The Reason I Became a Witch 2
More and more, Malfoy frequently "stumbled" upon Hermione and her tree more than she would've liked. She couldn't understand why he even bothered or what his motives were. It didn't exactly matter much seeing how she didn't pay attention to him for most of the time. He would come and take a seat on a rock that he had made his designated seating area. He'd often play with some stupid rock, tossing it up and down. He never spoke much, which was to her surprise.
"Why do you come here, mudblood?" he tried to inquire one day. "It's so fucking isolated here. Nothing, but dirt and trees."
"I don't have a problem with it," Hermione replied, keeping her eyes on the book in her hands. "I'm not one to force your pleasant company on myself, Malfoy. You can leave if this barren wasteland's boring you.
"Force me on you?" said Malfoy incredulously. "My, my, Mudblood. I wasn't aware your head functioned in that sort of scandalous way."
"I was talking about your company, you stupid oaf!" Hermione cried, giving him a glare. She picked up a small stone and threw at him. Unlike his attempt to stone her not too long ago, she didn't fall short and managed to hit the bridge of his nose.
Malfoy swore a bitter swear. It didn't hurt much, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt at all. "You've got nerve, Granger." He pushed himself on his feet. "But that was one bloody mistake." He began to make his way towards her.
Hermione looked into his eyes and didn't see any signs of a threat. She looked back to her book. "That wouldn't have had to happen if you just didn't come here very often." Before she knew it, his hands took away her book and dropped it at his feet. She saw his hands coming down for her. She had no time to reach for her wand. His hand had already collected both of hers and pinned them to the tree.
"What are you going to do?" she asked, determined not to show fear.
"What do you think, Granger?" He turned to her and smirked. Before she could respond or try to convince him to stop, his other hand came down and Hermione shut her eyes. Oh, god, I shouldn't have left my guard down! She frantically thought. Then she felt a sensation on her side. A tingling sensation. The bastard was tickling her!
It couldn't be helped. It was human nature. Hermione burst out laughing and started wriggling about to free herself from his grasp, but couldn't. "S-stop!" she pleaded. She was still laughing so Malfoy just grinned and ignored the plea. Malfoy moved so his body straddled hers. "S-stop it! Right n-now!" Hermione didn't like the tickling. She didn't appreciate the straddling. She hated the fact that it was Malfoy doing those things. Left with nothing but her head, she started head banging Malfoy's chest…or at least she tried.
Malfoy broke down laughing. He released her from her bonds and was then using one of his hands to cover his face from hers. Despite their position, Hermione couldn't help, but feel slightly irritated. "What? What's so damn funny?"
Initially, he didn't get around to answering her. He was still in the midst of laughing and by the time he had finally come back down to earth, his eyes were still glistening with laughter. "Granger, you might be a filthy muggleborn to me…but by god, I didn't think you'd do that. Nor could I have ever imagined that you'd laugh like that!"
"Laugh like what exactly!" Hermione asked.
"A muggle angel," he replied before snickering his way off of her.
Draco's eyes fluttered open. He fixed his posture before rendering where he was. He was on the bloody train and Pansy was leaning on his shoulder, sleeping. He saw Millicent Bagnold standing in the isle looking at him.
"You're wanted in the Heads' compartment, Draco," she informed him.
Draco nodded at her then turned his head towards Pansy. He used the palm of his hand to push her head away forcibly off of him, yet was careful not to be rough. Pansy's eyes blinked and looked at him. She asked in a sleepy voice if anything was wrong. He only shook his head before rising from the seat and leaving.
He made his way to the compartment and on the way there he recalled the dream he had before being woken up by presumably Millicent. He wouldn't have cared to recall if that dream wasn't a replay of a distant memory. Fuck, Draco thought. He saw his reflection faintly on one of windows. He looked tired and restless. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, but when he realized it, he stopped.
He kept walking until he got to his destination. Grabbing hold of the handle, he slid the door open. Inside, Draco didn't know what to make of it. He was surprised, but not entirely.
Hermione turned her head to see who had come in. When she saw who it was, she automatically refined her sitting posture and put on her professional face. "Malfoy."
"Mudblood."
Hermione's lips thinned. He hasn't changed at all. By look, perhaps, but that nasty personality stayed. "I see you haven't changed."
"Purebloods don't change much after all, much like our blood line." He eyed her. "But a muggleborn like you probably wouldn't know that."
Hermione held her tongue back from lashing the death out of him. In the end she made no response, leaving the conversation to die, doing nothing to relieve the tension. Draco finally stepped in the compartment and took the seat across from hers. Other than that, no one else said or dared to make a movement.
"So what's the bloody reason on why we've been called here?" Draco said, finally speaking up. The question was obviously meant for her, but his eyes drifted to the scene out the window. It was gloomy. Fit the mood.
"What do you think, Malfoy?"
Ah, Draco thought, now why did that question seem familiar? "Bloody hell, mudblood, I asked the question. Wouldn't a smart ass like you know the answer? You do know that you really are only good for answers…And maybe even sex depending on what Weasley says. Other than that, you're pathetically useless."
Hermione gritted her teeth, clenched her face, and threw daggers at him with her eyes. She had made up her mind. She wasn't going to be professional to this piece of shit anymore. He was an ass. A bastard. They deserve nothing less than dirt, Hermione angrily thought. She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her thoughts on him, but was interrupted when the door slid open and Professor McGonagall let herself in.
"Good afternoon Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger," she said, greeting them. She held a satin cloth in her hands that was neatly folded. Hermione regarded how it looked somewhat heavy for a supposed light fabric. "Now, you were not informed during this summer of this," she unfolded the cloth which revealed two badges, "you both have been chosen as the Head Students of your year. Now as Head Students, you do have power over prefects and the privilege of scheduling patrols whether that'd be on the train or in Hogwarts, though this year will be slightly different." She handed each one of them a badge. "Professionalism is to be expected as much as civility. Now if you both will follow me, I will lead you to the prefect's compartment."
McGonagall turned to lead the way. Hermione was following right behind her when Draco suddenly said, "Wait a minute, Granger." She stopped. He took this time to step out of the compartment before her. "You should know by now… Purebloods before dirty blood," he whispered for her ears and her ears only. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't smirking. His expression told her he wasn't teasing and his eyes showed no sign of playfulness. She was tired of it.
After meeting with the prefects and figuring out patrol schedules, Draco and Hermione were dismissed back to their usual grounds, which they happily obliged, and neither spared another glance at each other when they went their separate ways.
Hermione sat with her elbow on the table supporting her lowly head up. She kept replaying Malfoy's hideous comments and his face. It angered her for some reason. Maybe because, unlike the past years, he had said so with such empty eyes meaning he had taken no pleasure in watching her reaction. But then again, what was really expected of Malfoy?
She snapped out of her thoughts when Dumbledore's booming voice emanated throughout the hall indicating the yearly ritual of house sorting. After all the first years were sorted and the opening feast was coming to an end, Dumbledore spoke again and though his words were honest and true, they stopped the joyous spirits going around and replaced them with solemnity.
"As you all might have already know, dark times are upon us. The Dark Lord is at a rise…He has already devoured the control over the Ministry of Magic and I regret to say that I cannot guarantee that Hogwarts is the safe haven it has once been." No one spoke as Dumbledore scanned the hall with sad, regretful, and apologetic eyes. "But it is always darkest before the dawn, they always say. And inside all of you is a chance and a hope. The enemy is upon us, but you all have the power to change the course of which history is to be made…" Standing at his podium for a few more minute in solemn silence, Dumbledore gave a small nod before stepping down.
Professor McGonagall took his place. "Visits to Hogsmeade will still occur, but it will not be as frequent as previous years…" This caused no response, but everyone knew no one liked the only highlight of their school life to be taken away. "Curfew is strictly at nine o'clock. Prefects and Heads will participate in night patrols, but it's been discussed that night patrols done by students will be limited also. The Aurors will take care of the rest. Now…get to your houses. Danger lurks within our walls so it's fit to stay together at all times."
The students began filing out in an orderly fashion. Hermione followed behind a line, standing near Ron and Harry, whose moods were on the downside and glum. She sighed. She didn't doubt that everyone had weight on their shoulders with Dark Lord at a rise once again and what not.
As she was walking out the hall, someone gently pulled her out of line the moment she walked past the double doors. She saw that it was only Filch. But it didn't matter; she shook his grip away, causing him to scowl at her. "A rude little miss you are," he sneered, nearing her face. He then slowly back away. Hermione's attention went to the figure beside him; Draco. She didn't spend too much of her attention on him, though, because Filch began to speak again. "Dumbledore has called for you. Said to meet him in the Headmaster's office." He turned his back to her while his attention went to Draco. "And you," he said, pointing a finger at Draco.
"You dare point that at me, squib?" Draco nodded his head, indicating to the finger.
"Ah—" If it was anybody, but Malfoy, Filch wouldn't have back down so cowardly, but it was and so he did. "I a-apologize, Mr. Malfoy. But Dumbledore has ordered me to show you the way to your dorm."
Hermione looked away disgusted. "I would have preferred someone more…refined to accompany me," Draco started. Then he shrugged. "But I suppose you shall do. You will lead, but keep your perimeter."
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy."
She couldn't stand it anymore. Hermione turned on her heels and headed for the office. Whatever Dumbledore had to say, it'd be better than watching Filch grovel at the feet of a dirty bastard like Malfoy.
"Ah, Ms. Granger," a familiar voice said, greeting her. "Come in. Lemon drops?" He indicated to a bowl on his desk with the single purpose of holding lemon drops.
"No thank you, Professor," Hermione politely rejected.
"So how are you? How do you feel about being Head Girl?"
She thought about it for a while and then shrugged. "It's not surprising that I am, but—"
"You're wondering about Mr. Malfoy…" Dumbledore said, nodding.
"Yeah…"
Dumbledore sighed and put his hands together. "Ms. Granger, I am sure you are aware of Draco's status, correct?" When he sensed that she thought he was talking about his blood purity, he shook his head. "I'm afraid you've misunderstood. I was referring to his connection to the Dark Lord."
Hermione's eyes widened, but she understood and nodded. "Yes. I know he's a Death Eater."
"I'd thought so." Dumbledore stood from his chair and put both his hands behind his back. "I've retained some information about Draco…and needless to say I need to have him be…I guess you could say 'looked after'. I wanted to isolate him from his usual gang of friends, but that'd come up as suspicious. So I thought the practical way was to have him be the Head Boy. Therefore he is detached, yet still not fully alone."
Hermione bitterly scoffed. "Professor, I don't think that leaving Malfoy to his own insanity would be a brilliant idea."
"Yes and that is why you are here. You will look after Draco, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore said. "But not in the way as a mother would look after a child. Just make sure he doesn't come too close to the edge. Make sure he's eating and sleeping. In other words, Hermione, I'm asking you to try and be a friend to him during this time."
"But Professor, like you said, he's a Death Eater!" Hermione stated.
"Ms. Granger, please understand that Mr. Malfoy is like a blank canvas. He can easily be tainted with different forces and right now a certain brush holder is trying to paint him black. Mr. Malfoy is as much of a victim as he is a Death Eater." Dumbledore looked in her eyes. "Do you understand? Differences and opinions aside, he needs a helping hand every once in a while. What I hope is for Draco to see the light and choose the right path. And what I fear is for him to have to face this alone."
Hermione looked at the ground. She understood what he was telling her. But a friend? To Malfoy? Does heaven and Hell exist on the same plane? Hermione didn't think so, but with all the talk, Dumbledore was starting to make Draco out to be a sad, helpless loner. He always has been in a way, but in general, no.
There was also a pain in even trying. She didn't trust him. Last time she did, it humiliated her to oblivion. "I'll keep an eye out for him, Professor, but I refuse to be a friend to him."
Dumbledore sighed. "Well maybe in time you will have changed your mind…" Before Hermione could retort, he cut her off. "Well pip, pip! You can go back to your dorm—Oh! Yes. I almost forgot." He walked over to one of the paintings he kept on the wall. "Do you mind fetching me Mr. Filch, please?" The painting smiled and went on its way to try and find the poor man.
It didn't take long. Filch came limping his way in. Hermione presumed he had stubbed the foot while on the way here, thinking it was some sort of emergency. That or he was flattered to be called by Dumbledore. He was then instructed to take Hermione to her dorm—the Head Boy and Girl's dorm.
They arrived to a large portrait painting of what looked like a Victorian woman sitting under a tree. Hermione couldn't help but notice her beauty. Filch grumbled the password to her before leaving. If Hermione wasn't half-listening to him, she would've missed it.
When she walked in, she spotted Draco leaning back on the couch, staring at the fireplace. He seemed to sense she was there and looked up to prove his hunch. They locked eyes for many moments without speaking before he broke off to stare back at the fire.
"Do you hate me, mudblood?" he asked in a low, scruffy voice.
It was followed by silence as it took moments for Hermione to answer.
"Very much, Malfoy."
Pause.
"Good," he said more loudly. He pushed himself off the couch and headed for one of the bedrooms. "Be sure that it's kept that way." Then he disappeared into the room.
A/N: I have found the sweetest Dramione story ever. It challenges by love and loyalty for "The Dragon's Bride". It's called "Utterly Despicable"
Anyways, on to business. Hope you like this chapter.
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