Unforeseen Circumstances
Summary: Anyone else think it's unfair how all the stories about an unfortunate student with love-life-issues always favors Draco? Well what if he needed lessons in love from everyone's favorite Gryffindor good-girl… D/Hr.
Disclaimer: Do you really think that if I owned Harry Potter, that Draco + Hermione wouldn't be together?
Author's Note: Hi :. Welcome to my story, my name is Erica and I'll be your author. This story does not take HBP into account. I am dreadfully sorry about that, but I can't bring myself to write a story without Dumbledore. As a general rule, I am going to avoid cliches; however, I will have the Head Boy/Head Girl thing going on. It's relatively important to the plot. Anyway, I really hope you'll enjoy. I'll do my best to update quickly. Oh yeah, and in advance, I apologize for the length of the chapter.
xo.err
Chapter 1- Draco, Darling…
Boring. There really were no other words to describe the opening feast of Draco Malfoy's 7th year. As he sat at the Slytherin table, he attempted to find something to focus on aside from the Headmaster's exaggeratedly-long speech. But to his eternal dismay, the closest three things were: Crabbe and Goyle, who were playing punch for a punch with no apparent thought to the probable results of this game; Pansy Parkinson, who was trying to make eyes at him from across the table (and making him feel hideously inadequate!); and Blaise Zabini, who was staring greedily at his empty plate, quite as bored as Draco.
For one terrible moment, he considered watching the wonderful Golden Trio. After a bit more consideration, however, he decided that he simply couldn't stomach The-Boy-Who-Has-Too-Many-Stupid-Titles, his sidekick The Weasel Wonder, and their little bookworm mudblood.
They would probably be... oh he didn't even want to know. Surely the mudblood would be doing one of two things: rambling incessantly about a topic her two dunderhead friends didn't understand, or being ignored while said dunderheads discussed quidditch.
"This is ridiculous." He muttered underneath his breath, sitting back and taking a deep, resigned breath. Pansy nodded eagerly, all too prepared to agree to everything the love of her life uttered.
"I agree, the old bat should just shut up and die." She whispered dramatically, pointing one perfectly painted nail towards the Teacher's Table.
From the Gryffindor Table, Draco looked over just in time to see Hermione Granger's head snap to attention. 'No way she heard that…' his subconscious began. However, the glare that posted itself on her face made him all too paranoid that the mudblood princess of Gryffindor had extraordinary hearing.
Pansy smiled at him flirtatiously once more, and Draco's thoughts were invariably lead to his father's… choice… words before his departure for school.
"You will court the girl this year Draco, or you will be no son of mine." Lucius snarled.
"Lucius, are you mad!?" Draco's mother cried, throwing her husband a pleading look.
"I am not mad, Narcissa," he began in a deadly whisper, chilling the occupents of the room to the bone, "Merely determined to see to the continuation of my bloodline. The Malfoy line shall remain untainted if it kills me."
Draco nodded nervously. He was not an easily shaken man, but the wrath of Lucius Malfoy was to horrendous to even think of in your worst nightmares. He watched as his father started towards the door, pausing with his hand on the handle.
"Draco, you would do well to remember that my determination for pure blood will likely destroy you before it destroys me."
And with those eloquent words of departure, his father stormed from the room.
Lovely. He had to marry the girl. Raised a 'virtuous' pureblood boy, Draco had been taught to remain a virgin until his marriage. However, some families has relaxed this rule in recent years.
In fact, the Malfoys were really the only family that had raised their child by said law in the entire generation. While she was not entirely a whore, Draco could rest assured that his presumed 'wife-to-be' was most certainly not a virgin.
'And she'll expect me not to be either.' He thought terribly, remembering why exactly he had not already followed his father's commands to date the poor girl.
He watched with little interest as the students were sorted, clapping halfheartedly whenever the Slytherin House received a new member. However, he could not help but feel pity for himself at the fact that even the Mudblood wasn't a virgin.
He had overheard her squealing to the youngest spawn of the Weasels on the train, apparently she lost her own innocence over the summer to some fling of hers. It disgusted him to think that his righteous, regal upbringing had forced him to have a poorer romantic standing than a stupid, stuck-up mudblood.
He looked over at the Mudblood curiously, wondering what was appealing about her to cause a man to go after her. Certainly she was intelligent, there was no point arguing about that. However, she was not stunningly pretty or marvelously endowed from what he could see.
(Granted, that wasn't very much as the school religiously enforced its dress code policies.) But that was beside the point. And the real point was that despite his classical upbringing, meticulous grooming, in-shape body, filthy richness, and (what he believed to be) stunning good looks, he had still done less than Granger.
"My life sucks." He whispered melodramatically. With these delightful words, he began to poke at his food aimlessly, merely moving it around and not eating a bit of it.
"Darling," Pansy simpered, resting her hand upon his shoulder in a would-be-sympathetic manner (had he not known her true intentions were only to touch him), "Don't you should eat a little something? You need to keep your… strength up."
Dear Merlin. If the girl batted her eyelashes at him one more time, he would probably be forced to leave the feast early. And that was certainly not acceptable, for after all, he was a Malfoy.
The Malfoy family shared a great many things with the Blacks. They shared blood preferences- hell, they even shared literal blood- but the most important thing was their motto. Toujours Pur.
With a hideously plastered smile, he smirked up at Pansy. However, even as he replied with a sardonic 'Of course', he could not help but let his eyes lift once more to the apparently promiscuous mudblood.
Always Pure.
-x-.-x.-x.x-x.x.x.-x.x-x.-.-x
Author's Note 2: Well there's Chapter 1, which is honestly more of a prologue than anything. Reviews would be welcome, and as always, I adore constructive criticism. By the way, is anyone interested in being a beta?
xo.. err
