Hello! Yes, this is my first story. I don't know if this plot has been used before... I sure hope not.
So without further ado, I present to you the first chapter of Running Away With You. (cue applause)
Disclaimer: Now, let's just assume for a moment that I own the world of Harry Potter... This story wouldn't exist, now would it? I would be busy writing the seventh book, not some silly fanfiction. Thus, we can conclude that I don't own Harry Potter. Que triste.
It wasn't like she wanted to be there. No, no, the London Boarding School for the Academically Advanced was the last place Hermione Granger wanted to be. But ever since the war started and Hogwarts closed down, she had nowhere to go in order to complete her education. And because Hogwarts was the only magical school for miles around, she was forced to attend this muggle school.
The Ministry of Magic had repeatedly offered her positions in their so-called "army," despite her young age. They believed her superior intelligence would guarantee them a victory against the Dark Side. However, Hermione had stubbornly refused each and every offer, declaring that she was one-hundred-and-ten percent non-violent. She would much rather talk it out peaceably and come to a compromise. But if that were what she wanted, her hopes would quickly be shattered.
So here she was, sitting on her bed in her dormitory, Room 209, on the second floor of House B, of the Girls' Seventh Year Wing of the School for the Academically Advanced. She was staring out the window at the slowly rising orb of fire over the distant mountains, watching the sky turn from a deep blue to a pale gray to pink, orange, and finally, light blue.
At precisely 7:30, Hermione's alarm went off, waking her roommates. She had forgotten to turn it off the night before. It was Saturday, and one of the agreements the girls had come to was that they could sleep in late on Saturday mornings.
Someone stirred in the bed behind Hermione's. "Mmph… Err-my-knee… wha dime izzit?" the girl mumbled groggily.
"Sorry, guys, it's Saturday. I forgot to turn my alarm off. You guys can go back to sleep," Hermione whispered in reply.
A soft snore soon told her that her roommates had fallen asleep again, so she turned back toward the window, sighing deeply.
I hate it here, she thought bitterly. I want to be back at Hogwarts. I miss Harry and Ron and Ginny. I wish they never joined the army. No, maybe I wish I joined the army with them. I wish V-Voldemort was dead so they could come back home.
Her miserable thoughts continued for a few more minutes, until she decided that she was too hungry to think anymore. After quietly showering and dressing, Hermione headed down to the School's main cafeteria. She was in the mood for some homemade food, specially prepared by the numerous lunch ladies there.
She paused outside the grand oak doors of the huge room labeled "Cafeteria." For a moment, Hermione visualized that these doors were those of the Great Hall in Hogwarts, and when she opened them, she would see four long House tables lined up and the Staff table at the head of the room. The House tables would be packed with hungry students trying to finish a quick breakfast before classes started that day. She would see Harry, Ron, and Ginny beckoning for her to join them at the Gryffindor table, and she would happily sit down with them and enjoy her own breakfast.
But no, these plain doors opened to reveal twenty or so plastic foldable tables, randomly scattered in the room, where students had moved them in order to sit close to their friends. The staff of the School ate in a secluded Staff Room, a separate building elsewhere on campus.
Hermione sighed again and entered. She looked around for Harry, Ron, and Ginny, temporarily forgetting the one small detail that they were hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away from her at the moment. Every day she did this, hoping that, by some miracle, they would show up at her school.
She was terribly disappointed every day.
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Somewhere on the other edge of campus, in Room 217, on the second floor of House C, located in the Boys' Seventh Year Wing, a certain white-blond haired boy was just waking up. Like Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy did not want to be here. In fact, he liked the London Boarding School for the Academically Advanced even less than she did. Of course he would; after all, it was a muggle school, while he was a pureblood, and proud of it.
His father, Lucius Malfoy, had tried to send Draco to Durmstrang after Hogwarts closed down. But before he could make the necessary arrangements, the Dark Lord had beckoned him to his side, and all plans were quickly forgotten. And because Draco had disappointed the Dark Lord in the attempted murder of Dumbledore, he was demoted from Death Eater to normal wizard. Ordinarily, the Dark Lord would have immediately finished Draco off for his failure, but Draco's mother, Narcissa Malfoy, had begged for the Dark Lord to spare her son and to take her instead. Thus, Draco Malfoy was left to live, and Narcissa Malfoy was wiped off the face of the earth.
One of Narcissa Malfoy's last wishes was that Draco continues his education. She insisted that he finish his last year of school, and then find a job that he enjoyed. She knew that he could never join the Dark Side after the Dark Lord spared him, so she wanted her only son to lead a full life. Therefore, Draco Malfoy was left with no choice but to attend the School for the Academically Advanced, despite his whining about how it was a muggle school, how even death would be better.
On this particular Saturday morning, Draco awoke much earlier than usual. He tended to sleep in on weekends (and often on weekdays as well), but today, something jolted him awake before 8 o'clock. He sat up and looked around murderously, as if trying to spot someone pulling a prank on him in order to wake him up. When he found no one, he sighed and flopped back down on the bed.
It was useless trying to go back to sleep. Once he was awake, he stayed awake until sundown.
Groaning in frustration, Draco threw off the covers and glanced around his dormitory. For once, he was the first one of the three boys that inhabited this room to be up and about – he was usually the last. Just to vent his irritation at waking so early, he made as much noise as possible getting up.
No one stirred, which just annoyed Draco further.
He stormed out the door, slamming the door in his wake. Down the stairs he raged, all the while muttering to himself about how he was going to kill someone if something good didn't happen soon. Near the bottom of the stairs, he passed a nerdy-looking boy, who stared at him and backed away slowly as if he were some freaked psychopath on the loose. Draco narrowed his eyes and pretended he didn't notice.
Once outside, his feet automatically carried him to the Cafeteria. When Draco looked up from the ground again, he found himself standing in front of the great oak doors, which had just swung shut from someone else passing through them.
He sighed and kicked at a stray clump of dirt. This place sucks balls. I belong back at Hogwarts, he thought, not for the first time. You can't even bloody use bloody magic in this bloody place! I hate it I hate it I hate it! Oh, and did I mention I hate this bloody place?
By now, the clump of dirt had dissolved into a pile of powder at his feet, and people around him were giving him strange looks. He glared at them, visualizing daggers flying out of nowhere and stabbing each and every one of them. This gave him a slight feeling of satisfaction, but not much.
Draco threw open the grand oak doors with immense force, as if everything that goes wrong in his life is the doors' fault. He might have accidentally struck an innocent third year standing behind the doors, but he didn't care, all he cared about at the moment was getting out of this wretched place.
He crashed through the carelessly strewn tables, knocking over a stool here and there. When he reached an uninhabited table, he threw himself onto a particularly rickety-looking stool, which promptly shattered under his weight.
Draco couldn't take it anymore. This morning kept getting worse and worse. His anger and frustration reached its peak level, and he let out an ear-splitting yell. Furiously, he stormed out the Cafeteria the way he came, pushing aside whoever got in his way, causing them to spill whatever they were carrying. He couldn't care less.
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Hermione was picking at the blueberry muffin on her tray, taking a bite now and then. Suddenly, she heard a piercing shriek of anguish. Startled, she whirled around, looking for the source of the yell, only to see a boy about her age angrily marching out of the Cafeteria.
There was something peculiar about the boy. Something… familiar. Convinced that she was seeing things, Hermione rubbed her eyes and looked again, but she still saw the head of silvery hair. It couldn't be… Could it?
No, she convinced herself, it most definitely couldn't. And she went back to "eating" her muffin.
But a little nagging voice in the back of her mind kept whining. "You want to go see if it's really him, don't you?"
No, I don't, she told the voice.
"You know you want to!"
No. I. Do. Not, she repeated firmly.
"Yes. You. Do!"
Finally, Hermione gave in to the little irritating voice. Just to shut you up, she told it.
"Riiiiiiiiight…" it taunted in reply.
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When Draco exited the Cafeteria, glaring murderously at anyone who dared to glance at him, he realized that he didn't know where to go. Sighing pitifully, he plopped his rear down on a bench nearby and closed his eyes, wishing that the day would quickly end.
At the same time, Hermione cautiously pushed open the grand oak door and peeked out, like she feared she would be attacked by whoever it was if she walked out too fast. Seeing no one, she slowly stepped outside into the bright sunlight, clearly visible from all directions.
From his perch on the wooden bench, Draco was hidden from the rest of the world by a few trees in front of him, but he could see everything through the branches. When he heard the Cafeteria door swing open, his eyes flew open on instinct.
His eyes bulged open even wider when he saw who had exited the Cafeteria. There was no mistaking that head of bushy brown hair.
"No… bloody… way," he whispered to himself. "This is not possible. This is not happening." And he proceeded to pinch himself much harder than necessary, as if waking himself up from a terrible nightmare.
"Ow!" he screeched.
Alas, Draco was wide-awake, and still having the worst day of his life.
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Standing on the Cafeteria steps, Hermione slowly swiveled her head like an owl to take in her surroundings.
"Ow!" came a sudden moan of pain from behind the trees to her left.
Hermione swung her head in that direction and looked hard into the trees. There it was again: that head of shiny, silvery-blond hair. When she looked closer, she was convinced.
"No… bloody… way," she whispered to herself. "This is not possible. This is not happening." And she, too, proceeded to pinch herself, though with far less force than Draco had exerted.
As she rubbed her now sore arm, Draco slowly rose from his seat on the bench and cautiously approached Hermione, lest she whip out her wand – which she does still carry around with her – and hexes him.
When he saw that she was unarmed, and as equally startled as he was, he put on his trademark smirk and sneered, "Well, well, if it isn't the Mudblood."
So, what do you think? Good? Bad? Should be continued? Should be thrown down the shredding machine? Please review!
Story Word Count (henceforth known as SWC): 1970