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Chapter Three – Monster
"Grow up Malfoy, so I'm not a pureblood, it's not like a disease – you can't catch it."
"If I wanted you, I could have you."
Hermione huffed. "That was not what I meant and you know it."
Draco dusted off his robes as Hermione pushed herself up off the floor. He glanced up at her mirroring his actions and smirked. Even he couldn't deny that for a mudblood – she was beautiful. He smoothed down his hair and turned on his heels and went back to patrolling efficiently. Hermione shook her head and let out a gust of air. She shouldn't have been surprised – not even so much as an apology. She turned away from him and they went back to ignoring one another. She was determined to get on some sort of equal ground with Draco – if she had to spend a whole year with him then it would have to be bearable.
The evening dragged on slowly as if time was actually being reversed. It might as well have been, every time Hermione checked her small watch on her wrist, time had barely gone by three minutes. Eventually, it reached 2am. Time to go back to the prefect dormitory. The dorm was perfect for a Friday night after patrolling because it was separate from the rest of the school so no noise could disturb them when they slept in on the Saturday morning.
"Draco," she said softly, remembering her promise to herself to try and get along with him, despite his insufferable attitude. He didn't look up, but she knew he knew what she was pointing out. Draco looked tired, his usually perfect complexion was slightly sallow and the light grey bags under his eyes just didn't quite blend in with the rest of his chalky white skin. She pulled out a little compact mirror from her robes to inspect the damage the late night was doing to her – it was nowhere near as bad for her. She had slightly red ears and small bags were starting to form, but Draco looked slightly ill. She walked beside him quietly to the dorm, not sure whether to ask him if he was okay.
Oh to hell with it, she thought.
"Draco? Are you alright – you really don't look good." She said, trying to sound caring. She was not received well. His head snapped in her direction – he glared at her and she felt his eyes scorch through her in an icy burn.
"How I am feeling is none of your concern. Stay away from me, Granger." He sped up and slammed the door to his bedroom within the dorm and Hermione was left feeling a little bewildered. No longer feeling tired, she sat by the fire on the little, two seater couch with her new book that her parent's had bought her that she hadn't managed to read on the train journey to Hogwarts that year. It must have been an hour later when she heard heaving noises coming from Draco's room.
She debated leaving him until deciding it wasn't right. She could go back to despising him tomorrow; it would be simply awful to listen to him throwing up so violently all night. If he rejected her help – well that was his own problem. At least she hadn't been too proud to ask.
"Draco?" She murmured, rapping on his door with a closed fist.
"Piss off! What is with you and-" more vomiting. Hermione opened the door to reveal Draco being sick into a bucket. She restrained herself and tried to avoid heaving at the smell and making him feel worse.
"I said get out!" He yelled, but she ignored him. She ran to the bathroom and grabbed his flannel, pouring cold water from the sink onto it, she squeezed it gently and ran back into the room. She pulled him up onto the bed – politely ignoring the fact that he was only in a pair of grey boxers and placed it onto his sweaty forehead, making sure to sweep back his platinum blonde fringe.
The whole time, he just looked as though he wished he could punch her. Well, not the whole time. Just the time he wasn't being sick.
"I'll get you some water." She said calmly, and when she brought it back for him, he was asleep. Snoring lightly, looking far more at peace. She took away his bucket and replaced it with an empty one, washing the old bucket out and desperately trying not to puke into it herself.
The next morning, Hermione pulled herself out of bed with an enormous stretch and made her way into the shared area of the dorm after wrapping her dressing gown around her. Draco was there, dressed in his normal clothes – a pair of slim fit jeans and a green sweater, eating a slice of toast and looking considerably healthier than he had done the night previous.
Must have been one of those overnight bugs, she thought bitterly. At least when he was ill he was only mildly rude to her.
"Feeling better?" She asked out of sheer politeness, not because she really cared. She could see already that he was.
"Yes thank you, although no thanks to you." He muttered.
"Excuse me? I tried to help – I did what I could! I cleaned up your goddam sick and you sit there and accuse me of making things worse?" She snapped. She had had enough, it was too early in the morning for him to be so judgemental and Draco like. All she had done last night was care for him and he had the audacity to accuse her of anything.
"That flannel got hot and uncomfortable after an hour and the bowl smelt of disinfectant. Plus, I think I remember telling you not to come into my room?"
"Oh I'm sorry, I should have just left you on the floor, throwing up into that bucket in those stupid boxers?" She said, smirking once she mentioned his underwear. He blushed, but the momentary sweetness of his sharp face was replaced with the usual scowl. She poured herself a bowl of cereal and put the kettle on, happy to have half put him in his place – which was surprising as she didn't think that he would have backed down so easily, he had reacted quite strangely to her all of the night before since Peeves had pushed him over – surely he wasn't blaming her for that?
Draco bit into his toast one final time, put down the paper he was reading, grabbed his coat and left without a word, leaving Hermione stirring her tea and thoughts, alone.
So that's another chapter done. I don't feel that I've truly captured the heart of the story yet, but I'll get there… hopefully.
