Disclaimer: Not mines, wish it was, you don't know how much I do. Alas it isn't. But enjoy nonetheless.
Hello, haven't updated this story in a year, actually I think it's been a year exactly. But I'm on spring break and really want to write for some reason. Sadly I have lost contact with my beta so you will have to deal with my atrocious language. :-)
She went up the steps to her room without a care in the world. Hermione was bursting with a new found lightheartedness. Her life was finally going where she wanted. She would go to the prefect meeting and dazzle everyone with her rotation charts yet careful at the same time not to come off as the know-it-all they all perceived her to be. She would finally be in her element. Nothing could take away that comfort zone she had when she was in charge or in a classroom.
Not even…
She walked into her room and froze in shock when she entered. And to her bemusement there was none other than Malfoy in her room flipping through the papers on her desk.
What is he doing in my room! The nerve of him!
Hermione stealthily took her wand from inside of her robe. Before she could even mutter an incantation Malfoy had turned around with his wand in his hand. His patent smirk was plastered on his face.
"Tsk tsk, Granger," rebuked Malfoy, "I thought that hanging around with that dolt Potter all these years would have taught you how to walk silently. It seems that you have yet to master the art of stealth. Your childish bouncing on the steps already alerted me to your presence before you even reached the door. How careless of you."
"Get out Malfoy. You have no right to be in here."
"I have every right. The right was given to me at birth." Malfoy walked closer to her as to assert the claim he just made and his lack of fear of her presence.
"Being a pureblood only means you're guaranteed to marry a relative."
Aren't I such a hypocrite?
"You should find new material or at least do some research before you accuse. We're not all inbred. Only the stupid ones don't check family backgrounds. We know the risk and dangers."
"I guess your family was one of those stupid ones."
"That's a weak insult Granger. I see you're not up to par with your remarks. Anyways I don't have time to argue with mudblood filth like you."
"What? Afraid you'll be shown up again by this "mudblood" as you have been for years."
"Afraid of you?" scoffed Malfoy as he passed her on his way out of the door, "Hardly. You're not as important as you think you are. You and your friends are nothing." He whispered that final line close to her face.
"Your father didn't seem to think so." Hermione bit out hoping to make a dent in his calm façade.
Malfoy pushed dead up against her. Anger and other conflicting emotions ran rampant on his face.
"Don't presume to know anything about my father," he snarled.
"I know enough," she said quietly, looking into his eyes. He stared her down until she glanced away in habit, silently cursing herself. With his final victory Malfoy walked out of the room closing the door with such ferocity that a gust of wind blew in. The rotation charts on Hermione's desk flew off and landed on the floor in disarray.
Darn, I forgot to find out why he was in here, looking at my papers!
She turned towards her desk and noticed the papers that were on the floor.
Great, so stupid, now my charts are everywhere and they're not even in order anymore.
Hermione rushed down the hallway. Her rotary charts, now organized of course, in tow. She drew short breaths as she sprinted to the prefect meeting. Her curly hair came loose from the hasty knot she put it up in, brown strands falling in her face, obstructing her view.
I'm going to be late. I'm the Head Girl. I can't be late!
Hermione pumped her legs faster in haste, closing up on a sharp corner. As she rounded the corner she didn't notice a group of Ravenclaws directly in her line of vision. She pummeled straight through the entourage which resulted in her papers being strewn across the floor. Hermione groaned internally.
Argh! Now I'll most certainly be late.
"Oi Granger!" yelled one of the Ravenclaws, "You should watch where you're going."
He was obviously upset as were the other victims of her onslaught. Hermione's face flushed with embarrassment as she began to stammer out an apology. Yet before she could someone intervened.
A voice spoke from behind her. "It's not that serious Ishmael. It was just an accident. It's not as if she intentionally tried to run you over. Why don't you just continue on your merry way and bring your mates along with you."
Hermione was at a loss for words. She was shocked at the stranger's sudden appearance in the hallway and abashed at her own faulty mishap. The boy, Ishmael, grumbled but surprisingly did as he was instructed. As she watched their retreating backs her mind soon became attentive to the stranger next to her. He had bent down to pick up her papers, an impassive expression on his face. Not yet fully realizing her predicament Hermione stood there and watched him, racking her brain to figure out who he was.
It didn't take long though for instinct to take over after a few minutes and she began apologizing profusely.
"Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry for inconveniencing you. You don't have to pick those up. It's my own fault that they're on the floor." Hermione joined the stranger in scrounging up her charts from the ground.
"It's okay," replied the boy as he turned to look at her. He gave her a smile as he stood up. "Aren't you Head Girl? Well, for the returning seventh years at least."
"Yes," said Hermione out of breath as she also stood up with a minute amount of papers in her hand compared to the bundled of her disorganized charts he held. "You look vaguely familiar. Are you a Ravenclaw prefect?"
The boy walked away from her.
Hello? I asked you a question. How rude.
He bent over to pick up a stray paper in front of a statue. "Here's another one. Little bugger ran off."
Oh. That was quite nice of him. Don't be so trusting Hermione; you still don't know who he is.
"Thank You," said Hermione politely, "I need to put these back in order. So you're a prefect then?"
"You could say that. Actually, we should be on our way to the meeting right now. You can reorganize while we walk. Do you need any help?"
Hermione gave him a small smile. "No, I'm fine, practically almost done."
"I'm Grant," he said as he introduced himself, holding out his hand.
"Hermione," she replied as she struggled to get a hand free to shake his.
"Well then, I suppose we should be as swift as possible or we'll most definitely be late," chuckled the stranger. He grabbed on to Hermione's hand and began to tug her down the hall. "C'mon then."
"Wait," laughed Hermione as she held on tight to her charts, "Slow down."
"Here we are," announced Grant as they stopped in front of the room where the prefect meetings were held. He was breathing hard from the run. His hand was still holding tightly to Hermione's hand.
Well, that was certainly exhilarating. I wish he would let go of my hand. It's all sweaty now.
"Shall we go in?" he said as he began to open the door.
In? No! Anthony's in there and he's going to think—
"Wait! No!" shouted Hermione just as Grant opened the door and entered the room.
Too late…why me?
"Look who's finally decided to join us at last," commented Malfoy as Grant and Hermione walked in.
All eyes in the room turned to the two who just entered and much to Hermione's dismay everyone's eyes lowered to their still conjoined hands.
"Next time the two of you should begin your snogging session a little earlier so the rest of us won't have to wait for you to begin the meeting," said Malfoy acidly.
What?!?
The room erupted into laughter as Hermione glanced around in bewilderment, her face red. She spotted Anthony sitting down staring at her. He looked so utterly calm but inside she knew he was seething with anger.
Why would they think that we were snogging? All we did was run the hall and…and…and…walk in out of breath with splotchy faces. Merlin! Imbeciles, the whole lot of them, our lips aren't even bruised or swollen! Unless they think we were…okay let's not think about that.
Frustrated and annoyed beyond belief Hermione tore her hand away from Grants'. The grin on his face instantly depleted as he watched her walk up to the front of the room, her eyes burning with anger and humiliation.
