"Why are you here?" Harry demanded with a sneer to rival that of Lucius Malfoy's.
"Because you guys are my mates," Ron answered cheerfully. "Can't I sit at my own table? Or is taken by…" He pointed to Blaise and Malfoy with his middle finger. Blaise growled, but Malfoy placed a hand on his shoulder.
"We're here because we're better friends to your friends than you are," Luna piped up, her protuberant eyes gleaming rather maliciously.
"Yes," Hermione agreed, feeling her Gryffindor courage take over. "Why don't you go sit with your two friends and leave us alone? In fact, I'm sure you wouldn't want to sit here. After all, you were the one who said I had dirty blood." Her eyes narrowed dangerously, challenging Ron to retaliate. Ginny gasped.
"Did you say that, Ron?" she demanded coldly.
"Damn right I did," Ron retorted, teeth bared. "We shouldn't taint ourselves by mingling with the commoners, Gin. Let's get lost."
"You get lost, Ronald," Harry fired back. "I don't want bigots sitting at this table."
"Yeah?" Ron challenged. "Then why are they-" he gestured to Malfoy and Blaise "-sitting here?"
"Because they're not bigots," Neville said bravely, getting involved in the argument. "They're standup blokes, which is more than we can say about you."
"Right," Ron drawled sarcastically. "Wow, Longbottom, it must have taken a lot of mental effort to come up with a sentence that long."
"Shut up, Weasel," Neville snarled, shocking everyone around him.
"In fact," Ron went on, ignoring him, "considering your parents' mental history, it must have been…"
CRACK!
Neville's fist crashed into Ron's nose. It was bleeding, and probably broken.
"Good on you, Neville!" Luna cheered, standing up and raising her arms in a "Hurrah!" motion. Neville turned to her, calming down. He saw the big smile on her face and blushed a little.
Dean and Seamus were now taking care of Ron, holding him by each arm and dragging him away from Hermione and the rest.
"I'm glad I got rid of you and your filthy blood!" Ron managed to choke out as the two boys took him away.
Hermione's eyes welled up with tears and she fled from the Great Hall. Malfoy stood up and followed her out.
"I can't believe he'd say that," Ginny said, covering her face with her hands. "What's happened to him, Harry? Why is he like this?"
"I don't know, Gin," Harry replied, pulling the girl closer. "I really don't know what's gone wrong in his life for him to do this. Maybe he's still traumatized from the war?"
"But he was perfectly all right on his way here!" Ginny protested, burying her face in Harry's shoulder. "It's all gone wrong. He hurt Herms both physically and emotionally, and now he's insulted Neville…"
Harry rubbed her back soothingly as she cried into his chest. He looked up at the charmed ceiling, worried. The sky was stormy.
Malfoy found Hermione on the loveseat, hugging a large cushion and staring into the fire. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least she wasn't crying anymore.
"Granger, are you all right?" he asked gently, kneeling in front of her and looking into her teary eyes.
"No, I'm not," she answered, her voice muffled by the pillow. "He's turned into an absolute bigot, Draco! The worst kind there is!" Malfoy relished the sound of his name from her lips, but he decided to deal with that later.
"Yeah, but what can we do about it, Hermione?" he returned, using her first name as well. Her eyes widened.
"You called me 'Hermione'," she said with a small smile.
"Yeah, well, you called me 'Draco', so I decided I'd return the favor," he said, placing his hand on hers.
He marvelled at the way the firelight enhanced the warm glow in her eyes. The bright golden flames brought out her entire nature from those swirling pools of honey. He leaned in until he was just a few centimeters from her.
"There's no book to interrupt this time," he whispered, sealing the gap between the two of them.
Hermione was surprised at first, but as the seconds passed, a warm feeling of contentment sprang from her stomach and traveled up into her head. Her eyes drooped shut and she found her hands in Malfoy's hair before long.
After what seemed like an age, they broke apart and gazed at one another. Hermione blushed and looked into her lap, her long eyelashes and small smile making her look like a doll. Mafloy smirked and climbed up onto the loveseat. He pulled Hermione around to face him, but she refused to look him in the eyes.
He too a hold of her legs and tugged her down so that he was on top of her. She squeaked, finally meeting his smouldering gaze.
Before she could make another sound, he crushed his lips against her. The kiss was less tentative and gentle; instead it was rough, possessive, and had every definition of certainty in it. He was sure that she reciprocated his feelings, and it was reflected in his manner.
Meanwhile, Hermione's hands were moving as if they had a mind of their own, travelling up Malfoy's well-muscled back and tangling themselves in his thick, messy hair. She had to admit that Quidditch was doing wonders for his physique.
She gasped as Malfoy's mouth found its way to the delicate, sensitive skin on her neck. His teeth grazed against her collarbone, eliciting a whimper from her mouth. She arched her back and pressed her body against his. He let out a growl from deep in his throat and bucked his hips against hers.
The fire in the common room's hearth cracked merrily as the night went on.