Disclaimer: I'm just a teenage girl playing in J. K. R's sandbox :)
A/N ~ You reviewers are amazing! ~hugs~ Shout out to paramoll for guessing the right language :D It was Italian. Enjoy the next chapter!
"It's really beautiful," Hermione was telling Ginny on the way to her next class, Potions. Ginny's Transfiguration class with McGonagall was right next to Slughorn's Potion classroom now they didn't have to go down to the dungeons, so they often walked together. Harry was strolling along with them, his fingers linked with Ginny's. Sulking behind them, Ron was their annoying shadow: they hadn't spoken since his impromptu dinner with Lavender, the human leech.
"You're so lucky," Ginny sighed, imagining a balcony just for herself.
"I know," Hermione nodded, "Every time I go out there, I almost feel like Juliet..."
"There are no balconies at Hogwarts." Ron finally interjected in a dark monotone. Hermione's fists clenched, but Ginny took care of it. She turned round, a death glare playing in her eyes.
"Excuse me, Ronald," she deadpanned, "When we want your opinion, we'll ask for it." She turned back to Hermione, rolling her eyes a little. Ron looked at Harry in disbelief, but he just shrugged.
"You kind of asked for it," he explained, squeezing Ginny's hand. The couple smiled at each other, their eyes blazing with warm love. Hermione sighed: why couldn't her relationship with Ron be like that? There was a valley between them that just seemed to be growing recently, and she didn't know how to fix it.
"Welcome class!" Slughorn boomed, a bright smile painted effortlessly on his face. Harry and Hermione exchanged a look, and Hermione resisted the urge to burst out laughing. "Well... we seem to be missing a few pupils, do we not? Has anyone seen... well... all the Slytherins?"
Hermione frowned: her and Malfoy had both retreated quickly into their rooms last night, after a sarcastic comment or twenty from Malfoy, typically, and she hadn't seen him since. She'd assumed he was still sleeping when she'd left their common room this morning. As for the rest of the Slytherins...
"It's not like we're gonna miss 'em, sir," Seamus Finnigan pointed out, prompting a few murmurs of agreement from the rest of the room.
"Start without them," Parvati Patil added, filing her nails with intense concentration.
"Too late." Malfoy lounged on the side of the entryway, an amused smirk playing on his lips.
"Draco, m'boy! Good to see you, good to see you," Slughorn enthused, clapping his hands as the Slytherins filed in, one by one: Draco, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Gregory Goyle... the line seemed to be endless, much to the Gryffindor's disappointment. "Oh, hello, hello! Do sit down..." Slughorn seemed almost beside himself with pleasure. The Slytherins silently sank down on chairs on the opposite side of the room from the Gryffindors until only Draco was left standing.
"There's no where to sit, Sir." He drawled out. Hermione and Harry both frowned, their eyes not on Draco, but on the empty seat at Hermione's side; Ron's old seat. He was with Lavender now, strangely enough.
"Is that an empty seat there?" Slughorn seemed confused too.
"I wasn't aware this was a philosophy class, Sir," Malfoy smirked, and Hermione snorted loudly. A little too loudly: she blushed as everyone turned to look at her weirdly. It had been a muggle joke, seeing as philosophy classes are famous for the 'is this really a chair?' line. Hermione found them fascinating, even if her natural, know-it-all instincts told her to say 'Uh, duh?' very sarcastically.
"Thank you Granger," Slughorn looked at her pointedly, and she realised she'd been giggling nervously for the last few seconds. "Malfoy, m'boy, sit down, please."
Draco smirked again. Slughorn was begging now, a sure sign he'd won. Why not have some fun?
"I'm not sitting next to the horse slash Mudblood," he protested, enjoying the outraged expression that became imminent on Hermione's face. "Like, ever. I don't want her germs!" The gang tittered, someone even clapping.
"Can it, Malfoy," Potter warned, his face dark.
"Ooh, protecting your love affair Potter?" This was the most fun he'd had in weeks! His and Potter's stupid truce had been getting on his nerves forever. Pothead was turning red now, his eyes blazing.
"No," he tried, but it came out wrong, almost a stutter.
"Very convincing." Who said sarcasm was the lowest form of comedy? Bullshit. "No, really, who'd want a Mudblood for a girlfriend anyway?"
"Draco!" Slughorn finally intervened, but the damage was already done. Inside, Hermione felt like breaking down and crying; on the outside, she put her feet up and leaned back, arms behind her head in a completely un-Hermione-like fashion.
"I'm not bothered in the slightest, Professor," she smiled, ignoring the raised eyebrows around her, "Let him sit on the floor, some of us actually came here to learn." Malfoy turned to look at her, a horribly sarcastic smile smeared across his face. Her eyes blazed as they met his, hiding unshed tears, showing only indifference with just a spark of irritation.
"If it pleases you, Miss Granger." He pretended to give a little bow, mocking her clipped tone, then sat down on the floor, legs crossed and his head resting in the palms of his hand. Each move was painfully sarcastic, done with the perfect amount of smirking and frowning to make them funny to his posse. The green side of the room guffawed, Pansy even breaking into applause. Slughorn just stood there, bemused.
"Well, Draco," he stumbled over his words, thrown off even more by the cynical smile on Malfoy's face, "I don't really think--"
"There's nowhere else to sit," Harry threw in, no doubt enjoying the view of Malfoy sprawled across the floor like vermin.
"One time," Slughorn finally gave in, "Just once."
The Slytherins jeered and cheered, as if the fact that their King was sat on the floor was a good thing and not totally humiliating. Parvati snapped a picture using a camera she'd gotten for her internship with the Daily Prophet (they'd heard of nothing but from her for the past few weeks), grinning.
"I am so putting this on the dunce page."
"There's a dunce page?" Harry asked.
"There's gonna be."
Hermione laughed along with them, trying to smile happily, but really? She was hurt. The words buzzed in her head like an angry bee she couldn't swat away: who'd want a Mudblood for a girlfriend? Mudblood, Mudblood, Mudblood. She turned the word over and over again in her head, hoping that if she said it enough times, it'd lose it's meaning. Maybe what Malfoy said was true. Maybe Ron was the only one who'd take her as she was, and maybe she was treating him wrong.
She pushed the thought away: that was not the Hermione Granger way of thinking. Think Positive was going to be her new motto. She got to work with Harry, taking the coyote tails away and showing him to chop them properly, trying to ignore the nagging feeling at the back of her head.
Why did it hurt more knowing that Malfoy had said it?
The night in the common room was strained, both of them sitting in their own rooms to do their homework. Hermione missed the warm companionship she used to feel with everyone back in the Gryffindor common room, feeling like she truly belonged there. Here, she just felt cold, and alone. The work was tiring and boring, essays she felt like she'd written a million times before. And this time she didn't even have the annoying but funny distraction of Harry or Ron trying to peer over her shoulder to copy her work until she agreed to write it for them. It was so quiet.
She sighed, dotting the last sentence on her Charms essay for Flitwick, signing her name with a flourish at the bottom. Hermione Granger, Gryffindor. Then she stood up, stretching her arms above her head. It wasn't too late, just enough to be dark outside. The stars were covered by moody clouds, and she shivered as she pushed the door leading to her balcony outside.
Taking a step further out, she quickly retreated into the far corner so Malfoy wouldn't see her, but she could see him. Like her, he was sat at his desk, scribbling on parchment. Unlike her, though, he was stabbing the paper furiously as he engraved words into it, ink blotting out words he'd just written before, and angering him even more.
Eventually, he threw his quill down on the desk with a clatter, and before Hermione had time to re-enter her own room, he'd slid the door open and stepped out. He stared into the sky for a second, his face dark, but strangely vulnerable. For once it was clear of a mocking smile, or a hateful frown, or that smirk. Draco's Smirk of Sarcasm ©. He just stood there, his hair blowing back gently in the wind. Hermione hardly dared breathe, let alone move. She just had the strange urge to sketch him, just like that, even though she couldn't draw a plausible stick man, let alone a proper portrait. Then he saw her. His face twisted into a scowl.
"Get lost, Mudblood." Hermione's eyes hardened. "Got a crush or something? Take a picture, it'll last longer." Hermione gasped, outraged at his flippant words: as if she'd have a crush on him.
"As if I'd have a crush on someone like you, Malfoy." He smirked, looking out at the sky again, his eyes tracing the outlines of the impending storm clouds.
"Many a girl more powerful than you have fallen victim to my charms, Mudblood."
She snorted again. She'd been doing that a lot lately, he noted. She never used to. She used to be the picture of elegance. Even the way she slapped Weasel was ladylike.
Not that he'd noticed, or anything.
But still.
She snorted a lot recently. Well, in the last day. Hermione's Horse Snort ©. He smirked at his own wittiness, thinking about how he'd have to share it with Blaise someday. He flicked his gaze towards her again, and jumped when he found her standing right under his nose. He resisted the urge to laugh; she was quite tall, for a girl, but because he was quite tall for a boy, he still towered over her. He knew what she'd say if she could hear his thoughts. Sexist pig.
Still, she thrust her heart-shaped face into his, almost on her tip-toes to reach him. Her curls were streaming out behind her in the wind. If they were a couple, this would be a true Kodak moment.
But he'd never think of her like that. Ever. This was Hermione Granger, for crying out loud.
"You know, Malfoy," she almost whispered, her voice low, trying to be menacing. Or... captivating? "You amuse yourself all you like with your assorted sluts, but if you just opened your eyes for one moment, you'd see that there are a million decent girls out there that'd rather stick needles in their eyes than go out with you."
Then she was gone, her door sliding shut behind her. A moment later, lion-embossed curtains flitted across it, obscuring his view. He stayed there for a moment, just thinking.
Then he went to his own bed, stripping to his boxers and pulling the sheets up about him. But all he could think about was the Mudblood. Hermione. 'I have a name,' he could imagine her telling him in that tone she had. What had she meant, assorted collection of sluts? Astoria Greengrass, his current conquest, was no slut. She was beautiful, and her family were well-known in the ministry. Sure, she had a lot of boyfriends, but did that make her a slut? Well... Ugh. None of this even mattered. But she'd rather stick needles in her eyes than go out with him?
Hm. His competitive side was surfacing, chanting challenge challenge challenge incessantly in his head. He tried to sleep, but it wouldn't cease. He groaned, then gave in.
He'd prove to Hermione Granger that anyone would go out with him. Anyone. Including her. Hell, especially her. Then he'd dump her, and go back to being Draco Malfoy again, the boy who sat on the floor in lesson just to prove a point.
Hermione Granger was going to fall in love with him.
A/N ~ Is it weird to say I loved that? When it's my own writing? ;D Hehe, please let me know what you think, sorry it's a little late, exams are getting all in my face, but I'm still here ;)
Reviews make me update that much faster...
--Hayley xx