Bored of You

"You were nothing but a good fuck to me, Granger, something to keep me amused for a while, but now, to tell you the truth, I've grown rather bored of you, so… go and find yourself a Weasel." He ended his rather short speech, his face cold and emotionless, his eyes clear and empty.

An angry gurgle was heard from their left, indicating that the library was not as empty as they had thought. He didn't give a damn, really. But it was his luck that neither Potter nor the Weasel were there at the particular moment (of course, this had not much to do with luck, as this was, after all, the library), otherwise he would have been lying on the floor already being punched to his death.

On the other hand, he hadn't escaped yet, since Granger was quite capable with her wand, and although she opposed physical violence in school, and mostly in the sacred library, he knew what she was like when she got really, really mad. And he didn't doubt for a moment that she was beyond livid right now. But he remained cool, counting on his survival reflexes should he need to draw his wand, hoping that perhaps she would go the other way and start crying in front of him. That would be rather entertaining. Then again, so was a good duel. Perhaps he could manage to hex her first and see her cry later. Oh, this was going to be so much fun!

Those recent thoughts had kept him too occupied to witness her smirk. However, her next words brought him out of his stupor, and they brought him out of it good.

"Any Weasel?" her voice was amused and teasing. "I did find Fred looking rather delicious the last time I saw him. Although, it might have been George. Oh well, I guess I'll have to try them both."

Okay, that was not what he had expected her to say. In fact, a moment ago he would have been willing to bet half his fortune (not all of course, he was still practical) that he would never hear those words coming out of her mouth. And especially not in reply to what he had just told her.

Did she think he was joking?

"Granger, I really don't care which Weasel you choose to bother with your disgusting self, but from your light tone, I get the impression that you don't quite believe me. So let me say it again, slowly, I. Hate. You. I. Find. You. Disgusting. I. Want. You. Out. Of. My. Face. For good."

"Is that all you've got to say?"

"No. I also have to say that you're a pathetic Mudblood not worthy to lick my shoes, not to mention one of the ugliest and most annoying people at the school. On the face of the Earth, to be more precise."

"I'm worse than Pansy?" Hermione was still smiling. Draco wondered for a moment if perhaps she had somehow managed to charm herself to look calm and amused.

"Of course. She is a Pureblood."

"Excellent answer, Draco. Excellent."

"Don't call me that ever again. You're far too low to even speak my name!"

"So I'm far too low to use your first name that is appointed only to you, but instead you want me to defile your last name with the dirty mouth of mine? The name which speaks of generations over generations of Pureblood wizards?"

"Don't you get cheeky with me, Granger," he hissed. "I just dumped you. You could at least have the decency to look miserable. But your kind is not taught the good manners, as I can see."

"It's good manners to look miserable when you are being dumped?" Hermione twinkled at him. "But why should I? It's not as if you mean anything you have been saying."

The smartest witch at Hogwarts? You must be joking.

"Granger, if I had known you were this stupid, I would have never spared you a second glance. I. AM. DUMPING. YOU. For real. For good. For ever."

When she still continued to gaze at him with a smile on her lips, Draco decided he had had enough. What was wrong with the Mudblood? Was she totally and completely insane? She couldn't actually be this stupid and still beat him at every class they had save Potions. No, this was something else. Was she pretending, acting? But why? What good did it do to her?

But as he turned to go, he heard the girl jump to her feet and the next moment she had grabbed him by his arm and twirled him round to face her.

"Get your hands off me, you stupid dirty Mudbl--"

"You have said what you came here to say, and now it's my turn," she interrupted him. "I know what you are trying to do here, and believe me, I really do appreciate it, but you don't have to do it. I'm a big girl, I can handle it. After all, I'm best friends with Harry Potter and accustomed to living in constant danger. I know you think it's better for me this way, but it isn't. What's best for us is to stick together, keep an eye on each other and look out for both of us. Two heads are two heads, and two wands are two wands, and together we will be strong."

Draco had to admit to himself that he hadn't understood a single thing she had said, and this bothered him. He had come here to dump her, to get rid of her – so maybe that thing about getting bored of her wasn't a hundred percent true, but the basics still remained – having a relationship with Mudblood Granger was far too much trouble. She might have been pretty, she might have been good company and good conversation partner, and she might have been a little vixen in bed, but with all of that came danger from both sides. Scarface and the Weasel, plus all the other Gryffindors and even some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were ready to rip him apart limb from limb should he ever hurt their precious Golden Girl. And if that wasn't enough, all the Slytherins were going to kill him should they realize he was being serious with her. Not to mention the Dark Lord, all his followers, and of course his own father, too. So, in the end, she was just too much trouble.

And now it seemed that she was hard to get rid of, as well.

"I don't know what you think I'm doing here, and I don't particularly care either," he hissed, trying to shake her off, but she was holding on too tight. "And I know this is something you will have trouble to come to terms with, but this time, Granger, you are wrong. I'm not trying to do anything but kick you out of my life.

"Not that you were ever really there," he added hastily.

His tone had been harsh, his expression had been freezing, and by the shouts and gasps around them, he had been pretty convincing. Yet not convincing enough, because at the next moment Granger had thrown her arms around him, snuggled as close to him as possible, and pulled his head down to rest on her breasts. In some another situation Draco would have enjoyed it and replied in kind. He even got a strange urge to do it now, the roomful of people completely wiped from his mind, but what stopped him was his confusion.

What the fuck is going on?

"My poor baby," Hermione cooed, oblivious to his bewilderment or ignoring it on purpose. "This must be so hard for you. To speak all those hurtful words, while all you really want to do is hold me close and tell me how much you love me over and over again. My poor baby, this must be breaking your heart. You have never been a heroic type, and to give up you happiness and future just to keep me safe... Oh, I love you so much, Draco."

"You do?" he muttered without realizing he had spoken it aloud. About half of her speech had passed him by, but the rest was still too much to digest. In fact, he found it almost impossible to think which was why he did not push her away, or even pull himself away from the rather intimate position they were now displaying to all those lucky students who had decided to dedicate a moment of their precious free time to studying.

"Of course I do, you silly boy," she laughed. "And that's why I can't let you do it. Because, and I know you will have trouble to come to terms with it, you are wrong. I will not be better without you. I need you here, by my side, to guard my back, and let me guard yours. Together we are strong, alone we will fall."

Draco had to admit that Hermione was correct at least about one thing – he was having major trouble coming to terms with any of this.

"Now that we have this sorted out, let's go find a quieter place?" she suggested, winking down at him.

--

That evening, after letting Hermione have her wicked ways with him and enjoying every moment of it, even more for it was the last time, Draco made one more valiant try. Not to dump her, no, this had proved completely useless; but there were other, perhaps even better ways to lose a girl than telling her off. Of course, he had done it personally, wanting to see her burst out crying or slap him and run away, but that plan had backfired. Tremendously. Not entirely in a bad way, but still. He had to get rid of her. And he knew just the person who would be delighted to help him.

"Pansy," he called to her, entering their common room, and just like he had hoped, the girl was there, sitting in front of the fireplace with a couple of her friends. Which was even better, because now he had witnesses.

But instead of the victorious twinkle in her eyes and the readiness to cater for his every whim, Pansy replied with an angry glare.

"How could you, Draco!" she shouted. "And I thought you were on our side."

For the second time that day a most unwanted wave of confusion hit him, and for a little while he didn't manage anything but a stupid stare.

"I know!" Pansy screeched when she got no answer. "I know all about it!"

"You know all about what?" Draco hissed, his befuddlement giving way to irritation. Contrary to Hermione, he didn't even like Pansy, and contrary to Hermione, she had no right to yell at him.

"I know about you and Mudblood Granger!" the girl growled and jumped to her feet, looking suddenly so threatening that he had to strain to keep his place.

"Oh, that," he sighed in relief, now only smirking at the look of utmost hatred on her face. "Well, that's done and over. I dumped her this morning. Got tired of her, just like you predicted. Come, Pansy, the night is still young. It's been too long since my last decent shag..."

It was at this point that Pansy hexed him, which was not nice at all, especially when he was complimenting her. He was lying, of course, since Pansy's best was nothing compared to what Granger had made him feel, but that was irrelevant here.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he demanded, standing up from the floor and rubbing his sore shoulder. Pansy's spell had been relatively weak, but even so being flung against a stone wall wasn't such a pleasant thing.

"Get out of my sight," she said, her voice level but full of meaning. "If I ever see you here again, I might not be able to keep myself back."

He opened his mouth to argue, to yell at her for being as stupid as to actually believe this nonsense, to make her understand, one way or another, that he didn't give a damn about Mudblood Granger, and all his beliefs and principles had undergone no change whatsoever.

But the look in her eyes stopped him. It was a look he had seen before, although not on Pansy. It meant that she was serious about every single word she had said, that there was nothing in the world that could change her mind, and whoever dared to tell her she was wrong would suffer.

The last time he had seen this look was on the Dark Lord, and that was enough to make Draco reconsider.

"Very well," he declared. "You win."

He wanted to say more. He wanted to call her stupid, blame her for his leaving, but however hard it was for him to admit it, at that moment he really feared her and what she might to do him. He was afraid even to turn his back to her, instead etching towards the door and slipping through it while keeping his eyes on her the whole time.

"Why did you have to do this?" Pansy shouted after him. "Why did you have to give up everything you have for one ugly Mudblood?"

Cursing the day he had glanced at Granger and thought Not bad,Draco wished he knew the answer.

--

It was well past curfew, which was why he felt relatively safe roaming around the castle. Filch and teachers he could handle, but if he had to bear one more Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw or – Merlin help him – Gryffindor smile that stupid little patronizing smile at him, remarking what a great guy he had turned out to be...

"Hey, Ferret. We have been looking for you!"

Oh no, no, no, no. Not in the bloody fucking hell.

The only thing worse than a Gryffindor was that specific Gryffindor.

"What do you want, Potter?" he hissed, wheeling around just in time to see the Weasel appear at his side, seemingly out of thin air, but that was the least of his problems at the moment.

The only thing worse than Potter was Potter accompanied by the Weasel.

"No need to get snippy," Scarface said in mock-insulted tone. "We come in peace."

A sad day it was when those two came to him in peace.

"What do you want, Potter?" he growled.

"Relax," Weasley said, and then, to his utmost horror, walked to his side and clapped him on the back. "We are here to help you."

"Yeah, you'll need that now," Potter agreed, while Draco was drawn between hexing both prats into oblivion or fleeing the scene as fast as his legs could carry. "After what you did, I wouldn't be surprised if Voldemort came after you personally."

"What?!" he exclaimed. Needless to say, it wasn't a thought that made him particularly happy.

"Don't worry, we have a plan," the Weasel tried and failed to reassure him.

"The Order will help you. We won't let Voldemort get you. We will protect you."

Suddenly, all of Pansy's threats didn't feel so awful any more.

"But... why?"

"Because Hermione would kill us if we let anything bad happen to you."

So that's what this is all about, he thought and grinned.

"Potter, Potter, Potter. You are pathetically behind the times. There's nothing between me and your little Mudblood any longer, and to tell you the truth there never was. At least not from me," he sneered into their faces, expecting them to attack him any second now. While it wasn't an idea he would ordinarily like, he now really wished for it. He would even suffer some of it, letting them get a few punches at him before retaliating, so that he could go back to Pansy with his injuries and make her understand that there really was nothing between him and the Mudblood.

At first, it seemed that his plan was working, because Weasley gave him a long hard stare. But when he threw back his head and burst out laughing, Draco realized he was going to be shocked once more. Like it hadn't been more than enough already.

"You know, Malfoy," the stupid redhead was saying, his stupid voice stupidly amused instead of the utter rage that should have been there. "For a second there, I almost believed you."

"Yes," Harry nodded in agreement. "Slytherins are pretty damn good liars."

"I'm not lying!" Draco cried in something akin to desperation.

"Exactly," Scarface smiled, as if he had just proved a point. Well, he had proved the point that he was totally nuts, but Draco had known that beforehand.

"You know, he might even prove useful to us," he added, talking to his freckled sidekick. "Perhaps not as a spy among Death Eaters as his cover is definitely blown now, but I'm sure there's something else he could do to help."

"Potter," Draco hissed, shooting his most murderous glare at him, the one he had practised before mirrors and which almost scared himself, as well. "I'm not going to argue with you about Granger or anything like that, because clearly you have decided not to believe me. But I am saying you this – I am not going to help you fight against the Dark Lord. You were the ones stupid enough to try it in the first place, and I'm not having anything to do with it. Got it?"

"Malfoy..." Weasley said in a slightly threatening voice which was so welcome that Draco would have hugged him if it hadn't been strictly against his principles, contrasting to what he was trying to make clear here, and way too disgusting.

"Of course you will help," Potter spoke matter-of-factly. "The Order will protect you from Voldemort and you will do work for them. For us. Surely you don't want Voldemort to catch you and torture to death? He wouldn't be too kind on you, what with your background and everything. He would probably see it as a personal insult against him, a betrayal of him and his vision, and he would have to make an example out of you to prevent his other followers from getting any strange ideas."

Draco flinched at the phrase 'make an example', knowing exactly what it meant. The last time someone had used it in connection with him, he had ended up cleaning the toilets after getting caught cursing a first year Gryffindor. However, he doubted the Dark Lord's punishment would be similar to McGonagall's, even though that woman was scary.

He looked at Potter again, and then at Weasley. Neither expression suggested the existence of a third option.

"So, what's your decision?" Harry raised a brow. "Helping the Order, or dying a horrible death?"

His tone indicated that not only did he know Draco's answer, but he had known it for quite a while already.

And as Draco finally gave up on all this trouble, he had to admit that Potter was right. When put that way, he really had no choice at all. Either way, his life was going to be true hell.

He shook his head, tired from all the confusion and shocks the day had brought to him, and in desperate need of some kind of peace, which he definitely wouldn't be getting in his own common room.

"I must have gone rusty," he muttered, "even if two idiots like you can see through my lies."

"Yes, you have!" the Weasel announced not very tactfully.

"Let's go," Harry said, "Hermione will be happy to see you. She was afraid you were too proud to accept our help."

Draco snorted at hearing this. Too proud to live? Yeah, right. Only silly Gryffindors would think something like that. He had better show Granger that he was no Gryffindor. Hmm. Perhaps it wouldn't be complete hell after all.

--

And then the war was over and the Dark Lord defeated, the event Draco had indeed helped to achieve, because despite his many protests, it had now become his side and he was definitely not going to lose, especially not to some stupid ugly half-blood snake-face not able to let go of his revenge against his father who had abandoned him as a brat, and now that he couldn't murder him again finding comfort in killing as many people as possible.

What a loser.

Besides, if Lord Voldemort had won, he would have been tortured to death anyway, and all this time suffering a bunch of Gryffindors would have been in vain.

So once the war was over, Draco left all those stupid Gryffindors, finally able to live the life he wanted. Rich, successful, envied, and desired. And for a while, everything had gone fine, no Gryffindors had bothered him – he was actually a bit surprised none of them had come after him – he was free, and rich, and all that.

So when a few days after leaving those idiots the realization hit him with the force of a herd of rabid Hippogriffs, Draco was anything but ready for it. He was shocked senseless, confused half to death, and rather disgusted with himself for thinking such thoughts, but none of this changed anything. The horrible, terrible, awful, appalling, dreadful, ghastly realization was that he actually missed, yes, missed those stupid, idiotic, moronic, insane, crazy, annoying Gryffindors. And not just her, but all of them. Yes, all of them. Even Potter. And Weasley.

And as if this hadn't been bad enough, he was suddenly recalling all those good times they had had together. Surprisingly, there had been some. Usually there had also been some Firewhiskey, but lately more such moments had been happening without any. There had been times he had ganged up with Weasley on Potter, or ganged up with Potter on Weasley, or ganged up with Weasley and Potter on Granger. She would punish him for that later, though, but he had made an art out of dealing with her, which meant that instead of him getting punished he usually ended up getting something completely different, and not bad at all. But that was not the only thing he missed about her, however confusing it was. He even missed her being angry with him, because then her face would get all red and there would be that frown, but her eyes would be burning with passion and her lips would be pursed in this awfully cute way and...

At that point Draco finally realized what he was doing, and reacted by first falling out of his bed, and then rushing out of his room in search of the strongest liquor he had in the house.

It was official. He had lost his mind.

Next morning he was feeling like crap in addition to still missing Gryffindors.

When Granger finally arrived at his door, and after one look at him took out a vial with hangover potion, he actually fell to his knees and asked her to marry him.

It hadn't been very romantic, and he was the first to admit it, but even though she didn't take him seriously then, he had meant every word. Well, both of them, because there had been no long speech.

She had explained to him that they knew he needed some time alone to come in terms with everything, and truth be told, she shouldn't have showed up now either, because she should have waited for him to come to her, but she just started to miss him so terribly that she simply couldn't help.

He returned that statement, because he couldn't help either, and this time she did take him seriously.

--

Several years later, Draco was sitting on the grass in front of their house, his arms around his wife, enjoying the sunshine and watching their children play, still rather shocked at the way his life had turned out.

If only he had known he would end up with all this the day he had looked at Granger twice, he would have... well, he probably would have freaked and ruined everything, and quite possibly ended up either dead or in Azkaban.

Which meant it was a true blessing he was no Seer, because he couldn't even imagine being happier than this. He had a wife he loved, he had three wonderful children, he had riches no amount of money could buy, he was loved and desired by his beautiful wife, loved and adored by his amazing children, loved and respected by most of the Wizarding world, especially the Gryffindor part of it. Harry and Ron were most frequent visitors in his house, sometimes with their wives and children, sometimes alone, and he had grown to appreciate their company.

They still ganged up on Hermione. She still tried to punish him for it. He still managed to change her mind.

"Hermione?" he whispered in her ear, absently playing with the ring on her finger. He had never expected her to accept the platinum band adorned with emeralds and almost screaming for Slytherin, in fact, he had had the real ring in his pocket when presenting this to her. True, she had given it a rather pointed look at first, but when he had laughed, apologized for laughing at her, and then revealed the real one, she had shocked him by insisting on this one instead.

"Not all Slytherins are bad," she had explained. He probably hadn't smiled so wide at that, had he known then that his ring would be gold and red. Stupid Potter. But in all seriousness it had been his own mistake of telling him about the fake ring. And it wasn't like he could refuse wearing Gryffindor colours after the supposed joke he had pulled on Hermione. He had actually protested a bit, just like it was expected of him, but not too much because he sort of, kind of, in a rather weird way liked that idea. After all, he had already accepted having lost his mind. And found out that it was not a bad thing.

"Hmm?" Hermione presently replied to him.

"Do you remember that time back in school when I tried to dump you?"

"Of course I do," she smiled. "You poor baby. It must have been excruciating to you."

For a moment Draco hesitated. He wanted her to know the truth, but he was afraid of her reaction. He knew she loved him, and trusted him, and believed in him, but perhaps... no, he had to tell her. She had the right to know. He was going to be brave. Like a Gryffindor.

"Hermione, I love you. You mean the world to me, and I would never let you go, and I would do anything for you."

"I know."

He winced at her absolute trust in him, and took a deep breath before continuing.

"Hermione, that time I tried to break up with you, I really did mean it. I did want to leave you, because all this relationship stuff, especially with a Gryffindor and friend of Harry, seemed way too much trouble."

She turned to look at him then, and at seeing the serious look on her face, he wanted to throw himself off a cliff for ever saying anything, for opening his stupid, stupid mouth and speaking these hurtful words to her. Even if it had been truth, it wasn't so any longer. It didn't matter, because now he really did love her.

He didn't think he had ever been as relieved as when she threw back her head and laughed.

"You know, for one moment I almost believed you," she said, repeating what Ron had told him that night many years ago when the greatest gift had fallen into his lap and he had given it a disgusted look, not recognising it for what it was.

He had been a bloody idiot back then. He was done being one. She didn't need to know that he hadn't loved her back then. He loved her now, and she knew it, and that was enough.

"You are not going to leave me again, are you?" she teased him.

"Never," he declared, kissing her with fervour to show that he did mean it. She got the message, laughed again, and turned back to look at their children.

Draco smiled in happiness, kissing the top of her head.

Not that you would ever let me, he added in thought, utterly grateful that she had so damn stubbornly refused to believe him back then.

Note: It took me exactly two years and two months to finish this story, which means there's always hope or it's never too late or something like that. I'm just happy I got it done at last. At the time I started writing this, I had been reading several stories where Draco dumps Hermione to protect her. And then when I came to third such story, I was already feeling like 'What is the matter with you, Hermione? How can you not see what he's trying to do? I mean, he did it in that story, and in that story, and how can you still be fooled by it?' (Yes, I do yell at fictional characters. They can't yell back, for one.) Anyway, thus came the idea that what if Hermione did understand what Draco was doing. But then another thought struck me - what if Draco was not doing it to protect her, but trying to actually dump her, but she simply wouldn't believe him? And that's how this story came to be.

I hope you liked it. :)