[[DISCLAIMER: Honestly. If I were affiliated with JK Rowling in any way, shape, or form, (excluding being a fan of her work) do you think I'd be lurking around FanFiction? Probably not. Anyways! Huge "Dramione" fan, always have been, always will be (haters gon' hate.) Set in the Trio's sixth years, I've tried to remain as canon as possible regarding timeline wise. Clearly the pairing is not canon. But I hope you enjoy :D] Based from a storyline I used to RP years ago. For those of you from those myspace days, Mentally Defined is back, ya'll.]
"Iris"
Hermione Granger was frowning for roughly the third time that morning. It was not a happenstance that occurred from an unpleasant encounter, nor was it a product of an unfortunate event. In her opinion, the frowns this morning were caused by an annoyance that was immeasurable by others, a burden so heavy, it could only be dealt with by the person who managed it. Her creased brow was attributed to the worst nightmare any girl could have dreamt: her hair. Hermione's brow furrowed ever more as another gust of wind blew her mass of brown curls in front of her face, the locks entangling within her eyelashes.
"Damn!" she muttered.
Impatiently, she pushed the tendrils away from her eyes yet again and continued her brisk stroll along the rolling green hills that surrounded Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Bravely facing the dry, autumnal wind that swirled around the grounds, Hermione marched forward, A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration clutched between her fingers.
In the past, a return to Hogwarts would have been the ending to a perfectly careless summer. But, as the effects of last year's losses were still tangible. From the disappointment of not scoring a perfect result on her OWL examinations, to the still dull throb of losing Sirius, there was little revelry to celebrate her return. Determination drove her further to make up for the results she fell short of in her examinations.
Dutifully trudging along, Hermione drew her cloak closer around her body, shielding herself as much as possible from the wind. Textbook pressed securely to her chest, she marched along, weaving skillfully around a grove of trees until she stopped in a small clearing. Gazing around at the seeming empty space, Hermione slid against the trunk of a tree.
"Holed in the Library!'" she scoffed, repeating Ron's latest comment about her study habits. "I'm outside now. Not a date, but close enough." Hermione reasoned with herself aloud. She opened her textbook and sighed, the scent of fresh pages gently lulling her into a sense of security and comfort.
The sky began to lighten overhead. The light pink of morning slowly faded into blue. The sun overhead, the light filtered into thick, golden bars that lay in perfectly shadowed disarray on the forest's floor. Sighing contently, Hermione closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wooden bark of the tree. The wind from earlier had died down, and a soft, but gentle breeze wafted through the air. A soft hum reverberated in her throat, a lullaby mingling with the breeze that rolled by. Little did she know, a presence heard the soft hum, and piqued by curiosity, headed towards the gentle sound he heard.
The telltale snapping of branches were the first indication. Hermione's eyes snapped open, her head swirling to peek around the tree. The shadow of a person walking towards her moved through the bars of golden light. She rolled her eyes and readjusted herself against the tree, calling out behind her.
"Morning Ron…or Harry. Or both. If it is you, Ronald, don't think I've quite forgiven you for forgetting Harry on the train. And Harry, if that's you, don't think it's polite to snoop on other's conversations. Even if it was the slime called Malfoy. All for naught, too. I told you, he's nothing-"
She expected some sort of response, a huff of indignation perhaps. But what she did not expect was the loud, unfamiliar groan that echoed through the clearing.
"For Salazar's sake. Can I not go anywhere in this forsaken school, or the world, without one of the bloody Trio?"
Hermione stood up abruptly, her wand drawn and pointed straight at the throat of Draco Malfoy. Fourth frown of that day: she'd age far before her time. Brown met silver, and for a moment of tense silence, Draco raised his arms, his wand still firmly clutched in his fingers. He stared at her, a sneer wiped across his thin, aristocratic features.
"Now", he drawled on, "I'm not accustomed to your filthy muggle customs, so bear with me. But I doubt it's common courtesy to continue pointing your wand to someone who clearly does not want a duel." He pointedly glanced up at his raised arms before glaring back at her.
Hermione's glare narrowed, her brown eyes disappearing into thin slits, her brow creasing further. With a frustrated huff, she lowered her wand and stepped away from him. She muttered at him through a painfully clenched jaw.
"Malfoy" she spat, "what brings you here?"
He huffed, his eyes never leaving hers. "I went for a walk. I heard someone. I found you."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine." She clipped before turning around. "You can leave now."
Draco's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What? I 'can' leave? As in I'm given permission?"
She scoffed bitterly. "Please tell me you don't need an escort."
He stepped towards her, anger contorting his face. "Listen Mud-"
Her "protego" screamed through the air before he finished his statement. Draco's body flew against a nearby tree, thudding loudly as he made contact with the ground in a crumpled heap of black robes. "Expelliarmus!" Hermione shrieked. Quite satisfactorily, his wand flew into her hand. He stood, fury now contorting his features almost animalistically.
"Give. Me. My. Wand. Bitch." He said dangerously.
"You forgot 'please', you prick." She replied, sarcasm dripping from her tone.
"My father will-"
Hermione turned away and laughed hollowly. "Yeah. He'll hear about this. I'm scared. Petrified, even. Regardless, I'm not the one without a wand. Leave."
Draco moved in front of her, his eyes flashing at her.
"I'm not leaving without my wand."
She shrugged. "Not my fault. Now, you're interrupting me. Leave."
She slid back down the trunk of the tree, both wands firmly stuck in her hands. She grinned victoriously.
Draco stood there, stunned momentarily. His eyes fixated themselves on his wand stuck between her dirty, muggle tainted fingers. Torn between the shame of losing a (unfair, in his eyes) duel and wand to the Gryffindor Princess and the shame of facing his house wand-less, his next move was so shocking, it elicited a shriek that could have raised the dead from Hermione: Draco Malfoy sat next to her.
((Author's Note: There we go! End of chapter one. Comments, reviews, questions are all appreciated! And thanks to Sabby for BETA-ing me!))