A/N: Hello~ This is Mochi (the author) speaking... This is my first fanfic, and I'm working on it with a friend! Please note, the first 10 or so chapters are already pre-written... Thank you so much for trying this story, and please review if you get a chance... bye~
Disclaimer: Neither I, or my friend own any part of Harry Potter. The characters all came from the magic of J. K. Rowling.
Chapter 1 ~ Hermione Granger
I, Hermione Jean Granger, sighed heavily. What would make the Head Girl of Hogwarts, the top ranking student, the ex-Prefect for the red and gold Gryffindor, so dismal, you ask?
Well, one possible situation was that a book I want is too far up the bookshelves, the stepping-blocks-that-are-claimed-to-be-plentiful-but-there's-none-in-sight are not in sight, and no one is allowed to use magic in the library because Madame Pince, the librarian, is such a îç! Not even me, the bloody so-called Golden Goody-Two-Shoes herself. Oh goodness, now how could this be? This is the same exact situation as present! Yes, sarcasm was present there.
I struggled to reach said book, "Circe, the Witch", tiptoeing and stretching my slim 5 foot 3 self. Yes, I'm quite short, I know. Well, good things come in small packages, or so they say. My patience was at its wit's end, and I growled to myself in frustration as the very tips of my nails nudged the bottom of the book, only causing it to break away from my touch, barely escaping my grasp.
Merlin's nighty-night star-patterned boxers! Whatever. I'll just use a tiny, completely harmless little Accio. I returned to my reserved table, brought out my infamously bottomless red satchel with gold trim, dug through it, then brandished my wand. Silently, I walked over to the shelf, and tapped the tip of my wand to the book and was just about to mutter an incantation when I froze.
A large, cool hand encircled my petite waist, the other one grabbing "Circe, the Witch" easily, with a certain, ahem, snakelike suaveness.
"So," smirks a familiar voice, breath tickling the back of my neck, making me shiver, "The famous Hogwarts Little Miss Perfect was about to break a rule of the only sanctuary not between her legs: the library. How utterly surprising." His drawling, severely honeycombed voice sparked an epiphany. I whirled in the person's grasp and groaned, wishing it wasn't, but it was!
Draco freaking Malfoy, 7th year, 6 feet of sexy, pure blood psychomaniac, Snape's godson, and a Malfoy! What's worse, a Malfoy! Whoops, was that twice! His sleek platinum blonde hair is ruffled effortlessly, proving him further the Slytherin Sex God, and the seemingly unmatched contender as the title of Hogwarts Dreamboat. His black robes are made of silk and are clean and immaculate – worthy of a pureblood. The hypnotic silver eyes he possesses are incredibly mesmerizing, and put any girl (and perhaps even a few boys) under its hold. Except for me, of course. I don't care for his little flirtings.
Attempting to prove my point, I quickly regained composure and scowled. "What do you want, you slimy prick!" I spat in repulsion. Quietly, of course. If I yelled, I'd be banned from here by Madame Pince, and that would be disasterous. "Don't touch me!" I roughly pushed Draco's hands off of mine. Draco merely smiled lazily.
"I was simply curious, since it seems that you've finally emerged from your weasel-infested den," he mocked. "You mightn't want to piss me off, Mudblood. I could go tell Madame Pince that my very favorite library bookworm, the famous Hermione "I Like Weasels" Granger was about about to break a rule," he announced smugly, as was his nature to do so. He set his hands next to me on the bookshelves, and leaned in even closer, bending to my face level. His lips were an inch away from mine. His arms gently encased me, and I blushed furiously in spite of myself. Although I wouldn't outright admit it to him or anyone else walking the earth, I was a bit intimidated by the ferret. He could overpower me anytime with a simple Expelliarmus, and it would be over for me.
My heart pounded. I gasped, "You wouldn't dare tell! And don't call Ron and his very lovely family weasels!" I wrenched away and gathered my belongings and proceeded to leave when Draco called out, "Hey, Mudblood! Your book!" from halfway across the library, to which Madame Pince promptly shushed him with a rapid-fire Silencio. I felt my cheeks burn with humiliation and outrage as my classmates turned to stare at me, confused and bewildered by the outburst.
I soon realized that the reason Draco hadn't given the book to my right away was because he had kept it and made a copy of the book with magic that somehow went undetected by Madame Pince's magic-detector. The pages were blank, but inside was a note scrawled quickly in an elegant calligraphy:
Mudblood-
Want your book? Meet me in the DADA room. 7p, sharp. Be there.
-Draco Abraxas Malfoy
I screamed in frustration, causing my roommate, Ginny Weasley, to rush into my side of the room, yelling, "What's wrong? What's wrong?!"
"That son of a… git!" I bit my lip to keep myself from using the entire trifecta of inappropriate muggle curses. My lip bled crimson, dying my bottom lip from a peaceful salmon pink to a vengeful, tempestuous scarlet. I clenched my fists and vow that I'd get the little (tall?) prick, and when I did, he'd regret ever being created.
