Disclaimer: I own nothing Harry Potter except for a charming little prefect badge from Harry Potter World and every single movie and book.
A/N: My first oneshot EVER, so reviews are definitely appreciated. Just a little thought I had, not quite realistic, but charming in my head. Hope you enjoy!
Maybe he wasn't making it obvious enough. Maybe he was too quiet about it, too cold and calculated to let anyone see it. He had always been told he was that way-he didn't often feel an overwhelming desire to let the entire Hogwarts student body know what he felt. But today, it should've been obvious that he was positively seething with rage.
Male after slimy, disgusting, low-life male approached her, touching her with their filthy, grabby hands, smiling at her, flirting ever so pathetically with her. Draco had a mind to Crucio every one of the dirty bastards on the spot, the second they got within a three foot radius of her. Were they all really so daft, so blind to the obvious? She was clearly his; he walked her everywhere, a protective arm almost always around her waist. They'd even been seen snogging in a hallway! What more could they possibly need to constitute as proof? Maybe they thought it was just a fling, a friends-with-benefits scenario, or even possibly that Draco was just doing it to mess with Gryffindor's little golden girl. But whatever it was, he gritted his teeth and tried his best to ignore it, for he needn't worry about it for long. By the next morning, every last one of them would know. And once they all knew, Draco couldn't say they weren't fairly warned if he happened to strangle the life out of them for touching her.
Draco Malfoy was a proud Slytherin, sly and cunning-but traditional as well. And he had something in mind, the perfect Slytherin way to ensure that no one, not a single soul, messed with his girl.
Hermione Granger was completely and utterly confused. All day, something had been wrong. She'd been getting strange looks. People would cut off mid-sentence when approaching her. Some would reach out to touch her, only to draw back as if she were about to spontaneously combust. Some even seemed shocked or disgusted-and occasionally afraid-by her presence!
Just the day before, so many guys had approached her that she must've looked like some widowed millionaire, flocked by suitors. As far as she knew, though, none of them had taken that sort of interest in her-she was already taken, after all-and wanted nothing more than to chat. But today, hardly anyone had said two words to her. No one but Draco, who'd greeted her in the Head Common Room with a suspiciously affectionate hug and a matching "Good morning, gorgeous!" A total of three words, five syllables, twelve seconds, and still the longest encounter she'd had all day.
Frustrated, she rounded the corner of one of the corridors, and lost in thought over her confusing situation, she bumped ungracefully into the aforementioned Slytherin, dropping the book she had been hugging to her chest.
"Granger," he said, a smirk playing on his lips as she scooped her book up off the ground. "Can't stay away from me, eh? But why that angry little face? You're going to get frown lines on that pretty little brow of yours."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's nothing." She attempted to push past him, but it was in vain. He was by far the larger of the two, and stopped her effortlessly in her tracks.
"Oh, come on, doll," he said, his smirk growing, "you know you can tell me."
Hermione scoffed. "The vain Draco Malfoy? I think you'd just laugh."
Draco ran a hand down the side of her face. "Try me, sweetheart."
"Well," Hermione sighed, "if you must know, no one's spoken to me all day. It...it's quite curious, actually. It's like I've got the plague and everyone is steering clear for fear of infection." She stared at the ground in confusion and frustration. "You're actually...I think you're the only person I've had a right conversation with thus far."
"Oh, no," Draco said, pouting, his sarcasm unnoticed by the troubled Gryffindor. "I can't imagine why, a pretty thing like you..."
"Oh, can it, Malfoy," she hissed, finally taking note of his tone. "I know you're enjoying this."
"True," he replied. "You know me so well, darling."
She glared daggers at him.
"I'll tell you what," he continued. "You have a Charms essay due week after next, am I right?"
"Yes," Hermione replied, "not that I have much left of it..."
"Well, why don't you and I head down to the library and work on it? Forget about all those prats, they're probably only giving you a hard time. Besides, it would do you some good to bask in my glorious presence. You'll be better in no time," he said smoothly, giving her a wink.
Hermione slapped his shoulder, but the attempt was half-hearted, and the corners of her mouth were ever so slightly tilting upward. "I...suppose," she said slowly, "it would help me take my mind off of...whatever it is that's going on."
"Good." He leaned in and kissed her lips, savoring the taste of peppermint and the warmth of her breath. He smiled. "Come on, then, let's get going, before an angry mob of hormonal girls catches sight of me and clubs you to death for such an invasion of my personal space."
Hermione rolled her eyes, but obliged, walking beside him in the direction of the library. "I still don't understand," she said after a moment, "why everybody's been treating me strangely."
Draco snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close. "I can't say, either. But you have Draco Malfoy, and he's worth twenty Gryffindors or Ravenclaws, and at least fifty Hufflepuffs."
Hermione shook her head, but gave a tiny smirk. Of course, Draco was smirking as well, triumphantly, in fact, for right above his arm, plastered to the back of Hermione's robes, was a piece of parchment reading 'Property of Malfoy'. He chuckled to himself.
Oh, it was definitely obvious now.