Dear Qoheleth,
Naturally, it's speculation on my part, but that's what I think. It makes sense, doesn't it? ^^ Even if it has no appearance in the Harry Potter books, Draco/Hermione is my favorite.
Much love, lilkyonkyon
Chapter II
Draco stepped off the scarlet train in the same manner that he had the previous five years of his life — as if he were a god descending among mortals. The smoke from the wheels poured around his ankles, and he was feeling right powerful with his Prefect badge pinned neatly on his collar. The younger students passing by had the sense to avoid his eyes as he strode towards the carriages, Crabbe and Goyle trailing faithfully behind him.
The three of them boarded a horseless carriage almost immediately, but there was a tussle outside when two Slytherin girls tried to gain the one empty seat left beside Draco. In the end, it was Pansy Parkinson who won out, and she triumphantly seated herself beside him. Draco did nothing more than glance in her direction, but Pansy gave him such a winning smile, she knew that she was making an impression on him.
She was, in a way. Draco was pondering how her teeth were like a rat's — small, pointed, yellowing. She probably had to gnaw on something around the clock, too, or else her teeth would grow too large for her mouth.
"Hullo, Draco," she said, unaware of his rather cruel thoughts. "It's been a long time since I've seen you. You've grown so tall!" He uttered something in the affirmative and glanced outside the window, checking to see if the castle had gotten any closer. She laughed as if he had made a very funny joke, and her voice echoed like a tinkling bell.
Crabbe and Goyle shifted awkwardly in their seats. They, too, weren't aware of the traditions driving pure-blood marriages, and Pansy's clear preference for Draco was a wild change from last year, when she had been a bit coquettish with everyone. The two, therefore, remained silent, sending each other confused glances once in awhile. This left Pansy, with an occasional one-word reply from Draco, to keep up her prattle for the duration of the ride. When the carriage finally came to a halt in front of Hogwarts, Crabbe and Goyle burst outside and all but ran towards the front gate. Draco was about to follow them, but then he remembered to offer his hand to Pansy, just as his father had taught him. Pansy grinned at him as prettily as she could. He was definitely a catch — rich and courteous. Her mother had been right, Draco Malfoy was in the bag.
The moment was ruined for her when the next carriage pulled to a halt beside the pair. Its doors popped open to reveal four Gryffindors, the ones that every Slytherin had learned to despise. Pansy, despite herself, sneered. "They're abominable, aren't they? And look at poor Granger's hair! It looks like it's been through a brush fire." Draco heartily agreed. "Do you think there's a chance they'll get suspended this year?"
"Let's hope," Malfoy said with a bit of wistfulness, and the two set off for the Great Hall, Draco pulling ahead of her with every stride.
Behind them, Hermione Granger was breathlessly explaining her new class to her three friends. ". . . Of course, I've looked over all of the materials already, and I'm quite excited for the class to begin. It's going to be just a small amount of students, so I really hope I can get along with everyone in the class. I heard that it's two people per house. In fact, I just —"
"Hermione, please, give it a rest!" Ron groaned. "You sound like you haven't had human contact for months!"
The blood rushed to her face, but she fluidly replied, "I guess you're right, since I mostly talked to you."
Ron turned an equally brilliant shade of red, but before he could retort, Harry intervened. "Listen, you two, I thought I said no big fights for at least a month."
"Fine," they both huffed, turning away from each other. Harry sighed, but Ginny distracted him by pointing out a welcome face.
"Hagrid!" he burst, a grin splitting across his face.
" 'Arry! 'ow are ye?" The two embraced, and Hermione and Ron each took a turn as well. "Glad ter see you three!" Ginny cleared her throat. "Oh, sorry, Ginny. Didn' know you were there. 'Course I'm glad ter see you too, Ginny."
She feigned anger for a bit more before her lips split into an agreeable smile. "It's good to see you," she laughed, embracing him as well. The four students followed their professor into the Great Hall, asking him benign questions about his summer vacations before he split off to head for the faculty's table. The Gryffindors went to take a seat as Dumbledore called for everyone's attention.
"Good evening, boys and girls," he said with his trademark smile. "It is good to see you all again. I don't want to make this long, however, because I find I am rather hungry tonight."
"Have I ever told you three how much I love that old coot?" Ron murmured dreamily.
Dumbledore continued, "Let us sort the first years, welcome them, and start eating as quickly as possible. So please, Professor McGonagall, bring in the first years."
The doors boomed open on cue and she marched the skittish boys and girls to the front of the room. Even the Sorting Hat's song was a bit faster than usual; it had probably heard Dumbledore's remark earlier. The students were promptly divided into the four houses, Gryffindor naturally receiving the braver-looking ones. After the last student was sorted, the hat fell silent. Professor McGonagall set it and the stool aside while Dumbledore began his speech, breezing over the basics like why the Forbidden Forest has 'forbidden' in its name and Filch's corporal punishment fetish.
"At last, it is time to eat," he finished merrily, and with a wave of his hand, platters upon platters of food appeared at every table. Ron was undoubtedly the first person to fall on the food, nearly inhaling things around him as if he wasn't properly fed at home. Hermione knew this was not true, but she was still astounded by how much he could fit in his mouth at once.
As for her dinner, she chose a sliver of pot roast and some green beans, along with pumpkin juice to drink. It was a small meal, but she wasn't feeling too hungry that night. Maybe it was the excitement of the new school year, especially of her new Healing class. She couldn't wait—two hours every other day, working on things she liked best, like preventative charms, diagnostic spells, medicinal potions. She smiled widely to herself as she finished the last of her pumpkin juice.
It was about twenty minutes later when Ron pushed his plate away and sighed contentedly. "I'm worn out," he yawned.
"Me too," Harry agreed, tossing his napkin on the table. "Should we head back to the common room?" Ginny and Hermione nodded in agreement, and the four of them were soon up and meandering towards the entrance.
It was then Ron stumbled slightly.
"Can't afford shoes that fit, Weasel?" a dry voice quipped. They turned to find Malfoy seated at the Slytherin table, smirking as if he'd invented the facial expression himself. Crabbe and Goyle were seated beside him, both chuckling darkly and rather stupidly. "Or are they just hand-me-downs?"
Ron growled, but before he could get a word out, giggles erupted from the older Slytherin girls around them. Malfoy cast the giddy ones a somewhat disturbed glance, and Pansy seized the opportunity to wink at him.
Needless to say, Harry, Ron and Hermione were shocked beyond words—but Ginny understood immediately. "Tell me you're not sixteen, Malfoy," she practically groaned.
His smirk faded a bit. He probably hadn't expected a reaction along those lines. "I am," he admitted suspiciously, "but I don't marry blood-traitors."
"Marry?" Harry interrupted questioningly. "Who said anything about marriage?"
"Sixteen is the age of consent in the wizarding world," Hermione muttered to him absently. "But I don't know why—"
"It doesn't matter anyways," Malfoy cut her off. "I'm not planning to marry until I graduate from Hogwarts. And it won't involve any of you," he added.
"Thanks for that," Harry dryly said.
The Slytherin scowled, but before anything else could be said, Hermione was tugging on Harry's sleeve. "Let's just go," Hermione said in her most sensible voice. "It's too early to start a fight, even if it is with him."
The four turned to leave, but Hermione froze when she heard Malfoy's voice say, "Disappointed, Granger? Sorry it would never work out between us, but you see, you're a mud—"
He never finished his sentence. Hermione moved so quickly, it seemed like she Apparated beside him, her wand pointed directly between his eyes. Malfoy froze, and so did everyone else at the table. "Listen to me," she seethed. "I would never marry you. Not if you were the last person on the face of the earth. You're a conceited prat with a God-complex, and you would be lucky to find one single person that would marry you and make you happy."
" 'Happy'?" he said, his smirk returning despite the wand aimed at his forehead. "No one marries for happiness, Granger."
"That's because they don't know what happiness is."
She stated it simply, like a fact. His smile disappeared again, and then she turned on her heel and left the Great Hall with the other three following faithfully behind.
Draco watched them go with a scowl. Bosh, he knew what happiness was. It was the feeling he had right now, of utter dominance, of power. There were currently six or seven girls seated around him that were willing to do anything for him. And he was happy, damn it.
He turned back to face his plate, furiously severing his pot roast slice into tiny pieces. What right did Granger have to say anything like that? To even suggest it? He had always reserved a special place in his heart for the loathing of the infamous Gryffindor three, but he had never been this offended by their comments. No, not the three, he corrected himself. It was just the girl's fault this time. The other two were bumbling idiots, but she was a bloody know-it-all. He'd get her back for this.
Pansy tapped his shoulder. "Draco?"
"What?" he grumbled, fixing his glare in her direction. She flinched, but plastered on a smile fast enough to hide her startled face.
"I just wanted to know if you'd like some boiled potatoes."
"No, thank you," he replied stiffly, stabbing the a bite of pot roast several times before he could finally pick it up with his fork. Half-way to his mouth, the fork froze. He wasn't even bloody hungry any more. Merlin and Agrippa. Disgusted with himself, he threw the utensil down and rose. "Excuse me, but I think I'll go back early," he announced before marching away.
Pansy pressed her lips tightly together. It was the beginning of a habit.
