"You think that I can't do magic, do you?" mused Draco.
What appeared to be a bunch of bushy brown hair jerked up abruptly from her parchment at his pondering question.
They were sitting outside the library this time, in, as fate would have it, the room of requirement.
"You think you have a load of free time, do you?" she shot back, this time manually throwing papers at him. "After all, you got us kicked out from the library."
Ducking from Hermione's 'massive influx of knowledge,' and at the same time managing to guard his possessions from her targeting claws, Draco muttered as-a-matter-of-factly, as he continued writing down notes, "No, you did."
He couldn't have been prouder than he was that moment. It was he, Draco Malfoy, who had managed the impossible: Hermione Granger, Madam Pince's favorite library-goer, sacked from her sanctuary for one whole solid week.
Step One: getting Pansy Parkinson to follow him all the way to the library, which worked out more than perfectly, too perfectly, actually. One glimpse of him leaving the Slytherin Common Room and the docile girl clung to his footsteps licentiously like a love-sick puppy.
"Dracokins," she cooed, batting her eyelashes (in what Draco thought to be the most comical way) at him, her arms attached to his as one, "Where are you going?"
Step Two: refusing to answer and leading her, dragging her to the designated area.
He shook his head briskly at her persistent question, increasing his pace.
Step Three: Position the prop in front of the filthy little Mudblood and proceed.
Draco was holding Pansy by the hand now, and, enduring the sounds of her relentless giggling, pushed her to a stop before Granger's table. Without a minute to waste, he started open-mouthed, impromptu kisses, making out in the most humanely clamorous way possible.
(To date and to note, Pansy was the second to last worst kisser he ever had the lack of good fortune to experience. She was about up there with the amateur fourth-years slobbering all over his face. But that's another story.)
Whlist (kissing) Pansy was a pain in the mouth, the look of disgust and repulsion on Granger's face, as she stood up to watch the commotion, was well worth the trouble.
And, even when not closing his eyes to properly—ugh—immense himself in the kiss, she disappeared from his sight.
Until a rather sharp-pointed object hit the back of his head (regretfully, for the second time that week), causing Pansy and him to spring apart as though electrocuted.
"Keep your conquests outside the library, would you, Malfoy?" the Gryffindor girl was glaring at him, her other hand holding a heavy volume of Transfiguration, which he reckoned must have been in contact with his head a second ago. "Not all of us have the obligation to stick his tongue in a different girl's mouth every day."
The supposed complimentary sentence came out resembling a snarl. (To which Pansy gasped, "Dra! I thought you were only with me! You're dating me, aren't you! We're supposed to—")
Well, the show must go on.
Draco shrugged, oblivious to the fuming women on either side of him. "Why do you care, Granger? I can do whatever it pleases me."
At his sentence, Pansy, aware of her use(lessness), stormed off.
"Because," she wrinkled her nose, "It is the library."
He was doing this just to spite her. Just to spite her, he told himself.
"And it is my library as it is yours," he smirked, "I can kiss anyone I like."
The Slytherin saw, with great delight, how her body shook in anger. "Then get out! Anywhere but here! People are actually trying to study, and if you're not one of them, as you are now declaring yourself not to be, you might as well cancel your tutoring sessions," she shouted.
"You disgust me," he heard her mutter. "Out!"
"No," he simply said, "I'm staying," settling down on the bench opposite hers, "We've got a, in your words, tutoring session left, I daresay?"
"Fool," she growled.
"Frizz," he barked back. And the shouting session, as he planned, commenced, their voices raising in volume in accordance to the level of insults hurled, after the ends of each sentence.
"Self-absorbed twat!"
"Abstinent nerd!"
By this time, they both had their wands out, pointing threateningly at each other, apparently forgetting the special circumstances she had so religiously reminded him five minutes before.
"You—"
"You—"
As if to solve their problem of running out of insults, Madam Pince marched in between them.
"You two! I'll have none of your shouting in my library," the Hogwarts librarian declared, hands waving as a sign for the spectators to leave, "All of you! No crowding around!"
Madam turned to the two students, sighing. "Granger, I'd never expected this kind of disrespect to the serenity and silence of this place out of you. I'll have to suspend your privileges in here for a week, my dear. And you," her voice changed at the point of addressing the grinning Malfoy, "Will receive the same punishment. Out. Run along now. Shoo!"
In following Madam, the rivals had unsuspectingly arrived at the entrance.
Draco chuckled loudly at Hermione's goldfish gaping mouth. "I'll have to thank you," he said, gesturing her to follow, "Let's get going."
Never had she been more humiliated or unfavorably treated. Never!
Because of him. Because of his gross profane acts!
And now she elected to stay on with him, giving him Transfiguration notes in the Room of Requirement as if nothing had happened between them.
What was the matter with her?
Hermione, you're going mental, she told herself, Giving up to the ferret's commands?
Ridiculous!
"As I was saying," Draco continued, unabashed, "You don't happen to think I—"
She shoved another textbook in his face. "Yes, I doubt anyone blind would have failed to see you conjure a snake out of thin air in second year."
"Nice of you to note that," he commented, catching the textbook not ungracefully, "Then why in Salazar Slytherin's righteousness am I stuck in this hellish, interminably never-ending tutoring sessions with you?"
I'm doing this just to annoy her. To annoy the hell out of her. He thought.
"And I'd have to ask myself," she replied, "Why in Godric Gryffindor's name am I so meticulously following McGonnagall's orders to tutor the most difficult, recalcitrant, overbearing ferret of a Slytherin like you? When I could have disposed of you at the library entrance? Although," Hermione pretended to think, "That could be a nice, even deserving dying place for you."
I'm doing this just to be conscientious. Yes, conscientious. To McGonnagall and my duties, nothing more, she pondered.
But…Why indeed?
A/N: Keep fighting, Draco! We love ya! (For annoying 'Mione, maybe...~)
Your reviews, readings, and encouragement keep me going,
Love, xoxo,
Your ever humble fanfic writer :)