Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, and therefore everything in this fanfiction that you recognize.
CHAPTER FOUR: Second Year, Part II
Hermione looked at the red envelope in interest. It didn't seem that unusual; just red, and Molly Weasley didn't usually use that stationary.
She changed her mind when Ron opened it, and Molly's thundering voice boomed out over the hall.
"…STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU…"
Draco smirked at the Weasel's discomfort from across the hall. Served him right…he believed he and Potter should've been expelled. While he just happened to be looking over in their direction, he noticed Hermione.
She was staring at the Howler with rapt attention, as if she was committing every detail to memory to research later. He laughed to himself.
Crabbe and Goyle paused in stuffing their faces when they saw their leader laughing. Exchanging uncertain glances, they began to chuckle too, not knowing who they were laughing at. Draco's laughter turned into a pout.
Blaise nudged him.
"Pining over one of the golden lions?" he asked, giving Hermione a meaningful glance. "I wish you the best of luck, mate, but I wouldn't want to be there when you bring that one to meet the parents."
Draco straightened. They were friends in the loosest sense, but Blaise looked out for him and he looked out for Blaise. Blaise would never steer him wrong.
He gave Zabini a dirty look, then turned to his other side, wrapping an arm around Pansy. She immediately began cooing about her 'Drakey-poo', and while Draco wanted to barf, he liked the distraction.
Blaise chuckled quietly, returning to his meal.
Neither of them noticed Hermione, sneaking disgusted peeks at Draco and Pansy throughout the course of breakfast.
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Herbology was definitely not Draco's favourite class. Sure, Potions had gross ingredients sometimes, but plants with screaming babies as their roots? Absolutely gross. But it was gratifying to know that he had graduated from the harmless little plants to plants that could kill a person.
It said he was becoming powerful.
He liked it.
And, when he saw Hermione cringe away from the nasty stuff, he hated himself for liking it.
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"Of course you got on the team. I don't know why you were so bloody worried about it, Malfoy. You're a shoo in."
Draco glared at Blaise, the handsome Italian lounging on the couch in their dorm room.
"It's important," he said gruffly. "My father – it's important."
"Well, if it's important, you might not want to miss the practice," Blaise said drily, casting a meaningful glance toward the clock.
"Fsh," Draco hissed as he caught the time. "Blaise, broom." Zabini tossed the Nimbus Two-Thousand One over to his friend, who deftly caught it and rushed to the door. "Wish me luck," he said over his shoulder as he raced out of the room.
Blaise rolled his eyes. "Quidditch," he sighed.
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The team was waiting for him just off the pitch.
"Finally," Montague groaned. "Why'd we get this one anyway, Flint?" He threw a sour look at Draco. "Sure doesn't seem like it will pay off."
"Really," Draco said aloofly. "Who do you think paid for your brooms?"
"I've seen him fly," Flint said sharply, hitting Montague's leg. "He's worth it. Not just about the brooms."
Draco smirked.
"But we have been waiting," Flint said. "Professor Snape gave us a wonderful opportunity, and I think we should use it." He jerked his head toward the pitch, which was hidden from them by the stands.
Draco pushed past the team to peek around the corner. "There's already someone out there," he said, surprised.
"Yup," Montague said. "Gryffindor. But we have special permission to share the pitch with them."
Draco slowly began to grin. "I like where this is going."
"Can't wait to see those idiot lion faces," a teammate snickered.
It seemed like a good idea. Until it wasn't.
They walked out there, the Gryffindors got mad, Oliver Wood turned a lovely shade of puce. They displayed Draco, and he preened under the attention.
Then she showed up. And Draco knew the whole prank was going to hell.
When she accused him of buying his way onto the team, he couldn't believe his ears. He hadn't…he hadn't. He thought. He had auditioned at the manor, and he had gotten on the team through his own merits.
"And just what would you know?" he asked, his head whirling with anger and fire and fear and all of his insecurities. "You're just a mu – u – "
Everything froze. Suddenly, he was back at his house, his mansion, his father's manor. He felt the wand digging into his skin, the burning pain spreading through his bones, ripping through his skull, wrenching sounds he didn't know he could make out of his throat.
"Mudblood!"
The reaction was immediate. Everything went to hell.
At least I could predict it, Draco thought, faking vindictive pleasure as Montague acted out Weasley throwing up slugs.
I wish it had hit me, he thought. Maybe I would feel better.
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Why did it hurt so much? Hermione thought as she absentmindedly rubbed her chest. Why did it hurt so much that Draco called her that – that – that word? They weren't friends. If a word came to mind, it would be enemies. Why did it hurt so much?
She fell asleep with the vision of Draco sneering at her in her head, still rubbing at the invisible pain in her chest.
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He got good, really good, at ignoring her. At turning his head away from her, away from that pained expression, even as he insulted her hair, her brains, her blood. Even as he was apologizing, over and over and over, inside his head.
It was like he didn't see her anymore. And that was better, she thought. That was better. She wasn't the girl to take home to Mother.
He was audience to Potter and his sidekicks' many mishaps, laughing at how Potter seemed to ingratiate himself to Lockhart unwillingly. Sneering at how Hermione seemed to want to ingratiate herself to Lockhart. And…he was there when Harry, Ron, and Hermione were found in front of the wall with the message.
The message that scared him, scared all of the Slytherins. He and Blaise and Greg and Vincent and Theo all met up in his room, uncomfortably silent, fiddling with things, their thoughts elsewhere.
"All right," Draco finally said, interrupting the silence. "Is it any of us?"
Nos echoed around the room. Draco sagged with relief. "So…I guess…hope it doesn't get any of us?" Greg asked hesitantly.
"It won't get us," Draco said scornfully. "We're pureblood." And the room fell into silence again as Draco stopped talking.
Hermione wasn't pureblood. Hadn't he called her that awful word just recently? He hoped Potter, at least, realised what danger she was in. Posted a bodyguard or something.
Because he wouldn't. No, he wouldn't. He might watch from afar, but no, he wouldn't assign anyone to protect Potter's mudblood.
She was none of his concern.
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Of course, Slytherin lost the match. Draco was thoroughly ignored, until Flint said, "You're only a second year. We've got time, he's learning…"
Draco quietly fumed all the way through dinner, through the common room, all the way to his bed.
How did Potter even get the Snitch? He had a bludger chasing him the whole bloody game, he broke his arm…At this point, Draco had to laugh. Seeing Lockhart make Potter's arm worse had to be a highlight of the game.
But they still lost. And it had probably been his fault.
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A dueling club. Led by Lockhart. Draco sneered as he watched the grinning teacher posture and prance in front of all the students, and Professor Snape.
"Let's go," Blaise said disgustedly. "You really think we're going to learn anything from that tosser?"
Draco shook his head. "Nope. But it'll make for a good laugh, right?" he said, staring at Hermione.
"A good laugh. Right."
Blaise slapped Draco's shoulder as Professor Snape began separating out the groups. "Potter…and Malfoy," the professor sneered. Draco met the green eyes of Harry Potter over Snape's shoulder.
Blaise laughed and hit Draco again. "Best of luck, mate," he chuckled. Then, in a lower tone, he added: "I know it wasn't who you were hoping for, but make the best of it."
He winked before strolling off to find his partner.
"Ready – begin!"
Draco snarled as Harry cast a hex right as soon as they began. He doubled over in laughter as invisible fingers pinched his sides, tickling him into a giggling mess. Raising his wand shakily, he shot off a dancing spell that hit Potter square on the chest.
"Enough!" Snape finally interrupted them, undoing both of the spells. Draco heaved, hands on his knees.
"Let's try again, to teach these boys how to block these unfriendly spells!" Draco ignored the man as Lockhart fluttered around, trying to explain a complicated and nonsensical spell to Harry. All the while, Professor Snape muttered in Draco's ear. An evil grin grew on his face as the professor gave him succinct instructions on a spell that could be Potter's undoing.
Then they were facing each other, in duel stance. Potter still looked confused, his brow furrowed. Draco smirked.
"Begin!"
"Serpensortia!" Draco yelled, throwing the spell at Potter. His smirk grew as Potter didn't move, just stared at the snake in fear.
"If you're scared, Potter, I can get rid of it," Snape drawled.
"Allow me," Lockhart interrupted. And with a fling of his arm, the snake flipped into the middle of the watching students.
As shrieks filled the air, and students scrambled away from the reptile, Draco's eyes sought out Hermione's face.
She was on the other side of Potter, away from the snake. Draco, relieved, turned back to Potter, who was waving his arms at the snake, hissing.
Draco stiffened as he realised what was going on, and he wanted to go grab Hermione, pull her away, far away, from the monster who was her friend.
But he didn't. He only watched as the scene unfolded.
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Draco –
I have spoken with Madam Pomfrey. She has informed me that you have not been reporting to the Hospital Wing to help as I have instructed you. If you do not begin as soon as you received your letter, there will be consequences.
Lucius Malfoy
Draco scowled. He crumpled the small scrap of paper that had come with his mother's long piece of love and fluff.
There will be consequences.
He ripped the paper up. He threw the paper away. But those words were ingrained in his brain.
That evening, instead of hanging out with his friends in the common room, he reported to the Hospital Wing.
"Ah, Mr. Malfoy," she said. "I'm glad you're finally here. What with all the petrified students, I'm getting extremely behind on making the other medicines. You have fairly good marks in Potions; I believe I will delegate that task to you, and perhaps some taking care of the victims. However – " Madam Pomfrey paused. "I don't know how well you'll do with that task. Some of the victims had very public rows with you."
She nodded toward the cots before heading off toward the other end of the room, with the shelves full of potions.
Draco moved closer to the first cot and froze. He slowly lowered himself into the chair next to the bed, blinking quickly. "Stupid, Hermione." He bowed his head. "Stupid stupid stupid. Why the hell couldn't you have stayed in public places, maybe followed your two dimwits around for a bit?"
There will be consequences. "I'm sorry, Hermione."
Do we call them muggle-borns?
They are worse than animals, Draco. Well beneath our station. If you meet one, you are to ignore it, and do not even think about touching one.
His father's voice was so clear that Draco jumped, his face curdling into the sneer that he so often wore around his father.
"Mudblood," he sneered, as if his father could hear him, as if she could hear him. He looked over his shoulder to make sure Madam Pomfrey was too far away to hear. "You got what was coming for you."
She didn't move, didn't even blink an eye. She was a statue.
"Beaverish, brown-nosing swot," Draco insulted her. "Bushy haired brat." He racked his brain for other ways to make her mad. "Mrs. Potter." She didn't react. Huffing, he slouched in his chair and pouted. Somehow, it wasn't as satisfying to insult her when she didn't fly into a rage about it.
"Mr. Malfoy!" Madam Pomfrey said. "Would you deign to help me?"
With one last look behind him, he went to help the mediwitch.
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Draco visited her every evening, leaving a vase of flowers just before he went to tell Madam Pomfrey he had showed up, no need to contact his father about him. She never moved, was always in the same position, eyes frozen wide, hand clutching a scrap of paper.
Until one day the paper was gone, and Draco was told that Harry and Ron had visited earlier.
He hated that they could openly visit the girl. He wondered if they had been curious about the flowers, if they had even noticed the flowers.
He wondered if they had even noticed she was missing from wherever they had been when she was petrified.
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"Wonderful news!" Madam Pomfrey was almost bursting with happiness when he came in a week later. "The beast that has been causing all of this has been vanquished, and the Mandrakes are ready!"
"Oh really," Draco said, feigning disinterest.
"Yes!" Pomfrey was almost floating above the ground. "So, I'm going to have to ask you to stay in this room, for the rest of today, Mr. Malfoy. Put some ear muffs on. Professors Sprout, Snape, and I will be preparing the potion in the other room."
Draco rolled his eyes as she tossed some ear muffs at him, then danced into the other room, where she was soon joined by Professor Sprout and Professor Snape, both carting enormous boxes of plants.
Draco settled down in the chair next to Hermione to wait. He smirked when he saw the pile of books and parchment on the bedside table. There was a note on top.
Dear Hermione,
We know that when you are de-petrified you'll want these. We miss you.
Harry and Ron
Draco chuckled. "Is de-petrified even a word?" he asked Hermione. Then, he took the first book and list of make-up assignments, which happened to be for Transfiguration. Draco smiled as he pulled out a quill and began to do Hermione's work for her.
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The next day, Draco walked into the infirmary to find a frazzled Madam Pomfrey juggling potions. As she almost dropped one, Draco reached out and caught it with a skill only a Seeker had.
"Can I help?" he said, narrowing his eyes at the sludgy, distilled watery potion.
"Yes, yes…" she said. "I'll start from that end of the cots, you…why don't you just do Hermione. I can take care of the others."
Draco stood still, holding the potion. "Why Hermione?" he asked the witch as she hurried to the bed with the cat on it.
"Because she's the one you've been giving flowers to."
"What?" he asked, shocked.
Madam Pomfrey turned, a twinkle in her eye. "Don't worry. I can keep a secret." She smiled and nodded toward Hermione. Draco, his shoulders hunched, walked over to the bed.
"All right," he mumbled. "Here goes…"
She didn't move for several seconds after he administered the potion, long enough for him to start freaking out. Then there was a twitch of a finger, and he relaxed.
Soon, her neck had unfrozen enough for her to move her head to face Draco. "Malfoy?" she said uncertainly. "What are you doing here?"
"Detention duty," he said. "This is just a perk of the job."
"What is?" she asked.
"Getting to see the incredible swot come back to life."
Hermione closed her eyes. "Did you just come here to make fun of me?" she asked.
"Yup," Draco said flippantly, grinning. "And to do your homework."
Two minutes later, Hermione was fully thawed and yelling.
"You did my work?!"
Draco smirked as he prepared to reason her into accepting his help.
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The next day, he watched her reunite with the other two of the trio. She hugged Harry, shook hands with Ron awkwardly.
But just before she sat down, she found a second of her time to glare at Draco.
He grinned back. And she had to turn away, trying to disguise her smile.
But he saw it anyway. And he felt that pain in his chest he had felt since he called her 'mudblood' begin to subside.
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A/N: Read and review:)