CHAPTER FOUR
The great hall doors had never sounded so loud. Momentarily forgetting that he was late by at least 10 minutes, Draco thrust them open and stormed into the room. All eyes turned to him immediately. McGonagall's gaze fell upon him, but thankfully, she continued on with her speech, although he could feel her beady little eyes boring a hole into the back of his head as he made his way to the Slytherin table. He made his way to his usual seat, in between Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, and felt relieved to see that they had saved a space for him. As he sat down, he half expected to be interrogated about why he was so late, but was pleased to see that even after the war, no one at his table dare challenge a Malfoy. Gazing around the room, he caught the eyes of Potter and Weasley who were clearly both seething with anger. Wondering what he could have done so early in the year to piss them off this badly, and how he could do it again, he noticed that the seat in between them was also vacant. Granger hadn't arrived yet. That must be it. Those half-wits were obviously thinking that he had something to do with her prolonged absence, that he'd done something unspeakable to her in the few moments that there were alone together.
Those two didn't half piss him off. Looking away from them, his eyes wandered up to the staff table, lingering momentarily on the seats previously occupied by Dumbledore, and Professor Burbage, the muggle studies teacher Voldemort had killed on Draco's own dining table. He looked hastily away. He tried his hardest not to think about such things, wallowing in the past was not exactly a good method for leaving it behind you.
"Malfoy," Parkinson whispered, forcefully yanking him from his thoughts, "why were you so late? And where's Granger?" Pansy, however, had never been one to respect his status among his peers. He suspected that that was down to the fact he had basically grown up with her, along with Blaise. The three were as close to 'best friends' as one could be without coming across as horribly cliché and trite.
"I haven't the foggiest where she is, Pansy, and I don't really care either. As for why I was so late," he hissed back, careful not to have their conversation overheard, "Granger spent about 10 minutes debating whether or not to get into the last available carriage, and the blasted things don't move unless every single remaining student had been carried up to the school."
Parkinson's face was a picture. "You two were alone in the carriage ride up? Oh, Draco tell me you didn't kill her – that is the last press you need right now."
"Don't be daft Pansy, like Draco would be able to get the upper hand on little miss perfect, I bet she came out of the womb practicing wand movements."
Draco glared at Blaise, "As if that prissy know it all could beat me." Blaise snickered, and Draco turned his attention on to the sorting.
It was around the time that a 'Tabatha Millwald' was sorted into Hufflepuff, that the great hall doors opened one more time, and Hermione Granger walked stiffly into the room. Draco could tell that she was bothered by everybody starting at her, but to her credit, she dealt with it well. Her head was held high as she walked over to her seat between Potty and Weasel, and sat down quickly. As soon as she sat down, the rest of the Gryffindor table seemed to consume her. They all gathered as close to her as possible and, Draco assumed, grill her on her whereabouts. He would have been blind to not notice the heated glares that her personal guard kept shooting his way, but what surprised him was that Granger seemed to dismiss these with a wave of her hand. He watched on, trying to piece together what she was telling her table, but she really wasn't making it very obvious. God, it was always whispers and murmurs and muted hand gestures with Gryffindors!
After a while, Draco gave up on his attempt to lip read, turned his attention back towards Blaise and Pansy. They chattered idly enough until finally the food arrived. Draco hadn't realised how hungry he was until he was sitting right in front of an entire platter of chicken wings.
"I wonder whose been chosen as head boy and girl this year," Blaise mused, piling mashed potato onto his plate.
"Oh, yeah," Draco replied, realising he'd forgotten to tell them so far. "It was me." Pansy nearly choked on her pumpkin juice. "and Granger."
Parkinson slowly set the goblet down, a look of shock, amusement and frustration on her face. "How could you just forget to tell us!" she all but screamed at him, while Blaise simply sat there laughing.
"What exactly is so funny Zabini? Pansy snapped.
"C'mon Pans, Draco and Granger having to live together, its fucking hilarious! A mudblood and pureblood in cohabitation… Draco, mate, your father would have a heart attack."
"Yeah, well" Draco grimaced, "I'm glad you're finding this so hilarious." His eyes swept back across the room and landed on Granger once more, who was sullenly poking around what seemed to be a potato.
"At least she'll probably be so anal about all of the head student responsibilities that she won't let you anywhere near them." Blaise said helpfully.
Pansy shook her head. "Why on earth are you the head boy though? It just doesn't make any sense!"
"Oh, thanks Pans…" Draco said dryly.
"Oh, shut up, you know what I mean – sure your grades are good, but asides from that you're hardly a good example, are you."
"She is right, mate." Blaise added, reaching across Draco for a donut.
"Look, I was as surprised as you guys are. I guess it must have been a stipulation of the ministry – put me on the highest pedestal possible so that when I fall down the entire wizarding world will be able to see."
"yeah, I guess that makes sense…" said Pansy, "but Draco you mustn't fall, not this year, not with everyone watching."
"Dear god Pansy you sound like my Mother."
"Yeah? Well she's a wise woman Draco."
The rest of dinner passed somewhat uneventfully. The students gorged themselves on the feast before them and McGonagall gave one last speech, before finally dismissing them all.
Draco and Granger were to meet the professor outside the head's dorm room and, Draco was sure, receive a hefty bollocking for being late. With the grim sense of satisfaction that at least Granger was later than him, he said goodbye to Blaise and Pansy, and set off alone to his new living space.
"Hermione, you've barely touched your food," Harry said, concern evident in his voice, "are you feeling ok?"
"I'm fine, really, I just don't seem to have much of an appetite right now. I think my body's far too full of dread to even consider a Yorkshire pudding…"
"well I don't blame you," Ginny added, "But still, you really should try to eat something." The redhead's eyes swept the table, looking for something she thought Hermione might enjoy, until they landed on a bowl of roast potatoes. She heaped a spoonful onto Hermione's plate, and then looked at her expectantly.
"Gin, I'm just honestly not hungry, in fact, if I do eat anything, with the way I'm feeling there's a pretty good chance it will just come back up."
Hermione did not like lying to her friends one bit. But she figured that this technically was only stretching the truth. She technically did feel somewhat nauseous about the reprimand she was sure to get from McGonagall for being late, and about having to live with Malfoy, so really it was just an exaggeration.
"Oh fine, but I don't understand how you can be sat in front of all of this food and not want any of it!" Ron nodded, looking equally confused.
"Weasleys…" Hermione muttered fondly.
The rest of dinner was spent catching up with the rest of her house, and exchanging stories about their post war lives. By the time dinner was over, Hermione didn't want to leave. As they all stood up, Hermione turned to Harry and gave him a huge hug, followed by Ginny, and then finally Ron.
"I'll miss you guys!" she said, letting it sink in for the first time that not only would she be living with a Slytherin, but she wouldn't be living with any of her Gryffindors.
"Oh, Hermione, you'll only be down the hall from us, it will be fine, okay?" Said Ginny reassuringly, rubbing her arm.
"Yeah, I suppose…" she mumbled. "Well, I'd better get going, lest I leave McGonagall waiting again…"
Her friends all waved at her and murmured empty reassurances, and with that, she left the great hall.
Luckily for her, Hermione knew a shortcut the head's dorms (being best friends with Harry Potter did come with occasional custody of the Marauders Map), and so she was there before even McGonagall. As she waited outside the portrait, she thought out her excuse for being so late to the sorting ceremony. Maybe she could say that she had been helping a baby thestral untangle itself from its reigns? She had found an awful mess left by peeves and decided to clean it up?
She knew full well that McGonagall would see straight though her lies, and sighed at the futility of her efforts. Hearing the harsh tapping sounds of boots on the stone floors, she turned around. Malfoy was strolling down the corridor, his hands in his pockets, and looking like he hadn't a care left in the world. When he finally reached her, she snapped. "How can you be so calm right now!"
"Got our knickers in a twist, have we Granger?" he drawled mockingly.
She felt her blood start to boil the moment that prat opened his mouth. Just how did he manage to be so damn infuriating?! He sneered at her one last time before looking away and studying the portrait behind her. Hermione thought she might as well take the opportunity to study him. His grey eyes bore into the canvas, and flickered about, seemingly wanting to absorb every detail it had to offer. His features, she begrudgingly admitted, weren't all too hideous when they weren't arranged in a menacing scowl, or a taunting sneer. His platinum blonde hair seemed a tad shorter than it had the last time she'd seen him, and it was with a start that she realised Fred and George must have actually done it! They'd replaced his shampoo with fucking hair removal cream! She felt a sudden surge of affection for the two, and somehow managed to hold back the bark of laughter threatening to spill from her.
"Yeah, well maybe you're used to being yelled at by McGonagall, but I'm not, and the few times it has happened haven't been fun…"
"I should hope not, Miss. Granger."
Hermione whirled around to see Professor McGonagall walking swiftly towards them, a stern look on her face. She felt her cheeks burning in embarrassment.
"Would either of you care to tell me why you were so late to the ceremony? It is entirely unprecedented to have both head students be late to the very first feast of the year!"
"I am so sorry, Professor… It won't happen again, you have my word." Hermione said quietly.
'Yes, well, you're right about that Miss. Granger. And you, Mr. Malfoy? What have you to say for all this?"
Hermione braced herself for the worst. It would hardly be out of character for Malfoy to say something rash, or inflammatory and get them both demoted.
"It won't happen again, professor." He said, somewhat curtly, but a marked improvement on what Hermione had been expecting. McGonagall seemed to be on the same page, as she looked at Malfoy for a couple of seconds before nodding tersely.
"Right, well, the password for your common room is 'devil's snare'. If at any point, you both want to change it, all you need do is mutually agree of a password and tell the portrait" she gestured to the picture of a young girl sitting on a swing, with a flower crown in her hair, who smiled happily and waved at them. Her eyes flickered between Malfoy and Hermione, "It would be foolish to assume that you two being thrown into cohabitation will be a naturally smooth transition, but you have both been given a position that demands high levels of maturity. Therefore, I expect you to deal with any problems you may have quickly. I will not tolerate the two head students bickering like first years. Understood?"
"Yes professor." Hermione said.
Malfoy nodded, although his face screamed disinterest. How McGonagall could deal with such high levels of disrespect, Hermione would never know.
"Very well. I shall leave you two to settle in then. And remember what I said – I do not expect to have any problems concerning you both. This year will be hard enough without it."
She turned around, and, cloak billowing behind her, she disappeared the way she came. Hermione turned to Malfoy, "Are you happy with the password?"
"It's as good as any, I suppose." He replied, still staring at the portrait, instead of her.
"Fine then." She replied snappily. "Devil's snare." She said to the portrait. The little girl grinned at Hermione, and the painting swung forwards to reveal Hermione's new home.
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