Author's Note: Hmm, my first fanfic...but feel free to flame gratuitously if you want, I won't care. Although constructive criticism and praise (!) is much more warmly accepted. Also, I don't hate Draco; in fact he's my favorite character. You only hurt the ones you love.... Then, of course, the standard disclaimer: I don't own the characters, J.K. Rowling and her publishers do.
"--And your homework tonight is to finish the reading, pages 107 to 159, which covers the instructions on how to mix a Brewboil potion. There will be a test over the material. If you can't make the potion tomorrow--I'm talking to you, Longbottom-- twenty points from your house, not to mention an F." Professor Snape paced the room, stopping occasionally to stare down an unlucky student. He started to say something, but the class bell rang, drowning him out. As he waved the young wizards out, he snarled at the Gryffindors.
As the students all tried to cram through the small exitway at the same time, Draco Malfoy bumped into Hermione Granger. She turned around and glared at him, as if he had done it on purpose (which she thought he had). He was gesturing wildly in the air, and his mouth opened and shut as if he wanted to say something but the right words wouldn't come.
"What is it?" she snapped.
"Um...ah...Hermione, there's something I need to tell--" A few Slytherins were watching him with interest. He swiveled around suddenly, so that he was no longer facing her. "What am I doing anyway, talking to a Mudblood like you," he said loudly.
Draco turned around in time to see Hermione bite her lip and frown sadly.
"Why are you so mean to everybody?" she asked.
He began to stammer an apology, but she turned her back on him and walked away. Then he tried to follow her. Just as he was catching up, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter appeared from out of nowhere and flanked Hermione.
"Do you want something, Malfoy?" Potter asked coolly.
"Nothing from you," replied Draco, sneering at him and Weasley. He gave Hermione a weak smile and scurried off in the direction of the Slytherin common room.
The Slytherin common room was lit with a pale green light that glowed from the metal sconces hung on the walls. It was comforting to Draco, especially the fact that the lights were so dim. Also comforting were the high-backed chairs. If he slumped down enough, no one would know he was there. And that was how he wanted it just now.
He pulled a small photograph from his pocket and stared at it. The person in the picture smiled and waved exuberantly. Draco sighed. It was too bad that person hated him in real life. At least the picture-person didn't hate him too.
It seemed like a lot of people hated him lately. Everyone in Gryffindor, most Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, all the professors except for Snape. Of course, that made him more popular with the Slytherins, and that was what mattered...right?
Draco groaned. The girl in the picture wasn't a Slytherin, and he had an immense crush on her, and she hated him. And the Slytherins would hate him if they knew he was in love with someone from their rival house. It was quite depressing all around. He felt like pulling his hair out, but then that would mess up his nice hairstyle, and that was the last thing he wanted. So instead he slumped even lower in his chair. Rubbing against the chair's green upholstery, his hair became mussed. Fortunately, he didn't notice.
Over to his left, some fifth-years were throwing darts at a picture of Harry Potter. Twenty points for the mouth, fifty for the eyes, one hundred if it hit the lightning bolt scar. Draco knew because he had played it many times. It was a favorite Slytherin pastime. All Slytherins hated Gryffindors, Potter in particular. Normally Draco would cheer them on; today he just felt queasy.
Why did she have to be a Gryffindor, not to mention Potter's friend?
Draco clutched the picture tightly between his fingers. It was a good thing no one knew, except his two closest friends, and they would never tell--
"Hey Draco, is that a picture of the girl y' like, y'know, Hermione?"
--Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking. Goyle and Crabbe were standing behind him, pointing at the picture.
"Well, is it?"
The fifth-years playing "Pin the Tail on Potter" turned from their game and stared at Draco. He felt his cheeks flushing to a bright red.
"Oh, this picture? Just going to throw it away!" stammered Draco. "Why would I want a picture of a stupid Gryffindor anyway? Really, they don't know what they're talking about...heh heh heh...isn't that funny...me liking Hermi--I mean, a riffraff Gryffindor girl...heh..."
"But you said you did--didn't he, Crabbe--yeah, you said you did."
"Shut up, you imbeciles! Why did you choose to get so talkative now?"
Everyone in the room was staring, bewildered, at a flaming-red Draco. He realized, in retrospect, that he probably shouldn't have yelled that last part.
"Nothing happening here, really...." He slapped Goyle and Crabbe on their backs with as much force as he could muster (which was enough to make them keel over with pain.) "These two are such jokers!"
He yanked the sleeves of their robes hard and pushed them into the chairs next to his.
"Ow, Malfoy, whatcha do that for?"
Draco lowered himself slowly into the lush upholstery of his chair and stared hard at a metal sconce. Don't get mad at them, he thought. They don't know what they just did...they don't know they almost made me the laughingstock of Slytherin...Why are my friends such idiots?
He stared even harder at the green-glowing sconce.
Hey, that light has a metal snake wrapped around it. I never noticed that before.
Draco began to talk in a very slow voice, even slower than his usual drawl.
"When I told you about how I felt toward Hermione, I told you to keep it a secret. I told you that under the impression your intelligence levels were higher than that of a rock. However, I evidently made a mistake, because you have just proved to me that I was wrong. Keeping something a secret means not telling a soul. That includes yelling it out loud in front of the entire Slytherin house. Do you understand?"
Crabbe and Goyle nodded, but it was evident their minds were on other things, such as the snake wrapped around the wall lamp and an ant that was crawling across the floor. Draco sighed and stretched out his legs, "accidentally" killing the ant.
"Why doesn't Hermione like me? I'm one of the best wizards in school, I'm great at Quidditch--better than that stupid Potter, hmph, thinks he's so special-- not to mention that I'm good-looking, too." He whispered all this in a low voice, just loud enough for Crabbe and Goyle to hear.
"Maybe it's 'cause you called her a Mudblood."
"Yeah, that wasn't very nice."
Draco glared at them.
"I really don't think you two are in any position to give me advice..." He frowned and looked down at the floor. "When I'm around her, I try to tell her how I feel, but the right words won't come...so I blurt out the first thing that enters my mind, which is usually 'Mudblood'. As a result, she hates me and everything about me.
"What I need is some way to get her attention...but what? Hmmm."
"Maybe you could try to be friends with her friends--"
"--I'll pretend I didn't hear that, Crabbe. Be friends with Harry Potter and his little fan club? Really... Now, who has a lot of female admirers? Ah, yes, Cedric Diggory! The girls just hang all over him. Hufflepuff has the field now, so I think I'll go out and pay him a visit, ask him for some advice, (although it's preposterous, asking a Hufflepuff for help--er, advice.) And you two, don't follow me. You've already nearly messed up enough things today."
Draco ran a hand through his hair, stood up, and walked out of the Slytherin common room. When he had left, Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, shrugged, and fell asleep.
Pansy Parkinson watched the sleeping Crabbe and Goyle from a shadowed area under the stairwell which led to the girls' dormitories. She had heard the entire conversation.
"Draco's in love with Hermione Granger? That stuck-up little Mudblood girl?!"
She grimaced at the very thought of Hermione and swung her fist in a rage against the stone of the staircase, immediately regretting the action as her hand began to throb with pain.
"Ow! Draco Malfoy is my man, and no snobby Mudblood's going to take him away from me!"
She ran out of the common room and headed for the Quidditch field.
Draco swaggered out onto the Quidditch field, where the Hufflepuff team was in training for their upcoming game against Ravenclaw. Cedric Diggory was at the far end of the field lifting weights. As Draco crossed the field, he noticed that Diggory was surrounded by a giggling group of girls.
"Yeah," said Draco to himself, "I've chosen the right man, that's for sure."
He pushed his way through the girls to Diggory, who was flexing his muscles flirtingly. Diggory turned from his admiring crowd to Draco. "Eh, Malfoy, what do you want?" asked Diggory. "As you can see, I'm...er...a bit busy now."
"Um, yeah. I need to ask you something. Privately."
Cedric Diggory looked from Draco to the girls, then back again. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I've got something good going here, but it's not every day I'm asked for advice. Especially from a Slytherin. I guess I can help you." Diggory led Draco over to a secluded spot in the spectator stands. He turned to the following girls and waved them back, then wrapped his arm around Draco's back. "So, what is it? Need help with classes or something? Just kidding, I couldn't help you with that anyway, although if you want help with that, maybe I could get Hermione Granger to help you, she's really smart."
Draco flinched. "Well, um..."
He turned to the girls, who were pointing at Diggory and giggling.
"How do you do it? How do you get all those girls?" asked Draco.
Diggory nodded sagely. "So, it's a problem with the chickies."
"Chickies?"
"Yup. You want to know how to get a chicky. Well, you came to the right man."
Draco suddenly felt his arm being squeezed hard by Diggory. "Ow, what are you doing?"
"Oh, sorry, did I hurt you? Didn't mean to, but it just proves my point."
"And just what is that?" asked Draco crossly.
Diggory squeezed Draco's arm again. "How should I say this.... I mean, it's good to be small when you're a Seeker--after all, I should know, I am a Seeker (although I'm not small)--but your problem is that you need to bulk up."
"What do you mean, bulk up?"
"You're kind of scrawny. Nothing wrong with that, but if you want to get the chickies you have to be muscular." Diggory flexed his muscles proudly. "Like me."
"Are you calling me SCRAWNY?"
"Don't get so defensive. Just look." Diggory waved his arm out toward the girls.
"So, you're saying," said Draco slowly, "if I want Hermi--I mean, a girl--"
"Chicky."
"--a chicky to like me, I should work out or something?"
Diggory nodded. "Trust me, you'll see a difference. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to...er...practice."
Draco stared, bewildered, at the retreating Diggory.
"Remember what I said, Malfoy!" he shouted with a wink as the girls surrounded him again.
Draco sighed and walked off the field. He was hoping for something a little easier, something that didn't require physical labor (which was one of his least favorite things). But if that was what it would take to win the fair Hermione's heart....
As Draco left the field and entered Hogwarts, he didn't notice two beady eyes staring at him from behind a statue of Uric the Oddball. They belonged to Pansy Parkinson.
"Hey, Ron, Harry, do you want to eat outside today?"
"Sure, why not?"
Ron, Harry and Hermione walked out of the dim hallway and into the blinding sunlight of the outdoors. It was a beautiful day, and so many other students had also decided to have lunch outside.
"Let's go over here," called Ron, who was running at full speed in the direction of a drooping willow tree by the lake. Harry and Hermione followed close behind. When they reached the tree, Ron collapsed melodramatically onto the grass.
"Are you okay, Ron?" asked a concerned Hermione.
"No, not as long as I have to take Potions with Snape and the Slytherins!" he yelled. "Make one little mistake on a potion and they're all over you! Twenty points from Gryffindor for just forgetting the frog spleen! It's ridiculous! It's unfair!"
"Don't feel so bad," comforted Harry, "I messed it up too."
"With all the people that made mistakes, that's...that's ONE HUNDRED POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR! Arrgh!" raved Ron. "Plus the fifty points Malfoy got from Snape for being a teacher's pet--"
"Calm down, Ron, we'll make up the points in our game against Slytherin."
"I can't stand Malfoy! And the way Snape treats him! 'Oh, class, look at the wonderful way Malfoy chopped up his monksbane roots! Oh, look at the marvelous way Malfoy crushed his snake fangs! Oh, what a fabulous student you are, Draco Malfoy!'" Ron had to take a deep breath after saying all that.
Harry turned from the panting Ron to Hermione.
"Have you noticed Malfoy's been acting a bit strange lately?"
"Stranger than usual?" muttered Ron.
"Yes, it's odd. I felt like he was staring at me all day," said Hermione.
"I noticed that too. And he's been running away from us whenever you're around, instead of staying around to bother us. I wonder what the matter is..."
Harry scanned the area for any sign of Malfoy.
"Is that him, over there by the lake's edge?" asked Hermione.
"Yeah, what's he doing? Looks like he's...Ron, come over here and look."
Ron pulled himself up from the grass and sauntered over to Harry and Hermione. He peered over at the blonde-haired figure his friends were looking at. "Is he actually working out? I figured Crabbe and Goyle did that for him," said Ron.
"C'mon, let's get a closer look," called Harry.
The trio moved stealthily across the lawn to where Malfoy was lifting weights. As they neared, Malfoy picked out a particularly heavy barbell and tried to lift it, failing spectacularly as it fell back onto his chest.
Ron snorted and started to laugh, but Hermione covered his mouth.
"Do you want him to see us?" she asked.
Ron shook his head, which was turning red with holding in the laughter.
Meanwhile, Malfoy was trying to lift the weights off his chest, his cheeks flushing pink with the effort. He yelled at Crabbe and Goyle and they scurried over to lift the barbell.
Harry chuckled silently, but Ron was about to burst with laughter.
"Ron, don't, I don't think--"
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
Malfoy turned toward the sound of the laughter. "Who's there?"
Ron was rolling on the grass, choked with a giggling fit.
"Oh," said Malfoy. "It's the weasel and his friend the scarface...oh, hi Hermione."
"What's your problem?" asked a scowling Harry.
Malfoy nodded his head toward Ron. "I think he has the problem."
"Ha...ha...ha," gasped Ron. "Need them...to lift it...for you...guess money can't buy everything...hahaha."
"Money--an area you have little expertise in, Weasley, seeing as you have none," retorted Malfoy. "Anyway, I can easily lift that barbell. I was simply startled...." He turned to Hermione. "...by you."
"Sure you can lift it? I think not," snarled Ron.
"Hand me that barbell," said Malfoy to Crabbe.
Malfoy then turned to Hermione and smiled. "So...um...ah...Hermione, how are you doing today?"
Crabbe was starting to pick up the barbell when he was confronted by Pansy Parkinson. She pulled him out of Malfoy's sight, who wouldn't notice anyway because he was bragging to Hermione.
"What?" barked Crabbe.
"Let me see that barbell," replied Pansy.
"For what?"
"I'm just going to charm it, make it a little lighter so Draco can impress Hermione."
"How'd you know he likes her?"
"Don't worry about it." Pansy kneeled down to the barbell and tapped it with her wand, muttering the words to the Backbreaking Charm under her breath, so Crabbe wouldn't notice. Fortunately, Crabbe wouldn't have known it from the Featherweight Charm even if he had heard it. She then left Crabbe to watch the scene from a more secluded area. "Heh heh heh. Now Hermione will think he's a wimp because he can't lift it. And then I'll be there to comfort my dearest Drakie-Wakie," whispered Pansy to herself.
Crabbe tried to lift the barbell but failed. Then he attempted to roll it but could barely do that. "Oy, Goyle, get over here!" he called. The thought never occurred to him that perhaps Pansy had made it heavier instead of lighter. Crabbe didn't think often; that's why he made a good cronie.
Goyle ran over and heaved the barbell up. Even together, it was amazingly hard for them to lift it. But they did, setting it on the weight rack above Malfoy's chest.
"Oh, you finally got it. Good, just put it there. Now leave, Crabbe and Goyle. I'll be fine without you watching me."
Crabbe and Goyle shrugged and left for the comfort of the common room.
"Are you sure you can lift that? It looks awfully heavy," said Hermione worriedly.
Ron smirked. "Don't worry, Hermione. I'm sure big, buff Draco can handle it."
Malfoy wrapped his hands around the barbell, gripping hard. He took a deep breath, and, with all his strength (fueled by the desire to impress Hermione) he lifted it off the rack. For a moment he held it up triumphantly, watching Hermione's surprise and Ron's indignant fury. Then the barbell slipped from his hands and crashed onto his chest with a loud thump. He gasped once and went unconscious.
Pansy shrieked and ran toward Malfoy. She had neglected to remember that an extremely heavy barbell falling onto his chest would hurt him. (Slytherins aren't the brightest bunch.) Hermione wasn't reacting the way Pansy had expected: instead of laughing merrily, she had dashed over to poor Malfoy and attempted to lift the barbell off his chest.
"He's not breathing," she shouted. "Ron, Harry, help me pull this off!"
"As much as it hurts to do this, I guess we shouldn't let him die," said Ron, sighing. Along with Harry, he ran over to Hermione. Together, they were able to just barely budge the barbell off Malfoy. Pansy pushed her way past them and kneeled down next to Malfoy.
"This man needs CPR!" she shouted. "Out of my way!" She leaned over and pressed her mouth against Malfoy's.
"...Um. Pansy. You need to take your mouth off his at some point and press his stomach. He needs to exhale."
"Also, I don't think the tongue was necessary."
"What would you know, Granger?" asked an indignant Pansy.
"Well, I am certified in CPR...."
Pansy sneered and blew Hermione a raspberry. "I know what I'm doing. Just leave us alone."
"Fine. I'll go get Madam Pomfrey," said Hermione. She ran off to the hospital wing, with Ron and Harry lagging behind her.
Draco suddenly regained consciousness, but he kept his eyes shut. His chest felt like it was going to explode with all the pain...but it was worth it-- he had started a conversation with Hermione and not called her a Mudblood! He figured that the pain of lifting weights must focus his mind or something.
Then Draco realized something was on his lips--almost as if--could it be--Hermione was kissing him? He stretched his arms out, then casually wrapped them around what he hoped was Hermione's back. Draco opened his eyes and looked into the face of--
"Hi, Drakie-Wakie, are you alright now?" purred Pansy.
"AAAACCCCKKKK!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! EW, EW, EW, EW, EW!"
"You're just a little groggy right now, so I understand you're surprised. But when you're totally awake, then you'll realize I'm the right one for you."
Draco backed away slowly. "I don't know what you're talking about...or what you're doing...Wait! This...this must be a dream! Yes, I'm dreaming! And now...I need...to leave." He sprinted to the Slytherin House, descended the stairs into his dormitory, leaped onto his bed, and fell asleep immediately.
Yes, there is a second part...