Eep! So guess what! If it's not obvious at this point, I'm terribly sorry. You must be Crabbe or Goyle or...Pansy. I'm continuing this fic! I'm going to try and make each chapter 'have an ending' in case I suddenly cease writing, so you guys won't be terribly disappointing and left hanging. So it's a continuous one shot. Fun. :) Anyways, just another chapter with lots of personal jokes thrown in that you may or may not think to be funny. Hope you enjoy! Don't forget to review!
Draco violently dropped his bag next to his bed.
(AN: is it possibly to violently DROP something?...idk, but let's pretend!)
Detention had not gone over as well as he had hoped. Granger, the bushy haired beast, had promptly ignored him. Not that he had tried to make friendly conversation, mind you, but with how flabbergasted as he was early, combined with his near-kind attitude during potions, he would have thought that she would be groveling at his feet for some attention by now.
"What's your deal?" came an amused voice. Draco glanced over to the owner, Blaise Zabini, sitting on the bed next to his own.
"Nothing. Just getting my nerves picked at by the stupid-" Draco stopped, his tongue pausing at the word. "-the stupid mudblood," he finished hesitantly. He repressed a scream of frustration.
Yup, there's the guilt, he thought, annoyed. Why did that silly word bother him so much now? Retreating from his own thoughts, he looked up to see Zabini's amused face. He seemed to have an I-know-something-you-don't-know look about him.
"What?" Draco snapped, tired of this facial expression war. Blaise only smiled smugly.
"Fine then," the blonde boy replied after getting to response. "Don't tell me. I don't even care."
He paused.
Blaise continued to smirk, but said nothing more.
"Damn it, Zabini, if you have something to say then bloody say it already!"
"Calm it down, mate," the dark boy replied. He was laughing. Draco bit his tongue, as well as restrained himself from jumping the other boy and punching him until the smile was gone. Permanently. "I just find it very...curious...how you and Granger were speaking almost civilly today. I didn't know you had the ability to speak with her."
Draco snorted. "And I didn't know you stalked me in class. Weren't you too distracted with pissing off Snape to be ogling at me during potions?" Blaise rolled his eyes.
"Actually," he said, "I was watching you and the mudblood," Draco inwardly cringed, "when I was busy not doing that essay Snape assigned." Draco simply shook his head and reached down from his sitting spot on his bed, towards his backpack. He was rummaging for a quill and some parchment when Blaise spoke again.
"You fancy her, don't you?" he questioned.
Draco fell off the bed.
"What?!" he screamed, his head and disheveled blonde hair appearing again from the other side of the bed. To say he was offended would be an understatement. "Like hell I do! What is wrong with you? Have you been snogging Pansy again, because I swear you have fewer brain cells, if you think that could ever happen."
"Hey, now. I happen to know that you were giving her looks and acted all flustered around her during the last half of potions. I both saw it myself, and heard the three of them talking in the halls," he retorted. "And I haven't snogged Pansy since last Tuesday when you rejected her again."
"Oh. Well I'm sure those Granger can confuse a smirk and a glare for flirting. It's not like she's ever experienced real flirting anyways. I wouldn't be concerned with her disgusting little fantasies of me." Blaise shrugged, but said nothing. He resumed his previous position on his bed and said nothing more. Draco was fed up with the silence and abruptly stood and left the dormitories. Fifteen minutes later, he found himself at the library.
Why did I come here? he wondered to himself, while he stared at the wooden double doors, trying to decide whether he should enter or not. He didn't have any homework that he planned on completing, nor did he bring any of it with him to begin with. He probably did need to look over the Polyjuice potion a little better before their next test. Before he could decide, his thoughts were interrupted.
"Are you going to stare all day or actually go inside, ferret-boy? I have work to do."
He quickly turned around to be face to face with none other than Hermione Granger herself. In fact, they were face to face a bit too much, a mere foot or so apart. They were caught off guard at the current situation, and held each others gazes for a moment too long. Draco looked down into her brown eyes, Hermione into his surprised gray eyes.
Brown. A rather dull color, Draco mused. Then he realized that several seconds later, he was still a small foot away from her. Hermione cleared her throat uncomfortably, breaking the silent moment. Both teens flushed and took a step backwards. Unfortunately for Draco, his step back was into the swinging library doors, which did not support his weight in the slightest bit. The wind was knocked out of him as his back hit the stone floor forcefully. He gasped loudly, having to regain his breath and composure for the second time that day in front and because of her.
"Are you okay?" Hermione asked hesitantly, peering over him. Draco groaned, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head.
"I'm just peachy."
Hermione's brows knitted together at his sarcasm, but being the good person she was, she held out a hand for him. He looked at it, and unthinkingly reached out to take it. He stopped quickly, drawing the appendage towards his body again. Hermione groaned in frustration.
"What, ferret? Afraid of your pure-blooded arse getting germs from the mudblood?"
"Well, I was more concerned about my hand that my arse," he replied smoothly and without a second though. He stood up quickly, this time purposely leaning down to where his face far too close. "But we could make arrangements if you want."
Oh Merlin, now I'm flirting with her!? he screamed to his mind.
Hermione looked as appalled as Draco felt, but surprised the Slytherin boy by raising her hand to strike him. Acting on reflexes, he grabbed her hand in his before it could make contact with his face. Hermione only gave him a smug smile.
"A lot of good you did, refusing my help," she smirked, referring to their connected hands. "It appears you have my germs now after all. Hurry along, now, and go skin your hand. Wouldn't want daddy dearest to find out you got mudblood cooties."
Draco, enraged at hearing the word so many times today, and not knowing what to do about his unknown feeling of guilt at using it, Draco jerked the Gryffindor closer. She squeaked in surprise. They were only a few inches away now. His icy glare somehow seemed to be burning into her own shocked eyes. He opened his mouth to tell her to shut up and ran about how infuriating that word was today, when he realized who he was about to say such a thing to. Instead, he said nothing, his mouth open as if to talk, but at a loss for words. Hermione did nothing, too stunned to move or speak.
"Why do you do that?" Draco finally asked. Hermione gave him a questioning look.
"Do what?"
"Why do you call yourself that?"
Hermione looked baffled. "A mudblood?" she asked, and yelped when the pressure on her wrist increased. Draco jerked his hand back, finally aware that he was still holding Hermione's hand. She, too, jerked back, and cradled her hand and wrist protectively. He opened his mouth to ask if she was okay, but paused again. This seemed to be a growing habit of his.
"I don't know. Why do you call me that?" Hermione questioned hatefully, breaking him out of his trance.
Who was she? Why was she doing this to him? Never had he stopped and actually had feelings of guilt from his insults. He was always brought up that Malfoy's were better -- they were rich, well bred, and were always right. But was he? Obviously he was rich and a pureblood, but here stood the smartest witch he knew, a muggleborn. She wasn't rich in wizard terms. She wasn't insanely attractive, though he had come to terms with her not being ugly in the slightest. She was friends with losers and on the light side. Nothing like him. She could still beat him at anything intelligence-wise, yet he was suppose to be better than her? Did her blood make her that much different? Why was it that she always one upped him, if he was suppose to be unconditionally better than her?
She proved wrong his entire upbringing, all in one short day.
"I don't know," he finally answered. Hermione nodded after he didn't continue, seemingly shocked, yet satisfied with his reply.
"Do you...do you want to come work on out potions homework with me?" she asked, hesitantly again.
Draco stared at her, not sure what to say. Draco Malfoy, Slytherin prince, son of Lucius Malfoy whom happened to be Lord Voldemort's right hand mad, and future death eater, was at a loss for words. Again.
"You don't have to," Hermione quickly blurted out. "I didn't mean to be forward, I just knew that you were having troubles with the Polyjuice potion and I figured I could show you a book that explains it in terms of-"
"Sure," Draco interrupted. Hermione looked unsure of whether to smile or not. Befriending the enemy? What to do...
"But only because I was having problems with that essay," he added quickly.
"Of course," Hermione quickly agreed.
She smiled and repressed the urge to comment as Draco began to ramble on about how Hermione may know how to make the Polyjuice potion from the text, but that it was obvious that as he was the better potions maker, she should leave the brewing of such a complicated potion to him.
Yay! So that only took a good hour to write, on complete impulse. Awesome. Jaicey will be so proud!
And now, it's three in the morning, and I'm going to bed.
Please review!
:)
-EternalStorm
