Oooh, wonder who saw them at the end of last chapter? ;)
Make sure to review, thank you so so so much for your reviews on the last chapter, I loved them all! Sorry this chapter's a little short, it's kind of a filler. BUT you got two chapters this week, so don't complain :)
Draco stepped back abruptly and his devious smile vanished from his face, which paled even whiter than usual. Pansy was stood at the end of the corridor to him looking half like she'd been punched in the stomach and half like she wanted to cast an Unforgivable Curse on him. Even at this distance he could see tears shining in her eyes. He moved even further away from Granger. Shit, he thought. Time for damage control.
"Pans, it isn't what you think. We aren't friends."
She said nothing, just choked and stared at him, her chest heaving.
"We aren't friends," he said again. "You think I'd want to be friends with a Mudblood? With her?"
Surprisingly, Granger didn't really respond to his disgusted protest; she just rolled her eyes and sighed. Pansy however shook her head and backed away. She tried to say something but all that came out was a strange strangled sound, and before Draco could say anything she had run away.
"Great," he muttered. He could still hear her sobbing as she fled through the school. Hermione shook her head and sighed again before walking away from him.
"Come on Malfoy. We still have half an hour left before our rounds are over. And we'll have to report Pansy. It's after hours." She seemed a little exasperated and shocked.
Draco was bemused.
"Weren't you bothered by… by what I said just now?"
She turned back to face him, and her expression told Draco she was trying to formulate the right words.
"Not particularly. Like I said, you've called me Mudblood so much I barely care anymore. I'm just confused. Every time I start to think a little better of you, you do something that shows me you're exactly the same as you always have been. You're the most exhausting person I know. It's impossible to keep up with your moods, and your stupid multiple-personalities are driving me crazy."
She sauntered off, leaving Draco to puzzle over her words before following her at a distance.
Granger had started thinking better of him because of what he'd said about his Dark Mark and a couple of stupid questions? What was wrong with her? He'd only spoken to her because he had been so starved of intelligent conversation recently- what with no Theo and a lovesick and obsessed Blaise spending all his time talking about Daphne, Granger was Draco's only outlet. He tended to take out his frustration on her with sharp words, but it seemed he'd bottled up a little too much recently and it had spilled into their conversation.
He had just been venting. When he'd caught her staring so obviously at his arm he'd instantly known what she was thinking; she was so easy to read most of the time. Her emotions had been spelled out on her face- disgust and anger. That had pissed him off. Had she thought that he'd begged the Dark Lord for it? That he'd wanted to be entangled in an evil web of murder and danger? He fucking hadn't. She had no idea how he had really felt about it, and yet she had been judging him. He had merely been setting the record straight before she formulated some entirely false opinion of him and started thinking that she was better than him. Admittedly though, he had run away with himself; it had all gotten a little emotional around midway through and he was lucky he had stopped himself when he had or else he had no idea what else he'd have told her. It was just that for a second he'd forgot he was even talking to anyone, and when he'd remembered he was spilling his soul to Granger he'd silenced himself. Tonight, bizarrely, her company had been somewhat amusing, even enjoyable, for the first time since he had met her. Their insults also had descended into almost friendly banter, which was worrying. He'd even smirked to himself at how much like subtle teasing it had seemed. The revelation that his best insult, too, had lost its sting had been shocking. If 'Mudblood' didn't hurt anymore, what would he say to get under her skin? He thrived off her indignation, her anger, her red face and insulted scowls. They amused him. What else could he say to her now? Insult her appearance? Call her a prude? Pretty soon she'd become accustomed to them too and he'd be stuck again. Draco ran a weary hand through his sleek hair.
And then she'd gone and asked him about Crabbe and Goyle. She'd actually shown interest in his personal life and it had caught him off guard so he'd answered. To get even he'd parried her inquiry with one of his own, one he'd been dying to ask for a while but couldn't bring himself to say because of his damn pride, and so she had drawn him into her awful little quiz.
That little reference to the Yule Ball had thrown him off too. She didn't think he'd noticed her dress- of course he had. Everyone had. That night in their fourth year had been the night Hermione Granger had seemed like a real girl, and not a lonely, asexual bookworm.
Periwinkle blue. It had accented her skin perfectly. She had looked (thought Draco with resentment) positively flawless and heavenly, and only sternly imagining what his father would say if he found out had prevented Draco from having an embarrassing erection fiasco. He cringed at the memory. For weeks after he'd felt incredibly guilty and disgusted with himself, as if he'd committed some kind of atrocity for finding Granger attractive. He'd had to forcibly remind himself on several occasions that she was foul and vile and everything that was wrong with the magical world, and consequently he'd been particularly vicious to her after that, as though it was her fault that she had such a divine figure, as though it was her fault she had developed so fantastically and aroused the attention of every boy in the room. Of course, he was over it now- he knew he could never have her so there was no point entertaining such ridiculous (and foul) ideas… though that hadn't stopped him agreeing with Blaise after they'd been drinking about finding Granger attractive.
But he did have to mentally accost himself for being such an idiot. He had been teasing Granger tonight, and he knew it, though he didn't have the faintest idea why. Perhaps it was because it was just so deliciously entertaining to watch her blush and look embarrassed as she spilled her secrets to him; it made him feel powerful because he now knew so much he could hold over her for the rest of the year. But they'd been staring intensely into each other's eyes- he'd even made a joke about shagging her… what had he been thinking? He groaned out loud and Granger turned around and eyed him suspiciously.
Of course it went without saying that he still hated her. But how long had Pansy been stood observing their interaction? He knew what it must have seemed like to her and he kicked himself for being so careless. Pansy would no doubt now go around telling everyone that he was friends with the biggest Mudblood of all time, which would do nothing for his rapidly dwindling reputation. He cursed and again, Granger whipped her head around to glance at him. Things were going from bad to worse.
What he ought to do, he thought as he followed Granger back upstairs, was to find Pansy, apologise to her, ask her to take him back and then seal the deal with a quick, emotionless fuck. That way, his reputation as a callous Mudblood hater and sleazy dirtbag would be saved and he'd easily be able to commit Pansy to silence. However, he knew that wouldn't happen because he had begun to feel sick at the very thought of resuming his relationship with her. As September had worn on he had become increasingly consumed by the part of him desperate to find someone he could possibly love (or at the very least, like) and he knew for certain that there was no way Pansy was that girl. So he had no choice but to let her spread rumours if she wanted and he would do his best to deny them.
He had caught up with Granger, and she seemed perfectly fine, which annoyed Draco a little. She wasn't in the least bit bothered by how he'd demeaned her in front of Pansy- had she really become so quickly desensitised to his insults? He cleared his throat and she looked at him.
"Yes?"
"You don't have to pretend you're fine Granger, I know you're upset." He tried to keep an arrogant air about his voice as he didn't want to sound too desperate, as though he needed to know she was upset.
"I'm not pretending. I'm perfectly okay," she said casually.
"Are you?"
"Contrary to what you might believe Malfoy, your thoughts about me are not the centre of my world. You can call me what you like; I don't care."
She certainly sounded like she didn't. Draco got even more irritated. He enjoyed insulting Granger- the rise he got out of her every time eased his frustration; he loved knowing it was as simple as throwing a sentence or two her way to make her brow furrow and her face turn murderous. It was about controlling things. He liked to know he could control some of Granger's emotions. Now that it seemed she had grown a thick skin… well, it seemed he had no choice but to try a little harder. At the very least, he still had the favour she owed him hanging over her head- she really did seem to resent being in his debt, and that was better than nothing.
Draco spent the rest of the patrol and the subsequent walk back to their dorm trying to come up with some emergency insults to spit at her, but as he searched the depths of his mind to find something new, he kept coming up blank. He really did keep repeating the same old stuff, didn't he? No wonder it had lost its effect.
By the time the pair had got to their dorm, Draco still hadn't thought of one good insult to fire at her before bed, and so he silently shut himself in his room and scrambled under his sheets, still trying to invent some imaginative insults as he drifted off into uneasy sleep.
After the confusing and tiring disaster that had been rounds, Hermione was pleasantly surprised when she arrived back into her room to find a very large brown barn owl perched on her mahogany desk with a letter clamped in its beak. She knew instantly that it was from Fred and George due to the fact that the envelope was a violently bright orange and she could think of no-one else who would send her something so horrendously extravagant. Her heart soared and she laughed out loud as she rushed over to the owl and took the letter out of the bird's mouth, stroking its head in thanks. It clicked its beak and hopped over onto the windowsill but it didn't fly out of the open window- Hermione deduced that Fred and George must have told it not to leave without a reply. She hungrily tore open the envelope and was instantly engulfed in a cloud of glitter and peppermint scented smoke. She giggled at the oddness of it, and then turned her eyes to eagerly drink in the words on the parchment:
Hermione,
Sorry about the slow reply- we've been swamped with orders lately so it took us a while to get to your letter… and also, sorry about the envelope. We only have one kind and they're usually used to send product order conformations and stuff, hence the glitter and the smoke.
Anyway, if you're asking for advice from us, whatever's happened must be bad. And if it's about Ron… well, we don't even want to think about him. He's just a general prat.
Of course, we'd be happy to meet you in Hogsmeade. We've missed the place, and we were planning to visit Zonko's anyway to check out the competition. The Three Broomsticks, 2 o'clock?
Looking forward to it… and in the meantime don't let ickle Ronniekins get you down!
Gred and Forge
Hermione felt better just reading their letter. It had cheered her up immensely after her infuriating night with Malfoy. She scribbled a quick reply on the back of the parchment confirming the place and time and folded it up before giving it to the owl. As it flew out of the window, she caught a strong whiff of peppermint, and she shook herself. Glitter danced off her like sparkly snow, and she felt much better about the rest of the month before her.
PLEASE REVIEW. Reviews are better than sex with Draco... though only just ;)
