Hey people! This is my first attempt at a Dramione, so please give me feedback on whether or not I should continue it.
Extended Summary:
(Takes place during HBP; not completely compliment, but some parts match up.) Due to the stress of security, Dumbledore decided to make two prefects in sixth year Heads of the normal activities while the seventh year Heads had to ensure security measures in the school. Or at least that's what the Headmaster's excuse is… Perhaps Voldemort underestimates the ancient power his servants too much….
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
~*~1~*~
"Professor, I don't understand," Hermione Granger stated as she sat in the Headmaster's office, "The seventh year Heads are perfectly capable of handling everything; why create another Headship in our year?"
"Ms. Granger," Dumbledore responded patiently, "you must realize the situation of the Wizarding World. The seventh year Heads are in charge of the new security measure set up to protect the school. As you can see, they have tried to take on the added load of work for three months, but both of them are in the Hospital Wing currently due to fainting from lack of sleep. We are in need of another pair of responsible students to take on the regular jobs of the school. Therefore, I approach you with the offer of being Head Girl."
"I would be delighted, Sir," Hermione answered.
"Wonderful! You will move into your shared tower with Mr. Malfoy in an hour," the old man pronounced cheerily.
"I'm sorry, what?" Hermione asked, her eyes widening slightly, disbelief colored her voice. Surely, surely Dumbledore did not think Malfoy could handle taking care of younger students.
"You will have a room to yourself Ms. Granger. Surely you know that the Heads share a separate tower since you've read Hogwarts: A History so thoroughly."
"Yes Sir, but I didn't catch who my partner is," Hermione said. Oh dear Merlin she hoped that she had heard wrong.
"Mr. Draco Malfoy," the Headmaster replied calmly, "Now I'm sorry, but I have business to attend to. You will have your first meeting with Professor McGonagall tonight after dinner. Good evening to you!"
"And you sir."
Hermione stood up shakily and exited the room. Surely Harry's theory about Malfoy being a Death Eater was false, but just in case, she thought it wouldn't hurt to learn some new defensive spells.
"My my, what a surprise," a voice sneered as Hermione levitated her trunk through the portrait hole, "The Mudblood is the new Head Girl."
"Well, ferret, it is a surprise that you are Head Boy," Hermione retorted. Their common room was very cozy and welcoming, decorated in red and silver, probably in attempt for some House Unity. They had two couches in front of the roaring fireplace, a dining table and a small island kitchen complete with cabinets, sink, oven, and stove.
"Just stay out of my way, will you?" Malfoy smirked, "I don't need a Mudblood following me around."
"No, you need the slutty, Slytherin female population fawning over you," Hermione snapped walking up the stairs leading to what she supposed were the bedrooms. Her temper was getting the better of her. On her way out of the Gryffindor Commons, she had spotted Ron and Lavender tightly wrapped together. Seeing the ferret now certainly did not help her calm down.
Something was off about Malfoy. He was sickly pale and less cocky, but Hermione registered it off. He was probably just sick from thinking that he would have to live with her. Her head heart. In she just wanted some peace and quiet and time to herself to think about how she was going to deal with Malfoy for the remainder of the year. It was shocking when she realized that she would rather be stuck with the arrogant ferret for half a year instead of walking in on Ron and Lavender for a month.
She took the bedroom on the left and smiled. She had a bay window with the side of her bed against the edge, a table that she could work on, a white bookshelf, and a reasonable sized closet. With a flick of her wand, her clothes arranged themselves neatly on hangers and in the drawers of her closet. Several swishes later, her room was organized; Wizard and Muggle classics sat on her bookshelf; fresh parchment, ink, and quill lay on the table, and the bay window had soft, red plush pillows and gold cushions on the marble. Satisfied, she went to sit on her newly made bed.
"Granger," Malfoy drawled, startling Hermione out of her thoughts, "it's awfully Gryffindor here. Or is this the typical Mudblood style of furniture?"
"And why are you even here? Unless you're stalking me so you can report to your father?" Hermione asked chillily.
"Why would I report to my father? I doubt Potter has to talk to McGonagall so she can report to Dumbledore."
Hermione froze; that analogy sounded awfully like Malfoy reported to… Voldemort. No, she though to herself, get a grip, he's probably just bluffing to make himself seem more important or gain leverage on her. He hadn't denied that he wasn't watching her though. That disturbed Hermione greatly; her nerves were already at breaking point.
"Right. Now get out of my room."
Draco's eyebrows rose slightly. "I'm not 'in' your room," he stated lightly tapping the doorframe to make his point. He was definitely sick.
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. How the hell did anyone get sick because they were stuck with someone they hated? She thought that even Malfoy was more mature than that. She sighed sharply and blinked her eyes dramatically. "Then get your Pureblood ass out of my presence."
