Chapter 7

For the rest of September no serious trouble ensured. The only thing worth mentioning would have to be that somehow Malfoy knew that her birthday was the nineteen of September. On that night he asked her if she made the wish on her candles yet, which made her wonder why and how he remembered.

It couldn't be that important.

It was the first Sunday night of October when Hermione and Malfoy were deeply wrapped in the heavy load of homework they had gotten since the first week of school and it wasn't slowing down yet. Hermione sat on the floor by the fire while Malfoy sat on the floor by the couch. Both didn't say a word and the atmosphere was surprisingly calm.

Chrookshanks was very calm as well. Not doing the usual, 'stare down Malfoy,' he lounged by the fire, sprawled out and occasionally extending his nails and kneading the air.

"Hmmm," she thought, tapping her quill against the parchment, "I need to come up with a good thesis statement." Absent-mindedly she started picking the dead skin off her lip.

"If you keep doing that you'll never be attractive," he broke the silence of a good night, and the thoughts of a new essay were now lost.

She put her quill down.

"I'm not attractive, I'm filth, and you want me dead, before I write this essay is there anything else you can possibly say about my existences?" She turned in his direction and saw that his attention was on his book.

He pondered it, then speaking to his book as he pointed at something and used his quill to write on parchment, said, "I don't hate you."

"You are lying because I kno-"

Tap! Tap! Tap! Taps on the window brought their attention to the small owl that was persistent.

Hermione got up first and beat Malfoy to the window and opened it. The young owl flew in and over to the table where it held it's leg up for Hermione to take the note. She went over, untied the letter and offered the bird a biscuit. She unrolled the paper and read the note.

Reading the note Malfoy grew curious and went over to read over her shoulder, though he didn't get far. She turned and finished the letter. In a high pitched shivorious voice she said, "Mind your business."
She sniffed and cleared her throat. She went over to her essay which only had a title and scribbled out the heading and started her own letter going one-hundred miles a minute.

"What are you writing?" he snapped. Something was up and she was totally burning him off.

In her furry she hit the bottle of ink, spilling it all over the floor.

"Shit," she exclaimed in frustration. Wiping her nose she grabbed her wand and the mess was cleaned. She was out of ink.

Tears rolling down her cheeks she rolled up the parchment and went to the chirpy owl. Shooing Chrookshanks with her foot she tied the note and the owl took off into the night.

Everything left on the floor she laid on the couch and curled up and whimpered lightly. The great news about her mother suddenly just turned bad. Something was wrong with the baby, her mother was sick and repairs from the fire were taking longer than they were thought to take. The worst, she placed all the blame on herself because most of it was her fault, and she could not do anything about it from the school.

Malfoy stood where he was the whole time and looked in her direction trying to understand her.

"Stop staring at me," she shouted in a crying rage suddenly sitting up. Her face was red, nose running and tears streamed down her face.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

A piercing scream she let all her emotions go. Every object that met her hand went in his direction. Her anger was all on him now.

"You think you're so perfect. You have a great life, perfect family; you're going to be a Death Eater. You won't live long enough to worry about the things you've done that you wish you didn't. You don't have to wonder about things that broke your spirit and wonder how anyone can be friends with you." His book became her next target until she found herself pinned down on the couch. Knees at her sides he straddled her with his hands holding her wrists above her head.

"If you keep this up you are going to wake someone," he scolded.

She struggled to break free showing fire and rage and determination in her eyes. He only held on tighter, even cutting off her circulation.

"Get off of me," she shouted. Her struggles were fruitless; she could not get her wand, which was eye candy for her cat.

"Not until you calm down, you're acting like a child. Why are you throwing a temper-tantrum? If you want to throw shit around destroy something do it to your room not someplace I have to live."

She struggled a little while longer, and then stopped. All sweaty, eyes closed with tears spilling out and all her anger gone she asked him very quietly if he would let go. He did, but kept an eye on her. She grabbed the closest blanket and covered herself up and started crying again. Tells fell from her eyes, the remaining ones from her cry into her sleep.

The thought was left unanswered; who was this person? And what had they done to Malfoy? He was helping, he put her under control and the wand hadn't come out.

-

-

After that night they didn't speak one word to each other for two weeks. It affected everything. Everything bothered her, everything, it bothered her. Everything was hidden inside, bottled up and it was time to be released. She confided in Ginny and told her everything that happened. She was her best girl friend and since her best friends here were boys, clueless most of the time, she knew that she could confine in the girl.

The two sat by the lake, on the chilly Saturday morning. They talked about Malfoy. It was good to get everything off her chest.

-

-

On Monday's Potion class they all had to figure out what the potion they were making was, before, they finished it. They had made it before in the past, so the challenge was supposed to be 'easy.'

It was, for Hermione. After the second direction she figured it out.

Harry figured it out as well so they chatted quietly for most were still working. They watched Neville's eternal struggle in the class. They felt bad for him for he tried his hardest.

Hermione noticed that Malfoy had finished. He sat at his table writing something on his parchment then crossing it out. He wasn't himself today. He was off.

"Did you hear the news?" Harry whispered, with both their eyes on their friend Ron. He was having as much trouble as Neville.

She shook her head.

"Malfoy and Pansy had fallout in the hall. Professor Snape had to step in," he whispered in her ear.

"Why?" she whispered back, tilting her head closer to him, looking around to make sure nobody was listening in.

Snape was reading something with great focus.

"It has to do with you."

"Me, why? She whispered sharply. She hadn't heard of any of this and he had.

She lived with the guy.

"There is a rumor going on is that you and him were in a classroom together late one night."

"That's ridiculous," she accused, accidentally out loud causing attention.

They separated quickly.

Snape came around to see who was smart and who simply did not pay attention.

She hated to lie to Harry, she really did, but she didn't want to cause problems. It was true but not in the way he heard it to be.

Ron looked disappointed for he didn't get it. He had a few choice words but Hermione silence him and grabbed his hand to leave.

They went to dinner, then the library afterwards.

-

-

That night Hermione was reading for History of Magic when Draco entered the room pissed off. The first thing he did was take his anger out on the coffee table. Everything on top went flying through the air landing haphazardously on the ground.

Hermione lowered her book and saw that the plate of cookies she was eating was now on the floor with crumbs everywhere. Everything was a mess; her stuff.

She met his eyes, the anger in them. Still she replied, "I was going to eat that," in monotone.

He turned on her. "Don't even start with me."

Start with him! She set her book down and sat up on the couch wrapping the blanket around her, even concealing her hair back.

"In case you haven't noticed I'm not the one who storms in here and wreck-"she had to stop. She had done the same thing. Déjà vu? It was a vicious thing to think that they shared that same moment in different ways.

"You started by being alive, Mudblood filth. Go where you belong!" he snapped taking a step and crunching a cookie. It made him more pissed.

"Look," as much as that stung she let it roll off her like water, "Whatever happened to you, don't take it out on me. Whatever your girlfriend did to you don't take it out on me," she argued. She pulled the blanket from her head to her shoulders. She watched him kick her opened Transfiguration book and take a seat on the table.

"You don't know anything that is going on," he sounded something along the lines of defeated.

Hermione's monster smiled. So it had to do with her.

Her plan, the one that would help her win the bet, showed in her mind. This wasn't the first time that they have been having problems. They always seemed to be attached at the lip and happy in the public setting but behind closed doors it was completely different. So, what she had to do was get them to broken up completely. Whatever it took, she would have to do, even if it meant actually getting close to him. Somehow.

But right now he was being a jerk so she had to be one as well. There couldn't be any pretend yet.

"I know you are having problems with Parkinson, so you come here and start with me."

He leaned toward her, a calm danger in his eyes. The air around him was stiff, like a calm before a storm.

"If I was taking it out on you, you would sure know. I'd love to smack you, like a muggle."

"Yeah," she grew mad, but restrained herself. If she went overboard it would be of consequence. But she had to admit, what she felt and how she viewed him was how the burning fire inside of her grew. She said, "You'd love to hit a woman wouldn't you? But wait you'd love to kill there? You wouldn't even have a second thought."

He got up and went over to the fire and sat down with one of class books. He chose to ignore her and flipped through the book.

She wasn't going to let it go that easily and be the better man she was pumped and she wanted him to know it. Déjà vu was coming back with a strong vengeance.

Déjà vu fell right into her mouth and she said, "Your life is already set out for you. You're going to be a Death Eater and hurt as many as you can. One day," she paused and looked toward the window for she felt like an idiot for springing tears. She sniffed them away and looked to hid back and said, "One day I am going to have to fight you and if I have to I will defeat you. I will make sure you never ruin the lives of future witches and wizards.

The book was flung out of his hands; the poor book never stood a chance to remain intake until the end of the year. His wand was out and he was in her face. He had speed, she'd give him that.

"Fight me now. We'll see who defeats who." The challenge was out as well as both their dark sides.

She shrank back just a little; fear flashed her eyes before all emotions were gone.

"I'm not fighting you," she said. She had to back out. This was too much and it could only get worse.

"You already said one day and that day is today." He took a defensive stance, wand pointed right at her.

It was way too late to back down. Before she would register she was off the couch firing off spells and he was too. The whole room soon became a battleground; only this was not a war for evil, but one for the two who possessed a deep prejudice.

The forces, people.