A/N – Everyone please know that this chapter was written by another author called FireFlyLantern. She wrote this chapter although I have made changes to it, but the general wording is hers. (I was writing a very similar story but this one was better. I will be writing the rest of the chapters all on my own, so all the chapters that will follow are mine and entirely mine. This story was so good, but wasn't archived in FanFiction so I took it over and am now giving pretty mush full credit to FireFlyLantern. Thank you and please Review!
The whole first paragraph is mine!
Chapter One:
This year Hermione was the Head Girl, chosen for her brains and responsibility. Of course she was the perfect choice. Hermione hadn't heard who the Head Boy was, and that was making her most nervous. There was a separate cabin for the Head Boy and Girl this year which Hermione found quite ridiculous, as if it wasn't bad enough that she would have to be sleeping in an entirely different dorm than her fellow Griffindore's this year. (The Head Boy and Girl have always had to share separated common Room/dorms.)
It had been a depressing summer for all of them, due to Dumbledore's passing. (Or should we say murder?) Ever since Snape had killed Dumbledore, everyone, Harry especially, had become very depressed. It had become a regular thing for them all now. To everyone's good fortune though, no one had seen or heard from Snape since, but there had been rumors that Draco Malfoy was returning, though Hermione had no idea why Professor McGonagall (the new Headmistress) was allowing it.
"You there! Are you the Head Girl? Don't slouch! Answer me, girl!" If the Plaque had eyes, Hermione would have said it looked at her suspiciously. But, it was only an enchanted plaque with a snappy mouth and enough attitude to fill all the seats on the Hogwarts Express.
"I am" Hermione replied politely, pointing to her pin. Of course, what good did showing her pin do if the plaque couldn't even see it? "Uh… I suppose I have to say the password, right?"
"If you please, Miss." The Plaque smiled gently, warming to Hermione's friendly charm.
"WartToad." The wavy-haired girl said in a self-conscious whisper.
"Ah, yes! In you go! Welcome, Miss Hermione Granger! Head Girl of Hogwarts!"
Hermione entered the cabin and quickly closed the door. She sighed and closed her eyes, then she sunk into the red velvet cushion of the empty bench seat. A chilling feeling slithered over her neck and down her back. She tensed in alertness and opened her eyes to see a cruel twist of fate sitting on the bench across from her.
"Malfoy?" Hermione gasped. Her eyes widened in shock and horror as she noted Malfoy's tall frame and muscley Quidditch body. His hands clasped confidently behind his head and he idly re-crossed his long legs. "I thought Edward Merrick from Ravenclaw was picked to be the Head Boy. How did you--?" Her brain could not process how Draco Malfoy, her sworn and most hated enemy, sat so confidently and coolly in front of her.
"No, those were just rumours. I wanted to make a shocking introduction." The arrogant words dripped softly from his aristocratic mouth. His gaze remained fixed on the darkened landscape beyond the rain-slicked glass of the cabin window.
"In other words, your father threatened, maimed, and murdered until you were 'chosen'?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously, pinning him in place.
"My father had nothing to do with this. I am capable of attaining things without using my family's name, influence, or great wealth." He sneered. "I am my own man." All in all, it was a pretty civil response that lacked his usual smattering of 'mudblood' this and 'pureblood' that. Hermione guessed he was saving all of his prejudiced filth-talk for a better time. Malfoy was smart to use his insults sparsely, considering he only had about four—total-- in his verbal arsenal.
Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. While she rummaged through her bag for Ginny's borrowed copy of Madams OoGey, Boogii, and Boo's Grimoire of Advanced Hexes for Advanced Witches, she couldn't resist taking a secret peek at Malfoy, Not that he was attractive or eye-catching, of course. Though Hermione was apathetic and annoyed as far as fashion was concerned, she could tell his clothes cost a pretentious amount of money. Apparently, he had inherited his mother's taste in outrageously over-priced fashion.
Narcissa Malfoy was an anorexic-looking, over-medicated little cloud of blond hair, ice-sparkling diamonds, and fluffy white mink coats. She was the kind of woman who would wear a dazzling sequined evening gown to the grocery store, that is, if she didn't have a team of servants to shop and cook for her. Malfoy's clothes had the same kind of showiness to them, expressed in a deceptively understated style. His khakis pants were immaculately pressed and wrinkle-free. The collar and cuffs of his crisp white dress shirt, decorated with a faint gray pinstripe, peeked from underneath his hunter green sweater. The dark material was soft, creamy cashmere. Hermione resisted the urge to gag. Shaking her head and doing her best to ignore Narcissa Jr., Hermione opened the grimoire to her previously marked page and continued reading about the Sdrawkcab Hex—a quaint little enchantment used to make someone speak completely in reverse. Ginny had underlined the name of hex in glittery purple ink and added the personal note, 'This works great with the Babbling Curse!'. Apparently, combining the hex and the curse made the victim speak a backward combination of Jibberish, Rabbit French, and Swedish. Hermione chuckled bemusedly to herself. Malfoy's head snapped in her direction; his cold gray eyes narrowed suspiciously. A resounding knock at the door interrupted the comment he was about to make.
"It's the food cart! I've got special deliveries for the Head Boy and Girl!" A tall raven-haired woman dressed in an attractive red uniform poked her head through the doorway. She smiled brightly. "Kissing creams, chocolate frogs, treacle tongues, licorice wands, raspberry razzers, and acid pops for Mr. Malfoy." A box decorated ornately in the colors of the Slytherin house levitated from the cart and landed in Draco's hands. He hesitantly lifted the lid.
"CONGRATULATIONS, DRACO!" The box cheered, exploding long curls of silver and green streamers into the air. A satisfied smile touched his cold mouth.
"And what do I have for Ms. Granger?" The raven-haired woman hummed theatrically. "Ah, yes … Fizzy puffbuttons, vanilla warts with candy floss hair, chocolate frogs, orange ogre boils, licorice wands, treacle tongues, cauldron cakes, kissing creams, acid pops, Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor beans," The woman took a breath and continued, "Grimmie's giant gumballs, Marshmallow full moons, and unrequited bleedinghearts..." The box floating toward Hermione boasted the proud burgundy and gold colors of the Gryffindor house. She bit her lip and gently pried the lid upward with a delicate finger.
"HERMIONE IS THE BEST! YES OH YES! THE BEST! THEEEEEEEE BEST!" Her box did not cheer. It sang. Grandly. And showered burgundy and gold confetti hearts into the air. The cloud of little hearts froze mid-air to form the shape of a larger heart. Hermione gasped; the attendant oohed and aahed in delight. Not only was Hermione's box bigger, but it was also a shameless show-off. Malfoy seemed to simmer quietly.
"These goodies are from your friends, dears. Notes attached. Be sure to have a wonderful year!" The woman smiled and the cabin door shut obediently behind her. The enchanted streamers and confetti vanished in a poof of indigo smoke. Hermione eagerly picked through her stash, carefully taking inventory of who sent what. The note attached to a squelchy bag of unrequited hearts caught her attention:
"My Dearest Ms. Granger:
I can no longer hide my true feelings. I love you
from the bottom of my shriveled black heart. Remember,
Beloved—my sneers are signs of my purest affection and
Unwavering adoration for you.
Twenty-five points from Gryffindor,
S. Snape.
(Yours truly and sincerely.)
Thankfully, Hermione recognized the handwriting as Harry's. She was extremely glad that he was trying to cheer her up, while they were all drenched in sorrow. She did her best to remain composed and straight-faced, but failed completely. Caring less whether Draco watched, Hermione erupted into a slight fit of giggles. Trying to picture Snape sneering adoringly was just too much to handle; she laughed harder the more she thought about it. Hermione glanced up in time to notice Draco watching her with distant gray eyes.
"I've never seen you so happy in my presence before." Draco said thoughtfully. His head tilted casually to the side as he studied her.
"Imagine that. How is it possible? You're such a nice, pleasant person to be around." Hermione cooed sarcastically. In actuality, though, Draco was the most evil and despicable person she ever had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting. And yet… Her sworn mortal enemy was behaving … civilly. Frankly, a pleasant Draco disconcerted her more than a snarling, growling, meticulously-plotting-your-hideously-pain-filled-demise Draco.
"Maybe I've changed over the summer, Granger." He shrugged his voice nonchalant.
"Yeah, and I'm the Slytherin Heir." Hermione hissed and shot him a patronizing frown. "I know you, Draco. You are a spoiled whiney prat who doesn't have the slightest idea of what true honor and integrity is. The only thing you know is how to hurt and embarrass those who are weaker and less fortunate. Oh, and I forgot about your uncanny ability to fake injuries and milk all the sympathy you can out of them, never mind that little scheme you pulled last year! " She said in obvious disdain.
"What do you know, Mudblood?" Draco cursed violently under his breath. "What the HELL do YOU know about ME!"
"I know enough to realize I don't like you in the least." Hermione snipped. "You think you are so much better than everyone because you have a so-called 'pureblood' pedigree. As far as I know, pedigrees only matter in dog and pony shows." The words scathed hotly from her tongue. "Sirius was the only good apple to fall from the diseased tree you call the honorable family lineage of Black."
"How dare you!" Draco snarled, sitting up in seat with the savage speed of an uncoiling cobra. "You! A filthy diseased little git with mud in her veins?" His face suddenly became coolly smug and self-satisfied. He quirked a disinterested, refined eyebrow and delivered his intended insult with commendable aplomb: "But your ire makes sense, Mudblood. Only a mangy bitch would covet the pedigree of a purebred dog." Malfoy was too busy basking in the glory of his wit to notice Hermione sneak her wand from the kangaroo front pocket of her hoodie.
"Cannis yippis!" She hissed the words softly between her clenched teeth; she flicked her wand in the 'loop-poke-slash' formation required for the transfiguration spell. When the eerily beautiful shower of magical silver and blue twinkles cleared, only a small white tuft of a dog remained on the seat where Draco sat. "Yes, Draco? What were you saying about purebred dogs…?" Leaning closer to the transfigured Malfoy, Hermione smiled pleasantly.
Draco's tail drooped pitifully between his legs and he began to shiver like a leaf caught in a cool autumn breeze. The sound he made wasn't a whimper or a whine--it was more of a sad little cry. He's such a cute little puppy, Hermione thought somewhat affectionately, though she was more of a cat person.
"Consider yourself lucky. Every respectable diva and starlet in Muggle America has a miniature dog tucked under her arm like a miniature barking handbag." Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Your mother can be the first to bring the trend to the pureblood wizarding world. You're probably already used to being paraded around like a beloved little pet."
Draco bared his teeth and growled as menacingly as he could, considering he was small enough to be stuffed into a breadbox. He attempted to leap menacingly at Hermione, but his courage was bigger than the distance he could jump. Upon reflex, Hermione edged forward in her seat and caught him soundly in her arms. He wriggled and made a big fuss about not wanting to be held. He even tried to nip her nose when she looked him in the face and began talking to him in a clear, calm voice.
"Stop it. I would like you to listen to me for a moment while I talk to you. All right? You can call me a Mudblood, an infestation, and a blight upon the purity of the world until your face turns as blue as your blood. But no matter what snidely insults come out of your mouth, this Mudblood has higher marks than you and will always be more powerful when it comes to magic. My parents are Muggle dentists and our family car is a 12-year-old navy blue Volvo. So what? The more you remind me of my 'tainted' and humble roots, the more you remind me of what I am thankful for. Your pedigree means nothing to me, and you mean nothing to me. You've treated me horribly and cruelly for six hellishly long years, Malfoy. You've hurt Ron; you've tried to hurt Harry. I'm sick of it, and I won't put up with it for another school term…"
Draco yawned opulently, his pink tongue curling sweetly in his small mouth.
Sighing in resignation, Hermione placed him on the floor and cast a counter spell. This time, the shower of colored twinkles dissipated to reveal young Draco Malfoy (dressed in his outrageously expensive clothes) kneeling humbly on all fours in the middle of the cabin floor. He sprang to his feet and brushed himself off with the angered huff of outraged loathing.
"No one has ever treated me this way! You'll regret it, Granger. Mark my words."
'Marking them." Hermione deadpanned. She held out a hesitant hand to help Malfoy up from the floor. He frowned; Hermione thought he was going to bite her. Instead, he surprised her and accepted her offer. As he brushed imaginary dust from his knees and elbows, Hermione continued, "Listen, I'm sorry I turned you into a dog. Not very sorry--because you did deserve it--but that's beside the point. I refuse to spend my last year of Hogwarts stuck in mortal combat with you; I am sick and tired of your horribly prejudiced attitude and your blatantly belittling snobbery. I have much better things to do with my time that bicker with you or be on the receiving end of one of your immature "pureblood/mudblood" tirades."
"Hysterical women tirade—Malfoy's do not." Draco sniffed and raised his chin in defiance. "You may be the better spell-caster, witch, but I'm still bigger, stronger, and better looking than you." His face was so close; she could feel his breath fanning her cheeks.
"Better looking?" Hermione's disbelieving laugh came as a short snort. "What does that have to do with anything?" She glanced up into the said better-looking face, forgetting for the moment that he was probably homicidal. "What? Are you going to make goo-goo pretty-boy pureblood faces at me until I melt into a helpless twitter of girlie giggles? … Yeah, who needs the 'Avada' when you have the dreaded 'pouty-lip face of doom'?" She feigned terror at Draco's expense. "Maybe that sort of tawdry stuff works with Slytherin wenches, but we Gryffindor ladies are made of smarter things."
"You may be smart, but you're easily swept off your unsuspecting feet…" Draco purred, his eyes glinting with dry amusement. He whipped his wand from his back pocket and deftly shouted "Expelliarmus!" as Hermione struggled to point her wand at him. Her wand flew from her grasp and landed softly on the red-velvet seat cushion. Before she could wind back a fist and sock him in the face—old-school medieval style--Draco cast a jelly-leg jinx. Her strong stance crumbled; her legs wobbled uncontrollably beneath her. She would have fallen had Draco not wrapped his arms around her, forcing her to hold onto him for dear life.
"Malfoy!" Hermione screamed; her hazel eyes widened wildly as he pulled her tightly against his body. Her groping fingers dug into the soft cashmere of his sweater. She could feel the muscled hardness of his back beneath the material. Hermione questioningly blinked up at him.
"Careful, Granger. You don't want to leave fingernail marks. I'd have a rough time explaining them to Pansy…" Draco nuzzled his nose against Hermione's neck and whispered the words seductively in her ear. She was loathing him so much now, this Draco Malfoy, was responsible for Dumbledore's death, and he was thinking he'd get away with seducing her? She was going to dig her nails into him as hard as she liked! Repulsed, she grimaced. Her hands curled into claws as she dug her fingernails into his shoulder blades as hard as she could clench her fingers. Draco's smile widened.
"Ooh. Never would have pictured you as the kinky type, Granger. I guess it's always the quiet, studious ones who have the best surprises."
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione growled as one of Draco's fingers slowly traced along the shell of her ear. He seemed idly oblivious to the rage of her anger. "Stop that! What the hell are you doing?" She huffed and she jerked her head away from his touch. Draco's hand didn't return to her ear. Instead, he began to thoughtfully stroke the smooth drape of her auburn hair.
"When did this happen?" He asked, almost civilly, as he wisped the curled end of a stray lock across her nose. Hermione crinkled her face against the ticklish sensation and sighed.
"Over the summer, some friends of mine introduced me to the magic of enchanted hair care." She replied simply. Those 'friends' were Fred and George Weasley. The clever, concocting twins brewed the hair-taming potion especially for her, but sneakily forgot to mention it would leave her dark brown hair with an ever-so-slight reddish tint. Red was the Weasley trademark, of course, so Hermione didn't mind the color. It did wonderful things for her complexion, but she (an only child) secretly loved the color because it made her feel as if she was part of the large, loving Weasley family. Hermione's hair, now tamed and free of frizzy knots, hung neatly down her back.
"Are you finished contemplating my split ends? Or is there a point to this?" Hermione narrowed her eyes at Draco. A lazy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Charm, my dear Granger, is its own weapon." The hushed tone of his voice blurred the sharp angles of his face. The glimmer of humanity was gone as quickly as it came. Draco resumed his mask of practiced indifference. "I bet you've never had a proper kiss." He said with cruel detachment, smoothing his pale hand across her forehead.
"I--!" Hermione started to protest, but he silenced her by shaking his head.
"No. That uni-browed brick—Krum—doesn't count. Neither does the Weasel King or The-Boy-Who-Whined. They know nothing about women or how to bring them pleasure." Draco smiled amusedly as Hermione's cheeks flushed bright pink. "I'm leaving you with a mark that won't leave an outward scar, but will burn within you as if it were branded in fire. You, Hermione Granger, will know what exquisite pleasure is … only to have it ripped from you. I will never be yours, and you will suffer..."
"Riiight..." Hermione replied blandly to conceal the frantic beating of her heart. 'You can't use magic to make me love you. It simply won't work and I doubt you have the skills to properly execute a love spell anyway."
"Who said anything about love or a spell?" Malfoy sneered the words at her. "I'm talking about something much more… basic. This is a Malfoy specialty." He gave her a confident grin as he traced the crook of her neck with his fingertips. He gently tipped her chin upward and kissed her forehead. An electric jolt of shock and excitement shot unexpectedly through Hermione as she caught the masculine scent of his cologne. It had sensuously appealing notes that reminded Hermione of a starless night in some dark, forested place. Draco did his best to confuse and jumble her senses. His warm lips placed light kisses along her brow and eyelids; his hand enchantingly stroked the back of her neck.
"Ack! What the hell…? Stop that! Yuck, I know where those lips have been—kissing Pansy Parkinson. Besides, aren't you two dating? I'd hate to have to tell her about your little escapade here. She'd hex your manhood into next Thursday…"
"Into next Friday, actually. Pansy's the psychotically jealous type." Draco casually corrected Hermione's insult and pulled her closer against him. The full feel of his body put her into a slight panic.
"You're going to befoul your pureblood lips by kissing a lowly Muggle-born? What would your Slytherin friends say? Or is it fashionable nowadays for the rich and mighty to go 'slumming'?" Hermione ignored the myriad of new sensations swirling in her stomach and warming her chest. The closeness of him was intoxicating somehow. The intimate contact of their intertwined bodies was more intense than anything she'd ever experienced before. Was this what it meant to be properly kissed? She started taking mental notes.
"I've been kissed before, Malfoy. It's just lips touching lips." Hermione defended, trying to act calmer than she felt. "And I'm physically repulsed by you. The only thing I desperately want is for you to leave me alone."
Draco replied by taking his sweet time in pressing warm kisses along the length of her exposed neck and jaw line. Still holding her close, he used his free hand to cup her face and brush a stray strand of hair from her eyes. Had any random passer-by seen them, Draco and Hermione would seem to be lost in the convincing roles of a young couple fully consumed by love. However, this was not the case. Fully aware of his crafted artifice, Draco smiled as a lover would smile and kissed Hermione as if he were indeed her lover.
"Malfoy…" Hermione struggled against the onslaught of his kiss, but he gently took her lower lip between his teeth and stole her breath away. She clung desperately to him—unable to think or breathe. Hermione had been kissed before… But all of those few times lacked the passion and confidence that Malfoy possessed.
"If I close my eyes… You can be anyone…" Hermione whispered as Draco's lips gently suctioned kisses along her neck. Cruelly biting fingers captured her chin, forcing her eyes open to meet his intense steel gaze.
"No. You won't think about Weasel or Potter." His resolve was firm. "I want you to realize this is the best you'll ever have, Granger. This is as good as it gets for a lowly mudblood like yourself." At his words, Hermione's jaw clenched. She knew he hated her and that she likewise despised him. This was all a game of illusions—a wicked masquerade. Why not play along, drown in his lies, and play the part he wanted her to take?
"Oh, Draco…How thoughtful of you..." Hermione whispered his name, arching her body against him and burying her face in the crook of his neck. She nuzzled him with her chin and ran the sides of her head against his jaw so the silky softness of her hair brushed along his sensitive skin. Draco, who had been too stunned to react, took a steadying breath to regain his composure. He smirked in self-satisfaction and slowly moved into kiss Hermione once more.
However, he wasn't expecting the tight, bony-knuckled fist that slammed into his stomach with enough force to make him gasp and double over. Hermione pushed him away as she crumpled to the floor with a 'thump'. While Draco heaved and coughed, she managed to crawl to the seat cushion and retrieve her wand. She murmured the counter-jinx and had her wand adeptly poised when he dragged himself to his feet.
"That's the second time today I've brought a Malfoy to his knees. I think I'm beginning to enjoy this." Hermione quipped as Draco sneered malevolently.
"No no NO! You don't have the password, so you can't come in. YOU aren't the heads of house, are you? You are just the prefects!" The Plaque's high shriek of indignation shattered the tension between Draco and Hermione.
"Let us in, you sodding piece of tin!" Pansy Parkinson screamed at the ornate golden plaque mounted on the door. "Draco? DrakyPoo? It's Pansy! Tell this lousy doorknocker to let us in. We want to patrol now so we can sit wherever we want for the rest of the train ride." She pouted in a somewhat whiney voice. She often acted like helpless little girl so Malfoy would take charge and be her big, strong man. Pansy was completely dependent upon him.
"DrakyPoo…?" Hermione echoed Pansy's adoring tone and quirked and eyebrow. A slight blush pinched Draco's ears. His face instantly tightened with impatient annoyance. He jumped to his feet and self-consciously tidied his hair. "Uh, Plaque, would you please let the prefects enter the cabin? I'd greatly appreciate it, thanks." Hermione called out, speaking loud enough so her voice would carry through the door to the hallway.
"Now there's the Gem of Hogwarts! Such a mannered lady. Unlike yourself, you pig-faced slut!" The Plaque sniped at Pansy. Hermione's eyes widened in slight horror as the door flung open and the prefects avalanched into the room.
"Erm, don't mind the plaque. She's a bit, er, opinionated." Hermione's smile was wide and slightly embarrassed. She had an attractive flush to her face and her lips were slightly swollen from Draco's kisses.
"Remind me to thank Dumbledore for the plaque. She's delightful." Ginny giggled as Pansy pouted and flung herself at Draco for comfort. His entire body stiffed in instinctive recoil, but he eventually snaked an obligated arm around her waist and half-heartedly patted her raven black hair. Suddenly, Hermione felt like 'the other woman'. What right did Malfoy have to go around kissing other girls when he was in a relationship with Pansy? A sense of guilt and shame struck Hermione. Even though she disliked Pansy, she felt that no girl--even the most evil and petulant--deserved to have a snake for a boyfriend. She tactfully avoided making eye contact with Malfoy and turned her attention to the prefects. She was glad Harry and Ginny were the Gryffindor picks this year—their friendly faces were such a dearly needed comfort now.
"I'll change into my robes later." Hermione shrugged, glancing down at her flattering but casual attire. "All right then. I suggest we pair up and tackle the train in sections. Slytherins and Ravenclaws can take the front while the rest of us take the back. Any questions?"
"Yes. Aren't you and I—the Heads of House--supposed to patrol together?" Draco drawled knowingly.
"Uh--" Hermione made a slight sound of protest. Pansy giggled at Hermione's discomfort, and Harry--in turn--glared at Pansy.
"Hmmm, didn't the official congratulation letter from McGonagall saying something about us working and living together… Didn't you read that part?" Malfoy questioned innocently. His friend and fellow Slytherin, Blaise, snickered openly. Ginny shot them both a look of revulsion.
"I read it perfectly." Hermione grimaced. Oh, Merlin. She would never be rid of Malfoy. Taking a moment to steady herself, Hermione said quickly, "Let's all make this the fastest patrol in history, okay?" She grabbed her wand from the seat cushion and exited the cabin with her head held high and her steps firm.