Disposable Heroes

By: ann no aku

Special Note:  Thank you to everyone whom had reviewed, I really appreciate it!   Mark (thank you for reading He Hated Her for One Reason.  It is a really good fic that I had written about Snape and his passions, so there are some parts no intended for the younger ones.  I highly recommend it!), Margo, Mike Miira, Kerbi, Bana the Random, Jill, DracoDew17, and even Michi G.!!  I wouldn't stop even if I stopped getting reviews, but your positive reviews do encourage me to write some more.  I am sorry if Draco seems too evil, but there is meaning for it.  You will find out if you continue reading!  Thank you so much you guys!

General Disclaimer:  Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling.  The quote belongs to Metallica from their song "Disposable Heroes".  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.  Why had Draco been chosen to go on this trip and how come his parents don't know about it?

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 babylonsphoenix@hotmail.com

Chapter:  Three

Chapter Title:  I Was Born for Dying

Opening quote:  "Life planned out before my birth, nothing could I say; Had no chance to see myself, molded day by day; Looking back I realize, nothing have I done; Left to die with only friend; Alone I clench my gun"

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            Saturday.  Why must he wake up so early on a weekend?  A sliver of a silver eye peaked beneath his heavy eye lid.  "What do you want?" he demanded, trying to hide from the intensely bright light tightly wrapping itself around his pale body.

            "Don't be so rude," an all too familiar voice ordered him.  "What if I was a member of our host family?"

            He finally pulled back the blankets from his head and stared harshly down at Hermione Granger the girl whom he had loved to hate and tease.  It had turned into a hobby of is mostly due to her sharp tongue and witty quips.  His grey eyes studied her for a moment as he wondered what she was doing in his room.  "What are you doing here?"

            "Mrs. Roberts had asked me to wake you up," she responded tersely.  "She has plans for us this afternoon."

            "Plans?" he echoed, not liking the sound of that word.  "What sort of plans?"  He stayed in the safe shell of his bed and refused to budge until all was explained to him.  Draco had not slept well the night before.  It was the same dream he had been having ever since he had arrived in America.

            "She wants to take us to the mall for shopping, and then out to dinner and a movie."

            "Alright, then."  He waited for he to leave, and when she didn't he just stared at her as though she were an insect.  "Well?"

            "What?"  She met his gaze and glared right back at him.  Her chocolate brown eyes melted into his harsh grey eyes.

            "Aren't you going to leave?" he hissed and tried to ignore her deep eyes burning into his own.

            Hermione suddenly felt silly for being caught off her guard and left his room leaving the door wide open so he could shut it himself.  She entered her own room, plopped down on her bed, and started shifting through her school books.  She found that she rather enjoyed all of her classes, especially chemistry.  She knew that chemistry and potions were almost exactly alike, except Snape did not teach chemistry nor did her chemistry teacher act anything like the greasy haired man.  Instead her teacher was a very nice middle aged woman with a doctorate in chemistry.  So wrapped up in her chemistry book, Hermione did not notice as Eric had knocked on her door repeatedly and finally just stood in her doorway waiting for her to notice his presence.

            "Studying?  It is Saturday!" exclaimed Eric.  He had never met anyone whom enjoyed scrolling through textbooks the way the bushy-haired girl did.  "We're going out later," he reminded and studied the quiet girl.  She looks so cute while studying, he thought to himself.  He was focused on the random curls in her hair and how the messy look was very attractive.

            "I know," she acknowledged not looking up from the book.  Her face burned as she felt his admiration.

            "Did you write to your friends back home?" he asked in an attempt to strike up a conversation.

            "Of course, I had told them to mail me all the work I am missing while I am here."  Hermione finally looked up at him and closed the textbook.  "Why?"

            "Just, uh, wondering," Eric shifted uncomfortably in the doorway and then finally sat down at the window seat.  "Look, Hermione, I," he paused for he was not quite sure how to address his affections for the young British lady.  Just as he was about to continue, Eric was interrupted by the albino ferret.

            "When are we leaving?" Draco inquired as he entered the well illuminated room interrupting Eric's and Hermione's conversation; his eyes were squinted in a ruthless fashion.  He was fully clothed in a pair of black slacks and a black dress shirt looking as though he were going to a funeral.  His sight immediately flew to Eric, and he was not pleased.  "What are you doing in here?" he spat as though Eric had no right to be talking to Hermione.

            "Draco!" she hissed and shot a sympathetic glance to Eric.

            "It's okay."  Eric got up to go and brushed past Draco in the doorway; he did not see as Draco wiped the part of his sleeve where the Muggle had touched him.

            "So, Granger, when are we leaving?"

            "If you hadn't scared Eric off, he probably would have told you."  She sighed and gave him a stern look, one he didn't like very much.  He hated the way she always looked at him as though she was better than he.  She acted like an authoritative figure, and he found it to be stuck up and very unattractive.

            "What?" he snapped.

            "Why did you do that?" she asked calmly giving him that look that reminded him of his mother when she spoke to the house elves.

            "Listen up, Granger; you are not on this trip to watch over me, got that?  I need no Mudblood to talk down to me the way you do.  Let's make a few things clear.  Over here you have as much power over me as you've always had, understand?  The Dream Team is not here to save you if you screw up."

            "And your bodyguards aren't here to make you look feeble, either," she quipped avoiding the serpents deadly stare.

            "I'd watch my mouth if I were you, Granger."  He hovered over her and had to resist the temptation to do what he had done to her the year before.  Not only had turning the girl's hair into straw and her nose like a rat's gotten a quite a few laughs, it had also made the Slytherin house make last place in the House Cup competition.  Needless to say, he was not popular with his peers or Professor Snape after that.  Tired of waiting for the smart mouthed girl to make some other snide comment, Draco joined the Roberts family downstairs for their Muggle outing.  He knew it'd be almost as bad as Care for Magical Creatures with that big oaf Hagrid.

            He must be bored to come in here to bother me, she thought, but that gives him no excuse to act the way that he does.  Hermione dragged her body from her bed and made her way.  Even Draco was downstairs with them, but not without his trench coat.  He wore the blasted thing everyday all day because he could not live without the protection of his robes.  It was like a drug addict suddenly being denied his addiction and all that he would be able to use was a substitute that could barely satisfy his needs.  The mind was satisfied with the comfort of the replacement drug, but the body still could not properly function without the real thing.  It slightly amused her that he could not live without something quite so simple, but then she realized that he had known nothing else.  Draco was an alien to this world and did not understand the inner workings of everything.  He had been standing a little off to the side before Hermione had made her way down the winding stairs and into the foyer, but then Mrs. Roberts had dragged Draco into her arms and lured him outside.  Mrs. Roberts really liked Draco even though he was an obnoxious brat most of the time.

            "Ready, Hermione?" Mr. Roberts asked with a large grin on his face.  He was dressed comfortably in a pair of khakis and a very nice Ralph Lauren Polo shirt.

            "Yes," she answered and followed the family into their black Bentley Arnage Red Label.  The car was the most exquisite thing Hermione had ever seen, and she knew that if Draco's family were Muggles this was the car they'd probably own.  The vehicle was a lot roomier than how it looked on the outside.  Five people could fit comfortably in the luxury automobile and be spoilt with the all leather interior.  "This is a brilliant car you have, Mr. Roberts."

            "Thank you," he acknowledged.  "It is the company car, but I am permitted to use it for recreation.  Besides I thought we'd go out in style tonight."

            "I told my father I wanted one of these and he laughed at me," Eric commented, sitting to the left of Hermione whom was stuck in the middle of the back.  "He says that if I pay for half, he'll buy me a Mercedes."

            "What types of cars do you like, Draco?" Mrs. Roberts inquired, turning around to face the seething boy.

            "Um," he paused pretending to think, "If it is dark, fast, and expensive, it goes on my list."  He smirked at Hermione whom was impressed with his spur-of-the-moment fabrication, though she did know that he'd probably really like those types of cars if he could ever tell the difference between the companies.

            "And you, Hermione?" she continued.

            "Personally, I like the Jaguars," she answered, quickly thinking of a type of car that might interest her one day.

            "Wonderful!"

            The long day out was not as dreadful as Draco had initially thought, but he'd be damned if he showed otherwise  The family had eaten at an upper class restaurant where they were served one portion of the meal at a time.  The food had been most exquisite and to his liking for it had more flavor than the bland British style of cooking he was used to eating.  He had never seen a movie before and found it quite fascinating as he did television.  The Muggles seemed to have created a "false" magic using their technology, though he still preferred to see plays at theatres versus watching flat two dimensional people on a vast screen.  The part he had hated the most was the beginning of it all when they went out to a "mall", whatever the hell that was.  Voldemort only knew!  There were schools of people fishing around shopping and girls giggling, different (annoying) types of music had blared from every store, and there were pinks and purples everywhere.  He had felt nauseous after passing a store called The Limited, Too.  Draco had noticed that girls were gawking at him (mostly were blond) and even some Muggles that looked like wannabe wizards (they had mostly black hair and piercings).  He had found that to his liking and knew that they would want to be his friend, though it would be one sided.  He had no need to befriend any Muggles.

            As soon as the Robertses and the abroad students arrived at the house, the telephone rang.  "Eric, will you get that?" Mr. Roberts asked.

            "Sure, Dad.  Hello?  Oh, yes, Mr. Dumbledore."  Eric covered the speaker on the phone and called Hermione and Draco to him.  "It is your headmaster; he wishes to speak with the both of you."

            Hermione shot Draco a look that clearly said 'What the hell have you done to make Dumbledore ring us up'.  She cautiously took the phone.  "Hello, Mr. Dumbledore.  Fine, everything is going along well.  This family is splendid!" she exclaimed.

            "Good, good," he acknowledged.

            "Is everything all right at school, Sir?"

            "Yes, Ms. Granger, and your friends are doing quite well, too.  Harry is showing Ron how to use the post so they can mail you some appropriate goodies from Hogsmeade.  I just had to call to make sure that you had gotten there safe and everything is well.  You are the only ones in that entire state, Ms. Granger."

            "I understand, Sir," she paused wondering how to put her thoughts into coherent sentences.

            "Is there something you wish to tell me?" he inquired.

            "Yes, Sir, I am worried about catching up."

            "Do not worry, Ms. Granger, you will not have to take the part of the examinations you have missed even if you strongly wish to do so."  His words did not comfort her at all.  "I will speak with Mr. Malfoy now," he announced and the phone was handed him.

            He mimicked Hermione's way of using the "phone".  "Hello?"

            "Good evening, Mr. Malfoy.  How are you enjoying your stay?"  Was it just him or was there a twinge of sarcasm in the old man's voice?

            "Sir," he began and lowered his voice, "I do not understand why I was asked to go on this trip."

            "We do not understand many things in this world, Draco, this is one of them.  I take it that you are behaving as usual?"  In other words, was he not behaving as usual?

            "I'm good," he stiffened and the phone line became silent.

            "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy.  Good night."  There was a click on the other end and Draco set the phone down the way it was before.

            "What was the purpose of that call?  To make sure that I was behaving?  He doesn't trust me!"

            "Who would?" Hermione crossed her arms over her chest suddenly feeling cranky of having to deal with him all day.  He had left the kitchen and plopped down on a couch in the den.

            "Is everything okay, dear?" Mrs. Roberts inquired poking her head into the kitchen.

            "Yes," Hermione answered swiftly.  "Headmaster Dumbeldore just wanted to speak to us about our stay here.  You and your family are very hospitable, Mrs. Roberts."

            "Thank you!" she cried as though no one had ever told her before.  "You and Draco have been such a pleasure.  Maybe you can even come and visit over the summer before you start college.  Do you know where you wish to attend?"

            For the first time, Hermione Granger realized that she had no idea where she'd want to go to university given the opportunity.  "I-I don't know," she admitted.  "It really depends on which schools offer my major."

            "And you want to work for the government, correct?  The justice department?"

            "Yes."

            "That's so noble.  What does Draco's father do?  I know that he said he wanted to do what his father does."  She had not seen Draco in the den when she had questioned Hermione.

            "Mr. Malfoy used to work with the governors of the school, but," she paused, not wanting to tell the truth in fear that Draco would be embarrassed.  She did not care about Draco, but she did understand having respect for others even when Draco showed her none.  Besides these people were Muggles and had no idea what his true nature really was like!  "I don't know what he does now; I think it also might be some other government work."

            Draco could not believe his ears!  Why would the stupid mudblood lie about him like that?  It wasn't as though he wanted them to know the truth that his father had lost his job, but it was still curious.  His thoughts flooded back to the dream he had been having lately as he sat quiet on the cushioned couch.

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            "Stop!  No, please."  He tried to escape the shadowed figure, but somehow He always managed to catch him.  "Imperio!" the Shadow had shouted.  "Finite Incantum!" He yelled at the same time, but it was too late.  He could not move!  Instead he just kept falling.  It seemed to last forever until-THUD!  He fell to the bottom of a dark pit.  The ground felt hard and soft at the same time.  He tried to feel around for something to bring him back up, but his body felt weak.  The Imperio curse had left him powerless; the Unforgivable Curse had left him drained.  There was nothing he could do but sleep on the floor and hope that when he'd wake again He would be gone.

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            Draco had been silent all morning as he watched Hermione study at the lunch table in the cafeteria.  Her rat like nose was burrowed deeply into her U.S. History book.  "What if we have a quiz today?" she had asked him while studying.  He simply ignored her and gave everyone the look of death that passed him.  His eyes were on the look out for Eric whom had arrived at school early that morning for a jock meeting of some sort.  Whatever it was, he sure as hell did not care about it.  A few of the passer-bys would look at Hermione with lust gleaming in their greedy little eyes, and Draco glared at them as if to say that the sassy little girl belonged to him.  He recalled the conversation he had with her that morning in the bathroom.  She had gotten upset with him for smuggling his enchanted hair gel to America.

            "I won't tell Dumbledore or Mr. Fudge if you let me use it once," she had said.

            "What makes you think that I care?"

            "Because you know that you cannot risk getting into anymore trouble with the Ministry or school."

            "Sounds like you are trying to blackmail me, Mudblood.  I think I am rubbing off on you."  He had known that saying those words would have a strong effect on her, and he had been right.  She had turned a bright red and stormed out of the room like a child being caught with his hand in a chocolate frog jar.

            "Dan!" Hermione called out as one walked past her.  "Do you think you can help me with something?"

            "Uh," he saw the dragon boy's harsh silver eyes as they burned themselves into him, "Maybe another time."  Dan hurried past and didn't bother looking back to his friend.

            "That's odd," she mumbled and continued to immerse her into the words of the textbook.

            "Good morning," Eric greeted quite some time later and pulled Hermione into a quick hug.  "How's everything going?"

            "Great!  I think I finally understand a bit more about the War of 1812."

            "You didn't study that already?" he inquired cocking his head to his left.

            "Well, we did not go into as much detail," she lied avoiding his piercing blue eyes.  She was relieved when the bell rang for class.

            "I'll walk you," he offered.

            'It's alright; Draco and I have the same class first thing."  But her assurance only kept him more obliged to walk her to her class.

            "So, Draco, what are you doing in gym class?" Eric wondered.

            "Tennis," he quickly answered.  "I have never heard of it."

            "Nonsense!" Hermione exclaimed.  "Surely you have, your father owns a country club just outside of London."

            "Really?" Eric asked curious about these two.  Something about them seemed out of place.

            "A lot of famous matches are held there," she continued to lie.  "Draco's father has been known to refer to tennis as another name, and that is probably how Draco got confused."  He sneered at her.  "He calls it the Rich English Man's Sweater Sport, or REMSS for short."

            "You know a lot about his family."

            "His father is a very important nobleman back home."

            "No wonder Draco can be a bit of a spoilt brat at times," Eric laughed and did not notice Draco's angry face.

            "That's right, tennis is my favorite sport," he dryly announced.  "I am quite good at it."

            The three of them reached the door to the classroom and Eric made sure he gave Hermione another hug.  "Have a good day," his cheeks turned a pale pink.  "Bye."

            "Cheers."

            "So what is tennis anyway?" Draco finally demanded sitting down at his desk.

            "It can be a little like Quidditch.  Just pretend that you are hitting some bludgers with the beaters, only you are in a court and have to hit the tennis ball within certain boundaries using a racket.  A racket looks a lot like a snow shoe.  The point of the game is to make sure that your opponent cannot hit the ball back to you so you can gain a point.  If your opponent hits the ball out of bounds, it is your serve, too.  Does that make any sense?"

            "What happens if I hit a Muggle with the tennis ball?"  For the first time all morning he had his evil grin plastered on his face.

            "You cannot do that!"

            He disregarded her cry and just pictured himself hitting Eric with a tennis ball, whatever that was.  His thoughts were a jumble until the end of class.  He was most excited about being able to play tennis.

            "Okay," Coach Marino began looking at the clipboard in front of him, "These are going to be the teams for today."  He called out about twelve pairs of names and the ones that were not playing tennis had to run.  Luckily for Draco he was one of the first and his partner was someone by the name of Mark Dantino.

            Mark was an average looking teenager with wild brown hair.  He picked up a tennis racket and swung it expertly in the air.  "Come on, chap," he mocked Draco, "Let's see how much of your pansy upbringing has paid off."  They made their way to the court and Mark served first.  The ball flew right past his opponent's face and landed behind the white line.  "I thought all you pretty British boys knew how to do this stuff.  Isn't it required where you come from?"

            Pretty boy?  The next ball also breezed past him.

            "Aw, can the poor white boy not hit a 'bloody' ball?"  Mark felt particularly energetic that day.  There was nothing the competitive boy loved more than showing stupid people up, and he did not like Draco after all he had heard about him from his good friend Eric Roberts.

            "We'll see about that," Draco sneered and managed to whack the next ball and gain his first point.  The game continued as so with only Draco making the serves and Mark trying desperately to return them.  The class had stopped to watch and even the coach was in shock that this new student could beat his main tennis player.  Draco had worked up quite a sweat and felt good having such a triumph over the hot shot Muggle.  He did not wait for the professor to dismiss him and just walked back to the locker room where he took a quick cold shower and nearly cursed himself for forgetting his trusty hair gel.  It's because of that stupid Mudblood that I had left my gel in the bathroom.

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            "You look almost like a different person with your hair like that," came a voice from behind him.

            "Good afternoon to you, too, Mudblood," he greeted.

            She sat across from him at the picnic table.  Eric, who was not far behind her, did the same and sat beside Hermione.  A few of his friends followed in suit.  She pulled out a box of jelly beans and carefully poked around for a delicious looking one.

            "Are those jelly beans?" Eric wondered.

            "Y-Yes," she stammered.  "Uh, would you like one?"

            Draco watched in delight as Eric just randomly chose a tan jelly bean and popped it in his mouth.   Almost as nearly as he had tasted it did he spit it out   "What the hell was that?  It tasted like . . .liver or something."

            "Oh, um, this is a new type of jelly bean.  A candy company back home had thought it would be interesting if they had made every flavor beans.  Would you like to try a different one?"

            "No," his face was green as he looked at the pink one she was holding.

            "I'll take it, Granger."  Draco ate the candy for he had known that it would be a strawberry, and he was right.  "Strawberry," he announced.

            "See?  Not all are that bad."

            "Hey, there's Mark.  Mark!" Eric called his friend over.  "This is Hermione Granger and her school mate Draco Malfoy."

            Mark's face fell.  "It's the British boy who can't play tennis."

            "If I remember correctly, I had beaten you my first time ever of playing tennis," Draco reminded with a harsh tone.

            Eric went over the conversation in his mind.  Hadn't Draco said earlier that morning that tennis was his favorite sport and that he was really good at the sport?  Who could forget something like that so easily?  The more he thought about it the more he realized just how odd Draco was and Hermione seemed to be the one to remind him of that.  Draco just didn't seem right; there was something about him that screamed more than British.  He couldn't understand it and thought it ridiculous to think of them as aliens even though it made some sense to their eccentricity.  Eric watched as Draco kept rubbing his arm in a circular pattern.

            "Is your arm hurt from tennis?" Mark joked obviously pissed that he had lost.

            Hermione looked at where he was stroking on his fore arm and her chocolate eyes grew wide with fear.  "Are your alright?"

            "Yes," he said without thinking about it and recalled his dream.

            "You had a nightmare last night, Draco, and had fallen out of the bed.  You had kept rubbing your arm and mumbling stuff."  Mark laughed and imagined Draco falling off a top bunk and landing roughly on the hard floor.  It amused him.

            He had fallen to the bottom of a dark pit.  The ground had felt hard and soft at the same time.

            "Draco," Hermione sounded sincere.  He did not want her fucking pity.

            "I am fine," he forced himself to stop thinking about everything and the odd sensation on his arm.  "I must've hit my arm when I fell."

            He had just kept falling.

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            Thank you for reading Chapter Three!  Chapter Four will be posted soon.  I hope that you had enjoyed this chapter and will review.  Thanks!

~ann no aku