Chapter IV~ Lessons and Haunted Dreams
A/N: So, everyone, I'm not sure if it's OK or not to plug for other people's stories in your author's notes, but if you like Draco and Hermione- AT ALL- go read Thea's story, 'Perished Dreams.' (BTW, it's rated PG-13 and R). But whatever, it's the best story I've ever read, and it blows away all the competition.
I want to actually start the plot now, so I have some idea of what's going to happen, but suggestions would still be wildly appreciated. I'm going to put out an uber-short story soon about a comparison between the last generation (Lily, James, Sirius, *ugh* Snape) and this one (Hermione, Harry, Ron, *sigh* Malfoy) from Dumbledore's point of view. Plus, I'm thinking of doing something about Lily and James... with Lily being anorexic... or something like that. Anyways, my point is that I may not be writing for a while after the next couple of chapters.
On with the story!
Ginny strutted down the length of Hermione's room, each of her legs slightly crossing over the other as she stepped forward. "That's the basic walk," she said knowledgeably to Hermione. "Remember to sway your hips just a bit-" Ginny added her hips into the motion- "-and whatever you do, vary your attention between the object of your attention and the ground, especially if you're on a steep stairway."
Hermione laughed and got up from the sofa, attempting Ginny's exaggerated walk in what she thought was an exaggerated manner. "Close," her friend appraised, nodding. "But you should always smile sort of inwardly, like you know a secret about him, not all openly and ditz-like. You know?"
Hermione didn't, but she tried it anyway, not feeling confident at all. "I feel like a ditz anyway," she admitted to Ginny. "I mean, what is the point of learning all this crap? I don't even WANT him to like me." She sighed.
If Ginny heard, she ignored Hermione's previous comment. "All right, now try the walk with heels," she said, handing her friend a pair of stilettos.
Hermione scowled as she put them on. "There is no point," she reiterated. "He's about ten yards away, and he's probably either thinking what bad luck it is for him to have me as his partner, or he's asleep and dreaming about some prat- Pansy Parkinson, probably." She felt her throat tense up, but swallowed the wave of anger and self-pity that came rising up. It was silly to cry over something like this anyway.
"The point is, he's thinking about you," Ginny argued optimistically. "Get up, and practice the walk." She stuck out her lower lip childishly.
"But I don't want him to be thinking about me," Hermione protested as she stood reluctantly.
In the next room, though, Malfoy was thinking about her. Why did the little, bookish Mudblood have to get so- he forced himself not to say the word- *different* right before they got partnered for the projects?
True, the outcome might have been the same anyway. He had to admit that he'd been attracted to the forbidden-fruit aspect of her perfect self, so chaste, so self-assured, even before she'd become pretty as well. Now, every time he saw her, it was as though he was hit with the full force of this... pressure, all these conflicted emotions together as one. Most of them were negative- wasn't she one of Potter's best friends? The most perfect student in the school? A self-proclaimed Slytherin-hater?
And then there was this... other thing, something foreign to Draco, something strange that chilled him to the marrow. Was it, perhaps, jealousy? Of Granger, for all her straight 100s and her *real* friends(unlike he, who only had cronies and simpering idiots)? Or maybe of... no. Not a possibility.
He had a strange, sinking feeling that he knew what it was- and it was just out of reach...
Hermione, after an hour of lying wide awake, had at last fallen into a restless, troubled sleep. More than anything she wanted to be left with normal, dark, quiet sleep, but her wish was not to be granted; the black began to be invaded with the silver-cast garden and pool she had visited earlier.
As Hermione dreamt of it, the garden lay uninhabited, until footsteps were heard around the corner of the tall hedge that walled it. A girl, gowned in dark blue embellished with gold and green thread at the bodice, moved fearfully to the side of the pool, where she hesitated before sittting.
Somehow, the girl seemed familiar to Hermione. But the gown seemed so very old-fashioned... maybe this dream was set in the past.
As the girl sat there, she seemed anxious, rocking back and forth with her arms wrapped around her. She stopped rocking, though, when footsteps came a second time from the garden.
A taller boy, who looked slightly older than she, swept into the garden, a wide black cape flying behind him and strangely dark grey-blue eyes glittering in the moonlight. Hermione saw him say something to her, and although she could not hear it, she could imagine what he was saying. Something incredibly cruel, most likely, she realized as she watched him draw a silver dagger from the depths of his cloak, and raise it towards the frightened girl...
"NO!" she cried out, sitting upright in her bed, sweat trickling down the side of her forehead.
Hermione heard movement in the other room, and she calmed slightly. It was just a dream, probably not real. But what was quite real, she thought, her thoughts focusing on the rustling of bedcovers and slight cursing, was that Malfoy had apparently heard her. She straightened her pyjamas and prepared to lie.
Malfoy had been awoken at a dead hour of the morning by a petrified shriek from the room across the way. "What the..." he muttered, climbing out of bed and wrapping the first thing he could find- a smoking jacket- around his bare chest. "Stupid Mudblood, waking everyone up at all hours of the night," he said angrily. Well, something might be wrong, so he should probably go find out what it was.
Upon entering her room, he saw her sitting on the bed, looking perfectly healthy if a bit shaken. "Why the hell do you have to go waking me up now?" he asked her. "Why'd you scream?"
The mudblood looked at him, seeming surprised. "It was just a dream," she said innocently.
Malfoy found himself once again looking back at her appraisingly, trying to think of something cold and rude to say. "Keep your dreams to yourself, Granger- I don't want to hear them."
A/N: OK... just in case you can't figure it out and are still hoping for lovey-dovey making out Hr/D-wise this early in the story, be patient. He still doesn't like her yet, and I'm not planning on making him look like an easily influenced coward. But don't worry, there will be kissing yet- around Chapter 7 or so, I'd say- and plenty of mystery and angst, too. Anyways, stay tuned!
Thanks to Lazuli, Chrissy, Amanda, and Dragon2088 for reviewing so far... maybe I should change my summary?
A/N: So, everyone, I'm not sure if it's OK or not to plug for other people's stories in your author's notes, but if you like Draco and Hermione- AT ALL- go read Thea's story, 'Perished Dreams.' (BTW, it's rated PG-13 and R). But whatever, it's the best story I've ever read, and it blows away all the competition.
I want to actually start the plot now, so I have some idea of what's going to happen, but suggestions would still be wildly appreciated. I'm going to put out an uber-short story soon about a comparison between the last generation (Lily, James, Sirius, *ugh* Snape) and this one (Hermione, Harry, Ron, *sigh* Malfoy) from Dumbledore's point of view. Plus, I'm thinking of doing something about Lily and James... with Lily being anorexic... or something like that. Anyways, my point is that I may not be writing for a while after the next couple of chapters.
On with the story!
Ginny strutted down the length of Hermione's room, each of her legs slightly crossing over the other as she stepped forward. "That's the basic walk," she said knowledgeably to Hermione. "Remember to sway your hips just a bit-" Ginny added her hips into the motion- "-and whatever you do, vary your attention between the object of your attention and the ground, especially if you're on a steep stairway."
Hermione laughed and got up from the sofa, attempting Ginny's exaggerated walk in what she thought was an exaggerated manner. "Close," her friend appraised, nodding. "But you should always smile sort of inwardly, like you know a secret about him, not all openly and ditz-like. You know?"
Hermione didn't, but she tried it anyway, not feeling confident at all. "I feel like a ditz anyway," she admitted to Ginny. "I mean, what is the point of learning all this crap? I don't even WANT him to like me." She sighed.
If Ginny heard, she ignored Hermione's previous comment. "All right, now try the walk with heels," she said, handing her friend a pair of stilettos.
Hermione scowled as she put them on. "There is no point," she reiterated. "He's about ten yards away, and he's probably either thinking what bad luck it is for him to have me as his partner, or he's asleep and dreaming about some prat- Pansy Parkinson, probably." She felt her throat tense up, but swallowed the wave of anger and self-pity that came rising up. It was silly to cry over something like this anyway.
"The point is, he's thinking about you," Ginny argued optimistically. "Get up, and practice the walk." She stuck out her lower lip childishly.
"But I don't want him to be thinking about me," Hermione protested as she stood reluctantly.
In the next room, though, Malfoy was thinking about her. Why did the little, bookish Mudblood have to get so- he forced himself not to say the word- *different* right before they got partnered for the projects?
True, the outcome might have been the same anyway. He had to admit that he'd been attracted to the forbidden-fruit aspect of her perfect self, so chaste, so self-assured, even before she'd become pretty as well. Now, every time he saw her, it was as though he was hit with the full force of this... pressure, all these conflicted emotions together as one. Most of them were negative- wasn't she one of Potter's best friends? The most perfect student in the school? A self-proclaimed Slytherin-hater?
And then there was this... other thing, something foreign to Draco, something strange that chilled him to the marrow. Was it, perhaps, jealousy? Of Granger, for all her straight 100s and her *real* friends(unlike he, who only had cronies and simpering idiots)? Or maybe of... no. Not a possibility.
He had a strange, sinking feeling that he knew what it was- and it was just out of reach...
Hermione, after an hour of lying wide awake, had at last fallen into a restless, troubled sleep. More than anything she wanted to be left with normal, dark, quiet sleep, but her wish was not to be granted; the black began to be invaded with the silver-cast garden and pool she had visited earlier.
As Hermione dreamt of it, the garden lay uninhabited, until footsteps were heard around the corner of the tall hedge that walled it. A girl, gowned in dark blue embellished with gold and green thread at the bodice, moved fearfully to the side of the pool, where she hesitated before sittting.
Somehow, the girl seemed familiar to Hermione. But the gown seemed so very old-fashioned... maybe this dream was set in the past.
As the girl sat there, she seemed anxious, rocking back and forth with her arms wrapped around her. She stopped rocking, though, when footsteps came a second time from the garden.
A taller boy, who looked slightly older than she, swept into the garden, a wide black cape flying behind him and strangely dark grey-blue eyes glittering in the moonlight. Hermione saw him say something to her, and although she could not hear it, she could imagine what he was saying. Something incredibly cruel, most likely, she realized as she watched him draw a silver dagger from the depths of his cloak, and raise it towards the frightened girl...
"NO!" she cried out, sitting upright in her bed, sweat trickling down the side of her forehead.
Hermione heard movement in the other room, and she calmed slightly. It was just a dream, probably not real. But what was quite real, she thought, her thoughts focusing on the rustling of bedcovers and slight cursing, was that Malfoy had apparently heard her. She straightened her pyjamas and prepared to lie.
Malfoy had been awoken at a dead hour of the morning by a petrified shriek from the room across the way. "What the..." he muttered, climbing out of bed and wrapping the first thing he could find- a smoking jacket- around his bare chest. "Stupid Mudblood, waking everyone up at all hours of the night," he said angrily. Well, something might be wrong, so he should probably go find out what it was.
Upon entering her room, he saw her sitting on the bed, looking perfectly healthy if a bit shaken. "Why the hell do you have to go waking me up now?" he asked her. "Why'd you scream?"
The mudblood looked at him, seeming surprised. "It was just a dream," she said innocently.
Malfoy found himself once again looking back at her appraisingly, trying to think of something cold and rude to say. "Keep your dreams to yourself, Granger- I don't want to hear them."
A/N: OK... just in case you can't figure it out and are still hoping for lovey-dovey making out Hr/D-wise this early in the story, be patient. He still doesn't like her yet, and I'm not planning on making him look like an easily influenced coward. But don't worry, there will be kissing yet- around Chapter 7 or so, I'd say- and plenty of mystery and angst, too. Anyways, stay tuned!
Thanks to Lazuli, Chrissy, Amanda, and Dragon2088 for reviewing so far... maybe I should change my summary?