogwarts, I discovered some very misplaced feelings I was having towards a certain person. Feelings that could bring the death of me, should I ever decide to act upon them. Besides, my family would never approve."
Hermione's eyes widened. Surely it couldn't be! But, the more she thought about it, the more it made sense.
"Now, before you say anything, no, it isn't you, Granger. I'll admit you're not half bad now that your teeth are smaller, and although that hair is unmercifully curly, you're actually okay." He finished, rolling his eyes.
Hermione blushed. "I didn't think it was me. I mean, obviously you're top of the line as far as looks come, but I think we'd work better as friends. Though I do admire your academic abilities." Hermione was shocked that she'd just given Draco Malfoy a compliment.
Draco looked amused. "Well, it's good that you don't fancy me, since it turns out that I actually go for the other sort. You know, trouser snakes and such. I'm quite damn fond of boys. Well…one boy, in particular." He had the grace to look embarrassed.
Hermione smirked. Which was odd, since Hermione was not the smirking type. However, at this moment she thought it was a very pertinent time to smirk.
"It's Harry, isn't it? I saw you staring at him the other day. You'll have to act soon, because Ginny Weasley is set on making her move, and poor Harry doesn't know what's coming to him."
Draco suddenly looked murderous. "Ginny Weasley?! The school slut? She doesn't deserve him! He wouldn't want her, she's dull, and red-headed, and…oh, god. What am I saying? It's not like I'm going to do anything about this stupid crush!"
Hermione looked smug. "Are you sure it's just a stupid crush? Admit it, Draco. You've been drawn to Harry ever since the first day we entered this school. You tried to be his friend, and he refused you." Draco looked stunned.
"Oh yes, I know all about that. He refused you, and you've been giving him hell ever since. …Not that he didn't give it back, of course. You two have been at each others' throats for the past seven years. Honestly, I can't believe you held out for this long. That kind of sexual tension would kill a lesser man!"
Draco was looking at Hermione as if he'd been living in a blur, and had suddenly gotten glasses. He had no idea the girl had this much knowledge. Well, he knew she was smart, but not THIS smart! He gaped for a few seconds, then snapped out of it.
"You're not actually suggesting that I do something about this, are you? Because that would be crazy! What would Voldemort do to me if he found out? Kill me! Hell, what would my illustrious father do? He would resurrect me and kill me again, to be sure. I can't do this to the Malfoy name! It would be blasphemy!"
"But you're going to do it, anyway."
"Wha--? Granger, haven't you been listening to anything I've said? This is impossible." replied Draco.
"You've already implied that you hate your father. Don't you want revenge on him? Wouldn't this be the ultimate payback? The ultimate way to say "fuck you" to the Voldemort?"
If Draco was surprised at Granger's foul language, he was even more surprised at the other words she'd said. He could deny it all he wanted, but he realized she was right. He actually began to hope, that is until he realized another problem.
"But wait, Granger. What about the rest of the wizarding world? What about the house of Slytherin? I'm going to get arse-kicked, and there is no way anyone is messing up this face."
Hermione rolled her eyes that Draco was still being vain at a time like this. "You won't get arse-kicked. Once you form an alliance with Harry, we'll protect you. Dumbledore will protect you. I'm sure he can see that you're not a bad person at heart, even if the lack of a Dark Mark doesn't inform him of that. I know you don't approve of Dumbledore, but he can help keep you safe." Hermione's eyes were soft as she said this. She saw Draco relax, and then viewed the resolve that began to form in his eyes.
"I'm going to do it. It's not just a crush, you were right. It's—oh, hell, it's something. Something important. I can't just let him go." he consented.
"Good. Now, I have a plan. Here is what we're going to do…" Draco listened intently.
The next morning, Harry Potter headed down to the shed where he knew the brooms to be kept. He'd heard from Ron, who'd heard from Dean, who'd heard from Lavender, who'd heard from Parvati, who'd heard from Daphne Greengrass that Draco had gotten himself a new broom. A Firebolt 5000. And Harry had found out from Ron, who'd found out from Dean, who'd heard from Lavender, who'd heard from Parvati, who'd heard from Daphne Greengrass that Draco kept his broom in a secret corner of the school broom shed on the grounds. So, naturally, Harry had to check this out for himself. It being Saturday, people were still sleeping in. Harry took his time on his way to the broom shed, admiring the last few red leaves on the autumn trees. The broom shed was easy to locate, and he eventually came to it and walked inside.
After rooting around for a bit, tripping over old bludgers that the charm had worn off of, Harry finally saw the broom. He caught his breath. It was beautiful, and perfectly suited to Draco. Ebony wood, silver emblazoning, and a green dragon hide seat that had "Property of Draco Malfoy" carved into it in an elegant script. Harry reached out to gently stroke Draco's broom.
"I didn't say you could stroke my broom, Potter." Harry whipped around. Draco was leaning against the shed wall, one foot propped up against it and his hands in the pockets of his robes. A beacon of morning light shined down from a high window, perfectly illuminating his flaxen hair. Harry squeaked.
"You should know that it's polite to ask permission before just go about stroking a boy's broom. It's uncouth." Harry seemed to regain his resolve.
"You're not one to talk about manners, Malfoy! I don't see you ever asking to borrow anything, or have you forgotten Neville's rememberall in first year?" He hissed.
"Oh, Harry, you're so easy to rile up. And I never mind doing it, because you're so cute when you're angry." He said, sincerely.
"WHAT?" Harry's eyes bugged out. Draco had just called him by his first name. Wait, his name wasn't Draco! It was Malfoy! Malfoy!
"Have you gone COMPLETELY mad?" He sputtered and blushed.
Draco smirked evilly. "Harry, I've always been mad. Mad about YOU. Have you ever wondered why we fight so much?" Draco was slowly advancing towards Harry, and Harry looked frantically around, before realizing he was trapped in that same, stupid corner. Harry hated broom sheds. They were completely unnecessary.
"Because you're a slimy git who's out to kill me?" Harry said, in a smaller voice.
"Kill you? Why would I kill you, when I could be doing something so much better with my time? Malfoys don't like to waste time. After all, there is only so much of the stuff." Draco was very, very close to Harry. Harry could see every one of the long, luscious hairs in Draco's eyelashes, and every piece of silver in his grey eyes. Draco had very nice eyes, really…
"What—um, what is it you want to do with your time, Dr-Malfoy?" Harry said shakily.
"This." And Draco's lips descended on Harry's already open lips. The kiss was firm, though Harry was limp at first. Then, gradually, Harry's arms came up to swath themselves in Draco's hair, and his eyes fluttered gently closed. Draco pulled back. Harry was pink.
"I'm very disappointed in you, Harry. Your seeker reflexes did nothing to thwart my attack. I think you need some more practice. Care to take a ride on my broom?"
Harry blushed. "I—um, I, wow…" said Harry, loquacious as always. Then his eyes turned serious.
"What did you mean by that? How am I supposed to act when you've been threatening to do me in for seven years, and then suddenly you're—you're, well, you know!" He sputtered.
Draco looked at him thoughfully. "Have you ever stopped to wonder why we fight so much in the first place? Sure, I hate you, but there's a fine line between love and hate, and you're straddling it." He smirked at his own innuendo.
"L-love? This, I'm, you're…you're a boy! I'm a boy! We're boys!"
Draco rolled his eyes yet again. Harry was pretty thick sometimes. "Yes, Harry. We are two boys, as I am now most painfully aware of." Harry looked down, blanched, and raised his eyes to Draco's once more. His arms were still around Draco's neck, but strangely, they didn't seem to want to move. Harry glared at his stupid arms.
"Look, Harry," Draco said, his tone very soft. "I can't explain to you when it happened, but it did. I'm head over heels for the sodding Boy-Who-Lived, and there's nothing you or anyone with breasts can do to change it. I know you probably don't trust me, and you have no reason to, but I'm asking you to give me a chance. Look at my arm, it's bare. It's going to stay that way. Can't you feel it?"
"I can feel something, and it's certainly not your wand." Harry's attempt at flirtation made the corners of Draco's mouth turn up a little. Harry sighed.
"I don't fully trust you, and it will take some time, but I'm willing to take a shot." Harry wondered why he hadn't realized this before. The sexual tension with Draco had been coming to a head for years. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it sooner. No thoughts of Ginny Weasley were in Harry's mind as he ran his fingers along the inside of Draco's exposed forearm. Draco's eyes darkened in a way that didn't suggest any sort of hatred.
"I'm not sure you want to keep doing that, Harry."
Harry smirked mischievously. "I'm sure I do."
This time the kiss was lustful. Harry's back once more connected with the wood of the shed, just as his front connected with wood of another kind. Draco's hands went to Harry's hair, which was so much softer than he'd ever imagined. Harry's beautiful eyes were darkened with lust. Draco loved Harry's eyes. He loved Harry's messy, imperfect hair. Draco loved Harry. Harry would love Draco, if Draco had anything to do about it. He figured the process wouldn't take too long. Draco smirked through the kiss.
The next morning at breakfast, Draco Malfoy entered the Great Hall quite late. This was unusual, since the Head Boy was always punctual. He sauntered in as usual, but did not take his usual seat. Instead, he made a beeline for the Gryffindor table, to the astonishment of every student and teacher in the room. He plonked himself down unceremoniously next to Harry Potter, who appeared to have saved him a seat. He nodded to everyone and proceeded to grab a slice of toast from the table in front of him, as well as some pumpkin juice, eggs, and bacon.
"Pass the marmalade would you, Potter?"
"Sure thing, Draco." Harry potter passed him the marmalade.
Ronald Weasley choked on his muffin.
Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil cooed.
Hermione Granger smirked smugly. Again. Because the occasion obviously called for smirking. And alliteration.
Draco Malfoy's spare hand came up to ruffle Harry Potter's already messy hair. Harry Potter grinned at him.
Pansy Parkinson screamed.
Everything was going to change.
Fin
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