Authors Note: Arg, my plot ran away for awhile, but it's back now. I seriously considered just killing off Hermione, but I changed my mind. Ok, fine, say it, Draco had been kind of out of character. I know, I know, but I can't help it. I think this chapter is a bit better in terms of mushy Draco. Umm… I can't remember what I was going to say. I guess that's what happens when you stand outside freezing and wet for 5 hours, darn carwash. Anyway, thanks lots and lots to my reviewers, and on with the Draco.
Chapter 4
The owl had promptly flown out the window after its short encounter with Hermione. She seemed well enough, but Draco wished he could say the same for himself. He had the nasty feeling that he must be shaking like a leaf. Malfoys did not shake, because, naturally, Malfoys were never apprehensive. Unfortunately, there was nothing left for him to do but get her out of his room fast. If Lucius was at the Manor he would be getting the image of Hermione lying in his bed that very instant. Draco could only hope he would be out somewhere on Ministry business. He didn't think there was enough time to give Hermione a full length explanation, and he knew she would want one or she wouldn't leave. He also knew that if he did tell her the truth, she would get in the way with his father. That was just how Hermione operated. The only thing left was for him to insult her, to make her so mad she would leave without question. He felt a brief flash of guilt for what he was going to have to do, but pushed it aside.
"What was that all about? You reacted very oddly to that owl. What did it want?" asked Hermione.
"It was my father. He wrote to say that he had heard about our detention and was going to speak to Snape about it. He said that I was spending too much time with a common mudblood. That he would see the administration punished for wasting my time with uncultured scum." Draco said it with the edge of malice he had used on her so many times before. He hoped it would be enough, that she wouldn't want to know any more than that. Besides, it had been what the letter said so he was telling the truth.
"You say that almost as if you believe it. That must have been one hell of a convincing letter for you to change your mind so quickly. Funny, you always seemed like you had a spine before." Draco was glad that Hermione looked sort of angry, but not at all hurt.
"Who's to say that I ever thought differently. You are a mudblood aren't you? You just happened to be interesting as well. Maybe our little charade could have lasted longer, except that father interrupted. By the way, he'll be here later today. I would stay out of his way if I were you. He does tend to do horrible, evil, Malfoy things to little innocent, perfect muggleborns like you." Impending guilt trip setting in. In a few short sentences, every chance he ever had with her was thrown out the window.
"How *considerate* of you to inform me of that. Rest assured that I will not be hanging around to get your father's autograph. Of course, I'm rather more concerned about avoiding you. It worked quite well before you decided to toy with me. I suggest that you let it work again. Stay away from me."
"Naturally. You're just a common, bushy haired, know it all. Why would I want anything to do with you?" Draco spat out the words
"Because you don't have anyone else. Because you'll never have anyone else. Because you could have had me and I think you knew it too. Because hopefully your father will be more pissed at you than you think, and you'll finally get the other end of his legendary wrath. Or maybe be used as a sacrifice to your precious Dark Lord? You'd deserve it, you cold blooded prat."
Hermione couldn't possibly know how close to home her comment struck. She was supposed to be the one crying. Malfoys didn't cry. Ever. Draco turned his back to her before she could notice. It dawned on him that this was just the sort of thing that used to make him dislike her. People never got to him. It was just one of those things that one develops growing up with a sadistic lunatic for a father. Draco Malfoy did not show emotion. Granger had, with just a few thoughtless words full of her trademark assumptions, made a large crack in the mental wall that had taken nearly sixteen years for him to build. How could you ever think you liked that stupid, stupid Mudblood? He had not meant the word when he had spoken it aloud to her, in fact, it had hurt him to say it. Now, however, he definitely meant it. And besides, he wasn't crying. His eyes were simply watering a bit.