A/N: AHHHH. This is my first real Dramione fanfic and I am excited.
Summary: It was supposed to be year 7, for the second time. Hermione was finally going to be head girl. Only problem was, Draco was to be Head boy. Even after Draco helped them win the battle at Hogwarts, Hermione still had a problem trusting him. Then, when it's revealed that a strong follower of Voldemort is taking over his position, Hermione and Draco are forced to confront their differences as they're trapped together in a desert location, desperately trying to figure out how to defeat this new enemy.
Disclaimer: No, for the last time, I'm not british, and I didn't write the books about the guy with the lightning scar. That was J.K Rowling *eye roll*.
Oh yeah, also, mature content and themes, blah blah explicit language. No sex right now, obviously. It's the first chapter, chill. Plus this is a slow cook fanfic. IT's going to take a while.
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Hermione headed to McGonagall's office. Something was wrong. She kept her head down, and quickened her pace as she walked the halls, only the faint glow of her wand visible. Usually Hermione wasn't so paranoid, but ever since the war had ended, this worry clouded over her. Something had to be wrong.
But what was it?
Voldemort had been gone for months now. Dead. So then why did Hermione still feel this crushing weight on her shoulders? Why did she tense up every time that somebody came near her? Even when it was just Harry or Ron, she'd practically attack them. And they would look at her as if she was nuts. They just kept asking her if she was ok, and trying to help.
But there was nothing they could do. She was isolating herself; staying up all night reading about fighting techniques, and then training in every spare moment of her time. It was going to be hard now that she was back at school.
The halls were never loud anymore. Everybody walked in dead silence, with ghosts in their eyes. At least the people who had come back. Some people, as young as 2nd years left. Where were they to practice and learn? Anywhere but the place that had been ruined.
Hermione's sanity was about as strong as a single thread, and she hated herself for it. She was supposed to be brave. And right now...she felt anything but.
Completely worn down by the last seven years, and completely worried for the next few coming. Maybe she was just being ridiculous. Maybe she just wanted to hold onto the adventure. Maybe she had a death wish.
That would certainly explain the last few years.
But Hermione knew it was more than that. She knew that something was wrong. The war couldn't have just finished. It couldn't just be over. Then what was all of that suffering for?
Sure, Voldemort was gone, but there were still plenty of people who thought that muggleborns were inferior. There were still plenty of people who wanted to kill the "Golden Trio". But that wasn't even what worried Hermione. She was just completely terrified that she would never be the same as she was before all of this. That none of them would be.
That Harry's nightmares would never stop, that her panic attacks would never cease, that the halls of Hogwarts weren't tainted with blood, and evil, and this dark menacing feeling of impending death.
And they acted like everything was fine. But she knew. She knew Harry and Ron better than anyone. Even if things between her and Ron were slightly awkward after they decided to just be friends. She had as feeling that he still wanted t be more, but she just didn't reciprocate his feelings in that way.
When the war was going on, she confused love for a best friend, with being in love. Truth was, Ron just didn't make Hermione's skin sizzle. He didn't make her burn with desire, or wanting. He didn't emotionally stimulate her, as good of a friend as he was.
Lost in thought, Hermione jumped when she bumped into someone at the entrance of McGonagall's office, and her light went out. She clutched her wand tighter, but almost jumped again when a familiar voice whispered "Lumos" quietly.
She didn't even have to look at him to know who was standing before her.
"Malfoy," she spat out, practically accusing, and examined his features.
His grey eyes, usually bright with mischief, were dull, and dwindled with exhaustion. And his platinum hair was slightly ruffled. Hermione took pleasure in the fact that he looked like he hadn't slept in months, and almost grinned. But her pleasure did nothing to wipe the scowl off her mouth as he smirked.
"Granger," his gravelly voice surprised her; like he hadn't spoken in days. He cleared his throat. "If you're going to point your wand at my throat, you may as well throw a few hexes at me. I know you're dying too."
Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, but figured out what he meant when she looked down at her hands. She hadn't even realized that she had put her wand to his throat, but now that it was there, it wasn't going to move. Now she had a chance to figure out the deal with him.
"Malfoy," she spit out, scowling further when she realized that he didn't even look bothered. Slightly amused maybe, but mostly bored. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, well, I was just out for a walk in the middle of the night," he said sarcastically, before scowling. "What do you think I'm fucking doing here Granger?"
"What?" Hermione shook her head slightly, confused, but prodded the wand further into Malfoy's neck, when he shifted on his feet.
"Fucking hell, and I thought the weasel was thick."
"Don't talk about him like that," Hermione snapped, trying desperately not to look offended. While Ron was great, it was true that he wasn't exactly book smart. But she was determined to defend him to Malfoy no matter what.
Draco seemed disatisfied with her pensive state, and spoke again.
"McGonagall called me here."
"Yeah right." she narrowed her eyes. "Why would she want to talk to you?"
He smiled, clearly amused, and said, "Oh... I guess McGonagall didn't tell you that I'm head boy this year."
The color immediately drained out of Hermione's face. She had been right. Something was severely wrong. Suddenly she was throwing spells at him. She silently disarmed him, successfully tucking his wand into her back pocket. Then, she used incarcerous to tie ropes around his body. Draco rolled his eyes, infuriating Hermione even further, and she wanted to punch the smug look right off of his face.
"Levicorpus!" she yelled, and watched as he dangled upside down. She was about to drop him to the floor, when she heard a voice.
"That's quite enough Ms. Granger!" McGonagall yelled, her accent clear.
Hermione froze in place. Her heart angrily thrashed around in her ribs, and she clenched her fists, letting out a chilling breath.
"Liberacorpus," she muttered through her gritted teeth. Malfoy fell to the ground.
"I think you forgot something," Malfoy tutted his tongue, and Hermione composed herself. She respected McGonagall more than anybody, and she sure as hell wasn't going to give any other impression.
"Diffindo." The ropes fell, and Draco rolled his shoulders, standing up straight.
"That wasn't so hard was it?" he asked, crossing his arms, and sneering.
"Quiet, Mr. Malfoy." McGonagall warned. "Or I'll put you back up there."
He scowled, but remained silent.
"Now can we go to my office like civilized people, or are you going to have another outburst?" Mcgonagall eyed Hermione, and she sighed, following Mcgonagall up the stairs and into her office.
It looked exactly like it was when Dumbledore was there. Open, with books lining the walls, and a desk in the middle. Ms. McGonagall and Draco sat, while Hermione remained standing, tapping her foot impatiently on the floor, and contemplating incarcerating Draco again.
"So," Ms. McGonagall started. "The reason I called you here is simple. We need to go over your duties as head boy and head girl."
Hermione scoffed under her breath. If Draco was head boy, then being Head girl was a joke.
Ms. McGonagall looked at Hermione and pursed her lips.
"Do you have a comment, Ms. Granger?"
Hermione stopped tapping her foot, and walked closer to the desk.
"Yes." she clenched her jaw. "Why is he head boy?"
"Ms. Granger, you know as well as I do that head boy and girl are chosen based on their academic skills, not for their pleasant personalities." She cleared her throat.
"Yes, clearly." Hermione rolled her eyes. "If that was the case, then he never would've assumed the position. But there has to be a better choice."
"You do know that I'm right here, don't you Granger?" Draco spoke for the first time since he sat down, and Hermione glared at him. "I'm not exactly glad that your head girl, but if McGonagall wants to choose a frumpy bookworm, then it's of no business of mine."
"Frumpy bookworm?" Hermione turned towards him. "At least I'm not an insufferable prat."
"Well, I'm not a stuffy know-it-all who doesn't know when to shut up."
"Wow, your insults sure are getting stale," Hermione mocked Draco. "No mudblood?" Draco tensed up at the word. "No disgusting waste of magic?" Draco's eyes darkened. "I expected better from a death eater."
Draco jumped out of his seat, and got dangerously close to her face.
"You don't know what you're fucking talking about."
She almost flinched at the tone of his voice, but she held her ground.
"Oh don't I?" she challenged. "You know what, maybe I should be glad that you're head boy. Maybe that way you won't turn into your father."
She was entirely sure that he was going to curse her right then and there, but Ms. McGonagall interfered.
"Stop!" she yelled, standing in between them. Hermione was panting, furious with the "Former" death eater, and he wasn't much more calm. "Compose yourselves."
Draco still had a murderous glint in his eyes, but he turned away, and sat back down.
"Now, Ms. Granger, if you could have a seat as well." Ms. McGonagall gestured to the empty chair.
Hermione sat down, taking a few calming breaths. She had snapped in front of Ms. McGonagall. That couldn't happen again.
Ms. McGonagall remained standing, and looked at the both of them, before firmly saying, "My decision is final. You are both the perfect fits for head girl and head boy. Now, as for the duties."
Ms. McGonagall described in excruciatingly long detail, what you have to do when you are a head. Basically, they just had to make a few speeches a year, organize the dances, patrol the halls on Friday, and set an example for other students. It was the next part that was really excruciating though.
"So, I have some bad news," Ms. McGonagall looked down at her hands. "Because we're still fixing the castle, some parts of it are still in ruin...including all of the head dormitories except the Slytherin one. Because of this, You and Draco will have to share."
"What?" Hermione practically screamed.
"Now, technically, you will only share a common room, kitchen, and bathroom. You will have seperate bedrooms."
"I don't see why i can't just stay in the Gryffindor common room." Hermione said, calmly as possible. Draco still remained silent.
"Because you are head girl," Ms. McGonagall reasoned. "And it will be much easier for you two to discuss the school while in the same room."
Draco said nothing, as Hermione nodded her head, frowning.
"Now, as always, only you guys are allowed in the Head common room. No exceptions." Ms. McGonagall stood. "I'll escort you there now if you'd like."
"Of course, Ms. McGonagall," Hermione stood up at the same time as Draco.
They walked to the Slytherin head common room and stood in front of the portrait. Hermione looked dauntingly at the entrance, then at Malfoy, and back at the entrance again.
"The password is Zing," McGonagall said, looking at the both of them. Draco's expression was unreadable, and Hermione hated him for it. The portrait opened, and they climbed inside.
Hermione braced herself for the horrible dark atmosphere, but was pleasantly surprised to find that the living room was neutrally colored. The floor was birch wood, and there were no green flames in the fireplace. Hermione ventured into the kitchen, to find that it was in the same scheme of colors. She was completely confused.
"What is this?" Draco spoke before Hermione could.
"Well," Ms. McGonagall gestured to the room. "We thought it wise to throw out all house distinctions to prevent arguments between the two of you."
"That's ludicrous." Draco scoffed. "As if we would argue about colors."
"Yes," McGonagall said, in a sassy kind of way. "That's what's ludicrous...Well, if you guys are all good, I'm going to leave you to settle in. Your trunks have already been placed in your rooms, and I assume you guys are going to behave yourselves."
"Yes, absolutely." Draco sneered, and took a seat on the couch, and Ms. McGonagall left them alone.
Hermione stood there for a while, not saying anything, but angrily staring at Malfoy as he watched the fire.
"Do you have something to say?" He asked, blasely. "Or are you going to continue to bore your eyes through my bloody skull?"
She wanted to sit on the couch. She hated beds, but always liked sleeping on couches. They set better positions to study. The only problem was, Malfoy was blocking it.
"Granger?" He shook her out of her daze.
"What?"
"Are you going to fucking answer my question or not?" He asked, clearly irritated.
"No," Hermione responded bluntly. "I'm going to bed."
She headed to the door, dreading having to sleep on the bed. But she refused to ask Malfoy for something. Her pride would not take that low of a blow. Not that night.
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Draco sat bolt right up on the couch, and looked around him. Granger was nowhere to be seen, thank Salazar. He could not have her knowing that the only way he could get a fraction of sleep, was by sleeping on a couch.
He stood up, and stretched out, before heading to his new bedroom. As he expected, his room was lavishly accented with dark green. The walls and floors were a walnut wood, and his bedspread was silk. His trunk lay at the end of the bed, and he took the liberty of opening it.
It contained of his school robes, a couple of magic tailored suits, and casual clothing. It was Sunday, so Draco pulled out some jeans designed by his favorite wizard clothing brand, and a simple blue long-sleeved shirt.
He headed to the door that led from his bedroom to the bathroom, and frowned, when he saw another on the other side of the bathroom, clearly leading to Granger's room. The nasty looks he got from everybody were bad enough, but now he was forced to live with a constant reminder of the guilt he had for the last seven years.
There was one more door, that led to the living room, and he closed and locked all 3 doors, making sure that nobody could get in. He set his clothes down on the counter, and stared into the mirror. He scowled at his droopy appearance, and pulled off his shirt from the day before.
He stared at the large scar that went all the way down his lean chest, and scowled further. No matter what he did, that stupid scar he got from Potter's sectumsempra would not go away. It was like another constant reminder of his guilt, other than the obvious one. His dark mark.
He didn't understand why it didn't go away after Voldemort was killed, but it was a burden that he had to deal with everyday. Like this lugging weight on his arm; pulling him down consistently. And then there were the nightmares. The awful nightmares that haunted him almost every night.
They would always start the same. He would be riding his broom, in complete darkness, laughing.
And then suddenly he was back in the shop by the vanishing cabinet. Suddenly he was accepting the dark mark and writhing in pain. And then he would be in the middle of both sides of the war. They were both cursing him. One side yelled that he was a traitor, and the other said he was a death eater. They kept on, until he collapsed into a pile of dust, and then they were all bleeding. He would wake up, shaking.
He shook his head, took off the rest of his clothing, and stepped into the small shower, turning the knob so that the water came. Too small for his liking. He would have to charm it to be bigger on the inside, but remain the same on the outside. But for now, he worked with what he had.
He heard footfalls from the direction of Granger's room, and rolled his eyes. Did she have to be so bloody annoying? Oh wait, she did. He heard a bunch of shuffling, and realized that she was pacing her room. Of course, the walls had to be paper thin. Was McGonagall trying to test his sanity?
He finished his shower fairly quickly, and changed into his clothes, heading out of the bathroom, only to bump into somebody.
"Granger," he said, looking at her confusedly, before switching to his blase expression. She looked worn down. Her brown eyes sparked with a hint of insanity, and he didn't like it. "If you're going to hover outside of the bathroom, you should give a fucking warning." He moved past her to the kitchen, and could already feel her furious eyes boring into his back, as he scoped the pantry for food.
"I wasn't hovering," she said defensively, as Draco found some cereal, and poured it into an empty bowl.
"What was it exactly that you were doing then?" Draco asked, finding a spoon, and starting to eat his cereal.
"Waiting to use the bathroom, you take bloody forever." She folded her arms.
"Well, Granger, some people actually put thought into their outer appearance," he smirked, and Hermione walked over to him.
"Clearly not."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco squinted his eyes at her, abandoning his bowl of cereal and stalking towards her.
"It means you look like you haven't slept in months," she spat. "What's wrong? Can't a death eater sleep on a pile of bodies and be comfortable?"
Draco clenched his hands.
"I'm not a death eater."
"Oh, I'm sorry." Hermione looked him right in the eyes. "Ex-death eater." She put hand quotations on the word ex, and Draco almost snapped. But he didn't.
He shook his head, and said, "Right, and you're the innocent Gryffindor princess."
Obviously he said the wrong thing, because she pulled her wand out and held it at his throat.
Fuck. He had left his wand in his room.
"I don't trust you," Hermione said right in his face, and he clenched his jaw. "Nobody does."
"What else is new?" He looked down at her, venom in his voice.
"Call me a mudblood."
The words threw Draco off his kilter, and he paled.
"What?" He asked.
She stepped closer to him, forcing him back.
"I said, call me a mudblood."
"No."
"Say I'm impure."
Again, Draco said, "No."
"Call me filthy," Hermione spat the word in his face.
"No," he said through gritted teeth, still being pushed hit the wall.
"CALL ME A MUDBLOOD!" she screamed, and Draco flinched. She sounded like she was going to cry, and he hoped that she wouldn't.
"NO!" he yelled back, and Hermione ripped her wand away from his throat. She stormed into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut.
What just happened? There was bile in his throat, but Granger was in the bathroom. He ran out of the room, closing the portrait behind him, and sprinted to the nearest bathroom.
He opened the stall, and collapsed to the ground, letting the throw up out of his mouth and into the toilet. He heard a giggle behind him, and stood up, wiping his mouth with some toilet paper, before asking, "Who's there?"
"Oh, it's only Myrtle." she giggled, and revealed herself. "Are you sick?"
He turned towards her, fear growing in his eyes.
"I wish."
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A/N: Haha, I'm awful I know. Thanks for reading the first chapter. I can't wait to write the next one. I know it was a bit short, but it was just for introduction. And I know the room sharing is overused, but there are a lot of twists, so hold onto your hats. Hermione is still stuck on Draco's past, and Draco is going insane over that himself so...we'll see...
Also, credits for the cover go to one of my best friends who is the greatest, Jordyn. You're the best!
