Disclaimer: I do not own Harry flippin Potter.
Chapter One: The Group
There had really been no need to bother McGonagall about this. Being Head Girl, she certainly had some authority about extra-curricular groups and such. If she wanted to start a Muggle Arts group, to study and appreciate the history and interplaying works of magical beings with the creation of music, art, and literature.. She, above all people, should have the power to do so without consulting the Headmistress straight away. She had the knowledge, experience, and frankly- the organization to handle it on her own. It wasn't like Dumbledore's Army in fifth year, although not wrong in itself. They weren't going to use wands or battle, the now defeated, Dark Lord. Plus, there wasn't a rule against it. She would know, only having read "Hogwarts: A History" more than she led on.
When Filch had seen the mass of students in the library after classes (but let me mention- before curfew), he had gone into a tizzy and had dragged the Head Girl behind him all the way up the spiraling, stone staircase to McGonagall and set her down like a cat would a dead bird for their owner. McGonagall had dismissed them quickly and informed Filch that unless "the poor girl" was strangling the Head Boy by the neck, to never bother her about Hermione again. "Hermione is not a student we should be worried about." and with that, the discussion was over.
Hermione walked briskly down some halls and back to the library. Her high heeled Mary Jane's made soft clicks in her wake, echoing off the empty corridors. It was Friday night and most of the students were in their common rooms, out on the pitch, or just socializing elsewhere and were definitely not going to be seen in a hall full of classrooms, too many bad memories.
She felt the air pushing back her hair. Her hair, the bane of her existence, had finally turned in her favor over the summer. Agreeing to be the guinea pig for one of the Weasley Twins' products (she now does not remember why she agreed to it- probably something in the candy they had offered her beforehand), an at-home potion kit to turn "any hopeless locks of hair to catwalk-ready dreads," she drank a surprisingly sweet tasting potion and all of her hair had promptly fallen out.
Stunned at the result, she had fainted and awoke the next day with gorgeous light blonde/brown hair that fell down to her mid-black in soft waves. The Twins apologized for the shock of discovering that there was an elapse time to wait for it to grow back. "Something we gotta tweak, you know, that's why we test 'em!" either Fred or George had told her. All she knew for truth was that the twins were bloody geniuses.
With big brown eyes, long light brown hair, and a curvaceous figure, she marched back into the library. Certainly a drastic change that happened over the summer, but she was happy that she had finally grown into her looks. The clicks that her heels made drew the attention of the male population in the room to her entry and their gaze followed her movements as she positioned herself at the head of the group.
"All right, sorry about that, where were we? Oh, we were taking suggestions about the first activity.. I remember going to the theatre, touring Muggle London, and what were some more..?" She asked the room.
All the female hands shot up and Hermione promptly ignored them, they were only interested in this Art Galla Ball somewhere in Paris that they were all adamant on attending. She saw Ron sitting there with a look of thought on his face so she called on him. "Ron, any ideas?"
"Uh, I don't have enough blood in my brain to answer that question at the moment." He stumbled out.
Most of the guys nodded in agreement and Hermione shot them a look of disdain and caved in to the now frantic 5th year girl in front of her who was practically jumping out of her seat with excitement. "Yes, what's your suggestion?" Hermione said with false enthusiasm.
"The58thAnnualArtGalaBallinParisonthe14th.." She rushed in one breath.
Hermione almost wanted to say, "Sorry couldn't quite catch that, moving on.." but instead she grimaced as she saw all the other girls put their hand down. Even without her vote, the girls would win majority. Ultimately, it was up to McGonagall to give them permission to miss school and make sure arrangements would be taken care of to her satisfaction.. Hopefully, Hermione could talk her out of this idea, for the love of Merlin, she hoped she could.
"Any other ideas?" She asked no one in particular.
The group traded glances and Hermione took that as a no.
"Vote once please, all in favor of a play?"
A few hands raised and Hermione noted the number.
"All in favor of touring Muggle London?"
A few more hands raised.
"All in favor of the Art Gala?"
A sea of hands shot up and Hermione stifled a "humph." All of the girls were raising there hands and glaring at the boys to do the same. Some girls were raising both hands. Hermione was quite sure there wasn't enough people in the room to have that many hands in the air.
"A play and Muggle London have not been entirely ruled out, just postponed. I will talk to Headmistress McGonagall about the Gala in the morning. I will post a sign outside the library tomorrow that will have the decision and next meeting time. You are dismissed. Have a lovely weekend." She smiled as chairs simultaneously scraped against the floor and students filed out. Hermione waited and gathered miscellaneous papers from the meeting back into her messenger bag.
"Granger, you didn't look too happy about the decision. Why not, afraid you won't have a date?"
She didn't even have to look up. His arrogance proceeded him long before his mouth opened, or maybe it was his smell. A lovely smell entirely Malfoy and a bit of musk, sandalwood, and spices.
"Oh Malfoy, I'm sure I could pay whoever you pay to find you date to find me a date as well."
"I'm afraid you wouldn't be able to afford it."
"Did you just admit to paying for your whores?" Hermione finally lifted her head and raised an eyebrow at him.
"Touché, Mudblood." He sneered.
They stood in silence and battled each other with their eyes for sometime before Hermione slung her school bag over her shoulder.
"I didn't know you enjoy the Arts, Ferret. I thought they didn't allow any animals into the theatre.." She drawled in almost a bored voice.
"I could say the same thing to you, bitch."
"Touché." She mimicked.
He smirked at this and motioned to the door. "I have to go, I've got a date to get ready for."
"How much did this girl set you back?" With that, she turned on her heels and left to find Harry and Ron, not waiting for his answer.
Hours later, Hermione was settled in quite cozily with a copy of "Vampires: A Dying Breed" and a blanket Mrs. Weasley had knitted for her for her birthday last year. The common room fire crackled as it slowly burned, almost dead. It was getting late and she promised herself that after this chapter she would get up to bed.
But something distracted her, the feeling of eerie calmness, which made it impossible to read no matter how hard she tried. She dog-eared the page and set it on the coffee table in front of her. She snuggled in deeper and pulled the blanket all the way up to her chin, almost hiding.
She glanced around the room. The large bookshelf that spanned the entire length of the room and was as high as the ceiling looked ominous as the connected ladder crept on its track, moved by some invisible force. She tore her eyes away to the dark wood fireplace, and then to the large, plush furniture surrounding her. Truly, nothing was out of the ordinary but something still unnerved her. This place was too big for someone as small as her, she thought. If Draco was here, he would surely be laughing at her, stupid prat.
That's what was missing, Malfoy. He had been gone most of the night and usually by now he had returned. It was way past curfew and she wondered if something might have happened to him. Maybe he was lying in a pool of blood somewhere, ..and here she was, afraid of some ghost or doppelganger that was lurking in the shadows of their shared Heads' common room. Her fears were letting her imagination run wild.
As if on cue, the boy in question burst through the portrait with a large "BOOM!" and Hermione jumped at least six feet in the air and landed with her own thud on the floor.
"Jumpy are we Granger? Thinking about a certain devilishly good-looking Slytherin and it's got you all hot and bothered?" He said with a wolfish grin and proceeded to plop down on the couch across from her. He undid the top bottoms on his black dress shirt in attempt to get comfortable and pushed up his sleeves.
"Well, that would make some sense, thinking about you might scare me half to death. But what doesn't make any sense, is why I would be thinking about your pompous ass in the first place- unless I was planning your murder, so bugger off." She said as she crawled back up on the couch.
"So you were thinking of me? I'm touched. I feel nauseous."
"Can't you just leave me alone?"
"Not when you're dressed in Slytherin colors like that.." He said with a smirk and a wink.
Hermione huffed up and looked down at her attire. She hadn't expected him around so she hadn't bothered in anything modest. A deep emerald green, low cut, tank top and matching green and black striped, boy-style underwear. She instinctively grabbed for her blanket and covered up.
That just made him give a throaty chuckle and say, "I've seen you naked, Granger. Remember?"
She blushed at the memory of him walking in their shared bathroom after Hermione had stepped out of the shower. "How can I? You'll never let me forget."
"Might I say, you have the sexiest body I have ever seen."
"No, you might not say that." She glared at him.
Even through the dim firelight, Draco could feel the fury behind her eyes and it gave him a slight shiver down his spine. He loved getting her all riled up, especially when he complemented her, which he had been doing a lot lately. Maybe solely for her reaction, but he knew better. He meant it, every word. She had the body of a goddess. Long golden hair, big doe eyes, pink full lips, creamy complexion, huge breasts, taunt stomach, and legs that seemed to go on forever. Mmm, mm, mm, mm, mmmmmmm.. yummy.
He liked that she didn't dabble in makeup and potions to skew her appearance. They often shared the bathroom in the morning and he had the privilege to watch her get ready. She wore mascara and two coats of gloss, and occasionally a light, golden eye shadow. He loved it. He loved walking into the bathroom right after she sprayed whatever heavenly perfume she wore. It smelled of.. Hermione and it made him feel warm and happy.
He liked that he could elicit a response from her at the drop of a hat, and not an entirely a sexual response. He got tired of girl after girl just throwing themselves at him and so easily bedding them. Where was the chase? The fight? The morals? Hermione was different and he liked it.
The vixen across from him had captured his interest long ago, first, second, third.. one of those early years, he could not remember. There had always been apart of him that had wanted her, to befriend her, to love her.
True, he had not joined the Art-whatever group for all the right reasons. Sure, he liked the Arts.. but going to a play? Pfft, rather be gauging his eyes out, thanks. He had sat through those as a kid with his parents and he could never see himself willingly go to a bloody play for all the galleons in Gringotts. But maybe, for Hermione, it might be tolerable.
Back to the vixen, she was still glaring at him for an answer.
"Oh, you can deny it all you want and wear a trash bag for all I care- but you're still sexy as fuck. Like right now, you're all breathy and flushed.. I can still tell, even in the dark. You want me Granger, it's as natural as giants like to club things."
"..As natural as Professor Binns giving a short summary." She scoffed.
"Touché." He smirked.
"Why do we bicker like this? As if we're an old, frigid, married couple?" She asked in a serious tone.
"Well, Wife, maybe it's because we hate each other."
"Touché, Husband."