After much extensive re-reading of the last chapter, I've
stumbled upon a Truth. My story has neither plot nor meaning and the characters
are mostly OOC. So with a tap of my keyboard and a click of my brain, I've
written a plot into this chapter which will develop rather quickly, leave you
confused and gasping for air, but sort itself out at the end. As far as OOC
goes: I like my characters this way. They amuse me greatly and I don't plan to
change them. So, without further ado, Chapter Two…..(rhyme unintentional)
This chapter goes out to all the people out there who think
Draco would look sexy in a leather G-String. Ugh! Startling image, that.
Perhaps I'll pass on this one……
It was
Malfoy.
For a
moment, Ron couldn't decide whether he should interrupt them or just leave
quietly. Then he regained his senses and walked over next to the chair in which
sat Draco and Hermione, still snogging furiously.
"Could
anyone tell me where to find a book on Mandrakes?" Ron spoke loudly.
Hermione's
eyes grew wide and she jumped away from Malfoy so fast that the chair titled
and rocked as she darted out of it.
"Ron!" she
exclaimed, flustered. "What're you doing here?"
"Well I'm
obviously not making out with Malfoy!" he spat back.
Draco,
meanwhile, had risen from the chair and elegantly smoothed out his crumbled
robes. He now peered over at Ron and Hermione, who's quarrel had developed into
quite a screaming match. He could catch bits and pieces of what they were
saying: 'You have absolutely no right to tell me who I can or can't kiss!' 'I
have every right when you decide to go off and snog someone like Malfoy!'
"All this
commotion over me?" Draco interrupting loudly, causing Ron and Hermione to
break off and lapse into silence. "Don't I feel special."
"YOU!"
shouted Ron, turning to face him, face hot and fists clenched. "You get out of
here before I beat your head it!"
"No need
for violence, Weasley," Draco scoffed, pulling his own fists into little balls.
"But if you insist on a fight, I'll be happy to oblige."
"No, you
won't," said Hermione, quickly stepping in between them. She turned toward
Draco. "Just go," she hissed. "Go."
Draco let
his eyes rove over her body, as if sizing her up. He took in her frazzled hair,
wrinkled robes, flustered expression, and then darted a swift glance back at
Ron.
"Right,
then," Draco consented. "We'll continue this later, Hermione."
He turned
on his heel and sauntered away into a sea of books.
"Like hell
you won't!" Ron called angrily to his retreating back.
"Shut up,
Ron," Hermione snapped, falling back down into the chair. She carefully lifted
up a small cup of some brownish liquid from the table next to her and began to
sip it slowly.
Ron's
curiosity got the better of him. "What's that?" he asked impatiently.
Hermione
looked up at him. "Coffee," she replied simply. "My parents got me hooked on it
while I was at home this summer. Most Muggles drink tea, I suppose, but my
parents prefer coffee. It's supposed to be horrible for your teeth, but my
father says that everyone deserves at least one guilty pleasure."
"Oh," said
Ron, momentarily forgetting his anger in this new revelation. Hermione liked to
drink coffee. He'd have to remember that.
Ron threw his gaze around lazily
until it fell upon another cup of identical brown liquid resting on the table
where Hermione's cup had been only moments before – Malfoy's cup. His anger
rushed back on him forcefully.
"What the
hell did you think you were doing!?" he shouted down at her.
Hermione
jumped, surprised at his loud outburst, but quickly regained composure. "I
don't know what I was thinking. I was just feeling really depressed," because
of you, she forgot to say, "and Malfoy was there…and he said something
about moonlight……"
"Moonlight?"
Ron asked, his face blanching. Moonlight……
"Yes,
moonlight, Ron, you heard me," Hermione spat back at him, quickly becoming
angry. "And what gives you the right to be so possessive? It's not like there's
anything going on between us!"
No,
Ron thought, it isn't like that at all.
"But it's
Malfoy, Hermione!" he shouted angrily. "You know, the one with the Death Eater
father, the one who always calls you Mudblood, the one we hate, the one who
hates us back! How could you possibly stand to have any part of his body
touching yours?!"
Hermione
slammed her cup back down on the little table and jumped up from the chair.
"Malfoy's not as bad as he seems, Ron! He's just misunderstood!"
Ron scoffed
back at her. "Malfoy? Misunderstood? How can you possibly believe that?"
"Just
because you hate him doesn't mean that I have to," Hermione hissed.
"And this
coming from the girl who slapped him clean around the face in 3rd
year!"
"Third year
was a long time ago, Ron," Hermione whispered into the darkness, her eyes
growing sullen and heavy. "A lot's changed since then. And sometimes, you just
have to know when to give up and move on." With that, she turned away from Ron
and walked quickly into the darkness.
When he
could no longer see her retreating form, Ron sank into the armchair that she
had just departed from. The one where he'd caught her kissing Malfoy. What had
she meant by 'you just have to know when to give up and move on?' Move on from
what?
Ron sighed
and let his head droop down onto the armrest. It was dark now, very dark. Sleep
quickly overtook him and he drifted away, far from the library, far from the
chair, far from the very spot where he sat defeated and alone amid shelf after
shelf of dusty books.
In the
small cup next to Ron, the coffee began to swirl on its own accord, slowly,
then faster, frothing and bubbling. It turned red, then purple, then pink, and
finally back into coffee once again. Ron slept on.
*****
Hermione
awoke the next morning with a splitting headache and cramps all over her body.
Memories of the previous night slammed into her head like bullets and she ran
to the bathroom, gagging and retching, where she threw up into the toilet.
Why do I
feel so sick, she thought as she splashed cold water over her pale face.
She was very thankful that it was a Saturday, and for once in her life, had no
desire whatsoever to attend class.
Tugging a
dressing robe over her head, Hermione stumbled back into her dorm room, where
something large and brilliantly colored caught her eye for the first time.
There, on her nightstand, were a dozen roses, not red, but a vivid shade of
magenta. Letting out a rare squeal of delight, Hermione rushed over to them and
bent down to take in their scent. Something sharp brushed against her nose and
she peered down to see a little golden card attached with a matching ribbon to
one of the flowers.
Shifting
excitedly from one foot to the other, Hermione tore the card away from the
bouquet and flipped it open. She caught her breath as her eyes took in the
words written on the paper with delicate dips and flourishes: 'Dear
Hermione, How are you? I think we really need to talk about what happened last
night. It was more or less the last thing I was expecting to ever happen to me,
and I'm not sure what to think anymore. I don't know whether to be mad, or to
hate you, or to - - to like you. Will you meet me in the Charms classroom
tonight at 11 o'clock? – Draco'
Up until
that very moment, the mere thought of Draco Malfoy would have made Hermione
want to gouge someone's eyes out with a blunt object before painfully ripping
the skin from their body and tossing their rotting corpse into a pile of wildly
licking flames. But standing there, reading that card, catching the faint scent
of blossoming roses, she couldn't help but get little butterflies all in her
stomach.
And why
shouldn't I go?, Hermione thought. It's not as if I have plans with
anyone else. Besides, Draco's really…really good looking, Hermione
thought with a devilishly guilty feeling. She couldn't deny that Draco was hot,
but there was still something at the back of her mind that told her she
preferred red-heads, and that Ron's 'Adorable' could stand up to Draco's 'Sexy
As Hell' any day.
*****
Draco
Malfoy was always punctual. You wouldn't think it just by looking at him, but
it was one of his more interesting qualities. Tonight would be no exception,
and Draco wasted no time in throwing his cloak around his shoulders and
scampering out of the common room by exactly five minutes to eleven.
One could
almost mistake that look on his face for a sly grin, but it was not so. A look
of triumph? Of satisfaction? When it came to Draco Malfoy, one could never be
quite certain. And tonight was no exception.
***** Oooh, Draco and Hermione are meeting secretly in the
dead of night! (SCANDAL! SCANDAL!) What more could anyone ask for? (Besides a
plot…and a better story…and…) All this and I haven't even touched on the
Harry situation……or all of the other situations that are spinning around inside
my head. But any suggestions? Who would look better together: Hermione and
Draco or Hermione and Ron. I don't know, Draco may be dead sexy, but how would
their children look? *shudders* That's enough for now, more to come later, and
remember: Review or Die! Ciao!~ f.B.i.
DRACO MALFOY TURNS ME ON!
Come on, people, you should know by now never to take me
seriously………