Creep – Chapter 7
Author's Notes: Hullo. It's been quite some time since my last updates. Never fear, I AM working on this story! I'm afraid I was caught up in the summer-school frenzy of nightclasses and working 40hrs a week. No time to write. I have a firm grasp on the situation now, though. So the writing shall commence! (I hope all the nice people who reviewed are not mad at me for my procrastination. But if they are, I deserve it.)
Anti-Litigation Charm: Nothing belongs to me. NOTHING. I make no profit for this. I have no money. Please don't sue!
Platform 9 ¾ was busier than it had ever been. I was amazed at the number of first years adding their excitement and confusion to an otherwise confusing experience. The sheer numbers, no, the hordes of them made me wonder, how many children had been kept back from Hogwarts because their parents secretly feared Voldemort? It didn't matter anymore, really. I closed my eyes for a brief moment and cleared my head of thoughts only to feel a tickle at the back of my neck. Someone was looking at me. I opened my eyes and spun around. I didn't see anyone looking at me, but a familiar face caught my eye.
"Ron!" I cried out spotting the flaming red of his hair across the sea of first-years.
"'Mione!" He called back and waved. I saw Harry beside him and waved at them both. I was a bit sad that we couldn't sit together on the train this year. We had every other year, really. However, being Head Girl had its duties as well as privileges. Draco and myself had a private compartment and a private carriage waiting to take us to Hogwarts. The intention, I suppose, was to discuss plans for the year. We had already been briefed by Headmaster Dumbledore and the rest of the staff as to our duties and obligations, I just needed to speak to Draco about what our plans for the year were to be. I slipped onto the train and made my way to our reserved compartment. It took so much time, swimming upstream through the first-years. How many of them could there be? I was beginning to wonder if Hogwarts had the room to house all these children. I came to the compartment and struggled with the slide-door. Throwing myself in, I quickly shut it and, with a tiny sigh, leaned my forehead against the cool panel for a moment.
"Granger." His cool voice somehow made my heart race. This is foolishness. I tried repeating that to myself a few times and nothing happened. Why can't I have Harry's luck? I turned to observe him. He had changed his hair, it was messy and spiky instead of slicked back. It looked good on him.
Bad. Bad thoughts.
"Malfoy." I replied in greeting. Luckily, my thoughts fly fast. There was little pause to indicate I was thinking about him or staring at him. Hopefully, I could keep this silly little crush under control.
"So you made it through the mob unscathed, then?" Draco asked, with little trace of his usual smarminess or sarcasm. Amazingly, his face broke into a genuine smile. It took more will than I knew I had to not double-take at this new Draco before me.
"Relatively." I responded as I shrugged off my robe. I took a seat across from him. "You?"
"Hardly." He stood up and turned to show me a long rip in the right side of his robes. "The little monsters never look where they're going and create no end of trouble. If I knew what house the little bastard would be in, I would have taken points away!"
He wore dark dress clothes underneath his robes. They fit him perfectly and I got a good view of black silk clinging to a muscular chest. Yum.
Bad thoughts! Damn it all, this has to stop.
It took me a brief moment to process that not only was Draco speaking to me, he had just wound to a spectacular conclusion. It took me a brief moment to scan my mind for what he had just said. Taken points away? I burst out laughing. "Draco, that 'little bastard' might get sorted into Slytherin. Whatever would you do then?" I slipped my wand from my pocket and swiftly incanted a repairing charm. The number of times I had done that for Harry or Ron was incalculable; I had become rather adept at them. I watched with satisfaction as the tear in Draco's robe sewed itself together.
Draco looked down at his robe as it repaired itself. "Um…"
"It starts with a 'T', Draco" I prompted him to thank me. It was so much easier to banter, to exchange mild insults than to think about how good he looked under his robes, or how blue his eyes seemed. I could do this, I just had to keep either of us from shutting up. What an easy task!
"What are you going on about?" Draco affected the old slytherin ferret pose, nose in the air. "Why would I ever have anything to say to someone so low as yourself?"
Wow. He didn't call me a mudblood. He really has changed.
"Fine, if you want to wear torn robes for the entire Welcoming Feast…" I sighed dramatically and reached for my wand again.
The train chose that moment to lurch into life and Draco was thrown on top of me.
I couldn't believe the number of first year students. Where had all these children been? When the hell was there a baby boom? I was suddenly glad that being Head Boy made me, essentially, prefect-management. I wouldn't have to patrol the halls that much, or hand-down punishments. Keeping the names of these hordes of children straight would be a miraculous feat. I was tempted, for a brief moment, to admit to all the muggle-borns on the platform that yes, indeed, Draco Malfoy is not completely ignorant of the hated Muggle culture. I was tempted to cast a charm that would part the chaotic mess of first years before me much like Charlton Heston, aka Moses, parted the Red Sea. Despite my weak spot where temptation was concerned, I held back and instead plunged into the fray and waded my way into the train and my private compartment.
Ah, glorious peace. How in the world does Hermione manage to pull off that heroic crap all the time? Simply not doing anything to the increasingly annoying swarm of first-years was the hardest thing I had ever done. Especially to whatever little fool had not watched where he was going and tore my new robe. I flopped into the plush seat of the compartment and leaned back, fingering the long tear running down my side. My eyes drifted shut and I drifted into a sweet dream.
The compartment opened and hurriedly shut again. A soft sigh of contentment prompted me to open my eyes. She stood there, leaning against the compartment door, her robe torn open by the fight through the crowd. Her strange muggle clothing clung enticingly to her curves. She turned and a slow, heated smile appeared on her face. "Draco" She half-sighed in greeting as she shrugged off her robe. I couldn't keep my eyes off her hips as they swayed. Within seconds, she was standing right before me. I looked up, but made it no further than her chest. "Hermione" I finally replied, grabbing her waist and propelling her towards me. She moaned in contentment and allowed herself to be manhandled. All too soon, she was straddling me and we were kissing with a ferocious hunger…
The compartment door opened and hurriedly shut again. I didn't know whether to thank whomever it was that had disturbed my rather pleasant dreams, or strangle them. Being rather hormonally driven at this point, I opt for strangulation. A soft sigh of contentment prompts me to open my eyes. There is no way…
"Granger." I make a point of calling her by her last name. My dreams are a natural reaction to the stress and trauma of the past summer. They are wrong. There is absolutely no way we could ever be together. We could barely stand one another.
"Malfoy" She responded. It's a good sign. We seem to understand one another. Enemies at peace and not the lust-crazy teenagers we seem to be every time I shut my eyes. Dreams don't matter. Dreams don't matter. Repeating that mantra does little to quell my libido. Perhaps Miss Annoying Granger can do the job for me.
"So you made it through the mob unscathed, then?" I tried to be my usual cruel self, I did. But somehow, not only did that drivel come out but I didn't sound the least bit sarcastic. Her stunned look was amusingly cute. I couldn't help but smile at it… I hope this only happens with Hermione. I would hate to be under par in the Potter/Malfoy war of words.
"Relatively," She replied and shrugged off her robe before sitting across from me. I nearly swallowed my tongue. Whatever Muggle fashion she was wearing was tight in all the right places and cut low to display a rather impressive… "You?"
Me what? Oh, we were talking, weren't we? I fingered the tear in my robe again and inspiration struck.
"Hardly," I stood up to give her a good view of my robe as well as give myself a good view down her shirt. Merlin, where had she been hiding all that these past few years? I ranted about the foolish first years and my intent to have my vengeance upon them. Or something like that. I really don't know what I'm saying. She looks so good.
No, no she doesn't. This is wrong.
My rant had come to an end and she responded. I don't know what she said, but she did use a repairing charm to fix my robe. It sewed itself shut and I was at a loss for words. What in the world had we been talking about up until now? Her muggle clothes still distracted me and chasing my thoughts down took effort.
"It starts with a 'T', Draco," She teased. Right. Politeness demands that one thank another for repairing a torn robe. If she can tease me, I can return the favour, at least. We are supposed to be friends now, right?
"What are you going on about?" I asked her, with exaggerated aristocratic snobbery, "Why would I ever have anything to say to someone so low as yourself?"
She was stunned for a moment. What is up with this woman? Can I not tease her back? Finally, a small smile appeared on her face.
"Fine, if you want to wear torn robes for the entire Welcoming Feast…" She sighed dramatically and reached for her wand.
The train chose that moment to lurch into life. I lost my balance and fell forward onto Hermione.
