Disposable Heroes
By: ann no aku
General Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling. The quote belongs to JMS. The title belongs to Metallica from their Master of Puppets album.
Summary: It is Hermione's seventh year at Hogwarts, and she is not the Head Girl. As a matter of fact, she is not even at Hogwarts! Instead, Hermione Granger is spending two months abroad studying Muggles in America with her all time enemy Draco Malfoy. How will the two of them survive without any connection to their rightful world besides each other?
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: I tried to portray the characters as well as I can without them appearing OOC. Any questions, e-mail me at ann_no_aku@yahoo.com
Chapter: One
Chapter Title: Victims of Mathematics
Opening quote: "There's a natural law, as physics tells us, that for every action there must be an equal and opposite reaction. They hate us, we hate them, they hate us back. And so, here we are victims of mathematics." JMS
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Angry. What were some synonyms for "angry"? She paused to think. Upset. Ticked off. Mad? Or would mad just mean that she's daft? Hermione clenched her jaw refusing to look at the stupid git beside her. Instead, she forced her cinnamon eyes to look out the window of the airplane. Why would Hermione be on an airplane instead of inside the comforting walls of Hogwarts? Voldemort only knew! No, her stubbornness had gotten the better of her. She just had to take Muggle Studies! Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. I should be Head Girl, she thought. Instead I willingly signed up to study abroad. How could I have been so stupid as to not see it was to study Muggles abroad?! She bit her tongue to keep herself from retorting to her own thoughts. I shouldn't be so upset, she finally agreed. This is worth extra credit and will look good on any job application! I just wish he wasn't here. I wonder if anyone would mind if I threw him out a window . . .
Finally Hermione faced the one person she had been trying to avoid for the past four hours. Draco, she noticed, look a little green like his Slytherin robes except he was not wearing them. Neither of them was allowed any non-Muggle items except for their wands (for protection) and their Muggle Studies book cleverly disguised as a book on America's culture and way of life. The napping boy's grey eyes flew open as though he could feel her staring at him. "What do you want, Mudblood?" he spat.
Rather than scolding him about using that word in front of Muggles, she did her best to ignore his rude insult. "I was just curious as to what you are doing here."
"Didn't have much of a choice. Some bastard signed me up to go on this bloody trip. Now I'm going to be stuck with you for the next two months!" Draco shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The plane ride was not agreeing with him, and the trip was only half way over. He took in a deep breath to calm his nerves. Never before had he been on a plane. What would have been the point?
"You don't look to well," she informed him with a bit of amusement in her voice.
"Shut up. I am perfectly fine." As if to test his stomach, the plane started to shake. The seatbelt light flashed on above them. Draco's sallow face grew even sicklier in fear. Beads of sweat formed atop his brow and trickled down to his temple. "Granger, do something!"
"Relax. It's only turbulence," she assured as the shaking ceased. "See?"
"Don't mock me, Mudblood. What's the purpose of this thing anyway? Don't you Muggles have any other means of travel?"
"If you keep talking like that, someone is bound to notice. Besides, if you ask me, the Ministry was foolish to trust an ego-centric, spoilt brat like yourself to keep quiet."
"Well no one asked you." He searched as if looking for something else to insult her about besides being a Muggle born. He had almost thought of something when he felt someone dare to touch him. He quickly retracted his arm and stared at the stewardess with daggers shooting from his eyes. "What do you wa-?"
"Drink?" she offered smiling brightly. She peered past Draco to look at the bushy-haired girl next to him.
"What have you got?" he demanded.
"Coffee, tea, coca-cola, sprite, water," she replied shuffling through her large cart.
"I'll have a tea, Ma'am," Hermione told her. "Have you any lemon?" she wondered once handed the small mug and her sugar packets.
"No, sorry, Miss. All out. And you, Sir?" She looked to the green-faced boy. "Sprite might help ease your stomach."
"Who asked you for your opinion?" he stole a peak of Hermione's inviting mug. "Give me a tea, too. Extra sugar." He barely acknowledged the hard working stewardess and just started dumping the packets of sugar into his brown drink. Draco felt her staring at him again. "Like what you see, Granger?"
"You were rude to that woman," she cried ignoring his accusation.
"She's not a doctor, nor did I ask her to play one." He turned his attention to his overly sweet tea and sipped it graciously, not realizing that the drink would be more than warm. Draco nearly spat it all over the chair in front of him after choking on it mumbling something about "stupid Muggles". After his bad tea incident, he decided it would be best if he would just drift off into a dreamless sleep.
Hermione pulled out a book she had brought with her in her bulging carry-on and began reading. She carefully turned each page so that she would not wake the almost peaceful dragon. But apparently her efforts to be courteous to his problems were not good enough for him. Nothing that she could ever do would be good enough for a Malfoy.
"Can't you keep it down, Granger?" His sudden outburst had caused his stomach to dance about. He placed a firm hand on his belly to calm the movement inside.
"My mother packed me up some medicine for motion sickness—Dramamine. Would you like-?"
"Does it look like I need it?" he interrupted. Draco felt angrier than his usual self for several reasons. The obvious was that he was not feeling well. His insides kept doing summersaults and the stale air of the plane only made him more nauseous.
"I'm just trying to help!" she almost shouted, angry with herself for thinking that he could be civil for even a moment!
"Hell will freeze over the day I ask for help from a Mudblood." Draco stretched out his long legs before him and sighed in boredom. He knew that there was no possible way he'd be able to survive four more hours on an 'airplane' with Ms. Bushy-Haired-Perfect-Know-It-All-Hermione Granger. Just the thought of sitting next to her any longer caused his stomach to fold.
"Don't I know it," she mumbled in reply to his nasty comment. Hermione slammed her book back inside her sack. "I can't even enjoy a bit of light reading."
` After the longest eight hours either of them had ever experienced, the airplane landed in the state of Virginia. Hermione nearly leaped from her seat in excitement only to be stopped by a slow-moving Draco Malfoy. It was clear that he did not feel any better than he had before. He grabbed his carry-on bag from the overhead compartment and left his companion alone to carry all the ridiculous books she had brought with her. He didn't need a Mudblood to keep him from stepping a foot on the firm ground.
The sun blinded him. Impossible, he thought. It was noon when we had left! Draco tried to block the sun with his pale hand. Now where's that Mudblood Granger? He followed the other passengers up a steep ladder to a make shift hallway which led to a bustling bay of people. He did not think that he had seen so many Muggles in his life! There were all sorts of them dressed smartly, leisurely, and even some in beach clothes. And the noise! He could hear what sounded like a buzz of beeping, ringing, and nonsense chatter. He was overwhelmed.
"There you are," Hermione caught her breath. "It's not wise for you to be alone here."
"How can they stand it? It's much too noisy and crowded," he decided, still in awe about just how chaotic the Muggles were.
"I think I found our host family." She walked over to a couple holding a large sign that read: Welcome to America Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger in very large letters and an assortment of colors. Hermione was much relieved when the young man offered to take her bag for her. "Thank you."
"What a pleasure it is to meet you! You're Hermione, right?" Mrs. Roberts asked after quickly introducing herself. She pulled her into a quick hug, smothering Hermione with the scent of perfume. "This is my son Eric. He's a senior this year." He blushed. "And you must be Draco Malfoy!" The woman also lured the reluctant boy into a squeeze. "Draco, my son Eric."
"Nice to meet you," Eric greeted, extending his hand for a shake.
Still shocked about the embrace Mrs. Roberts had given him, Draco just stared blankly at Eric. Hermione shot him a look. "Hello," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He wiped his slightly damp palms over his black khakis. Draco was beginning to miss the odd comfort of his robes. He had purchased a large black trench coat as a substitute, but it did not feel the same.
Hermione decided that Draco looked very much out of place dressed in all black wearing a coat in the mild heat of September. Surely he must have known that America was going to be slightly warmer! She did a once over on her own attire, hoping that she did not over dress for the occasion. She was clothed in a charcoal grey jumper, white blouse, and a maroon sweater that was tightly wrapped around her waist. I look like I'm in uniform, she mused.
"You two must be exhausted from that flight! If not, the jet lag sure will get to you." While leading them to their luggage, Mrs. Roberts continued talking. "It's three P.M. here, so your bodies feel like it is eight P.M. Dinner will be ready at about six. Mr. Roberts is preparing it all now. So, once we get you two all settled in, you can freshen up and nap before dinner if need be—or as you say back home, 'supper'."
If it wasn't for Hermione dragging Draco's heavy luggage from the carousel, he probably would have forgotten about it. He was hardly paying attention to anything going on around him. "Might we use a trolley?" she asked, having quite a bit of difficulty dragging her own lead suitcases off.
"Sure." Eric took a cart and stacked the bags neatly on it. "What'd you bring, Hermione? Bricks?"
"No. Just books," she smiled, taking no notice of the scowl on her classmate's face. Eric is attractive, she thought while pink burned on her cheeks. He sort of looks like Cedric Diggory—big and well muscled. She figured that Draco probably noticed her blush for he commented on it.
"Fancy the Muggle, do you?" he whispered, wrapping his coat around himself like a robe.
"Don't forget my warning, Draco, or even your father won't be able to get you out of the trouble you'll be having with the Ministry," she threatened.
"So, Hermione, what do you do for fun?" Mrs. Roberts asked, tossing her long brown hair over her shoulder.
"Read, mostly," she shyly admitted. "Over the summers I travel with my family."
"Wonderful! You, Draco?" She momentarily paused to focus her attention on the seventeen year old young man. Hermione, too, was interested in his response.
"If you mean over holidays, my parents work. Other than that, I do sports."
"I play football and soccer!" Eric happily exclaimed, not seeing the sneer on his face. "Which I guess would be American football and regular football to you. What do you play?"
"Quidditch," he said without a care as to what he had just blurted.
"What's that?"
"It's a lot like Rugby," Hermione lied. "Only you use sticks. It's not very popular yet."
"Do you two like Italian?" Mrs. Roberts proceeded with the interrogation, "Because we're having chicken marsala tonight!" Her enthusiasm about her guests lasted throughout the trip to the Mercedes and all the way home. Although they were silent, Mrs. Roberts hardly noticed. She was having too much fun getting acquainted with them.
Both were pleased when the car pulled into the driveway of the large Muggle house. Mr. Roberts exited the front door, leaving it open, and merrily helped his wife and son unload the trunk of the car. "Welcome home!" his voice boomed. It was obvious where Eric had inherited his handsome features. Both had sandy blonde hair and a set of deep, intense eyes. Mr. Roberts kicked the front door open and lunged the heavy luggage by the stairs. He grinned, revealing a set of perfect teeth. "Dinner's about ready. Eric, why don't you show our guests to their rooms?"
The house was unlike any other Draco had been inside of before. He was used to large dark castles, not bright houses that seemed to emit its own life force. The house was very spacious with large rooms and high ceilings. "This is the bathroom." Eric swept his toned arm over the intimate room. "Towels are beneath the sink," he opened the small cabinet revealing a pallet of towels and flannels. The room with the toilet and vanity sink was separated from the duel bath and shower by a large wooden door.
"Lovely!" Hermione gasped. Eric grinned.
"Uh, this is my room," he ushered the two down the vast hallway to his bedroom door. "This is where Draco and I will be sleeping."
Great, he thought. Of course this sort of thing would happen. He saw Hermione cover her mouth in attempt to block the laughter from escaping. He scowled at her, his angry grey eyes burned into her. "Something funny, Granger?" he asked, doing his best to swallow his anger.
"No-"
"And, Hermione, your room." Eric, who had carried her bags up for her, dropped them carefully onto the floor. The room was beautifully decorated with thick white curtains and a large mahogany four poster bed sitting in the middle of the room. "This is normally the guest bedroom."
"It's perfect." Hermione thanked him and immediately started unpacking her clothes and placing them inside the matching tall dresser. The two had left her to continue organizing her things and growing accustomed to her new home. She plopped tiredly on the bed and felt at ease and very rich relaxing in the thick cotton sheets and lush pillows. If he was not here, I could really enjoy myself. She lazily flipped through her Muggle Studies Year 7 book.
Draco, on the other hand, had not been quite as lucky as Hermione. Instead of having his own room, he had to share with a damn 'bunk bed' with a Muggle! It infuriated him! The irony of the whole situation drove him mad. He tore through his things, roughly assigning each item a specific location. Everything he owned was black.
"Top or bottom?"
"Excuse me?" He looked up at the mundane human as though Eric had just insulted him. His brow was furrowed and his harsh eyes studied his.
"Which bunk?" Eric watched as his new roommate slammed his suitcase shut and slowly zipped it closed.
"Top," Draco finally answered, tossing a thick book on the soft bed. The book was entitled The British Guide to America. He swung one leg over the ladder rungs and climbed to his new bed where he began studying. I bet this is Dumbledore's way of getting back at me for what I did to Hermione last year.
"I didn't realize that America and Great Britain were so different that one could write suck a big book on it."
"I don't think that America can live up to all the interesting facts in here."
Eric tried his best to shove aside Draco's attitude. "I'm going to see if supper is ready," he announced and left the bedroom feeling disappointed. He had been hoping that Draco would be cool rather than a spoilt child.
*****
End Chapter One!
I plan on having this story being a little long for what I wish to happen. This is just the beginning of the adventures Hermione and Draco have while in America. Thanks!
--ann no aku