A/N: My first Harry Potter fanfic! Reviews would be much appreciated :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, however sad this might make me.
Hermione trudged across the muddy lawn towards the Greenhouses, her cloak wrapped rightly around her as protection from the slanting rain. It was a cold, overcast morning, the kind of ungodly autumn weather that Hogwarts usually experienced at this time of year. The many turrets of the school made a striking outline against the leaden sky and Hermione thought, not for the first time, that there was something slightly gothic about the ancient castle. She shivered.
"Hey, Mione! Wait up!
She turned round reluctantly, unwilling to stop when she was so close to her destination. Harry and Ron were running inelegantly towards her, slipping and sliding comically on the wet grass. Ron was holding a roll of parchment over his head to shield him from the rain which Hermione shrewdly suspected was his Herbology essay.
"Where have you two been?" she snapped, her mood not helped by Harry skidding to a halt in front of her and splashing the bottom of her robes with mud.
"Filch" he replied, saying the name like an expletive. "One bloody footprint I left on those stairs and he had us clean the whole Front Hall."
"Git" added Ron darkly, reaching them with a thunderous expression on his face. "I swear if I ever see that cat of his again I'll – "
"That's quite enough Ronald" said Hermione hastily, not sure she wanted to hear what he had in mind for Mrs Norris.
Harry chuckled. "Come on, or we'll be late for Professor Sprout."
The three of them headed across the vegetable patch towards for the sixth year Greenhouse, following the rest of their class along the muddy track. They were about to enter when an unpleasantly familiar voice sounded behind them.
"God, have you ever seen anything so ridiculous?"
"What do you want ferret?" Harry demanded between gritted teeth, spinning to face the smirking blond.
"Just ignore him mate" Ron muttered in an undertone.
"I was just commenting on the mudblood's hair" Malfoy drawled, sauntering forward with his gang of Slytherin followers. "What in Merlin's name have you done to it Granger? Or don't tell me, you like it like that."
Pansy Parkinson giggled, her eyes fixed maliciously on Hermione.
"Piss off, would you?" Harry swore.
"Or maybe it was the rain" Malfoy continued. "But surely not even that could make it quite so bushy…"
"Aren't you hilarious?" said Hermione acidly, meeting his cool grey eyes with fierce hatred in her own. "And I wonder how you get your hair so perfect? I've never been able to pull off the greasy ferret look."
Ron and Harry laughed nastily, turning away from the Slytherins and heading into the Greenhouse. Hermione followed, filled with triumph that she'd got one over on Malfoy. Another typical insult, another typical day. She wondered how he got so much enjoyment out of spiting her. Surely he and Zabini spent enough of their time bullying first years; they didn't need to torture her as well.
The rest of the Herbology lesson passed without incident (Hermione handing in her 6 foot long essay with a slightly bashful glance at her classmates, Ron trying to salvage the sopping remains of his own, and Harry fabricating truly inspired excuses as to why he hadn't done it. What he should have said, Ron pointed out later, was that Fluffy had eaten it.)
The Golden Trio were settled in three of the armchairs around the fire in the Gryffindor common room. It was getting late and the room was slowly emptying; apart from a group of giggling third years and Fred and Lee Jordan playing a game of exploding snap they were the only ones in there. Hermione was trying to finish a particularly difficult Arithmancy essay while Ron and Harry struggled over a Transfiguration assignment that was due in the next day (she had finished it over a fortnight ago).
"Done" said Ron happily, throwing his quill down onto the table and flopping back in his seat. "Merlin, that was stressful."
"You shouldn't have left it to the last minute and done it earlier like I suggested then" said Hermione waspishly, still scribbling away at her own work.
"Chill out, Mione. I got it finished didn't I?"
"Yes" she admitted, "but – "
"So what's the problem?" Ron shrugged.
"The problem is that you complain constantly about how much work you get, but the only reason it piles up is because you always wait until the last possible moment to do it!"
"I do not complain constantly" he grumbled, causing Harry to duck behind his copy of Flying with the Cannons to hide his grin.
"And you make me proof read you essays when I have quite enough to be getting on with myself" Hermione added, rolling up her scroll of parchment and putting the stopper in her ink pot.
"That's only because I know you'll get it right" Ron coaxed, in a half hearted attempt to butter her up. "Plus I thought you liked doing it."
"Oh yes" she replied sarcastically, "reading your appalling spelling and poorly researched ideas is the highlight of my evening."
"Don't you think that's a little bit harsh Mione?" asked Harry, surfacing from his book and frowning.
"I think it's perfectly fair" she retorted, annoyed that he was taking Ron's side - like usual.
"Well if that's the way you feel" said Ron, starting to turn red, "I won't bother next time. And in future if I need any help, I'll go to someone who doesn't bore me to death with too much detail."
"Fine" snapped Hermione.
"Fine" echoed Ron, grabbing his bag and stalking off upstairs. "Night Harry."
"Night" said Harry. There was silence for a moment as Hermione stuffed her own work into her bag and they heard the distant slam of the boys' dormitory door.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry asked her tentatively.
"No" she sighed, "I'm just going to go to bed."
Hermione tiptoed down the corridor, hardly daring to breathe in case an enraged Filch or a prowling Mrs Norris caught her sneaking around in the middle of the night. Rule breaking was not something she generally approved of, but after the argument with Ron, a long, deep soak seemed the only sure fire way to cheer herself up. On reaching the fourth floor, she crept along through patches of silvery moonlight to the accompanying snores that drifted down from the dozing inhabitants of portraits until she reached the Mermaid tapestry which guarded the entrance to the prefect's bathroom. She whispered the password, a peculiar mixture of adrenaline and relief tingling down her spine as she made it into the echoing, marble tiled room. Shutting the door softly behind her, she finally let out the breath she'd been holding since leaving Gryffindor tower. It was irritating having to sneak half way across the castle when you wanted a bath (and considering the amount of rows she and Ron had, this was often). It was a wonder what on earth the founders had been thinking. But then again, Hogwarts had never been big on home comforts – she thought shrewdly of the rough wooden benches in the Great Hall and the freezing cold flagstones. Luxury living standards obviously hadn't been high on their agenda.
The bathroom itself was grand and lavishly decorated with a hundred golden taps that Hermione knew would spout out jets of multicoloured steam and bubbles; a definite plus of being a prefect. But before she could go over and collect a fresh, white towel emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest from the pile in the corner, there was a quiet, but impatient tapping at the window. Puzzled, Hermione pulled out her wand from her dressing gown pocket and cautiously went over to the window, wondering who or what could possibly be trying to gain entrance to the bathroom in such a ridiculous manner. On opening the casement, she immediately wished she hadn't.
"Evening, mudblood."
A smirking Draco Malfoy soared over her head and into the room, landing smoothly on the other side of the still empty bath and dismounting from his broomstick with a flourish.
"What the hell?" demanded Hermione, ignoring Malfoy's offensive remark – what was new? – And poking her head out the window for a moment, before turning to face him again, frowning. "What were you doing out there?" she asked, indicated the grounds with an irritated sweep of her hand.
"It's a little thing called flying, Granger" Malfoy drawled, his grey eyes mocking her from across the room, "and I'd heard you were intelligent."
She took in his wind swept appearance; tie loose around his neck, hair tousled and his normally pale face flushed.
"You were flying round in the middle of the night?" she pressed him, not quiet ready to believe that Draco Malfoy was actually here, in her bathroom, smiling that god damn smirk of his. It was enough to make anyone sick.
"Obviously." The Slytherin raised an eyebrow that clearly questioned her sanity. "Hence the broom…"
Hermione let this pass. "Why?"
"As if I would tell you anything about my personal affairs" Malfoy sneered. "Besides, it isn't for naive ears such as your own."
"You weren't by yourself were you?" Hermione guessed, disgusted.
"Jealous, are we?"
"As if ferret." She lapsed into an angry silence, annoyed with herself for allowing him to gain a point so easily. It must be something to do with the lateness of the hour, but she didn't seem to be able think of any of the cutting retorts she usually reserved for when Malfoy was being particularly obnoxious. She looked up and found him leaning casually against one of the marble pillars, watching her with a superior expression.
"Well I think I'll be leaving then" she said frostily, the whole experience suddenly too weird for her. She needed to get back to Gryffindor tower and her four-poster before the night got any stranger.
"You're not going to have you're bath then?" Malfoy enquired with faked innocence.
She shot him a dirty look. "However appealing stripping in front of you sounds, I think I'll be leaving."
His eyes had taken on a wicked glint. "No-one's stopping you Granger. Feel free to leave when you like."
He crossed his arms and Hermione realised for the first time that to get to the door she'd have to pass him. And then it occurred to her how vulnerable she was. She was alone with Draco Malfoy, no Harry or Ron to protect her, no patrolling teachers to break up a fight. Nobody knew she was gone, let alone where she was. And seeing her come to this realisation, Malfoy's smirk grew wider.
"Caught on have you? Castles at night are dangerous places to go wandering about on your own. All sorts of bad things could happen. Think of the monsters you could run in to…"
An icy chill was spreading through Hermione's body. She clutched her wand, too alarmed to scream a spell – any spell – that would keep Malfoy away. Her feet seemed glued to the floor, despite her consuming desire to run. He wouldn't dare to hurt her, would he? Not actually? She knew they'd had their differences (ok, slight under exaggeration) but he wasn't evil. Not truly as bad as his death eater father.
"What are you going to do to me?" she managed to choke out.
The predatory grin on Malfoy's face faltered for a moment as he heard the horror in her voice. Then it was replaced by the usual cold mask of indifference and abruptly he turned away.
"Nothing. Go to bed Granger."
Several minutes later it dawned on Hermione that she was alone in the cavernous bathroom, silver moonlight pouring in through the still open window, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. He'd left. And what was more, he'd left without a word.
Please Review :) I'd love to know what you think!