Prologue: we shall begin at the beginning and end at the end.
Destination Sickness: the illness easily caught by a culture that is affluent and godless. feeling as if one has already arrived to the point of extreme happiness and completion, yet lacking a final piece to the puzzle.
With an emotionally weak mother and absolutely terrifying but affluent father, Draco Malfoy grew up extremely spoiled. Oftentimes his father could use his extensive power and influential figurehead friends in order to get Draco every single thing his little heart desired. Whether it be the top of the line broom that hasn't yet reached the public market or a brand new set of silk and wool winter robes, Draco was never denied anything. In fact, his voracity for everything he wanted was encouraged by his doting mother and formidable father.
Voldemort was no different, of course. Curse a few muggles and kill a couple of traitors and Draco could have anything and everything. Almost everything. He still didn't have the mudblood Granger. But he would change that soon.
Unfortunately for this spoiled rich boy, Draco Malfoy craved something that Voldemort was still attempting to find a way to give to him without arousing suspicion among his followers. As of the moment, it seemed that for once, a Malfoy could not have something that he coveted.
Of course, once Draco came upon this unfortunate realization, he tore apart the manor, cursed his weak and utterly powerless father, and eventually rebelled against Voldemort's wishes.
This was quite a predicament. After all, Draco was meant to be Voldemort's heir. It wouldn't do well for his shining student to stop obeying his orders merely because of an itch he could not scratch.
Nothing that Voldemort did for Draco seemed to alleviate the boy's craving.
The top notch whores weren't able to make it past a mere kiss without Draco brutally cursing them.
Yes, Voldemort had to find a way to secure what Draco wanted; quickly. If he waited any longer, he may risk losing his only heir.
Voldemort began to plan.
Draco rolled his eyes and shoved the bulldog-nosed Parkinson girl off of his lap. All of his Slytherin comrades sneered and laughed at the pitiful sight before them.
"Drakie, don't you want me?" she cried out pathetically. Draco narrowed his grey eyes at her, curling his upper lip in disgust.
"I don't associate with whores," he stated plainly, before returning to his dark arts notebook.
He heard the pitiable bulldog get off of the floor of the train car that they were in and walk out of their compartment.
"Although I'm worried about whatever diseases she could have passed around to half of Slytherin, was it completely necessary to rile her up, Draco? Now the bint is going to run to Snape and tell him of all the horrible things we've done to her," Theodore Nott complained.
Draco smirked.
"And what makes you think that my godfather would be on the side of the bitch who made her way through all of the Slytherin boys in fifth year and above? She's nothing more than a pitiable slut who can't keep her legs nor her mouth shut. Whatever happens to her, know that she always had it coming. Now someone ward the damned window so the bitch thinks we left if she tries coming back," he sneered.
Both Blaise and Theo smirked, knowing full well that the head of Slytherin would remain on their side no matter what and one of them went to disguising the window.
The three Slytherin boys returned to their own product of mischief, whether it be of the dark arts or transfiguration, and the three of them were silent until they reached Hogwarts.
Draco found that he was slightly less bored whilst thinking about the mudblood, Granger.
He had wanted her for himself since the end of fifth year.
Voldemort couldn't get her for him.
If you want a job done right, do it yourself, Draco thought, a slow leer appearing on his face.
He knew exactly what he had to do.
"I'm so excited for this year! I'm just so grateful to finally have the responsibility as Head Girl. I've waited for this moment since I was in third year and-are either one of you even listening to me?"
Hermione glared at her two best friends. Both of them had begun to look at a Quidditch magazine and stopped listening to her.
"God, Hermione, you've just been talking about being excited about being Head Girl since we found out at the beginning of summer. We know you're excited, we're just tired of you blabbering about it," Ron answered exasperatedly.
Hermione fought to keep the hurt off of her face. Ron was just insensitive sometimes. She's known this for years.
"I know I've been talking about it a lot, but I'm just really happy and I wish my two best friends would be as happy for me as I am for them when something good happens to them," she replied icily. Hermione inwardly winced. That was harsh for her. She normally never spoke to either of her friends that way.
Ron and Harry both looked up at her, Harry looked slightly taken aback while Ron's face turned beet red.
Hermione braced herself for the maelstrom that she could already feel taking hold.
"Well maybe if you weren't such a damn bookworm all the time, dragging me and Harry around to things that we couldn't care less about, then we could manage to be more excited for you. But Merlin, Hermione all you do is talk about school and books and being the fucking Head Girl that neither one of us want to hear you talk about it! Right, Harry?" Ron nudged the friend next to him, silently asking for support.
Harry kept his head down, looking anywhere but at his two best friends.
"Harry, do you feel this way about me too?" Hermione asked, having trouble keeping her tears from falling onto her cheeks.
Harry glanced up at her, and shrugged.
"I'm not saying that I resent you because of how bookish you are, because I don't, 'Mione. I just think that you're kind of boring sometimes and me and Ron just don't always want to talk about books and homework, you know? It's nothing against you, really, it's just…you," he finished lamely.
Hermione felt as if she had tried swallowing a fistful of clay. It was beginning to get a bit hard to breathe.
"Excuse me," she muttered, not waiting for a response from either of her two 'friends'.
She nearly ran out of the train compartment, wishing to be as far from Harry and Ron as humanly possible.
She walked around, trying to find a new compartment to sit in.
One of the compartment windows looked pitch black. Hermione sighed.
Thank Merlin, there was one empty section of the train.
She opened the door before quickly realizing that the part of the train she was in wasn't as empty as she had originally thought.
She first saw the tell-tale signs of trouble when she caught a glimpse of the trademark Malfoy platinum blonde hair and immediately tensed.
Anything involving Malfoy was never a good sign.
As she went to leave the compartment, the door quickly slammed shut, locking. She felt her heart beat faster in a panic.
"Leaving so soon, Mudblood?" Draco's voice sneered. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Fuck off Malfoy. I'm not in the mood to deal with your petty name-calling. Just unlock the door and we can just forget this happened.
Draco tilted his head to the side slightly, almost as if contemplating what she was asking before motioning to Theo and Blaise.
Hermione thought that he was going to let her leave, but her hopes were quickly dashed when Malfoy's two cronies grabbed her by each arm, forcing her over to sit by the blonde sociopath.
She fought the two of them, but was unable to fight the two of them off by herself.
Draco motioned for the two of them to leave, while curling his hand around her wrist, preventing her from sprinting as soon as the door was opened.
Once Theo and Blaise had left, Hermione felt herself descend into a sense of panic.
"Whatever you're thinking about doing, Malfoy, I would suggest you stop to think that I'm the new Head Girl, and your actions have consequences," she said, feeling as if she was pleading with him rather than threatening him.
Draco's lips twitched into a smirk.
"No, I don't think I'm going to let you pass through my fingers, Granger."
Hermione didn't like the way he said this, almost as if she were a fly caught in his rather beautiful but deadly trap. She made another attempt to leave, resulting in Malfoy grabbing both of her wrists and pulling her close to him. She felt a wave of fear rise in her throat.
"I've watched you for so long, Granger. I've watched as your two pathetic excuses for friends left you and hurt you and ignored you. You deserve better, don't you think?" he whispered to her, peppermint breath flowing coolly over her cheeks. "I could give you better. I could give you everything you want, for just a small, tiny, infinitesimal price-you," he murmured, running his fingers through her hair, and ignoring the look of disgust in her eyes.
"I could never want you, Malfoy. I hate you. I've hated you for seven years and I don't plan to stop it now. After everything you've done to me and my friends, you don't deserve me. You don't deserve anyone," she spat, once again attempting to free herself from his herculean grip. Again, she failed.
"What if I tried changing, then?" he asked. Hermione almost fell out of the seat in shock. Draco Malfoy? Change? She must be dreaming. The only thing he knew how to change was his Italian leather shoes.
"Oh, yeah? And what would you do to change, huh? Maybe by stop trying to kill innocent animals, or by not treating everyone as if they're dirt beneath your shoes? Stop wasting my time, Malfoy. I don't need someone like you in my life." And with that finally off of her chest, Hermione found enough strength to push Malfoy away from her enough to get away from him and out of the newly unlocked door.
She quickly found her old compartment and slid into it.
Harry and Ron were both still there.
"So, did you finally cool down?" Ron asked her. Hermione forced a small smile and began packing up her books. The train was stopping soon at Hogwarts.
"Bloody mental, that one." Hermione heard Ron 'whisper', not as subtly as he most likely thought.
The only thing she was looking forward to was just getting to her Head Girl dorms and finally getting some much needed alone time.