CatB: I'm really excited to post this. It's my first Draco/Hermione! And the problem is, I love the summary but I'm not sure it corresponds to the storyline. Drat. Oh well, we'll just have to wait and see. Enjoy!
Note: This takes place in their sixth year, I believe, though, as you will soon find out, it doesn't follow the books at all, really.
Disclaimer: I love the world of Harry Potter as if I had created it. However, as I did NOT create it, I write fanfiction so that I can borrow the characters and write fun stuff about them-not to make money or anything, mind you-just place them in...interesting situations and whatnot for my own enjoyment.
Hermione's POV
I would often wake up hungry in the middle of the night. I tried not to give in to this hunger, though-sneaking down to the kitchens after-hours was risky, and Harry and Ron would always tease me mercilessly about the rule breaking that I, a prefect, was committing under everyone's noses. Sometimes, however, I just got so hungry and my stomach wouldn't leave well enough alone, and so I would find myself making a visit to the house elves for some food. Harry and Ron frequently asked why I, a witch, couldn't just wave my wand and summon food for myself. Risky though it was, the whole reason I liked to go down to the kitchens was so that I could see how the house elves were doing, work-wise. I didn't want them working too hard.
One night the pain in my stomach was just about unbearable, so I crept out of my dormitory and down the stairs to the common room, where I gave a cursory glance around. Seeing no one, I pushed the portrait open slowly, knowing that if I did so quickly, the hinges would squeak. Once outside, it was easy enough to dodge the small army of creatures and teachers posted in the hallway, thanks to a good Disillusionment Charm. I made my way to the corridor a couple of doors down that played host to a giant picture of a fruit bowl. Upon tickling the pear, I was granted admission into the magnificent kitchens of Hogwarts. Although I had been there several times, I was again struck by the sheer number of house elves. I hurried up to the nearest one, an elf I thought was called Muffie, and asked if she would be so kind as to give me some leftovers from dinner.
"Right away, Miss!" she squeaked, scurrying off.
"No, no, take your time!" I called after her, but it was no use: Another elf had already appeared at my side, carrying a large tray piled with food. My stomach rumbled and the elf grinned.
"You is hungry, Miss!" he said happily.
"Er, yes. Thank you very much," I said gratefully.
"'Twas no problem, Miss! We hope you enjoy the food," he replied.
Some of the other elves had pushed an elf-sized table to a corner and covered it with a red and white checked tablecloth, as was their custom when I came down to eat. As always, there was a little chair tucked under the table, too. I laughed and sat on top of table, cloth and all, as usual, settling the tray on my lap.
I went for some of the delicious marinated chicken first, tearing pieces off with my teeth and gulping them down after minimal chewing. One of my favorite elves, Marty, tapped my knee and held out a napkin. I thanked him and wiped my fingers.
I next grabbed a cream puff, stuffing the whole thing in my mouth. I was chewing and picturing the horrified looks on Harry and Ron's faces if they could see me, when I heard a slow, drawling voice from the other side of the kitchens:
"Enjoying a midnight snack, are we, Granger?"
I choked and my head whipped to the left, discovering, with a sinking feeling, that the speaker was none other than Draco Malfoy. He was leaning against a bare spot of wall, his arms were crossed, and his wide sneer was aimed right at me.
"Hardly," I retorted. "It's past midnight, Malfoy."
He rolled his eyes at me. "Whatever you say."
I narrowed my own eyes at him. "And what are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same question," he said smoothly. "You do realize you're breaking, ah, several rules, I believe?"
"Well, I'm not the only one," I pointed out.
"Yes, but I'm not Hermione Granger," he said, smirking.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped.
"I mean," his smirk grew wider, "you are a prefect-"
"As are you," I interrupted.
"-the Golden Girl of Gryffindor-"
"I am not," I grumbled childishly.
"And best friend to the great Harry Potter," he finished .
"So?" I glared at him.
He shook his head. "Dear, dear," he said sardonically. "I wonder what everyone would say if they knew about this little secret of yours?"
"You won't tell anyone, will you?" I pleaded, wishing I didn't sound so weak and pathetic.
"They'll be so upset to learn that Hermione Granger is not as innocent as she seems," he continued.
I pulled my wand out of my pocket and pointed it at his nose. "Don't you dare tell anyone, Malfoy," I snarled.
"Oh, and you're violent too? What a shame," he said, looking delighted. "I know that will definitely come as a surprise to many."
I wanted to say something like, "I am not violent," but what came out instead was a sighed, "Why are you always so mean to me?"
Though his face showed surprise at first, it was quickly pulled back into a sneer. "Oh, I don't know," he said sarcastically, "because I hate you. Surely that's reason enough?"
Though I had been expecting a response to this effect, I still was not able to keep the shock from my eyes. I turned my attention back to the food that I had completely abandoned on my lap, and took a bite of potato. Then another. And another. And pretty soon I was able to forget that I had company, until-
"Honestly, Granger, if you're going to eat that much food, at least do it in a refined manner, will you? You're eating like the filthy Mudblood that you are, and I can't stand it."
I stared at him. First he told me that he hated me, to my face, and then he called me a Mudblood! I would not stand for that sort of treatment, not from him.
"Well, then, shut up and go away!" I said angrily. I picked up my tray, hurled it at him, and performed the Full Body Bind on him before pushing open the portrait and running out of the kitchens.
Normally the thought of Malfoy covered in bits of potato, ketchup, cake, and pudding would make me laugh, but I was still too worked up. It wasn't until I was back in my bed that I realized my stomach was still cramping and my head was pounding some of the last words he had said to me:
Because I hate you.
Because I hate you.
Because I hate you.
CatB: Okay, so I really hope you liked this! I'm sorry I didn't get into what the summary talks about...I'll try to in the next chapter, though.
Please, please review and let me know what you think so far. I'm drafting a second chapter right now, but I want to know where YOU think the story should go! Thanks!