Love Me...Kill Me...
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Disclaimer: Don't own HP, settings, characters...etc. I own the plot and my own typed/written words.
A/N: Please do not tell me that the characters are 'OOC'. You'll only be stating the obvious. I don't care if they're OOC, as long as I love writing it, and that's what matters. Actually, it's practically AU. So, be forewarned. If you don't like OOC or AU, go back right now, because I am in no mood to deal with flames.
Summary: There's nothing like love to fuck you up.
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kiss me, fuck me, break me, thrash me, crash me, turn me, burn me, win me, love me...
kill me.
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Blackmail. When you're afraid someone's going to find out your innermost secrets, when you're stuck to do anything just to keep up your reputation. Hermione knew a little thing about 'reputation'. Her reputation was being little-Miss Perfect every single fucking day of her life. Her reputation was being obedient to her parents, and trying her very best, and drown herself in her studies and raising her hand every single second in class. It was tiring, yes, but she had to do it. She had to. Because if she didn't - horrible things would happen. She would lose her parents, she would lose her friends, and she would lose her life. Blackmail was immensely disturbing, but it got you what it wanted, where you needed to be, and what you needed to do.
"Miss Granger?" quipped the voice of Professor Flitwick. "Miss Granger, I asked you to read out your magnificent essay for us today."
"What?" she stammered, sure that she was bright red in the face.
"The essay. The essay for the effects of Glowing Charms you were telling me about yesterday?" Professor Flitwick reminded her in his small, squeaky voice. Hermione could feel everyone's eyes boring into her.
"Oh, alright," she said hastily, reaching into her bag and shuffling through the organized materials. Books, extra quills, large portions of parchments. But no essay was found.
"Professor Flitwick? Can I read it tomorrow? I seem to have misplaced the original," she said, smiling sweetly at him.
Professor Flitwick looked astonished, then regained his composure quickly. "Alright, then. Tomorrow." He nodded and proceeded to tell them about the many uses of Glowing Charms instead.
"What's wrong?" whispered Harry beside her. He looked at her with raised eyebrows.
"Nothing," she said quickly, offering him a happy smile. He returned it, and she looked down into her parchment, scribbling furiously. When her eyes were off Harry's, Harry allowed himself a small smirk trickling at his lips...
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Draco Malfoy was having much better luck, meanwhile, in Transfiguration. He needn't do any work. He lay back in his chair, not moving his quill at all, his parchment blank, relaxing his muscles. Professor McGonagall was currently telling students to take notes while she babbled on and on about how Transfiguration would be an important part of N.E.W.T.S.
Draco occupied himself, meanwhile, in thinking about the interesting uses of Harry's Qudditch skills...Harry seemed to straddle his broomstick then plunge downwards with a suave, elegant gracefulness, which meant Harry did not look too awful at the aspects of the bedroom...
A smirk washed over his face as Harry's face in his mind dissolved into a mental image of Granger. He pictured her in a rather appealing way as well...hot and sweaty, with brown curls pouring over her face, half naked...Blackmail did have it's many rewards, and he would have a lot of fun working with her...
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Hermione paced around her dorm, looking at the floor. Five more minutes until she would have to meet Draco. The wait was a slow process. Many thoughts ran through her head, some aimless, some that didn't make sense. The emotions she felt were anticipation and regret. She anticipated meeting with Draco and making the first step of their 'ingenious' (or as Hermione called it, 'idiotic and illegal') plan. She always felt this feeling while awaiting to see him. But whenever they were in the same room together he would insult her and it wouldn't be great at all. Regret because she had let herself be tied into this mess. This mess in which brought out the side she always needed and wanted to conceal.
She took a deep, shuddering breath. It wouldn't be so bad, would it? Once the plan worked, Harry wouldn't know any difference - and she'd still have her reputation. She'd still have her future. She couldn't let anybody tarnish her status at Hogwarts or the outside world - she needed to be this person, this perfect person because nobody else would like the other person, the other person that was her. Don't get all sentimental, she snapped at herself. Being perfect is not that bad. You can get sick of it sometimes but you have to be it, see how bad you felt about the essay today?- You have to be perfect because if you don't, who else can you be? She looked up, glancing at the time.
It was time to leave.
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They met at their 'usual' place. A corner in the dungeons that was chilly and deserted most of the times, but had a foul odor hanging around it. Hermione shivered as she walked down the small steps, a candle trembling in her hand, which was her only dim warmth at this moment of darkness and cold, looking around before she huddled into the small corner in a sitting position. Draco had not arrived yet, which did not surprise her at all. He was always late for their little meetings. Hermione felt a forbidding chill prickling at the back of her neck - as if someone was watching her.
That's ridiculous, she told herself firmly. Nobody's here...nobody knows how to get in this part of the dungeons, no, no, you're just being paranoid...
The feeling did not vanish, and she stood up, looking around carefully. You're a Gryffindor, she told herself. You can't be scared of this...you've been through many scarier times than this...she held her candle defensively in front of her, the dim light illuminating shadows upon the walls. She turned around, facing the wall. The feeling began to increase - someone was watching her...someone was here...a someone that shouldn't be here at all...creaks and footsteps reached her eardrums...she made a fast movement...
Hermione shrieked in startled surprise, dropping her candle, as two hands covered her eyes. The hands comforted her face with a tingling sensation.
"Surprise," drawled the voice.
She made a noise of impatience, elbowing Draco in his front so he would let her go. When he did, he smirked smugly at her, sporting a complete attire of black robes that were embroidered with silver lines that hung around the collar, and the sleeves. Hermione felt highly sluttish next to him - she was wearing her uniform, without any robes, a skirt and a regular blouse that had a stain in the front - she scolded herself for not washing it out with magic earlier, and now that he was here, she didn't dare, for fear of a sneering remark.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, you little prick?" she exclaimed heatedly. "You almost gave me a damn heart-attack!"
"Sorry," Draco said lazily, not sounding at all apologetic. "I used the cloak." He pulled up something in his left shoulder, a bundle of silvery fabric carelessly for show.
"Did you transfigure the cauldron? Did you check Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?" Hermione finally asked cautiously after three sharp breaths of relief.
"Yes, yes, I did everything," Draco assured her.
"Did you check the library?"
"Madame Pomfrey's is cleaning it right now - she'll close up in fifteen minutes..." his explanatory expression changed into sly. "Meanwhile...why don't we occupy ourselves?" he suggested, placing a hand on her shoulder, moving down into her bosom, his fingers making circular motions through her white blouse.
She shook his grasp off. "Get off of me," she spat bitterly at him. "Not after what you did last time."
"Aw, come on..." he pouted.
"No. I want to get this over with - we're not anything but enemies, Malfoy. Just because I am helping you doesn't mean that we become friends now. I am doing this for myself - not you." Hermione stiffened as he looked her over with disappointment.
"Sure, Granger, sure," he remarked firmly.
Moments of silence passed, as they both avoided their eyes, not speaking.
"So," Hermione finally prompted. "Are you sure the book is in the Restricted Section?"
He frowned. "I thought you said we weren't friends - we don't make small talk, alright, Granger?" he said snappishly.
"I am not making small talk. I am asking about our plan!" she argued, her brown hair sliding off of her shoulders as she shook with fury. "Are you sure you have the name of the book accurate?"
"Yes, I am sure," Draco replied stubbornly. "Can't we just go now?"
"No," Hermione told him. "I don't want to get caught."
"Oh, right," he replied, his voice dripping with utmost sarcasm. "I forgot - you've got a clean record, haven't you?"
She didn't bother to answer. The feeling of awareness was now upon her again - her heart leaped.
"Malfoy?" she hissed, looking around her, observing their surroundings.
"What is it, Granger?" he asked, annoyed.
"I think someone's here," she notified him, fear and accuracy ringing in her voice.
"Nobody's here but you and me, Granger. Are you insane or something? You're being paranoid." Draco shook his head, exasperated.
"Listen, I think we should leave now..." she trailed off, biting her lip.
"Oh, alright," he relented, rolling his eyes. "Let's go."
And with a swing of his classic black robes, he began to walk across the empty hall. Hermione followed after him, her arms around herself protectively, still shivering for other reasons than the cold.
And after both of them, Harry Potter followed, equipped in his own Invisibility Cloak.
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