A/N: Thanks to all reviewers! This chapter will not be long, though. Please read my two new stories, Hermione's Vacation and Children, the Angels from Hell (a story where they take turns becoming six years old)! I suggest you read my other stories…They're considerably better than this one! :P
Chapter Four.
"Well…so…" Hermione began.
"Oh, Headmaster," Pansy butted in, "It really was Hermione's fault!"
"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said indignantly, "Pansy insisted on gathering all the Slytherins to wait outside the Gryffindor portrait hole for me to attack me. She did so because…I guess it was because she was jealous."
"And why is Mr. Malfoy tied up over there?" Dumbledore asked politely, with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Oh, because Pansy didn't want him running away," Hermione answered.
"Well then, Ms. Granger, please help Mr. Malfoy to the dungeons while I talk to Ms. Parkinson."
"Will do, Professor." Hermione walked over, pink cheeked, to the bound and gagged Draco and released his gag and bonds.
Once relieved of the restraining ropes, Draco rubbed his sore wrists. "Ouch," he complained. "That was horrible!"
"Come on, we're going to the Slytherin common room," Hermione said, grabbing his hand. When they touched, the smallest spark of warming electricity shot up their arms.
"Don't touch me, mudblood," Draco said rudely.
"Well then, you hellish pureblood idiot, move on!" Hermione snapped.
"Look who's having anger problems?" Draco taunted.
Hermione took deep breaths to calm herself down, and her previously hot pink cheeks softened to a pale pink. Draco found himself wishing her cheeks would stay as before, as—hold on. Was this high-ranked, pureblooded Malfoy about to say 'cute?' No, he angrily berated himself; 'cute' is not in the list of Malfoy vocabulary! No!
"Are you listening?" Hermione asked impatiently. "Oh! I just remembered!" And she pulled out the dreaded music player that had been the cause of this all.
"Oh no," said Draco, backing away, "Not that dreaded thing! No!" Why was he saying so many 'no's?'
"I found another song!" Hermione said happily.
"No you didn't," he said sharply.
They turned into a deserted hallway near the dungeons.
"I did! Is big, bad Draco Malfoy scared of and itty bitty music player?" Hermione teased, holding it out.
"No!" he defended, backing still more.
"Oh, I think so," Hermione had a wicked gleam in her eyes. "I'm going to ask Professor Dumbledore for permission to host a Muggle music concert!"
"AAAAAAHHHHH!" Draco screamed, and bolted.
He could hear Hermione laughing behind him.
This day just keeps getting better and better.
Hermione kept her word, and two days later big, glittery, attention-getting posters were getting put up around the school. Everyone was supposed to go, and dress in Muggle clothing for the event.
Hermione came up to Draco that day and gave him a brown paper bag.
"What's this?" he asked, confused.
"Muggle clothing," she said with a wink. "I promise you'll look extraordinarily handsome," Hermione smirked.
Draco blushed. "Hey!"
"What, doesn't Mr. I'm-So-Awesome need ego stroking every day?" Hermione asked, snickering.
"Anyway," she said, wiping away tears of mirth, "You'll find a brown leather jacket, blue jeans, a leather belt, a blue tee, and black Converse sneakers. Please do wear them!"
"Okay," he said doubtfully.
"I'm not lying!" Hermione protested. "Really."
"I promise I'll wear them," Draco agreed. He really had no idea why he was being so nice. It was weird.
"Thank you!" she smiled at him, a bright, genuine smile quite unlike Pansy's, which was more like a grimace.
A warm, fuzzy feeling arose inside of him, much like when his mother and father hugged him simultaneously when he was younger, at five.
"Fine," he said gruffly.
"See you!" Hermione called, skipping off, her long, now curlier brown hair flying behind her.
At the day of the concert Draco looked at himself in the mirror. Honestly, he thought, smirking, Hermione did have good taste.
He had seats on the front row with Blaise, his best mate. Draco had refused to buy Pansy a seat, as he knew she would just spend the whole concert clinging on to his arm and making him feel uncomfortable.
In the hallways Draco could feel the gazes of may girls turned his way. He smirked, but then thought to where Hermione was.
Why do I care? He asked himself fiercely. Stupid mudblood, making him care! Why did he care, anyway? Then he remembered Hermione was hosting the concert and felt stupid. Of course, she'd be there early.
At the beginning of the concert Hermione walked onstage, and Draco had to forcibly keep his mouth shut and his eyes unreadable as always.
Hermione had miraculously turned her hair into glossy brown curls that cascaded model-like down her back. She was wearing knee-high black leather boots, very short, frayed light blue jeans, and a white blouse. She had a long, gold-chained necklace with a black heart as a pendant dangling to her stomach around her neck, and sparkling gold earrings hanging delicately down from her ears.
She began talking into the black thing in her hand, and the sound echoed all around. Draco noticed the box-like things on the wall, and shuddered when she said something particularly loud. The crowd cheered, then a song began. Draco began to pay attention.
Hermione had changed her clothes with a snap, and now was wearing see-through black fishnet tights, the previous jeans, black sneakers, and a white shirt with a pink heart then black skull-and-crossbows in it.
"This song is called Girlfriend, and is by the top Muggle female singer, Avril Lavigne!" Pictures of a blond-and-black haired young woman flashed on two screens beside the stage.
Draco only began listening later, as he had been watching the dance before.
In a second you'll be
wrapped around my finger
'cause I can
'cause I can do it bett-ah
there's no other
so when's it gonna sink in
she's so stupid
what the hell were you thinking?
Ironically, Draco thought of his real-life situation. Pansy certainly was stupid…the girl couldn't take a hint. But who was the person who could 'do it better?'
He had an inkling of who it was.
Hermione.