The day passed as if in a trance, with Hermione lying stone still on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Ron had only came once, knocking at the portrait and calling her name, apologizing profusely. But Sir Cadogan was more than a match for Ron when it came to shouting, and soon Ron stomped away furiously with Sir Cadogan's curses trailing behind.
Hermione skipped lunch and her classes in the afternoon, which had been a first in all her years at Hogwarts. She watched with blank eyes as the blinding sun rose above her head during noon and setting in the evening. The stars soon came out, dotting her purple and blue ceiling with little specks of light. The tears that had poured down her face in the first few hours had already dried, or otherwise seeped into the thick covers of her bed. She felt sticky in her clothes, and decided to take a shower.
Just as she was about to sit up, the portrait hole opened and she could hear a loud, high-pitched voice screeching.
"Draco, darling! So this is the new dorm you were talking to us about." The voice cooed and she could already picture what was going on outside. No doubt, Pansy Parkinson was again, latching herself onto Malfoy's arm.
"I'll be sure to come here often, then." The voice was sickeningly sweet and Hermione rolled her eyes up at the ceiling.
"Ew, do you live with a Gryffindor now?" She must have recognized the red and gold carpet. Malfoy grunted.
"But no matter, we'll just have to throw them out when we need…" The voice trailed, and Hermione could feel the words crawl up her back uncomfortably, "Privacy."
"Which will NOT be happening." Hermione had gotten up from her covers and swung open her bedroom door.
"This dorm is for the Head Prefects only," she continued smoothly, "So please. Leave."
"Oh my god, it's Granger?!" Pansy nearly shrieked with laughter, "Look at her face! Looks even worse than if a hippogriff trampled over it. Oh gosh, have you been crying?"
"Well, I'm sure your boyfriend knows more about hippogriffs than I do," Hermione nearly shouted as the blood rushed to her head, "Especially ones who like to trample over and break arms." Then, after registering what she had said, Hermione froze. Why had she said that? When Malfoy had not said a single word to her that was bad. Why had she done that?
But the words struck Pansy on the right chord nonetheless, as she turned bewildered eyes on the stony blonde beside her.
"Draco…" Pansy stuttered, then turned her beady eyes on Hermione as she snatched her wand out of her pocket, "I'll make her pay for saying that." Great, now she was going to lose her Prefects badge because of this, Hermione thought grimly as she too, brought out her wand. However, before both could react, Malfoy stood up and plucked Pansy's wand out of her pudgy hands.
"Out." The single word seemed to slap Pansy hard across the face as she looked at him with bewildered eyes. "I'm tired and I've had enough of you hanging around me. Get out."
Silence. Then, with an outraged puff, Pansy snatched back her wand and marched out the corridor.
"You just wait —" was the last thing Hermione heard after the portrait hole closed.
There was a long silence in the common room, where Hermione watched Malfoy fumble around his bag. He pulled out the DADA textbook. Her DADA textbook.
"McGonagall," was all he said before turning around, lugging his bag onto his shoulders, and heading for his room.
"I'm sorry," was all that Hermione could manage out before she crashed down to the floor, tears seeping through her lids and down her cheeks. Why was she crying again? And in front of Malfoy of all people? She thought she had already calmed down when she was in her room, but after Pansy's biting comment, she couldn't hold it in any longer.
Malfoy was still standing awkwardly beside his half-opened door but soon let out a sigh and started walking toward her.
"It's alright, Granger." His reply came stiffly, but more with bewilderment. He stood, watching her cry, his hands outstretched to touch her back but retracted at the very last second.
"Look, it happened in our Third Year," he spoke finally, "It's over now." The last sentence was tinged with faint annoyance.
"Ron… cheated," Hermione said between sobs, "on me." Why was she telling Malfoy everything now?
"Well, sorry Granger, but it's your fault you trusted him," Malfoy smirked, now a little entertained by the new piece of gossip. "You should never have trusted that slimy git. Been telling it to you 7 years now."
"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione spat, pulling herself up.
"I can't believe your still siding with the Weasel after what he's done," Malfoy sneered, "Granger, I thought you were better than this."
He was just about to turn and saunter away when he saw the expression on Hermione's face. A strange light had came into her eyes, with a glint of anger but a darker streak of determination etching themselves in her brown irises. He knew that look. It was the look she always had when she retorted to his ugly jeering back in the day. It was the look on her face when she punched him in the face before the war. But there was something different there when she held his frame within her eyes. There was something softer now, and a little bit of mischief sparked among the depths.
"You're right," Hermione leveled him a look, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, "I am better than that. And we'll show it to him."
"We? Granger, I don't fancy myself to be caught up in your pathetic relationship. So there will be no 'we' in this —" A hard smack to his arm shut him up.
"That hurt, woman!"
"Are you going to listen or not!" Hermione crossed her arms impatiently. The tears were gone completely, replaced by steely resolve.
"Fine," Malfoy forced out, still rubbing his sore arm. Really, he had forgotten how much strength this petite brunette had. The punch to his arm nearly knocked the wind out of him.
"You want Parkinson to back off, right?" Hermione asked.
"Of course," Draco scoffed, "She's unbearable."
"Then perfect!" Hermione clapped her hands together, "We'll pretend to be together. It'll benefit both of us. You get Parkinson off your arm and I get back at Ron. Oh, Ron will be so mad." Her eyes glared into space as she spoke the last few words, no doubt slicing and dicing Ron in her mind.
"What makes you think I'll agree?" Malfoy sneered, "You're muggle-born. If my friends know about this and tattle to my father, my reputation will be gone. I'll bring shame to my family." Now immune to Malfoy's insults, Hermione scoffed in return.
"Your dad's in Azkaban for god's sake. And no worries, I have a spell or two up my sleeve to keep their mouths shut. Plus, I've got this." Smiling slyly, Hermione went back to her room and took out a small glass bottle. Inside, a small beetle with spectacle-shaped markings around its eyes scuttled frantically back and forth.
"Rita Skeeter?" Malfoy sounded shocked. He definitely would recognize the beetle in an instant, for he was the one telling lies to the evil reporter about Hagrid during the fourth year of school.
"Yes, and I'm sure she has a lot of bad, bad stories to tattle on the newspaper if your friends don't behave themselves."
"Even so," Malfoy crossed his arms haughtily, "I wouldn't want to date this." He eyed Hermione, from her dirty shoes up to her unruly brown mane. "Seriously, Granger, don't you ever clean yourself up properly? The Weasel probably left you because of this."
"What's wrong with how I look?" Hermione said defensively, "I look just fine."
"Just fine? Are you serious? Look, I'll agree to your terms on one condition, and that is to change," He pointed at what she wore, "all this."
"But how am I going to change?" Hermione protested, "We're in Hogwarts and Hogsmeade won't be open until next term."
"Really, Granger, I thought you were smarter than that," Malfoy drawled, "Opposite the tapestry of Barnabas trying to teach trolls ballet? The Come-and-Go room?"
Recognition dawned on Hermione as her cheeks flushed. She hated being one-upped. Especially Malfoy.
"Let's go then," she said briskly, tapping her wand swiftly on both their shoulders for an invisibility charm. She pushed the portrait open and exited, Malfoy sauntering along behind.
