I know I owe everyone a chapter for In The Waiting Line and I just want to say it's coming. I've been going through a dry period, but I'm trying to get back in the saddle, writing-wise. This story is somewhat the same gimmick, but a slightly different tone, since these two are radically different from Harry/Ginny. Fun fact: I had planned on writing Dramione in this formula even before I started In The Waiting Line.
Hope you enjoy! (and In The Waiting Line will be updated soon!)
.
1: Sidekicks
Mid-afternoon, just as it had started to rain, blurring the rolling hills outside the window, they heard footsteps outside in the corridor again, and their three least favorite people
appeared at the door: Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.
(...)
"Well, look who it is," said Malfoy in his usual lazy drawl, pulling open the compartment door. "Potty and the Weasel."
Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly.
"I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley," said Malfoy. "Did your mother die of shock?"
Ron stood up so quickly he knocked Crookshanks's basket to the floor. Professor Lupin gave a snort.
"Who's that?" said Malfoy, taking an automatic step backward as he spotted Lupin.
"New teacher," said Harry, who got to his feet, too, in case he needed to hold Ron back. "What were you saying, Malfoy?"
Rowling, J.K., Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, PDF, Chapter 5: The Dementor, pages 50-51.
Malfoy paused, not knowing if it was worth picking up a fight when a teacher was present. The Hogwarts staff could never really touch him; his family name ensured it. Still, he liked to maintain the illusion of civility. It was what was expected of him.
"Oh, honestly, Ron, sit down! You too, Harry!" a bossy voice hissed, pointing at Professor Lupin. "Do you want him to wake up?"
Hermione Granger was kneeling on the floor, trying to coax Crookshanks back into his basket.
Draco was surprised he had not noticed her before. The giant basket was partly to blame.
She was still just as buck-toothed and frizzy-haired as last year. No change there.
He smirked to himself when he realized she was as unkempt as that fat, red cat sitting in her lap.
"As for you, don't you have business elsewhere? Or do you want to get detention on your first day back?" she turned, eyeing him sternly.
Draco could have sworn she and McGonagall could be twins. He sneered at her, feeling his entire body grow taut and warm with anticipation. Ron Weasley may have been short-tempered, but it was Granger who delivered the cutting remarks. She was his real opponent.
He didn't care if a teacher was present, after all. He had to respond.
"Worried for my school record, are you, Granger? Don't worry, the Slytherins can afford to misbehave."
She raised a critical eyebrow. He knew that look well; every time she was about to say something in class, she arched her eyebrow, as if she held all the answers.
"Doesn't seem like it. You've lost the House Cup two years in a row. Not to mention the Quidditch Cup," she replied matter-of-factly.
"You mean your lot cheated us out of a Cup two years in a row," he corrected, nostrils flaring.
"We earned the most House Points. You cannot cheat the House Point Hourglasses. They are magically charmed. Unless I've misread Hogwarts: A History..." she trailed off like the patient school-mistress, talking down to a particularly thick student.
Malfoy scowled. There she went again with that stupid book. She probably kept a copy under her pillow.
"Just because Dumbledore saw fit to give points for being sidekicks to the great Harry Potter doesn't mean you earned them," he spat, disdain written across his face.
"Well, no one's awarded Crabbe and Goyle yet for being sidekicks to the great Draco Malfoy," she replied smugly, settling back in her seat, basket in her lap again.
The two lumbering boys standing behind Malfoy exchanged confused glances. They had heard their names, fleetingly, and they had no idea what that meant.
Draco was about to reply, when Professor Lupin suddenly sighed and moved his head, almost as if he was beginning to wake up.
The silver-haired Slytherin gritted his teeth and stepped back. He couldn't continue the argument now. But he would get his chance later. He would shut that big mouth of hers. He would not let her have the last word again.
"C'mon," he muttered resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle, and they disappeared. (page 51)
As soon as the compartment doors fell back, Harry and Ron sat down again, making sure their voices were low enough as not to be overheard by Professor Lupin.
"That foul git. He's got another thing coming if he thinks I'm taking any crap from him this year," Ron whispered angrily. "I swear, if he makes one more comment about my family, I'm going to knock his head in -"
"Nice rebuttal there, Hermione," Harry quickly interrupted Ron. "Malfoy must be livid. Crabbe and Goyle didn't even notice."
"Yeah, thanks for having our backs," Ron chimed in, his anger vanishing instantly.
Hermione shook her head, amused. "I wasn't trying to "have your backs". I was trying to prevent you from doing anything stupid."
"Oh, come on, Hermione. You enjoyed telling Malfoy off. At least a little bit."
Hermione refused to acknowledge it, but she was obviously pleased. She hid a smile, looking out the window at the rolling hills. It was still pouring, but she felt better about the weather now. The sky was growing darker and darker. They were nearing Hogwarts.
Soon, the windows would be pitch-black.
An odd feeling, almost like a foreboding, gripped her as she turned back towards the boys.
She couldn't put her finger on it, but she felt as if something were amiss.
"I hope Malfoy does get detention. I hope he has to scrub the dungeons clean - ah, no, Snape would never let his "favourite pet" stoop that low. Maybe the green houses, Madam Sprout doesn't really like the Slytherins. The kitchens wouldn't be a bad place either, except he'd probably like it; there's enough food there to feed a troll. Crabbe and Goyle must be half-troll anyway..." Ron chattered, coming up with fitful punishments for the Slytherin boy.
And that's when she realized, Malfoy had not uttered the dreaded word. Not once.
Last year, he couldn't get enough of calling her Mudblood. What had changed? She was curious; why hadn't he thrown that convenient insult in her face?
Come to think of it, when he'd entered their compartment, he'd only badmouthed Harry and Ron. Potty and the Weasel.
That was strange.
She shook her head. He must have been afraid Professor Lupin would hear him. That must be it.
There was no other possible explanation.