AGAINST WHAT I KNOW
SUMMARY: "You hate me?" His eyebrow quirked in a way that made her skin crawl, even if she tried to ignore it as she stared straight ahead – ignoring how darn attractive he looked when he gave her that look. "That's a little extreme, Granger. Consider me hurt." / There's a fine line between love, and hate. Dramione.
CHAPTER ONE
There wasn't a single soul on the Platform of Nine and three quarters. The emptiness, in comparison to the usual hustle and bustle of the back-to-school-excitement, wasn't appreciated in the slightest for Hermione Granger – even if it meant she would be getting some peace of quiet. In some respect, she did prefer it this way. Profes – Headmistress McGonagall had arranged for a private train to meet Hermione at the station a week before all of the other students returned. After the ending of the war, she supposed it was only natural that she was going to be invited back a little earlier than the rest of the students. As the only member of the Golden Trio who had decided to return to Hogwarts for her final year, Hermione was finding the memories of the previous War, even after all this time, haunting. The sheer prospect of returning to Hogwarts – even if it was now, apparently, a whole lot better – was a little daunting, to say at the very least.
Still, Hermione was glad to be returning to her studies, especially as now a newly appointed Head Girl. She had been given this week to settle in properly and prepare herself for the year facing her. Even without the fear of Lord Voldemort attacking any minute, Hermione still had her N.E.W.T's to be preparing for – and she had gone so long without proper education.
As she boarded the train, Hermione made note to bask in the silence surrounding her, knowing it would be soon taken from her when she arrived at Hogwarts. She had been told that she would be joined by most of the members of staff, as well as the Head Boy – who, Hermione did not approve of at all.
Hermione liked to think that she trusted McGonagall's judgement; but, still, it wasn't a nice thought knowing that she'd have to spend time with him this year. Why on earth McGonagall had chosen such a boy was beyond her understanding.
"Mind if I join, Granger? I'd hate to think you would have to suffer this train journey all alone, what with Weasel and Potter elsewhere."
Her eyes shot up, and widened in complete shock. Unable to utter a single syllable, Hermione gave a small nod, swallowing in somewhat disbelief.
It was only Draco bloody Malfoy.
Ex-Death Eater, Muggle-Hater (and he had, of course, been very vocal about this) and just a general arrogant arsehole, Draco was not someone she wished to converse with - Especially not on the ride to Hogwarts. What was he even doing here? The last she had heard, his father had been sent to Azkaban and his mother had taken up the main parenting role in the Malfoy family. Even if they had supposedly changed their ways, that didn't erase the years of torment Hermione had endured from Draco Malfoy.
- Or, better yet, the night she'd had to endure at his Manor not that long ago under the hands of his Aunt, Bellatrix. Not that Hermione blamed Draco for that night in the slightest. It's not like he had the power to stop it.
Hermione had expected Draco to be turning up at some stage. This wasn't that much of a surprise. Headmistress McGonagall had warned her that she would have to spend some time working alongside Draco, now that he was the Head Boy. Why him? What had he possibly done that deserved him that title? Not being one to question McGonagall, though, Hermione had simply tried to ignore the idea – until now.
Silence dissolved around the pair, as Hermione attempted to avoid any eye contact and Draco took the seat opposite from her.
Talk about bloody awkward.
She shifted in her seat uncomfortably, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't end up sounding utterly ridiculous. She could feel his grey eyes amusedly piercing into hers and it damn right infuriated her. There was something about Draco Malfoy that got under her skin.
She flushed in embarrassment, unsure of how to respond to him. "I'd just like to point out, Malfoy, that just because you've been - and wrongly so - given the honor of Head Boy, does not under any circumstances mean that you have the right to undermine me or my blood status in the slightest -" Hermione paused, her eyebrows still risen as she dared him to argue. "Voldemort lost, Malfoy. It's a little old for petty arguments. If you plan on deliberately sabotaging my success as Head Girl, I will quite frankly go straight to Headmistress McGonagall and complain -"
It took everything in her not to be screaming at him. After all of the insults, the bullying, the name-calling, Hermione was using all of her will-power to remain polite here. She'd promised Headmistress McGonagall that she would be polite, if anything. Polite, she could do.
"Are you planning on interrogating me this entire journey, Granger?"
Merlin. He wasn't planning on making this easy, was he?
Then again, this was Malfoy, of course he'd be making this as difficult as possible for her.
"What do you suggest, Malfoy? Either I make polite conversation, or we spend the entire journey arguing." She hissed, firing up, rolling her eyes and folding her arms across her chest in irritation. Merlin, this boy was going to be the death of her.
Smirking, Draco answered, "I'd suggest the latter, Granger. Polite conversation gets boring after a while."
Of course he'd think that.
Only then did Hermione properly look across at the boy – no, forget that – the man in front of her. His grey eyes were gleaming in something caught in between amusement and irritation, and it was obvious he had spent the Summer doing some sort of a work out because Holy Merlin, he had never looked better. Why did Draco Malfoy have to be so sodding handsome? Not that Hermione would ever tell him that. His head was big enough, and she was certain Ron would hex her for even thinking it.
"You're infuriating." She stated with a huff.
Another smirk. "Touché. Consider me hurt."
Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes once again at him. Draco Malfoy really was an insufferable git. Not only that, but he was now just looking at her. His eyes felt as if they were almost piercing into her brain, reading every thought that was racing around her mind. The air that circled around them felt intoxicating. It felt dangerous.
An hour of the journey passed with the occasional conversation, but Hermione had sought comfort in one of her favourite novels that she'd thankfully taken with her for the train journey. As for Malfoy, his eyes were scanning a load of paper in a black folder he was holding. She was baffled as to what he could possibly be reading, but not bothered enough to ask him. She really could not be bothered with another confrontation, or awkward conversation this morning.
"Granger."
Her name hung in the air for several seconds. She hadn't heard him, obviously – too engrossed in the book she was reading she was unable to hear anything other than the words that spiralled around her head.
"Granger."
His voice was louder this time, a whole lot more firm and full of impatience and irritation. Her eyes shot up, absolutely startled by the interruption. She sucked in a short gasp, unable to comprehend what on earth Malfoy would want now. "What do you want, Malfoy?" She snapped irritably, rubbing her forehead while absentmindedly chewing on her lower lip.
It was only then that Hermione noticed her surroundings, her eyes darting around the carriage like a rabbit attempting to escape being attacked. They'd arrived. She hadn't realized. Merlin, how humiliating was that?
"Oh." she muttered under her breath, immediately closing her book shut and taking a stand. All she heard was the slam of the carriage door and her eyes watched as his retreating figure walked away. She couldn't help but notice that during the train journey he must have gotten changed into his robes, not that she'd noticed. Thank Merlin she got into her uniform at the very start of the journey.
Scrambling all of her belongings and placing them as-neatly-as-she-had-time-for in her bag, she hurriedly exited the train. Instinct told her that Draco had already left – not that she expected anything less of him, and she was relieved. There was only so much of the Slytherin she could handle every day.
"I can't believe you've made me work with her." he spat, his eyes glaring angrily across the room, sparkling in pure rage. "We'll kill each other. Not only that but she's a bloody -"
"She's a what, Draco?" McGonagall pressed, her eyebrow raising dangerously, daring him to say it. The word they both were thinking, but not saying. Truth be told, Draco had actually gone with a 'bloody know-it-all', but it didn't surprise him that the old hag had assumed he'd wanted to call her a Mudblood. The word sent a chill down his spine even thinking about it. Ever since the war and consequences of said war, Draco had come to the conclusion after many sleepless nights that there really wasn't much difference between a Pureblood, Half-Blood and a Muggle. In fact, he found himself not even caring about who-was-who anymore.
He was just too tired to care. After years of being brainwashed into believing certain things – things he'd found it difficult to believe in the first place anyway – Draco had given up bothering. What did it concern him if their parents were Magical of not?
"She hates me –"
"Draco, I do think you're jumping to conclusions here. Miss Granger is fully aware that she's going to have to work alongside you this year, and I'm sure she'll be acting professionally at all times." McGonagall paused, eying the boy critically. "You, on the other hand –"
He raised an eyebrow as her words faltered. It was obvious that she still wasn't so certain on Draco, and he'd expected that. Draco knew this would be his final chance to at least clear up his broken reputation – and, for his mother's sake, have a fresh start. He knew he wasn't going to have it easy this year. The Malfoy-Like reaction would be to tell the old hag to shove it, and leave straight away. But that was what his father would have done.
He didn't want to be like his father.
Not now, not ever.
"- You're not helping your case here, Mr Malfoy." McGonagall finally ended, the look on her face warning him not to overstep the mark here. He bit his lip, fighting not to say what he wanted to. If anything, the only thing stopping him even now was because he couldn't fuck this up. He couldn't disappoint his mother like that. She had been overjoyed when he had been accepted back into Hogwarts, and had warned him that any more trouble from him would result in him immediately being thrown out of Hogwarts – something he couldn't afford.
At least he was still in line for the Malfoy inheritance, something he was sure he had lost, but somehow, hadn't.
"Are we done here?" he growled, hating how civil he had to be. Even if his past prejudices were gone, he still wasn't ready to start fully embracing Dumbledore's second-in-command, Potter, Weasel, Granger or She-Weasel. He would never stoop to their level; the overall thought made him shudder.
"Very well." McGonagall stood up and made her way around her desk so that she was now right in front of Draco. "You're not a bad person, Mr Malfoy. You've made many awful mistakes, but this is your chance to overcome that now. Don't mess it up with that smart mouth of yours."
He swallowed, not knowing what to say to that. Why did they have to be so bloody emotional all the time? Why did she even think he cared about her opinion of him? Still, not being a bad person in her eyes definitely surprised Draco. He hadn't expected that. Silently, he stood up and made his way to the door when he heard that same familiar voice behind him.
"Oh, and Draco?"
He groaned, turning on his heel to face her. "What?"
"Your dorm is just opposite to Miss Granger's. I trust you won't be disturbing her tonight, she's terribly tired."
Of course Granger would be tired. Bloody Muggle lightweights. Had they never heard of staying up late or something? With a curt nod, he turned around again, and left the room.
.
.
His bedroom was definitely an improvement to the stuffy dormitory he vaguely remembered from his years at Hogwarts. At least now he had some privacy, and a private bathroom. His clothes had already been unpacked, thankfully, so all he had to do now was write to his mother, Pansy – who was expecting an update as soon as he arrived – and Blaise.
The first letter was easy enough to write. He gave a general overview of his first day, not bothering to mention his encounter with Granger on the train. His mother would only persist in Draco befriending her, purely to make amends for the past. Pansy's letter was short and direct, briefly mentioning how pissed off he was with the new Head Girl, before questioning about her parents. As Purebloods also, Pansy had been worried they would have been approached by ex-Death Eaters over the next few months in an attempt to bring back at least some power.
Once all three letters were completed, Draco sat back in his chair, allowing his mind to drift elsewhere. He wondered if Granger really was asleep right now. He was sure of it. Not that he cared about whether or not she was – just merely curious. After all, they were the only students in the castle and he was sure this week was going to drag by. Why couldn't someone interesting had been chosen to be Head Girl?
An hour later and Draco was nearly falling asleep in his armchair, unable to distract himself with the fire whiskey he'd been drinking. Just as he was about to call it a night, his owl flew into his bedroom, a letter falling from its grasp to Draco's desk. He raised an eyebrow at the letter skeptically. Surely he wouldn't receive a response from either of his friends so quickly.
We will have to meet tomorrow to discuss the upcoming year. I hope for both of our sakes that you're in a better mood by the morning. As adults, now, Malfoy, I'd like to think we can at least be professional around each other.
See you tomorrow.
- HG.
Was she being fucking serious?
A low growl escaped from the back of his throat as he tightened his fists in irritation. Granger had some serious issues if she thought they could act professionally towards each other. That had been made very clear on the train ride when they'd blatantly ignored each other throughout the majority of the journey.
Still, he considered, it could be worse. It could be Potter, or his Ginger Haired Weasel.
With an irritated scowl, he wrote back a short and blunt letter back to her.
Fine. This doesn't mean we're anything close to friends, Granger. I'll meet you in the Astronomy Tower at 11, don't be late.
- DM.
As he gave the letter to his owl and made his way to his bed, he sighed, realising he'd have to be seeing a whole lot more of Hermione Granger this year.
It could be worse, it could be worse…
.