Something wasn't right. He felt a horrible feeling deep inside his gut, a feeling that had a slight resemblance to the pain in his scar.

"Can you believe this, Harry?" Ron said excitedly as they neared the Quidditch field. The Chudley Cannons were in Hogwarts today and they were going to teach all the Hogwarts Quidditch teams a few tricks and pointers on Quidditch.

It was one of the perks of the upcoming Hogwarts Sports Festival next week. Normally, Hogwarts never host these kind of events but the teachers had felt it right to host events that would help the students recover from the awful memories of the past War.

The Chudley Cannons stood in the center of the Quidditch field, bright orange robes moving with the wind. Their logo of two black C's and a speeding cannonball could be seen from where they were standing.

Harry walked in front together with Ron while the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team walked right behind them. All of them were anxious and excited… all except Harry though.

It wasn't that he wasn't excited… He just couldn't seem to shake the bad feeling off.

"It looks like the other teams beat us here first." He heard Ginny say.

The other teams were already there. They could see the Members of Chudley Cannons splitting into pairs, one pair led each team.

The remaining three members approached them.

Ron suddenly looked very green.

"Team Gryffindor!" said the man in the middle, smiling brightly at them.

He had dark brown hair and pointy nose. He was very tall, and he was held his broom in his hand. "My name's Galvin Gudgeon, Chuddley Cannons seeker. This is, Joey Jenkins, beater and Dragomir Gorgovitch, chaser."

He pointed at the other two beside him.

"It's a pleasure to work with you all," the man called Joey said, smiling at them as well. The other man remained quiet behind the two.

"We're going to be teaching you a few techniques at flying and handling your brooms—"

Harry tuned Galvin out as soon as he heard a loud voice from the team beside them, the Slytherins.

"Slytherin Quidditch Captain?" the man from Chudley Cannons asked.

"He's not here," said one of the Slytherin players.

Harry's eyes widened. His heart raced as his mind processed what he'd just heard.

"Ah, you must be the famous Harry Potter, the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain. I must say I'm—" Galvin had started to say, but Harry was too frantic to pay attention to him now.

"Malfoy!" Harry yelled hysterically, with a look of panic in his face as he walked towards the Slytherins. He grabbed a boy, Nott, by the collar roughly. The boy stared at his murderous face in panic. "Where's Malfoy?"

The Gryffindors and Slytherins (and also the members of the Chudley Cannons) looked at him as if he'd gone mad.

"What are you on about Harry? Have you lost it?" Ron said but Harry ignored him. He stared at Nott again.

"Where is he?"

"H-he's in Beauxbatons," Nott said faintly. "Said something about a—"

Harry didn't give him time to finish.

He stormed off the Quidditch field, Ron in tow.


"How can you let this happen!" he yelled angrily at McGonagall. They had entered her office minutes ago and told her about Hermione going to Beauxbatons with Malfoy and Zabini. His palms were flat on her desk and he was glaring daggers at her.

"I don't understand what the problem is Mr. Potter," she replied calmly, adjusting the rim of her glasses.

"What? That's all you're going to say Professor?" Harry yelled again. "After you let her go alone with those—those—Slytherins!"

Ron nodded but he didn't say anything. He knew well enough not to talk whenever Harry was angry.

"Calm down Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall. Her eyes never left his. He felt himself grow angrier at her impassiveness with the whole situation.

"I can't calm down when she's out there with them!"

"She is not in any danger," she replied, her voice as stern as ever. Harry could tell she was starting to get irritated with him. "I told them they could choose who they had wanted to bring. Mr. Zabini chose Mr. Malfoy, and Ms. Granger, well, she chose to go alone. I fail to understand why, considering, she'd told me months earlier that she was going to bring the two of you."

"She—she didn't say Malfoy was coming," Harry said, more to himself than anyone else.

It was suddenly very clear to him now. He turned to look at Ron, who somehow already knew what he was thinking.

It wasn't Professor McGonagall's fault after all. It was theirs. They let this happen.

They left Hermione to be devoured by the Slytherin snakes, helpless and alone.

"Ms. Granger is perfectly safe under the care of Professor Flitwick, I assure you." Professor McGonagall continued. How wrong she was. "Now please go back to your classes before I give both of you detention."

"She's not safe!" Harry yelled again. "You have to let us go to Beauxbatons! Please Professor!"

"Mr. Potter you are really testing my patience. Go back to you classes."


The Beauxbatons Academy of Magic was a glittering palace, most probably newer and brighter than Hogwarts. Its golden arches lined the very halls, making it seem like a pathway for the Gods themselves. The tall glass windows reached the floor and intricate chandeliers hung at the ceiling. It was a sight to behold indeed, but it was a depressing thought that no such glitter or gold could ever grab Hermione's attention. She was more concentrated on what was happening on the palace, rather than the palace itself.

There were books and booths and authors everywhere. It was like a dream to her.

She looked like she didn't know where to start so she lost herself in the crowd, trying out the booths, talking to different authors and grabbing all the books that caught her interest.

And she was just so happy.

Draco was watching her, not far. The moment Hermione had entered the convention her face lit up.

Just like the time she made a snow angel.

He felt something stir in his stomach again but he wasn't sure why that kept happening whenever she was around.

She was the only person who could make him feel that way.

She was the only person who could make him feel anything at all.

He didn't do much at the book convention, save for talking to a few Beauxbaton girls who wanted to know more about 'Ze magnifique Draco Malfoi.' He'd answered a few of their questions but he got bored with them easily.

He was much more content following Hermione around and seeing her so happy.

"The Beauxbaton girls," Draco heard someone say. Blaise now stood beside him, carrying a bunch of books in his arms. He was referring to the Beauxbaton girls giggling and trailing after them. Draco snorted. "New fan club, Draco?"

"They won't stop following me."

He continued staring at Granger who was now having an enthusiastic conversation with another author, oblivious to everything else.

With her trusting nature, it would probably be easy enough for him to manipulate her into hating her friends...

"You have that look in your face again," Blaise said quietly. "You've done something evil or you're about to do something evil, again. Which one is it?"

Draco smirked.

"Both."


The clouds were dark and grey now. They moved dangerously up the sky, pouring water and hail over the glittering gold that is the Beauxbatons palace.

Thunder clapped loudly, making her gasp and cover her ears.

Her room was dark. The only light that could be seen came from the lightning outside the tall glass window. She could see her four poster bed from the small opening of the closet door.

She clutched the covers tighter around herself.

The closet was small and empty. She had ran inside the moment she'd heard the first thunder crack. She never liked thunderstorms. The traumatic experience she had experienced in her childhood had such a lasting effect on her. She could face dementors, Bellatrix, Death Eaters, or even Voldemort himself, but not thunderstorms.

Never thunderstorms.

It'll be over soon, she told herself.

Then it was silent and dark again.

Lightning flashed, with a loud sound, making her jump and cover her ears tighter. That's when she saw a figure standing beside her four poster bed. She knew who he was immediately, platinum blond hair and all. What is he doing here?

She closed her eyes at the crack of thunder again. When she opened them, she found herself staring at him. He was standing outside the closet, looking like a dark knight, handsome and evil as always.

"Are you hiding from me?" His voice was a low whisper.

She remained quiet. She could feel herself shivering from fear and cold. His tall figure towered over her, more so now that she was sitting on the floor, holding her knees to her chest.

"Granger. get up," he said quietly.

"Not now, Malfoy," she whispered in a soft, pleading voice. "I'm—I'm scared."

She stared down at the floor and covered her ears again as she heard another clap.

She could actually feel Malfoy smirking at her.

He squeezed himself inside the closet and squatted in front of her, staring at her straight in the eyes and making her even more frightened. He was close... too close.

"What did I tell you about being so vulnerable, love?"

She shut her eyes again at the sudden flash of lightning.

"I'm just— Go away," she whined. She didn't want him to see her like this.

"No," he said simply. She couldn't see his face in the dark but she knew he was enjoying this. Malfoy was a sadistic git and he enjoyed seeing other people in pain.

"I don't like thunderstorms, okay?" she admitted, jumping at another cracking sound.

"I can see that."

"What are you doing in my room anyways? What do you want?" she asked in annoyance.

He had laughed then, but it wasn't like the warm and happy laughs she'd hear whenever she was with Harry or Ron or friends. His laugh was cold and empty… just like him.

"You," he said leisurely, as if it was the most normal thing to say. "I want you."

No. She pressed her back harder into the wall behind her. "You don't mean that," she muttered. "You—you hate me. You hate me so much you want nothing to do with me."

Lightning flashed and for a second she caught a glimpse of his irritated face. "Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?" he said coldly.

Then it was dark again. She could feel his hands playing with her the curl of her hair.

"Don't touch me," she said, but he didn't move.

"What are you going to do? Slap me?" he said smugly. "Go ahead."

"Stop being such a git!" she yelled angrily. She was trying to push him away but he didn't even budge.

"Tell me Granger, where's saint Potter now?"

She stopped pushing him at the mention of Harry's name. Harry had always hugged her and comforted her whenever there were thunderstorms. Harry had always told her everything would be alright.

Well… not exactly always.

"He wanted to meet the Chuckley Canyons," she stated bitterly. He sniggered, holding her hands in his. She glared at him.

"That's what friends are for," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "They use people."

"No! He's not using me!" she defended in outrage. "You'll never understand. You don't have friends."

She had regretted saying the words as soon as they'd left her lips. She stared at him apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Oh I perfectly understand what's happening," he drawled condescendingly, ignoring her last statement. "You're just a tool to them, used all the time, ignored when not needed."

"You're wrong Malfoy," she said. She felt a lump on her throat.

He's wrong. He's so wrong. She kept telling herself.

But somehow, she had trouble trying to believe it.

"They're bastards, the whole lot of them."

She pressed her head in the wall and closed her eyes. Another thunder clapped. "Please stop manipulating me."

"They don't care about you."

She trembled slightly. Almost instantly, she thought of her friends abandoning her again. This feeling of loneliness— it was like she was outside of her home, staring at her friends and family through a glass window. They were happy and warm, oblivious to her presence. And no matter how hard she screamed for them, they couldn't hear her voice.

"I thought they were supposed to come with you, love?" he continued faintly. "So where are they now?"

Yes, that was what she wanted to ask herself. They'd promise to come here. They had crossed hearts on it too. So why was she alone now?

"I don't—"

She shouldn't be listening to him. She had to snap out of it before she hates Harry and Ron completely. They weren't bad people. They were her friends. They did carefor her.

It scared her how easily he could have convinced her into believing his lies.

"N-no—you're wrong!" she said hysterically. "Stop it! Stop brainwashing me!"

She sensed his anger because he started clucking his tongue. He was disappointed at her. He stood up. She jumped at the sudden movement. "Get up."

"No," she said stubbornly, lowering her head on her knees as another lightning flashed.

"Don't test my patience," he said in a harsh voice. "I said get up."

When she didn't move she felt herself being pulled to her feet. She groaned when his hand touched the bruises on her wrists.

"Malfoy!" she screamed in pain. He was pulling too hard again. He dragged her outside the closet and tossed her to the four poster bed. She glared at him. "You're a bastard, you know that? Fuck you."

"Don't tempt me, love. I might just force you to," he threatened menacingly, eyes flashing with annoyance. For a moment, she thought he had only been joking, but the look on his face made her think otherwise.

She shuddered internally.

They stared at each other for a long time. Hermione didn't dare move, not when he was still angry. He waved his hands and the curtains closed and the room was suddenly quiet, she couldn't hear the thunder anymore.

He could do wandless magic?

And what spell had he used? Silencing charms only worked on people.

"Stop this childish nonsense now," he said harshly. "It's very unbecoming."

She saw her covers flying back to her and she grabbed them. "Unbecoming? You're not my mother," she snapped, unable to control her anger.

"Do you have a death wish?" he said dangerously taking a few steps forward. Her heart raced in horror.

"Alright, alright I'm sorry," she said nervously. She didn't want him to come any closer.

She shut her eyes tightly, thinking that he was going to grab her wrists again... but surprisingly, she felt him kiss her cheek.

"Goodnight, love," he said, smirking.

Then he was gone.

She stared dumb-founded at where he had stood seconds ago. She dreaded to think what could've happened if he stayed a little longer.

She cursed herself for almost falling for it, for his words. It was the way he had said it, the tone of his voice, the way he'd spoken— like everything that came from his mouth had been the rule—the truth. He was a good liar. He was a charmer too, a snake. He was trying to manipulate her…

And it was working.


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Sorry it took so long, I have a shit load of homework and my eye bags are so huge, I look like someone punched me in the face… twice :D

Annnnnnyways, I was suppose to turn this into a fluffy Draco-sleeps-in-Hermione's-bed-to-comfort-her-from-her-dreaded-fear-of-thunderstorms chapter but decided against it because it's totally not him. He'll be out of character.

So I wrote this instead. Bahaha.

I think this is my longest chapter so far. yay.

I hope you liked it!

THANKS FOR READING THIS :D I love you!