Summary - On New Year's Eve a secret is revealed about Hermione's past that causes her to make some pretty rash decisions that will change her life forever. Consequently, Hermione will grow up up in every sense of the word with the Slytherin Sex God and potential Death Eater, Draco Malfoy. Lies will be told, plans will be hatched, sides will be chosen, friends will be betrayed and all for the love of a boy on the wrong side of a War. Please R & R!
Disclaimer - Unfortunately, everything belongs to J.K and however much I wanna take Draco home and stuff him in my closet, I just don't have the right! =[
Author's Note: Hey guy's! So this is the first chapter to my very first Dramione fanfic!!! Whoop, whoop! Anyway fingers crossed that you like it! Please R & R!
This fanfic is based in Hermione and Draco's sixth year in Hogwarts, therefore both the sixth and seventh books are irrelevant. Draco has not yet become a Death Eater or a member of Voldermort's 'inner circle' and is still debating between which side he will join although nobody knows that he is not 100% loyal to the dark side.
Chapter 1 - Revelations"It was a moment of weakness
And you said yes
You should've said no"
Should've Said No – Taylor Swift
Hermione Granger had never been so angry in her life. She could feel her pretty, heart shaped face flushing beetroot red with anger as her mother's words sunk in. Angrily she realised that even Lord Voldermort could not cause her to lose her temper as much as this and she had seen him commit many atrocities in her short life! Hermione was overwhelmed with the knowledge that she had been betrayed and deceived by her very own flesh and blood. Suddenly, she knew what it felt like to want to kill and it scared her. They had deceived her, they had lied to her for the entirety of her life, a small voice in the back of her mind insisted. They deserved everything they got! It urged. Combined with the intense pain of losing everything she believed in, was the even stronger desire to seek revenge. She wanted to punish them for their treachery but as she starred into their panicked hazel brown eyes, which ironically she had always thought so like her own Hermione knew she couldn't do it. However much she hated them at this moment in time, they had still been her parents for the last sixteen years and grudgingly she did acknowledge that part of her did love them despite their deceit. She had no choice but to leave because if she stayed she would surely murder them.
"I'm going." She snapped, as much to herself as her parents and pushed back the dining room chair, ignoring her untouched dinner. Wordlessly, she headed for the hallway and the front door. She couldn't stay in this house a moment longer.
"You will come back here. We must discuss this." Her father demanded as he too rose from his seat and followed her. He made to grab hold of her pale white arm but she hastily tugged away from his grasp.
"No." Hermione growled irately. "You are not my father! You have no right." The words were out before she thought of the consequences of turning her back on the only family she had ever really known, but once they had left her lips Hermione didn't regret uttering them. Silently father and daughter stared into each other's eyes seeing the hurt each of them had caused the other. Despite feeling a tinge of sadness and an acute sense of loss, Hermione did not ease her harsh gaze and threateningly whispered, "let me go."
In that moment Edward Granger saw something in his adopted child's eyes that scared him and he involuntarily released her. "We did what we thought was best, Hermione. You were always our child. You always will be. It does not matter that your mother is now pregnant." He said desperately, realising as the words left his lips that this knowledge did indeed change everything. The truth that Hermione Granger was not their biological child was inescapable to both her parents and herself and no matter what Edward and Jean Granger did from this moment onwards, their daughter would always see them as liars.
"Yes it does." She murmured acknowledging the truth only she was willing to admit. Hurriedly Hermione grabbed her black and white chequered coat from the peg by the door and wrenched open the front door.
"Where will you go?" Jean Granger called from the kitchen door, concern evident in her soft voice.
Even though Hermione heard her phony mother's concern she completely ignored the question and without a backwards glance headed into the freezing cold, night air. She trudged through the ankle deep snow in a daze, passing street after street, unaware of where she was heading. When the bitter night-time air eventually permeated her muggle clothing she finally stopped, collapsing into the snow and bursting into tears. A coldness that had nothing to do with the weather invaded every fibre of her being. She was not Hermione Granger. She was not a Granger. Her entire life had been a well concocted lie. She silently wished that her parents had told her when she was younger, when not properly belonging would not have mattered. But now it did matter.
Her parents were the only people who connected her to this muggle world and to find out that it was a complete fabrication hurt Hermione more than she was willing to admit. She realised that this was how Harry must have felt when he discovered his heritage. But unlike Harry, she did not want this wizarding ancestry that was sure to come to light because of her parents . . . . . no . . . . her adopted parent's revelation. She was a muggle and she was proud of it! But now everything had changed. What was she going to do? Pushing the thought of the future away determinedly, Hermione focused on a more immediate problem. What was she going to do tonight? She couldn't go home tonight, that was not sensible as the anger and deep seeded urge for revenge still boiled in her blood. She could not stay at the Barrow for the Christmas holidays because Mr and Mrs Weasley were visiting Charlie in Romania. Harry and Ron remained at Hogwarts and were therefore beyond helping her. Despair threatened to engulf her as she realised she had nobody to turn to. Tears continued to cascade uncontrollably down her now blotchy red face. The knowledge that there was nobody she could turn to for help tempted her into returning home. It would be easier if she could just forget all of this! But the logical Hermione Granger refused to revert escapism.
As the hysterics subsided she glanced down at herself, annoyed at her dishevelled state. She forced herself to clear her mind and think rationally about her options. The only viable option was to stay staying in the Leaky Cauldron for a few days and decide upon her future then. The Leaky Cauldron's sometimes shabby appearance was comforting as it reminded her of happier times when Harry, Ron and herself along with the rest of the Weasleys had stayed there and despite her present troubles a small bubble of excitement warmed her body at the thought of spending a few days in Diagon Alley.
Hermione's delicate hands rummaged inside a concealed pocket in her coat and careful pulled out her wand, she glad that she had not left it behind in her mad rush to leave the house. Without further consideration, she signalled the Knight Bus, a bus service for the 'stranded witch or wizard'.
"It's all changing." She murmured darkly as the double decker, red London bus screeched ominously to a holt in front of her.
When Hermione arrived at the Leaky Couldron to discover that the entire place was crammed to the ceiling with Witches and Wizards for the Cauldron Convention being held in Diagon Alley that weekend, she had foolishly believed that life couldn't really get much worse. Then Tom, the landlord had suggested the Black Cat to her. Apparently, it was the least popular pub in the area and the only place that was likely to have vacancies at such short notice. It didn't take long for Hermione to understand why. From its derelict appearance to the hostile glances of some of the clientele to the even ruder landlord, it was truly a horrible place. Hermione felt the unaccustomed tingling of irrational fear in her bones as she silently acknowledged the danger she had put herself in by coming to this part of Diagon Alley alone. The dingy little tavern was at the very bottom of Diagon Alley, just before it turned on to Knockturn Alley. It was in the exact part of the street where only purebloods of dubious moral standing would ever venture and even then, Hermione was sure it would only ever attract down-on-their-luck purebloods who could afford little else. But there was no turning back now; she had nowhere else to go. Reluctantly she asked for a room.
"That will be forty-five galleons." The barmaid demanded coldly, making it clear that the only reason she was even being allowed a room was because the money was needed to pay the rent. Hermione wordlessly handed over her money in exchange for the brass key that was slammed rudely on the bar in response.
"Thank you," she mumbled politely as the barmaid turned her back and sauntered away to chat with a man who was sat at the opposite end of the bar. Slut, Hermione thought vengefully as she watched the barmaid with big breasts and dyed platinum blonde hair, sway her hips seductively as she walked towards her prey. She angrily wondered why men always seemed to go for the clichés; even Harry and Ron were guilty of this. Hermione had little experience when it came to either boys or men but over the years she had still come to the conclusion that all men were the same when it came to women; all they wanted was a leggy, blonde bimbo with way too much make-up, big tits and a skirt up to her ass. Don't be so vulgar, Hermione mentally chastised herself. Just because they look like that does not mean they don't have a brain, she argued unconvincingly. Her hazel brown eyes followed the swiftly retreating barmaid for any sign of depth, as she watched the barmaid intently her gaze took in the face of the man the barmaid was making a beeline for. She grasped with shock as recognition dawned.
There at the other end of the bar was none other than Slytherin's very own metaphorically beloved son, Draco Malfoy. Fleetingly Hermione's heart seemed to stop beating as she was left stunned by his presence in this cess pit of a pub. Surely he would have been more likely to be a regular in either the Quidditch crazy Broomstick Inn or the needlessly expensive hotel, The Wand. Maybe she was mistaken; maybe this man just looked similar to Malfoy . . . . no, that was definitely her and her friend's tormentor. She knew his face almost as well as she knew her own, or Harry's or Ron's. Besides there was no doubting whose piercing, ice blue eyes returned her gaze with equal amazment. The question was why was he here and why was he starring at her?
He seemed to be obliviously to the temptress in the guise of a barmaid as he starred unblinkingly into her eyes. She could feel his surprise at seeing her there and if it wasn't for her own guilt at her presence in this murky, seedy dive then she would have simply walked away without a seconds thought. Insted she sat in silence and starred back, only vaguely registering the tart of a barmaid's glance over her shoulder, snort of disgust and hasty departure. Sense momentarily evaded her and she hastily walked over to him, determined to discover why he should be in this shit hole.
"What the hell are you doing here?" She demanded, forgetting that it was not her business.
"Don't tell me that you care, Granger?" Malfoy sneered back at her lazily.
"In your dreams ferret boy!"
"You're the one asking the personal questions Granger." He calmly countered, taking a sip from his drink.
"Only because of you were staring at me!" She lied unconvincingly.
He mimicked her defensive screech, claiming "only because I was surprised to see a mudblood rent a room here!"
"The Leaky Cauldron was fully booked!" She snapped, angry that she had divulged more than she wanted to.
"Ahh, and here was me thinking you were after some of the other . . . . opportunities this pub offers." His eyes deliberately returned to the barmaid, roving over her barely clothed body.
"You're sick Malfoy," she turned to flounce away haughtily.
"Care for a drink Granger?"
The words stopped her in her tracks. Why would Draco Malfoy be offering her a drink? Silently she turned around and starred at him questioningly. By the stunned expression evident on his face before his normally impenetrateable mask came down, he had clearly not intended to utter such an offer. He had probably planned to say some derogatory comment about her muggle heritage but had insted had done a complete 360 and asked her to have a drink with him! What was he thinking? As she watched his traitorous eyes glance over her body in a more discreet version of the manner in which he had eyed up the barmaid, she realised his intentions. While she watched his betraying, ice blue eyes appreciatively roam her tiny figure something changed inside her. She was not disgusted by the glint in his eye telling her that tonight at least, he found her appealing. She wondered what it was that made her seem attractive to him at his precise moment. She was dressed in muggle clothing and although she knew it accentuated her curves, by rights he should not be so clearly turned on by her fine, black tights, short but not tarty, black skirt and double breasted, coat that rested just below her hips. She guiltily admitted anyone had the right to be turned on by the knee high black, leather boots that topped the outfit off because anyone would be turned on by those boots! Even her. A bitter sickness swept through her as she realised what he was doing. She was getting off on Malfoy, her most hated enemy appraising her like she was a prize piece of meat. Despite her minds disgust Hermione's heated body stubbornly refused to walk away.
What would your parents think of me if they knew this? Her mind berated her body in an attempt to regain her sanity. It was only after the thought entered her mind that Hermione realised it had been the worst possible thing she could used to reason with her dual desires to walk away because now her mind also wanted to join the youngest Malfoy for a drink.
"Okay. Avada Kedeva, please." She said sitting on the barstool next to his. Hermione had her fill of being the sensible one. Tonight she was going to 'walk on the wild side', as they say and go against everything her adopted parents had instilled in her just for spite. Throwing caution to the wind, Hermione focused her attention on Malfoy. Besides, she reasoned I want to see his chat up lines.
"Wow. Going right in there Granger! Never took you for an AK kinda girl." He signalled to the barmaid, who somewhat reluctantly walked over to them. "Two AK's please."
The drinks were unceremoniously slammed down infront of Draco, spilling some of the bright green liquid over the bar. Clearly the barmaid was not impressed at being set aside for a witch in muggle clothing! Hermione thought with glee.
"Shall we take our drinks over there -" he signalled to a secluded alcove behind them. "The company here is . . . . . . " he looked at the barmaid "cheap." She flinched.
"Sure," Hermione murmured silkily, choking down the laughter that threatened to explode by taking a large gulp of her extremely noxious drink. It immediately went to head, lightening her mood and loosening her tongue. "So Malfoy what are you doing in this shit hole? Don't give me any rubbish about you staying here because I know that's a lie . . . . "
"How do you know that? You know nothing about me. Do not presume anything." He replied gruffly. "Anyway, what are you doing here?"
A tense, bitter cackle escaped from her throat as she uttered the words "a holiday." Of course he knew she was lying but he decided not to push the issue any further. Their respective reasons for being in the Black Cat were clearly a sore topic for both of them.
Hermione however, was not the type of person to let something go easily and the more she drank the more her curiosity overwhelmed common sense. "You didn't answer my question," she asked leadingly.
"No. Nor am I going to, so just drop it Granger."
"Drop what?" She asked in slightly drunken, mock innocence, fluttering her eyelashes. Oh my god, am I flirting with Malfoy? She asked herself.
Malfoy smiled sinisterly, "don't go there Granger. You won't like what you see." She realised that he was for some inexplicable reason, warning her off him but she paid no heed.
"Who says that its me whose not going to like what they see? You're not the only one who can be terrifying!" She joked.
"Yeah, I've had the bruises to prove your violent tendencies Granger." Draco said, remembering the time she slapped him when they were thirteen. "I know just how dangerous you can be."
An awkward silence descended between the two of them as each searched desperately for some neutral topic to discuss. Finding nothing Hermione threw the remainder of her AK down her throat before uneasily inquiring, "do you want another?"
"Yeah, why not? Let's get hammered, least then we won't have to talk." As soon as the words left his mouth it was obvious that he felt like slamming his head against a brick wall. Some smooth talker he was! Hermione noted dryly, although she realised he wasn't wrong.
"Works for me," she replied evenly. They starred at each other, momentarily surprised by their mutual agreement. Hermione asked amusedly "feels wrong doesn't it?"
"What? Oh yeah . . . . it's just . . . . "
"Lost for words?" She starred back at him, allowing him to see her inner amusement at their situation. He irrupted into infectious laughter and quite soon she found herself doubled up in giggles. "C'mon let's get trashed!" She called joyously.
Malfoy signalled to the barmaid, demanding "another two AK's, followed by two Crucio's!"
"Now who's going for it Malfoy?! You trying to get me drunk?"
"Yes." He admitted confidently and without a single trace of guilt.
"Good. I'll need to be drunk for what we're about to do."
As Hermione downed the last of her pint she didn't realise the slip up she had just made or recognise the sudden bewilderment on Malfoy's face or the smirk of victory that followed it. The drinks they had just ordered arrived and in silence they picked up the Crucio's and downed them. Hermione triumphantly slammed the shot glass down first on the small table and smirked at him in a very un-Hermione like way.
It was going to be one hell of a night.
"Another drink?" Malfoy asked her several hours later, when they were both a little worse for wear having drunk their way through way too much alcohol. Although he was nowhere near as drunk as she was! He lifted his arm to signal the barmaid for another refill when he realised she was shaking her head.
"No. I've had enough. Do you fancy . . . . ."she waved her room keys enticingly as excitement and a little trepidation, but nowhere near as much as you would think filled her veins. This was something she would never have done if she was completely sober and was not determined to go against everything her so called parents believed in and even in her dilapidated state she realised this. He smiled wickedly at her, clasped her tiny hand in his and together they made their way to the door that led to the rooms above the Black Cat. En route she vaguely registered him carelessly flinging a wad of notes on the bar to pay for their drinks.
When they finally reached the door to the room Hermione had been allocated, he took the key out of her shaking hands and slowly opened the door. She didn't know whether her inability to open the door was due to drink or a sudden attack of nerves at the thought of having sex for the first time. Wordlessly he motioned for her to enter before him, which she did shyly as all the confidence she had in the bar deserted her.
He seemed to instinctively realise this and paused to ask, "are you sure?"
"Yes." She said forcefully, pulling him into her arms. She wanted this more than she had ever wanted anything and she was unsure why but far too drunk to care to analyse her emotions.
He kicked the door closed and blindly turned on the light as their lips crashed together with a passion they were unaware they possessed. He ran his fingers through her long, curly brown tresses, all the while pulling her closer to him. Their tongues and hands hungrily sort out each other, touching, tasting. Her fingers ran along the muscles on his back, her gentle butterfly touches arousing him further. She rhythmically grinded her hips against his, becoming intimately aware of his arousal as it rubbed against her stomach. He groaned in sweet, blissful agony as her movements enticed him further.
His own reaction seemed to stun him and he malevolently cursed, "mudblood". Of all the words he could have chosen this was the single most hateful thing he could have said especially now that her heritage was doubtful, but for many reasons, mainly to do with the other emotions racking havoc in her brain, Hermione did not pull away.
"Death Eater," she countered spitefully. She could sense his anger rise uncontrollably and all the gentleness was suddenly gone. Their relatively soft and tender actions of moments before were forgotten as a new, more violent and vicious passion was born. Both of them were angry and determined to make each other pay for the pain they were each suffering. The sudden coppery taste of blood filled their mouths as Draco bit Hermione's lip as he kissed her unforgivingly. The searing pain heightened her senses and she became even more intimately aware of the tall, very male blonde now on top of her. She wanted him and she wanted him now. Damn the consequences.
Neither heard the distant bells of muggle London ringing, bringing in the New Year with a triumphant bang as they continued to fight for supremacy. All they saw was each other.
A/N: So there is was! What did you think? Next chapter will be from Draco's pov and you'll find out why he went after a mudblood and exactly what he thinks of Hermione . . . . It's predictably called 'The Morning After'.