A/N:

Hi all!

This here is a rewrite of my 2009 fanfiction 'Wilted Rose and Muddy Blood'. It's something I've been meaning to do for a few years, and I finally found myself with some free time while I waited for the returning of edits for my original novel, Prodigy Blood (there is info on my profile if you're interested, it's not available quite yet, though.)

I've quickly edited through this fanfic but please excuse slopping writing or mistakes as I've been busy with other stuff. That isn't to say that this rewrite isn't a helluva lot better than the original (which is still up on my profile but I don't recommend bothering with it.)

So, this is a slightly OOC AU Dramione romance. There is some strong-ish language and sexual scenes, hence the M rating. There is also an almost-rape scene which I shall put a warning for at the beginning of the chapter as a trigger warning.

My upload schedule should hopefully be Monday, Wednesday and Friday. This is all pre-written, so I shouldn't have a problem keeping to it (long term readers of mine will probably know I usually suck at uploading regularly/finishing fanfics).

I think that's about it. Any questions, feel free to ask!

Hope you enjoy.

Jenni xxx

Disclaimer: I do not own the world or characters in this fanfiction. Anything you recognise as the work of J. K. Rowling is not mine and nor do I claim it to be.

1

There are certain words regularly used in normal day-to-day conversation. At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, one could expect to hear the following words at least once-a-day as they walked the corridors: magic, broomsticks, homework, detention. Draco Malfoy.

It was surprising just how often Draco's name danced around the corridors. Whether spoken casually, whispered in fearful paranoia, shouted in anger or moaned in pleasure, it had become the norm to hear it regularly. It was, after all, the name of the Slytherin Prince.

With his ice-cold attitude and model-like appearance, he was a rock star; glamorous but untouchable. It made everybody want to touch him. Everybody except for one:

Arching an overly bushy eyebrow, Hermione Granger peered over the page of Hogwarts a History with a scowl. She had left the Gryffindor common room because Ron had been tormenting her with homework-help requests. She had thought she would find peace in the library. Apparently not.

To her right, a gaggle of shameless third-year girls were crowded in a semi-circle, giggling. Concealed from Madam Pince behind a well-placed bookcase, they were out of troubles view, but, not, unfortunately, out of Hermione's. She could hear every last cringing word they said. About Draco Malfoy. Ugh! What made it worse, Hermione felt, was the fact that they were Hufflepuff's. She had thought they would know better. She had thought they would hate the purebred boy as much as she did.

"-Rhea was telling me that Aria snuck into the changing rooms and saw him topless!" a girl whispered loudly, enunciating topless with an over-the-top dramatic flourish. Gasps and giggles followed her words. Was I this annoying at thirteen?

"Did you hear he broke up with Pansy?"

"Thank Merlin! She's a real bitch. You know, I don't even think she fancies him. I heard she just went out with him for the attention. What a whore."

"Shhh!" Another girl hissed as a Slytherin fifth year passed by the group, a suspicious pile of nonpareil book in her arms. It would serve the girls right if their gossip got back to Parkinson, Hermione decided as she slammed her book shut in frustration. The gaggle of girls were already resuming their gossip – clearly, Hermione would achieve nothing of merit in here today. Collecting her books and turning her back to the girls' she left the library, glad that the hallway was silent in comparison.

Without her permission, Hermione's mind wandered to thoughts of the third years' conversation as she headed back to the Gryffindor dormitory. Draco Malfoy? Personally, she couldn't understand the appeal. Perhaps he was attractive, in an ice prince, cold-hearted bastard kind of way but he was also a huge and utter arsehole. Despicable, deceitful, callous and unnaturally horny just to name a few. Hermione couldn't count on her fingers the number of times she had spied him behind some tapestry or other with a different girl in arms. No wonder Parkinson had broken up with him.

As if the universe could hear her thoughts and wanted to screw with her, Hermione, not paying attention as she rounded a corner, slammed heavily into the chest of said ice prince. He had been slipping out of his favourite make-out spot, straightening his tie as he did. He was a head taller than her, and his chest was surprisingly firm. Hermione sprung away from him so quickly that an onlooker might think he had electrocuted her.

"Watch it, Mudblood," he scowled, eyes narrowing. "Spying were you?" A small smirk spread across his face. "I've seen you sniffing around here a few times. You have to know I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole? In fact, I should take a hot shower now, get rid of those filthy Mudblood germs." Hermione's cheeks flushed hot with anger, but he was walking away before her brain could catch up enough to even think of some form of retaliation. His words no longer brought tears to her eyes, but, instead, fuelled her hatred for him. It was building up steadily, becoming a fiery blizzard. One day, Hermione thought, it would bubble over and she would snap. Secretly, she couldn't wait for that day.

Her cheeks still burnt hot as Hermione entered the warm and familiar common room. Ron and Harry were where she had left them, except now they had abandoned their – no doubt unfinished – homework in favour of a game of wizards' chess. Ginny Weasley sat close, her attention fixed solely on Harry. Her eyes followed his every move; the girl couldn't be any more obvious if she tried. She only tore her eyes away as Hermione sat down next to her and huffed loudly, blowing a strand of puffy hair away from her face.

"What's up?" Concern licked her brown eyes as she noted Hermione's expression.

"Just the usual insults from our favourite Slytherin." She gave a half-hearted shrug, letting them know it was no big deal. Harry and Ron immediately stopped playing chess and turned to face their best friend with matching looks of anger.

"What did he say? I'll kill him!"

"Calm down Ronald; his petty insults hardly upset me anymore. To be perfectly honest I'm more frustrated with the fact that I can't find a single place in this damn castle where I don't either bump into him or hear his name. Why is this whole place infatuated with him? I don't understand the appeal."

"It's a popularity thing," Ginny said. "Everyone knows he's a bastard, but he's a bastard they can't have, and so they want him. The fact that he's hot helps."

"Ginny!" Ron exclaimed in horror, his eyes full of disgust.

"Oh relax Ron! The guy's a prick, and I hate his guts. Doesn't mean he's not a hot prick, though. He rocks that whole bad boy façade."

"Façade?" Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"You think he's as bad as he makes out?"

"I think he's worse. Trust me; there's no good inside of him. If you ripped out his heart, it would be an icy shrivelled black lump of hatred."

"Hm," Ginny said noncommittally.

"You disagree?"

"I dunno," she said. "I mean, I reckon real deep down there has to be something else. Maybe by his toes?"

"I think you're barking mad," Ron said, scowling. "Sounds like you're defending him or something." Ginny rolled her eyes and climbed to her feet. "And just where are you going?"

"To find Malfoy for a nice shag," she replied over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling mischievously. Ron stuttered incoherently, his face turning a nice shade of tomato. Harry chuckled with embarrassment but said nothing. He knew better than to get involved.

"Honestly, what vulgar language," Hermione said. "She's almost as bad as you, Ronald."