A/N: Another random oneshot! Mine are usually quite terrible, which is why I shall keep trying until I get a good one.
Disclaimer: (to the tune of Mary Had A Little Lamb) StarDust had a wish one day, wish one day, wish one day! StarDust had a wish one day and it was to own a series! She knew it was impossible, so she tried to patent the works! Then she got caught by the police and… I know I shouldn't go into a songwriting career.
The Secret Hobby of Hermione Granger
(First of all, this is not one of those creepy fics where you find out she goes clubbing or something or works for a spy agency and was sent to investigate Harry Potter, then she dissected him and grabbed the Horcrux. No offense if you actually wrote a story like that.
…That's it, really.)
You would call an average teenage wizard cool and an average teenage witch pretty when you saw them because you do not want to be Stunned or anything worse of the sort.
You really don't know what they call each other, do you?
A normal day in Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would involve Harry trying to stop Voldemort, Ron lazing around, Hermione studying, and Malfoy strutting around bullying younger students and calling Muggle-born witches and wizards Mudbloods.
At the current moment Harry and Ron were being good heroes and researching Horcruxes under the Invisibility Cloak in the Restricted Section in the library (and yes, I know that Dumbledore had them removed, but that's what FANFICTION IS FOR, okay?) and Malfoy was taunting a poor little firstie (I really shouldn't talk, I'm in the 'first year' age too). Neville was tackling the Venomous Tentacula and glaring at his Remembrall while Luna searched for Nargles nearby.
Where was Hermione, you would think?
Why was she not in the library?
Well, that's for later.
~*O*~
Draco was having a bad, bad day.
It's about time that he got his way.
Steamrolling whatever he sees—oops, sorry, Flint…NO, don't kick me off the team! I swear, it was an accident!
–Ah, despicable me. (TELL ME EVERYONE HAS WATCHED THAT MOVIE.)
Hey, where's Granger? That mudblood?
Oh well, he'll just go practice Quidditch for a little, then go find the Muddy Trio and taunt them a bit.
Draco grabbed his Nimbus 2001 and strolled to the Quidditch pitch.
Hey!
Someone's up there!
Wonder who it is…is that a FIREBOLT? Lucky person. It must be Potter, though, or a pureblood. Well, he'll go join them. If it's a pureblooded Slytherin, he or she will let Draco try. If it's Potter, whatever. If it's a Hufflepuff, bully him or her into letting Draco use the broom. If it's a Ravenclaw, tell them Professor Sprout gave him or her a D on the exam.
Draco kicked off and was soaring in half a second.
As he neared it became obvious it was a girl on the broom.
She was twisting and turning and obviously having the time of her life, whooping on the top of her lungs.
Then—Draco nearly shrieked in a very unmanly voice that would surely earn him some punishment from his father (shudder)—she slid neatly down the broom so she was hanging off the side by her knees, dangling in the air nearly a hundred feet away from the ground.
Sliding back onto the broom the girl nosedived straight down before shooting up for fifty meters, hair streaming behind her.
That had to be a Slytherin.
~^O^~
Draco zoomed closer to inspect.
She was a prefect, judging from the badge glinting on her jacket. She was also wearing Muggle clothes, which was weird: slim fitting jeans, sneakers, and a purple hoodie. (Emma Watson does wear this! Check for pictures!)
He glanced at the back of her head, where brown hair was streaming out and fluttering crazily in the wind.
Then he made his first mistake.
"Hey," Draco called.
The girl whipped around, panic obvious in her eyes.
"Those were some cool…" his voice died away as he registered her face.
The girl using the Firebolt, hanging upside down by the knees, nose diving, and performing the most fabulous tricks he'd ever seen was Hermione Granger.
Wasn't she afraid of heights?
The insult slipped out naturally.
"What are you doing, Mudblood?"
Her eyes filled with tears and somehow he regretted what he'd said.
"Go away."
"No."
"GO AWAY, MALFOY!"
"No."
"WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU, MALFOY? YOU JUST HAD TO RUIN MY DAY, DIDN'T YOU? FIND OUT ABOUT MY HOBBY? AND EXPOSE IT TO THE WHOLE SCHOOL? KEEP YOUR" there Hermione used a word that was the last thing Draco ever expected her to use "NOSE OUT OF OTHER PEOPLE'S BUSINESS, YOU ALBINO DIRTY PUREBLOODED" another use of a…not so civilized…word "FERRET!"
With that she turned around to Gryffindor Tower and seemed to disappear.
"Wait…Granger," Draco called. But it was too late and the window she went into closed with a barely audible snap.
"Stupid, stupid…" Draco face palmed. There was something to be done.
~O-o~
The next morning Hermione was surprised to find that no one knew about her flying hobby.
Perhaps Malfoy had kept quiet after all.
She felt a surge of gratitude towards the Slytherin (that he most certainly did not deserve, of course) as she walked out of the Great Hall, biting into an apple.
That disappeared when he grabbed her in the hallway and snarled, "Where did you think you're going?"
"The fact that you're trembling makes this situation less serious," Hermione pointed out, trying to stay brave. Gryffindor courage, Hermione. Gryffindor courage.
He tried to stop shaking and took out his wand.
"I've got a wand too, Malfoy," she said, reaching into her pocket.
Uh oh.
"Isn't there, huh?" he laughed humorlessly.
"What did you do with it, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, her voice beginning to shake.
"Nothing."
"Then let go of me!" she demanded. "LET GO!"
"No."
"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" she shouted, patience snapping.
"I want to know why you were flying."
Hermione flushed and snapped, "None of your business!"
"Scream at me. Go on," Malfoy sneered.
"You know what?" Hermione suddenly said, a smirk forming.
"Too scared? The weak Mudblood is scared?" Malfoy taunted.
"No…" Hermione said, that evil smirk growing bigger, "I know something about you."
"Tell," he offered menacingly.
"Tell I will," she grinned maniacally. "I know, Malfoy. I know about your act, this pretense of being the big, bad Malfoy heir. I know what you're really like inside; insecure and simply wanting to be famous and widely known, so you make your father proud. Over time this has become the 'real you,' and the fake you is buried somewhere deep down where you don't want to find it, locked up so you won't have feelings for other people that your father would punish you for, so you won't get hurt again, so—"
"SHUT UP!" Malfoy roared in her face. "SHUT UP NOW!"
Hermione continued without caution. "So the Slytherins won't think your weak, Harry and Ron won't tease you, we won't have black—ugh…" she choked.
Malfoy squeezed his hand over her throat. "SHUT UP!" he roared. "YOU DON'T KNOW A THING ABOUT MY LIFE! YOU DON'T KNOW! YOU DON'T KNOW ABOUT THE PRESSURE AND THE PAIN AND THE LONELINESS AND THE DARK LORD! YOU DON'T KNOW ABOUT THE SLYTHERINS AND DAILY LIFE! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING! ABOUT ME!"
"Malfoy…" Hermione spluttered weakly, "Hurts…Can't breathe…"
"YOU DON'T KNOW ABOUT THIS ALL, THE DANGER, THE LIFE-THREATS, ALL OF IT! STOP PRETENDING YOU'RE SUCH A KNOW-IT-ALL!" he continued, so absorbed in his sudden burst of anger and pain he'd been hiding and containing all these months.
"Malfoy…" Hermione choked out, "Please…"
"YOU DON'T! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND MY FAMILY! YOU DON'T!"
"You…" Hermione whispered. "Let go…you're acting…like…"
"WHAT DO YOU KNOW? HOW DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE REAL ME IS LIKE? YOU DON'T KNOW, GRANGER! HOW CAN YOU KNOW WHAT MY FAMILY IS LIKE?"
"Acting…like…" Hermione breathed, fading out of consciousness, "like…your father…"
That stopped him.
The sudden realization that Hermione was unconscious and possibly dead because of him made Draco lean against the nearby wall, stars swimming in front of his eyes, and slide to the ground, shutting off the world with his eyes.
"My father?"
~^3^~
The world was hazy when he woke up, but the white walls and sheets made it obvious he was in the Hospital Wing.
Draco groaned, feeling his head pound.
Then the reason he was here came rushing back to him and he nearly fainted again.
Madam Pomfrey rushed over in an instant.
"Oh, you're awake? Good. Eat this!" She shoved a piece of chocolate that must have weighed two kilograms into his hands.
"How?" Draco asked weakly.
"Hold on…" the nurse grabbed a small hammer and began to pound the chocolate.
A feminine groan sounded from the bed beside his.
"Ms. Granger?" Madame Pomfrey asked. "Oh, good! Here, have some chocolate…"
Draco tuned out the conversation. Granger was in the bed next to his? Just great. He might lose control again and he sure hoped this event wouldn't get to his father…Malfoys should not lose control…
But he had. And at the very end, Granger…she had said that he was acting like his father.
His worst nightmare had come true…well, not exactly. The worst one was when he was in a pink tutu and dancing around in the Great Hall with his father and mother beside him in white and green tutus, complete with matching fairy wings, tiaras, and fake wands.
Then the Slytherins had all stood up and began singing Mary Had A Little Lamb, a Muggle nursery rhyme too, and then Draco was wearing a frock and walking a lamb on a pink leash. Then Dumbledore announced there was a Christmas concert and the three performers where 'Dancing Draco,' 'Lovely Lucius' and 'Natural Narcissa.' Cheesy reached a whole new level when he found out they were doing a play about three five year olds on Christmas Eve opening presents and finding out they suddenly were fairies and could fly and sing like angels.
He was getting a bit off track.
Anyway, Granger was talking.
"Malfoy, I think we need to talk. I feel like we were both wrong, and…"
"What are you, one of those fake school 'counselors' who ask you questions about troubles at school?" Draco replied rudely.
"Fine, if you don't want civil conversation," Granger huffed, obviously annoyed.
"Uh, civil conversation would be better, thank you," Draco hastily amended.
"Why, don't want me to hit you again?" Hermione snapped, obviously ruffled that he hadn't bothered to listen to her speech.
"Well lady, if no one has told you, well you hit like a man!" Draco huffed.
"Who has hit you before?" Hermione asked, suddenly amused.
"About two people?" Draco answered, quite confused.
"Who was it?"
"My mother and you."
"You're soft, Malfoy," Hermione teased.
"Not. Get to the point."
"Well…you don't need to know about why I like flying, and I don't need to know about why you act like you do. We don't spread rumors and we don't tease. Pretend this never happened," Hermione explained.
This might work out after all. Granger seems to be reasonable.
"Also…" she continued, suddenly winking. "How do you know I'm Muggle-born?"
"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.
"Dumbledore found out two days ago I was adopted. I'm from the Zabini family and pureblooded."
Pansy was so going out the window now.
Why wasn't Hermione in the library? The million-dollar question!
Because Harry and Ron were actually working, that's why. Besides, Hermione was always slightly lazy…
~'O'~
Five years later Narcissa was teary and Lucius was slightly less manly when Hermione walked down the aisle, four years after Voldemort's defeat. In a stunning white gown and clutching a bouquet of white roses and shorter lavender sticks, she floated down the carpet noiselessly after the bridesmaids tossed dried rose petals in the air.
Percy Weasley cleared his throat, and—
"Aw, just skip that!" Hermione cried, surprising the audience. "Look, Draco," she began, launching into a technical Hermione speech, she talked about love and such in a much more interesting and unusual manner that included all the things Percy would have said in five minutes.
The press was having a field day. GOLDEN GIRL MARRIES EX-DEATH EATER SON!
Vows were exchanged and rings were put on and tears were shed and the bouquet was thrown (caught by Ginny who stood up and announced Harry had proposed) and the champagne was popped and the congratulatory hugs and kisses were given and the press was satisfied…then the newlyweds got into the sleek black Porsche and purred away to Hawaii.
Kind of lame ending, huh? Review, please