DISCLAIMER- I don't own the HP series.
A/N- This may very well be my favorite story that I've written for you all. It is so far at least. Draco whines a lot in this, but I think it's how he would actually think, or at least a little. Hermione is… well she's Hermione-ish. I hope you enjoy it.
Draco's P.O.V.
"Inbred ferret!"
"Bushy haired know-it-all!"
"You just called me smart. You're not very good at this."
"Kitty, kitty!"
"How did you find out about that?"
"I have sources."
"Albino piece of crap!"
"Ugly, undeserving, unloved mudblood!"
Granger's jaw dropped. We say insulting things to one another everyday, you would think she'd be over it by now. Not once did she ever show any sign of hurt or sadness. Those Gryffindors are all too proud, but I can't say anything because that's how Slytherins are as well. I guess you could say that I'm not used to tears- or a Gryffindor's tears anyway. So when I see the moistness in Granger's eyes, I'm shocked.
"Is that a tear? In your eye?" My face is in an expression of utter astonishment, I'm pretty sure. I didn't think the insult was that good. I must be getting better.
SMACK! "Where else does a tear come out of?" she shouts, shouldering past me, heading down the hallway and toward the Great Hall.
My cheek is throbbing like mad now, thanks to her. I'm sure that I'm the only one she ever bothers to punch, or slap, or show any sign of violence to. No one else has given her a reason. I only bother her because it's so easy to get her worked up. I don't feel bad, Malfoy's are never sorry about what they do. It's not in my nature to feel guilt. Almost killing Dumbledore? Piece a cake. I'm heartless, of course, but only because my parents raised me that way- and then mostly to mudbloods.
Why did she start crying? I know for sure that I'm not that good at offending her- I do what the muggles say to do, "Recycle!" All my name-calling was reused. There's that and the fact that I never intentionally try to make her cry. I only want to irk her. A hobby, you could call it.
Granger must have been having a bad day. To know that I finally got to her, after years and years of tireless effort, it's a strange feeling. It's an amazing accomplishment, but it's the same as cheating. She already felt terrible already which means that I never actually made her cry. Well, by myself, that is.
I'm worried. My face, the beauty that it is, still stings. The hospital wing immediately, then. I never pinned the Mudblood for the violent type. Not even after our third year when she hit me. I always just figured she was too angry for words to explain. I understand that sometimes, when a person can't find the words, they use their physical actions. Her actions then told me that I was being an asshole. I didn't bother caring about it, she wasn't the kind of person I would take suggestions from.
And I won't start caring about her opinions now. The only thoughts that ever matter are my own, and sometimes Blaise Zabini. He is the best schemer I can think of on the spot. Being a Malfoy, I have to have my right-hand man.
As I left the library, I noticed that the few classrooms that line the halls here look so old. Why did I even come to this place? What has the library in Hogwarts told me that I couldn't figure out myself in my own library at Malfoy Manor? Nothing. The Manor probably has an even wider selection. I know for a fact that Hogwarts doesn't hold one book about how to do anything involving Dark Magic. Well, maybe a few in the restricted section, but none of them nearly as good as the ones at home.
I had to hide those, mind you. Father told me to keep them hidden behind the bricks somewhere in the dungeons. Like hell, I was doing that. I don't think he realized that none of the bricks were movable. Not without magic, and where am I supposed to find a spell that has to do with moving bricks out of walls? Anyway, the Dark Lord took them and burned all the pages down to ash. He said he didn't want anyone knowing more than they needed to, but I think he meant more than him. Unfortunately for the Lord, I already read them all. Photographic memory helps too.
So, knowing all these bad curses, I'm ahead of everyone, save maybe Potter, in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I couldn't learn the curses without learning the counter curses too. It would be stupid, hence my taking this class.
I suppose it was my amazing common sense that got me the position of Head Boy. No doubt, Granger had her brains. Still, I couldn't help but wonder why me. I thought it would have been Potter or Weasley. But the stress would be too much for both their now fragile state of minds. Only the strong can handle responsibility. Potter must have been overwhelmed, not that I'm surprised.
Tiny cots were arranged against the wall in the hospital wing. I doubt I'll need to use one, but just in case, I've chosen the one to far left, closest to the window. It's got a nice enough view, or at least the nicest I can get around here.
"Mr. Malfoy, what are you doing here? It's not one of those silly little 'injuries' you get all the time again?" Madame Pompfrey's tending to the arm of some kid in their third year I saw playing quidditch in a match, Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. It figures that it was the Hufflepuff that got hurt. I'll deny ever saying it, but the Gryffindors are always going to beat them. They're only good at finding things, those Hufflepuffs. (A/N- For those of you who have watched AVPM… hehe)
"I was wondering, do you think my cheek is red? It's stinging terribly right now." That was a lie, the pain subsided about two minutes back. Still, having the opportunity to get Granger in trouble for anything, it would definitely be one off my bucket list.
"Did you do something to another girl to get them to slap you?" she asked. Surely she isn't implying that I'm a player. Well, I guess that assumption would be inevitable. It's true for one, and I come here quite often asking for a pain reliever for my cheek, courtesy of the many broken hearted girls I break up with all the time.
"I suppose you could say that, though I think Granger just wanted to lash out on me." I frowned, feigning innocence. I felt myself practically radiating the words, 'She hurt me on purpose, maybe she should get a weeks worth of detention.'
"Miss Granger again?" she asks. "This is the last straw, I will not allow this to continue."
"Good, because I don't think I can emotionally handle anymore of Hermione's insults." Once, in my earlier years at Hogwarts, I learned that if I called another student by their surname, the teacher would ask why. To save myself the trouble of explaining, when I speak to my professors, I call everyone- even mudbloods- their first names. The only difference is that it I make it sound as though I'm saying manure instead.
"No, that is not what I'm trying to say. Professor McGonagall told me that if you come to anyone complaining about Miss Granger anymore, we must take desperate measures to try to make peace between you both."
"What do you mean by that?" I admit, I'm starting to worry a little. What does she mean by desperate measures? It sounds serious.
"She insisted that if this were to happen, both of you were to go to her office." Madame Pompfrey paused for a moment, considering something. "I suppose, seeing as you have dinner right about now, it would be irrational to send you and Miss Granger to the Headmistress's office. In the morning, straight away, then. I'll inform her about your appalling behavior tonight."
Desperate measures. What would she do to us? Surely McGonagall wouldn't do anything too bad. Not like Dumbledore. If it were him, he would order us to do some sort of impossible assignment together, just to get to know each other better. He was always a loon, but as much as I hate to admit it, he was one of the most interesting people in the world. Since it's only McGonagall choosing the torture, I'm only slightly less anxious. She'd make us clean trophies, or mop floors, or some other type of hard labor that I'm not used to. What's the point of a house elf if they don't do all the hard work?
On the way to the Great Hall, I look out for Pansy. No, we aren't going out, no matter what the rumors are. We're merely friends- with benefits. I don't want to see her right now though. Lately she's been a bit too caring, to put it mildly, for me. So, running into her in the middle of a dark hall, all alone, with no one to see… It's bound to get somewhere much farther than I want to go with her tonight.
The Slytherin table is half empty when I walk in. It's never full anymore, but that's how it is now. The Gryffindor table, in all it's glory with the Golden Trio now sitting there, is filled. At least a quarter of the kids are from different houses, placing themselves as close as they can on the bench to Saint Potter, Mudblood, and Weasel. The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff table are entirely too boring for me to consider thinking about. No one there is of particular importance except for Loony Lovegood who got interesting after an entire war.
Instead of walking straight to my seat, I find myself moving along in the direction of Hermione Granger. Well, it only makes sense that I tell her about our meeting tomorrow. She does have a right to know, but I'm still afraid she's upset with me and the fact that I got her in trouble, well it doesn't help my situation in the slightest.
"Why hello again, Granger," I say, sweetly.
She turns around and I see her lips are already pursed in annoyance. She recognizes my voice, I can tell. Her automatic response to me is annoyance, no surprise there. "What do you want, Malfoy? Haven't you had enough fun torturing me today?"
"I just wanted you to know, Mudblood, that we're expected at the Headmistress's office in the morning, first thing. I suspect she won't be happy with us."
"What have I done?" she asked me, then paused. "No, what have you done to get me in trouble?"
"You just assume that it's me? I'm shocked- hurt even!" I change my expression so it's in an expression of mock offense.
"I bet I can hurt you more," says Weasel, turning away from the stares of his fan club. Potter was too animated talking to Longbottom, who knows what could be fascinating in him, to notice me.
"Hard to believe when I distinctly remember you tried to hex me and ended up barfing up slugs yourself."
"Yeah, well, that was a long time ago, I'm a much more practiced wizard," he defended himself.
"Stay out of this, Ron," Granger said, sternly. "This is none of your business."
"He doesn't need to anymore. I'm done. I can't handle being with you lions this long, I'm getting nauseous." I make my way back to where I belong. Sitting next to Blaise and maybe Pansy.
Hermione's P.O.V.
They showed me a list. The list. Every few months, Lavender and Parvati catalog every single guy in Hogwarts, ranking them from hottest to the not so good-looking. The top spot is Sex God, and if you're wondering, it does have a lot to do with your- ahem- activity. For the first time ever, I was curious enough to ask to look at it. Naturally, I searched for familiar people, entirely skipping the top person's name.
It's no surprise that Ron got into the third spot. Most people would put him right there, next to Harry Potter. But shouldn't Ron be in the second spot, next to Harry in the first? No, he's not. As a matter of fact, The Boy Who Lived only made it second place, the Sex Prince, however that could be possible. The title of Sex God belongs to Draco Malfoy.
"Is this right?" I ask them, my eyes widening in shock. Of course this must be a typo. How in the world could that Ferret get so high up in rank? "Are you sure you didn't mess up?"
"Oh, I know this is right. I triple checked it," Lavender says to me, nodding her head.
"Well, how do you check it? This must all be your own opinions," I argue to them, not wanting to accept that my enemy could ever be so well thought of.
"We do an enchantment. We learned it from this one magazine in second year. It shows who in the school everyone thinks is the most handsome. Extremely accurate, it is. Most witches think it's Draco."
"Could you do it again, so I can see it?" I ask them, "I want to make sure it's for real."
After a slight shrug, Lavender pulled out a piece of parchment. Then Parvati took her wand from her pocket, pointing it at the paper and said, "Formosus invenire!"
A white light shot out through the tip of the wand and letters start to form on the sheet. The letters were short and skinny, making some names hard to recognize, but there was, without a doubt, the name Draco Malfoy written at the top, practically mocking me with its tiny print and average font style. How did people find this accurate? How could any girl find that thing even slightly attractive?
"You want it?" Parvati asked me, holding out the list toward me.
"No, I don't want it!" I snapped. "That thing tells lies and I hate it when things lie to me."
"If that's what you want to believe, then go ahead," Parvati smiles slyly.
My bed is too hard for me, now that I've been so overwhelmed. My head just refuses to stop its incessant chattering and I don't know how to end it. The list has been burned into my brain forever and I will always continue wondering about Draco Malfoy. Well, I think so. He really doesn't look all that good. For one, he needs a haircut. His hair is long enough to block his eyes and impair his sight. Why would he want to hide his eyes from everyone? He should really stop combing his fingers through his hair too, it hangs in a disarray that never fails in distracting me, or anyone for that matter. That constant superior smile of his needs to disappear too, it's enough to make any good features of his automatically vanish. And also, is it really necessary for him to look at people like they're dirt all the time? His arrogant attitude is enough to make me scream sometimes.
"Yes, yes," I say impatiently through the door. "I'm coming."
I don't need Malfoy to come up to- or should I say sneak into Gryffindor tower to remind me of our meeting. Still, he just decided that he would come anyway, whether he broke the rules or not.
"Well, get ready faster. I want to have time for breakfast and your sloth speed isn't helping me achieve that," he complained. But isn't he always complaining?
"This may shock you, Malfoy, but not all people know how to get dressed in five seconds flat."
"Maybe you need to learn."
You must be wondering what Malfoy did when someone discovered his presence. Being the Slytherin that he is, the first person who said anything about him being a rule breaker lost my house ten points. That poor third year was frightened out of her wits. Then the first year practically peed himself from the shame of losing points from his house. This was all according to Malfoy, so I know not to believe it.
"I'm done." I step out of the bathroom, brushing right past him.
"It's about time. How long was that? Ten minutes?"
"You're lucky it was only that long. I hardly had enough time to brush my teeth."
His eyes rested on my hair and he said, "I see another thing that needs to be brushed too."
"I don't know what makes you so screwed up, but whatever it is, it works."
"I don't have time for this. Let's just get going."
We reached the portrait door when a small second year boy came by and spoke to Draco.
"You aren't supposed to be here," the boy declared, boldly. "I won't tell if you-"
The glare that Malfoy gave him silenced any noise coming from his throat. "If I what? You don't really think I'm going to do anything for one of you, do you? If you want something done, get an elf," he retorted, "And twenty points from Gryffindor for trying to blackmail the Head Boy and for plain annoying me."
"I'm s-sorry. I'm sorry." The boy's eyes were huge spheres. He didn't even appear to want to blink.
"You can't do that!" I stated. "Don't worry, I'll take of this jerk."
"Kid, you better watch out for what your Head Girl is saying, because since I don't have the authority to take points from her, I'll take points from you. Five points off because she threatened me."
"This can't be happening. You can't do this, it's against the rules!" I nearly yelled.
"Seriously, kid, this girl is losing you another five points. I can't stand her yapping. Make her shut up and maybe I'll stop punishing you."
"Please, Hermione," the boy begged, "Stop talking. I don't want the Gryffindors to be behind by one hundred more points."
I opened my mouth to tell him to fight back and if he agreed to help me in beating Malfoy up, I'd give him the points back, but one look at his desperate and fearful expression and I kept quiet.
"Thanks, kid," Draco smirked, "But I'm still taking off another five points because I have feeling you want to tell on me."
"That's okay, Sir. I deserve it," The kid said, probably his natural instinct in these kind of situation was to put all the blame onto his own shoulders.
When we left him and closed the door to the fat lady, his words were, "I think I like being called 'Sir'. Know what I can do to make that my title around here?"
"How about scare some more children? I'm sure that'll make you feel good."
"Of course not, Granger. How could you say something like that to me? I care for those little buggers just as much as the next guy."
"If that next guy is Voldemort," I muttered.
Then a thought occurred to me. How did he get past the fat lady? She's always been so strict with who she lets in and when she lets people out. There's no possible way that he could have been able to just sneak by her.
"How did you get past the portrait?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"If you want to know so badly, I used charm," he confessed.
"You used a charm?"
"No, I used charm. Now I'm going to be scarred for life. If that fat lady flirts with me one more time, I think I may have to jump off the astronomy tower just to get rid of the nasty feeling inside me right now."
"You are the most melodramatic person I've ever known. What did you say to her?"
"I said that she was looking thinner than I've seen her-," he broke off, shaking his head, "No, I can't do it. Please don't make me say it."
The gargoyle that used to have candy passwords because of Dumbledore was resting before us. The likeliness that it still has those kind of passwords is slim, but I won't deny it when I say that I want them to be all the wizard sweets my brain can think of, that way it'll be easier to deduce the possilbilties. Since I was never told what to say to open the gargoyle, and I doubt Malfoy was either, I started to spit out random candy names and brands.
"Bertie Bot's Every Flavored Beans!" Nothing.
"Cockroach Clusters!" No movement whatsoever.
"Chocolate Frogs!" Nada.
"What in the world are you doing, Granger?" Malfoy asked me, looking amused at my shouts.
"Well, I remember when Dumbledore was around, it would always be some sort of a sweet. Help me guess," I demanded.
"Easy, I know what it is already," he said, clearing his throat, "Lemon Drops." The gargoyle shifted to the side with the sound of stone grinding against stone, revealing the door to the office.
"How did you know what it was?" I didn't even know. I, myself, don't favor lemon drops all that much, so I never would have thought of it.
"It was the old coot's favorite. I had to make it my responsibility to know who he was before killing him. It's only right."
I opened the door slowly, not bothering to knock. McGonagall knows that we're supposed to be here. Malfoy stays right behind me, careful to make sure that I get the first of her wrath and not him.
"Please take a seat Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy." She appeared to be sorting through her work, but stopped when they both were in front of her. "I would like you to know, first of all, that this wasn't my idea. I personally think it's entirely pointless and troublesome, but if he says to, then I trust him."
"What do you mean, Ma'am?" he questioned.
"Professor Dumbledore made several requests before he passed on. Some of them were, quite unconventional. He said that if you two were ever to come back to Hogwarts, you were to be Head Boy and Girl. He also said if one of you went to the hospital wing more than once because of the other, than you were to be taught a lesson."
"A lesson?" I can't hide the anxiety in me at the moment. It's overpowering.
"He wanted you to live together. Just to get along. Just to try to create peace. He also asked that you be partners for anything and everything possible until you can live a few months without screaming your heads off at each other."
Live together. She wants me and Malfoy to live together. Where would we stay? We could always use the room of requirement as the place, but why would I ever agree to enduring this torture? Why would he ever agree to spending even more time than he already had to with me, the mudblood? I bet this is what Dumbledore wanted. I'm positive that he just wanted to get a reaction out of us. Maybe it's a test for will power. The one who lasts the longest without killing themselves win. I've been told over and over by every Slytherin I come across that Dumbledore is a crazy person, but I just now decided to believe it.
A/N- So, how do you like it? What do you want me to fix? I just really want a review. Not a 'love it' kind of review. I want why you liked it so much and want what you want me to do next, because even though I know exactly what I'm doing, I want some filler chapters in here. I will update when I decide that I have my desired amount of reviews. Thank you!