Against All Odds
Chapter Three
Koneko-chan says!
New chapter. Ooh. Ah. Woohoo. *waves flag half-heartedly* Well, read, write (reviews) and uh, send! Email! Review! All the other stuff! Send me a new PlayStation 2! (I'd like that very, very much… but I'm not counting on it…) *pout* Well, continue on reading, and I hope you like it. You'd better like it. I worked on it. And when I work hard on something, I have to hope like heck that it turns out good. Comments are always welcome (especially if they come in the form of a review… *hint hint*)
~*~*~*~
She really, really wanted to hit him.
But then, there was the fact that she was still only half-dressed. And if anyone else weren't prone to running when they heard a woman scream, they were probably sure to come running if they heard the crunching of Draco's nose if she hit him where she wanted to.
"Get out Malfoy… I'm warning you."
"Come now Granger, you're being impolite."
She hated the way he could manage every situation, even the most embarrassing of sorts and come out perfectly fine, even with the upper hand.
Rage burned through her, revitalizing what her embarrassment had taken it away from her. Two could play at that game, she would not be toyed with. Not by Draco Malfoy, the same schoolyard bully she'd known for six years in a row. He could swallow his own poison, which she would shove into him, down his throat, hoping he would choke.
She was quite unaware of the predatory smile that slowly curved itself on her face, rearranging her features into something more exotic, something so unlike the traditional Hermione he'd come to know. She let go of his crisp white shirt suddenly, letting him fall back into the seat, jarring him.
(K: Am almost tempted to make Hermione actually put Draco in a jar. I know I wouldn't mind him in one in my room.)
She'd see how far she could take this rigmarole.
She threw the black school robes to the side, and she vaguely heard them smack against the window, and she stood there, close enough so that Draco's eyes were immediately drawn to her chest. It was an effort to perform a seduction if one wasn't wearing anything… eye-catching. But she had not planned, when she had boarded the train, to attempt and seduce Malfoy up to the point where she could walk away with the upper hand.
He gaped at her.
She leaned ever closer to his face, her voice melting into a low, husky purr, watching as his eyes slowly unfocused staring straight ahead… at her breasts as it was, such a coincidence wasn't it?
Hermione's interpretations of Draco earlier that summer in Diagon Alley had been correct. He had noticed how she'd filled out, but this was the first time he'd actually gotten a good look at her. And all he could think of was… wow… And it wasn't as she was the first female body he'd ever seen, not even close… but he had been in control all those times, ready… he had not been ready for this.
She leaned even closer to his face, her voice melting into a low, husky purr. "Is this what you wanted to see, Malfoy?"
He'd faced down women before, in less clothes than she. But this was Hermione… the chipmunk girl. The one he'd never, ever known to play the seduction game.
So, all he could manage was something that vaguely resembled a squeak.
…
It was the single most horrible moment of his entire life.
He was in Hell. No, this was worse than Hell. This was the single, most mortifying moment ever a Malfoy had had. And it was just dumb luck that it had to be Draco Malfoy.
Malfoys did not squeak. That was a cardinal rule.
Or at least, it should be a cardinal rule.
"Didn't expect to see me like this when you saw me last now, did you?" she purred, a vague smile on her face at his verbal… (or would that be oral?) mishap.
"Did you really believe I couldn't be anything other than boring, know-it-all Hermione Granger?"
She smiled… his lips were half-open, just begging to be kissed… and she wanted to, so badly she could already taste them. But she held herself back. Despite his dashing good looks, he was still Draco Malfoy, and she had not known him for six years without developing a keen dislike of the boy.
So nothing would happen of this harmless flirtation… if she were careful. He was the son of a Death Eater after all… but she had learned to know where she would be leading. After her disastrous relationship with Krum, she'd turned to the string of Muggle boys who were all but willing to take his place. It had been they who'd taught her the art of seduction, they and cousin Aphrodesia who'd helped her perfect it. [1] She was not without her wiles. And if she looked at it in just the one way, why, Draco Malfoy was nothing more than simply another boy.
But Draco had his own experience. And he had the added edge of being a Malfoy. Once he'd regained complete possession of his bodily functions, he smiled. His slow, sexy smile with just a hint of a smirk that made most girls fall before him on their knees, and the only words they could utter were "Ravish me now(!)"
Hermione was momentarily caught aback, but she quickly gathered her wits together. "You can't spell me with your eyes, Malfoy… a girl with a past relationship with a vampire learns a few tricks when faced with personal glamour."
His eyes went wide, "I'm not a vampire."
She smiled, "I never said you were. I could have done worse and accused you of being one of the fey." She pulled back, and reached for her clothes, pulling on the white blouse and knee-length skirt that had become quite the standard for school, underneath the robes.
Draco was silent for a moment, before speaking up, "Are you trying to prove something?"
"What do I have to prove to you?" she scoffed, buttoning up her blouse.
"I wasn't talking about just me. Are you trying to prove something to… Potter and Weasley maybe?"
He must have recognized the look on her face because he smirked, "I knew it. So what did it have to do with me?"
She sat down opposite him, "You thought the same as everything else. You hated me, I hated you, it worked out well enough didn't it? But I'm sick of that. It's my last year, and I'm tired of bailing Harry and Ron out of trouble."
"Why do you even bother with those two idiots anyway?"
She bristled, ready to defend her friends, when she sighed and waved it away, "They're my friends." She replied, simply. "That makes all the difference."
Shrugging, she stood up. "Much as you annoy me, and much as I enjoyed seeing your face when I pulled that on you… Harry's coming, so…"
She shrieked suddenly, loud and piercing, and flung herself in the opposite direction, just as Draco stood up, why he didn't know. To catch her, he supposed. Damn, gentlemanly reflex at it worst.
The door crashed open and Harry barreled in, taking the scene in one, furious glance. "Malfoy you bastard!" he yelled, pulling out his wand without even bothering to ask questions.
"Hermione, what happened?" asked other, curious voices from behind Harry.
"I was changing and then Malfoy walked in… and I was so… so surprised… and…"
Draco gaped at her. The little minx!
He watched as she smiled mischievously at him, from her place where no one else other than he could see her face. He glared. She batted her eyelashes.
Quickly, he retrieved the situation. "I needed to talk to Granger… but apparently she can't even handle a simple locking spell, so I walked in."
"Did it ever occur to you to knock?" asked another interested bystander.
He snarled something obscene at her and she huddled away from him.
"What could you possibly have to say to Hermione?" asked Harry, continuing to look at him distrustfully.
"It had to do with something that happened over the summer for your information. And now that she has thoroughly made such a big deal out of a small accident, I'll be going."
He swept out the door, past the crowd that had gathered, and with dignity, proceeded to find out what Crabbe and Goyle were doing to the new girl. He had not been seduced by Granger. Granger did not seduce him. He had not been—oh fuck it.
God he had a hard on.
~*~*~*~
"And then snakes will kill them?" asked Goyle dumbly amazed at this fact. Nagini found herself wondering whether or not Crabbe and Goyle would care if their sons killed by Lord Voldemort's right-hand woman. They were certainly making their way towards her losing control. And she didn't like being out of control; it was too dangerous. Besides, it would not improve relations with Draco Malfoy if he watched her bite off his two cronies' heads in a single bite each.
"Both of you, shut you bleeding mouths and let the girl think without amazing herself at your stupidity." Draco suddenly voiced in a very irritated tone as he leaned his head on his hand, which was in turn leaning on the armrest at the side of the carriage. He looked incredibly tired and probably would've fallen asleep had she not been in the same carriage as they. "Thank you, Draco, but I doubt they heard you." She waved a hand at the two whom were sitting and staring dumbly at them both. Draco sighed, shaking his head at the two goons. Nagini smiled slowly, her hand moving up his leg in a seductive fashion. She'd learned over the years, plenty of the art of seducing a man. He looked up at her surprised, and slightly interested in what she was planning. "Tell me more about Hogwarts," she told him throatily and he shrugged rather nonchalantly. "Absolutely nothing, it's dead boring and the teacher's all have favorites. I'm glad this is my last year here."
"Really… so I perhaps made a mistake when I transferred from Durmstrang?"
"You came from Durmstrang?" asked Draco, eyes wide in surprise. "I wanted to go there… but of course Father was quite strict about my joining his alma mater." He rolled his eyes.
"You did not tell me much more than the boredom… there must be some things that have been worth telling. I hear this school sorts their students into Houses. What house are you in?" Although there was no reason to believe that he could be in any other house other than Slytherin, she asked to 'keep up appearances'. She had read up often enough that Durmstrang was one of those schools who either accepted those willing to learn the Dark Arts, or rejected them entirely. It was a school of Slytherin in one respect, a travesty of unity Hogwarts would never have in another.
That crackpot old fool Albus Dumbledore was a complete bumbler when it came to choosing new applicants for his school. Her acceptance would mean the death of Harry Potter, Hogwarts' current celebrity. "Slytherin… are you going to be in the Sorting with the rest of the First Years?" he asked, looking like it would certainly be a disgrace. "Yes. It stands to reason, I am new to this school just as they are." she told him thinly.
"There's nothing wrong with it, I mean, it's just so… demeaning."
She shrugged, "Until next year, I shall try to hold my head up high for being a seventh year that has to endure her Sorting with the rest of the First Years. But enough of my assumed humiliation… Tell me about this Potter… the one who everyone insists defeated the Dark Lord"
Draco groaned, "Does everyone have to continually harp about that blasted half-wit? That's all I've heard from anyone whenever I mention that I go to Hogwarts."
Nagini smiled, "I was not asking you to tell me how wonderful this Potter boy is, or how strong or brave he is. I was asking for information about this boy because he can't be as perfect as everyone says he is. I expected people from the same school as him would know a little more than what that foolish Skeeter woman writes in the Prophet." Draco snorted, "That pathetic wretch lost her touch ages ago… though I have my suspicions that Granger is behind it all."
"Granger?"
"One of the people in Potter's pitiful little clique. A Muggle." Nagini digested this little piece of information, storing in her mind for later use if need be. He'd said 'Muggle'. Interesting… she'd been sure he'd be the type of arrogant male Pureblood of the old families that would assume everyone was beneath him. She was sure he'd call this Granger a Mudblood. But he had not… quite interesting indeed.
"And you hate this Harry Potter? Him and the rest of his little 'clique'?" she said it as if it was a foreign word. And he noticed it, but left it unquestioned in his desire to rant. "Potter's a show-offing bastard that everyone thinks is so wonderful, Weasley's a pathetic idiot who rides around on Potter's coattails, and Granger… Granger's just a complete know-it-all. A little nothing."
It sounded that last seemed to be said more to reassure himself than to explain things to her.
"I see… and they are, may I ask, popular in this school?"
He snorted, "Hardly. Mostly with the Gryffindor bunch, but the Headmaster favors them."
"Dumbledore, is it…?" she murmured, half to herself. "Then does Dumble—" Draco never heard her finish the question because at that moment, the carriage lurched to a stop, flung open its doors, and upended the two seats on either side of it out, flinging them to the ground, and closing its doors with a snap. Draco growled in annoyance, "Of all the damned carriages in this place, we had to have the one who doesn't know its manners."
Crabbe and Goyle were too dumbfounded to even kick it.
"Wretched thing! You should have more respect for elder students of this prestigious school!" yelled Nagini, getting to her feet and glaring at the carriage, her voice wielding the power of a fearsome predator, of which he words only amplified. "Do I need to remind you that I can tear you into nothing but splinters to be fed into the fiery pits of Hell?" The thing shrank back before scuttling away from the four of them, Draco and his two bodyguard goons staring after the thing in amazement. She dusted her robe off as best of her ability before asking, curtly. "Where do I go for the Sorting Ceremony?"
Draco found himself again and replied, "We're all heading for the dining hall already… the Sorting Ceremony will be there… you're older than the rest of them so you don't have to endure the boat ride, you can join them when we get there."
She nodded curtly, and followed the three of them (well, it is better put that Draco led, Nagini walked not to far behind, while Crabbe and Goyle lumbered along like trolls) into the school with the steady flow of students into the building. The maze of halls was easy to navigate through when one is in the center of a crowd, drawn into the direction their in like a flock of geese and a geese herd, and they soon found their way into the enchanted dining hall. Nagini was astounded, and pretended not to be, otherwise she would give away her act before it had even begun. But never, never had her masters' lairs ever been this lavish or bright and glowing. The human side of her was suddenly struck with a strange sense of joy. These were her people, her new family. She was home.
Her mind told her this was not true. They were the enemy, Harry Potter must be found and destroyed. And her mind could always be trusted where her half-human, half-serpent heart failed her.
They were just in time to see the rest of the First Years file in through a separate door looking scared, nervous, and small. So very small, fragile. Like the fat rabbits she used to feed herself with, twitching their little noses, their delicate ears in fear. Nagini swept into the field of First Years who looked up at her, wondering what in the world she was doing. She gave all that looked at her a frosty glance before looking away, towards the front of the Great Hall where the professors were seated. She stood a head and shoulders taller than all of them and was quite noticeable. People noticed. And whispered.
Then the teachers filed in, and the dining hall fell into silence. An amazingly old man stood in the center of the teacher's table and began to speak. "Another year back at Hogwarts I see! None of you have come in contact with any of the Weasley twins' wonderfully amusing joke products, I hope! Now, First Years! I bid you all welcome as a whole before you are divided into our four houses and become quite… competitive with each other. Let the Sorting begin!" before sitting down in his place.
Professor McGonagall bustled through the group of slightly frightened and extremely intimidated band of First Years and placed on a small, smooth-wood stool an old, weather-beaten and stained hat. A few words and a song later, Professor McGonagall began calling on the names of the new students beginning with "Abbot, Cammy!" and going through the list as the Sorting Hat called out their houses (beginning with "HUFFLEPUFF!" for Cammy). Finally, she reached "Whetlyn, Nagini!" and the 17-year-old stepped up onto the platform.
Whispers sprang up anew as they stared at the tall dark-haired seductress on the platform. Dumbledore spoke up. "Ah, one of our newest additions, just transferred from Durmstrang I believe…" But his words were rather vaguely said as he looked at her inquisitively and more than a little strangely. Enough so that made her suspect he might know something about her. She certainly hoped he did not… this school had had less qualified Headmasters before, and she was not willing to cripple this great school more than necessary. After all, it was Harry Potter she had come for, not Albus Dumbledore.
She picked up the Sorting Hat and placed it on her head, alone, without the help of the stern-faced professor. The brim came down to cover her eyes, hiding her view from the inquisitive crowd. "Ah… certainly not a First Year, are you?" the voice of the hat echoed in her ear, too close for comfort. "But oh… not really a Seventh Year are you?" There was a small chill of genuine fear running down her spine. The hat could read into her mind, into her very soul to learn her secrets.
The hat continued its ramblings, ignoring her for the time being. "Courage, intelligence… oh plenty of ambition… loyalty… oh yes a lot of loyalty… but to whom, I wonder? Well then… how say you to Hufflepuff?"
She gaped, her mouth wide open. It was obvious the crowd would see this, but she paid them no mind, focusing solely on the words that the Sorting Hat in her head. NO! she screamed at it mentally, she would not be demeaned in this way! She was the daughter of the Basilisk, she would be in Slytherin!
"Ah… I see… in that case… SLYTHERIN!" This last the hat bellowed out so that all in the Great Hall could hear, and the Slytherin table burst into applause. She daintily took off the hat, and made her way to the table to find a seat beside a slightly hard-faced girl. Who took one look at her, sniffed at the sight of her robes (dusty from being unceremoniously dumped into the dirt by the despicable carriage) before cuddling against an exasperated Draco Malfoy's arm (whose robes were just as dusty).
Nagini then turned her eyes away from the sickening sight before it spoiled her meal, and turned towards the Gryffindor table, watching them with inquisitive eyes, which would be where the 'Boy Who Lived' himself be seated. Harry Potter, the Gryffindor Golden Boy. Her eyes roved upon each boy seated there in turn, trying to find someone who looked like the Potter she had envisioned. She had never seen him, ever, and only two years ago had even her master seen him. She looked for him, a tall, fit, raven-haired boy probably sitting at or at least near the head of the table and talking loudest of all, putting others down before his greatness, and being an all-round pompous prat.
She saw no boy of that description, save those who were too young or too old to be him. It didn't matter to her, not in the least… she would find him soon enough, after all. There was a girl there, sitting with her nose buried in a large leather-bound book. She smiled, and her thoughts were cruel, if it weren't for her looks, she'd be a pathetic little nothing… she wrinkled her nose. And that smell! Mudblood… she reeks of it. The entire room was entrenched with the filth, and the stink of bad blood. Her master would never have allowed it if he were he in power. When he was in power.
The Sorting Ceremony had ended and McGonagall had whisked away the Sorting Hat, and the stool it had been seating on, and disappeared through a side door. Though by this time, no one was really paying attention to her, but more so at each other, recognizing old faces, greeting the new. She continued to search the Gryffindor table. Where was Harry Potter? The table was too far away to tell who had a jagged scar on his forehead…
"Looking for someone?" asked the person next to her, making her jump, and she whirled around with her fangs already half-shifted in reflex, though she managed to keep herself from baring them. It was Draco. She relaxed slightly, shifting her fangs back into their normal-sized canines.
"Not especially," Nagini replied, putting on a bored expression on her face, "I did wonder if the know-it-all in the corner of that table would be in any of my classes this year. I think I would leave, wouldn't you?"
"You mean Granger?" Draco asked with another one of his hard smiles, "You were right when you said she was a know-it-all… been in some of my classes, that one. Thinks she knows everything even if she is a Mu—ggle."
She didn't miss his hesitance to say the word 'Mudblood', and she looked back at the brunette with a look of interest. What power had she, who would make this arrogant young man hesitate to call her what she was? If she had only had had a wizarding family, it was most likely she would have been a very acceptable girl. But she was not, and in the world that she was determined to erect for the Master, she had been weighed and found wanting. In the new world of the Master's, almost was the same as nothing.
"A few more words before we settle down to our wonderful feast, children." Dumbledore said, and instantly, there was silence amongst those assembled, "This year, a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher has been found to replace Professor Tolkey who has currently held the record for keeping the position for two years in a row." At this, Hermione, who had noticed Professor Snape's sour expression, noticed his overlarge nose wrinkle in disgust and only a quick jab in the ribs from Professor Vector sitting beside him kept him from muttering several (most likely) very rude words about the new teacher. "I present to you, Professor Sa Lai, also known to you students as Professor Sally, as I have no doubt she would prefer you to call her."
"What kind of last name is 'Sally'?" muttered a girl from the Hufflepuff table.
A slightly short Asian woman stood, her robes of myriad colors that should have clashed but looked gorgeous on the shining material fit the little nymph-like woman quite daintily as she smiled at the entire Hall, flashing amazingly white teeth.
Instantly, Nagini felt a shiver go up her spine. She was not alone, because that was what the smile had inspired. In the flickering of candlelight hanging suspended in the air above their heads, they could see that the new professor's eyeteeth were more than that. They were amazingly sharp, pointed fangs.
"Vampire!" shrieked a girl from somewhere in the student body, and a sudden buzz of conversation began anew at this new discovery. After all, wizarding society in general certainly didn't look too kindly upon the Children of the Night as the vampires were so kindly dubbed, even though most could withstand the rays of the sun as well as any other normal witch or wizard. That they were reliant only upon human blood to survive was a matter that most found horrifying however, hence the prejudice.
Nagini did have to have a fleeting sense of admiration for the Headmaster… he didn't really care what prejudice said about vampires… he had hired one nonetheless. She could see some of the power in his old, lined face, and she could see why even the Master had once been wary of this man. She could also see power glowing in the new woman in such vast quantities that it seemed she was more powerful than any other she had ever known… and Nagini had met plenty of powerful witches and wizards over the centuries. What was even more intriguing was the curious smell that usually associated with Dark magic. Did this woman really dabble in the Dark Arts? She frowned. And it wasn't that… the woman didn't just dabble… she was skilled in the arts of the Dark side. Interesting… was she another spy the Master had planted in the school's midst? He had done it once before she knew.
The new professor stopped smiling immediately, and a frown darkened her face and Nagini instinctively cowered as she felt, rather than saw, the sudden buildup of unnatural magic inside the woman. But Dumbledore spoke up before she could say even a single word. "There will be none of that." he thundered over the masses, silencing them instantly. "Professor Sa Lai is a woman who has dealt with what she is going to teach you, and none of you will be given any reason to be in any danger around her." His face darkened, "Unless, of course," he added, "Should you think to misbehave in any of your classes… then the consequences, I fear will be dire." Nagini nearly took that to heart before she noticed none of the other students seemed to. Only the other first years laughed nervously.
"Now, to the process of feeding and watering all these hungry mouths… but of course, a few more words are necessary. Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" and with that he sat down with great satisfaction.
Nagini looked at him as if he had gone quite insane.
But as she turned away, the aroma of food swept through her human nostrils. She looked down to see the golden place filled with food that made her mouth water despite her reluctance to attempt to eat anything that resembled 'human food' after centuries of feeding herself on rodents like Wormtail. She had become used to eating the flesh of any worthless human that her master found useless to him. But her new 'human senses' were quite dominant while she was a, well, human.
And so, she picked up her fork with a little reluctance, and using the foreign tool, began to eat slowly, mimicking the actions of the Ravenclaws at the table across from their table, as they seemed to be eating their own food with relatively good skill at using the cutlery. Several of the Slytherins on the other hand (namely the two who had bombarded her with such idiotic questions on the train), seemed Neanderthal enough to seem to still consider shoving as much food in one's mouth with their hands is good table etiquette. Even Nagini, who had been a snake for the most of her life knew they were horrible with manners.
Pansy, having been comfortably latched onto Draco's arm (who had given up long ago trying to wrench her loose), turned to Nagini, giving her full attention to the new girl, sizing her up once more. Nagini, having just finished swallowing a mouthful of roast beef daintily (whole) as her real serpent body might have swallowed a mouse, looked back at the girl, blinking at her a trifle owlishly. "Yes?"
"Are you some kind of idiot or something?"
She blinked. "Pardon me?" She asked, wondering what in the world at spawned that unflattering comment.
"I asked if you were some type of village idiot that decided she was good enough to go to a wizarding school. What other kind of person would you be crawling all over my Draco on the train?"
"Your Draco?" she asked innocently, before snapping her fingers as if just recognizing the name. Draco made a face at Pansy, and attempted to loosen her hold on his arm, which she resisted admirably. The girl had a better grip than Nagini had first credited her. "Oh, you mean, him." she said, gesturing at Draco offhandedly, "Why no, I wouldn't call my behavior on the train crawling all over him," she said, mimicking Pansy's insulting tone. "I would call it tolerating the company of his two vulgar companions during the train ride."
Pansy didn't bother relaxing. She had the cold, pinched look that most Slytherin girls developed over their time down in the dungeons of Slytherin house. "Are you insulting the company my boyfriend keeps?"
Nagini had had enough. She addressed Draco. "Draco, you never mentioned this girl was your girlfriend…" she pasted a look of curiosity on her face. "I would have thought you might have told me, before she thinks I'm intruding into her territory!"
Apparently Draco had had enough as well. He wrenched his arm free of her grasp, and gave her such a cold look with his silvery-gray eyes that she backed down immediately. "Pansy."
That one word was enough to keep her away from him for the rest of supper. Nagini was rather impressed at the expression on the face of Draco Malfoy, as he glared at his plate after each bite he took, unwilling to instigate any conversation with anyone else at his table.
Interesting… Nagini thought to herself, with a small look of triumph. It would be easy to take Draco Malfoy away from this Pansy girl if ever she'd had a hold on him. He could prove to be a very satisfactory distraction from her dealings with this mysterious Harry Potter.
Her eyes searched the Gryffindor table again. Which one was Harry Potter?
~*~*~*~
The end of the meal was near, and conversation had begun anew when they'd been well fed after the long trip on the train. Hermione found herself abandoning her leather-bound book for an interesting conversation with Amy Moon next to her, a Fifth Year. That was, of course, before Dumbledore interrupted all conversations in the Hall.
"Before we all leave to go to our beds… there is one item of importance that I have overlooked to tell you. Those who had have been hoping for the title of Head Girl or Head Boy had as of yet, not received their letters, and are properly frantic, I believe. However there were several… complications. There has been a slight problem with our newest Seventh Year student." Hermione held her breath, picking out the dark-haired Slytherin girl from the table across the room. Slight problem? What slight problem?
"We have received a letter of recommendation from Durmstrang where Miss Whetlyn has just transferred, in all years of her study in that school. And, in fact, miraculously it rivals that of our own top Seventh Year student." Hermione's breath caught. This new girl? Would she take away the title Hermione had worked so hard for? She began to wring her hands, and old childish habit she had thought she had broken herself of. Apparently not.
"And so… therefore, as their marks are closest, there will be, in fact, two Head Girls. Nagini Whetlyn, our newest transfer—" Applause rose from the Slytherin table. Hermione squeezed her eyes tight together and bunched her hands into fists, waiting for the other Head Girl's name to be called. "—and Miss Hermione Granger."
The entire Gryffindor table leapt to their feet, cheering as if at a Quidditch game. Ron laughed at the blissed out expression on her face. "Not that we were really expecting anyone else, were we, Hermione?" he asked, blue eyes twinkling in that way they always did whenever he was happy. Hermione felt her face would split, she was smiling so much. At last! At last, at last, at last!
"And our Head Boy is…"
Hermione, by this time, was sitting all the way up on Cloud Nine, and was too ecstatic to pay attention to the reality around her, before she was shocked out of her bliss by every person sitting at the Gryffindor table standing up and booing. "What's going on?" she asked Ron, who of course, didn't hear her, being too busy protesting along with the rest of the table. Harry, sitting beside her shook his head, "It's Malfoy," he replied wearily. "He's Head Boy." He didn't sound angry, just resigned to it as was his way with most things these days. The war against Voldemort was really taking a toll on him, who was supposed to be something like the Second Coming of Christ.
"Malfoy…?" she repeated dumbly, staring at the blond boy looking up at Dumbledore from the Slytherin table, studiously ignoring the evil looks shot at him from the Gryffindors. Oh no… she moaned internally, holding her head in her hands. Malfoy…
Professor McGonagall rushed down to the Gryffindor table, her voice rising high above the rebellious yelling of the Gryffindors, and the retaliating screaming of the Slytherins. "Sit!" she told them loudly, "Now!" she bellowed, striking all of them dumb, including the Slytherins, before making her way back to the Head table.
Dumbledore, hiding a smile behind his beard, couldn't hide his twinkling eyes, even though his face had a faint resemblance to his 'serious face'. "Now… after that… opinionative remark from the Gryffindors over our new Head Boy… may all three of our new Head students follow Professor Snape to their new dormitories? As for the rest of us… off to bed now, follow the Prefects."
Professor Snape stood, looking as if he'd just been force-fed several cupfuls of Polyjuice Potion. He stepped down from the table with a frown, and stood waiting while first Hermione, then Draco, then lastly Nagini swept up towards him in her lengthy, gliding walk which no amount of practicing using these new limbs could make her lose. The grace of a serpent was not lost easily. Without another word to any of them, he turned and led them down the hallways where clanking armor turned to watch them, and the paintings and portraits that lined the walls watched them and whispered, some waved, some turned away, all moved.
Finally, Snape reached a specific portrait, stopping in front of it, with a sick look on his pale face. Hermione gasped in recognition, as she saw the images of Sirius Black and James Potter as she remembered seeing them in Harry's photo album once. They were younger of course, and looked about her age. She also realized, that both of them were incredibly good-looking. She had seen pictures before, of course, but this was the first time she had noticed.
Snape's face grew even more pinched as he looked on the face of his once worst enemy. "This is it," he told them shortly.
Hermione stepped up, and Sirius was the first to look down and grin charmingly at her. "Wow… finally, a real looker of a Head Girl… it's been ages!"
She flushed prettily despite herself and she grinned back up at him, "I thought you two weren't ever supposed to be made Head Boy… how did you manage to guard the common room the Head Students' common room?"
James looked down at him, and frowned at her. "Have we met?" he asked, frowning as if trying to place her. That look of puzzlement on his face was so alike to Harry's that she laughed. "No, No…" she looked furtively at the rest of the people with her, for a moment wishing desperately that she had been alone to talk to Sirius and James. She had never really known Sirius, and, of course, had never even met James.
He smiled genially back at her, "Lily is loads prettier though, no offense to you, little lady." James said, hand gesturing along the line of portraits in the corridor. "She's down there, third from the right of us, you can't miss her."
Hermione nodded, "I've seen her. But I've never talked to her before…" she trailed off, when she sensed Snape's presence at her elbow. He eyed the portrait with a look of undisguised hatred, before he turned Hermione around by the shoulders. "Now, if you don't mind, we have a password that needs deciding," he told the three of them, promptly ignoring the snide comments from both Sirius and James.
Hermione shrugged carelessly, "I don't really care what our password is."
Snape eyed her coldly, "You'll have to," he told her, "As you'll also have to know the passwords to every other door in this school. You are a Head Girl."
She nodded, not daring to disagree with him. "Yes, sir."
Sirius sniggered in the background, "Pity you. Having to call a greasy git like him, sir."
Hermione resisted the impulse to turn around and smile at him. Sirius Black, 17, was much, much more fun to be around than when he had been convicted of mass murder.
"The password, Miss Granger. Please join the discussion, and continue your conversation with Mr. Black and Mr. Potter at some other time. Preferably when I am not present."
She nodded demurely, "How about…" she thought quickly, and her mind flashed to the first thing she could think of. "To rule… them… all?"
None of them got the reference. There was a chorus of, "Huh?", "Excuse me?", and "I beg your pardon?" 's.
She shrugged, "I don't know… it's a line from Tolkien."
This time, amazingly, it was Draco who seemed to recognize the name. He looked a little less confused. "Tolkien… he a writer?"
Hermione stared at him, "Well… yes…"
Now Snape understood. "He was a wizard," he informed Hermione who stared at him speechless, "Who lost his wand over some incident or another, and went to live in the Muggle world. Never knew he became a writer. Interesting." He shook his head, "'To rule them all', it is." he said shrugging. "It will do for now. I am surprised, Miss Granger. I expected something more Gryffindor from you."
She frowned at him but didn't say anything. "Nonetheless, it is late, and I have no time to be spent talking here with you. Get in, and if I find out there has been any disturbance, you will be most promptly dropped at the doorstep of Dumbledore's office." He glared at the portrait of Sirius and James. "Open."
"You'll have to say the password, Sevvie."
Hermione grinned up at him behind Snape's back, and he winked back at her.
"Open the portrait hole, Black, or I'll have you two replaced." Snape snarled at the two in the portrait.
James rolled his eyes, shaking his head, "Whatever." The portrait swung open immediately, nearly hitting Snape in the side of the head. He made a swift gesture with his hand towards it, "Get in."
Draco and Nagini scrambled in first, but Hermione lagged behind, and she tugged at Snape's robes when she realized he was too busy glaring at the portrait to notice her. "What?" he asked irritably when he noticed her beside him.
"I just wanted to know… about Sirius…" she gestured at the portrait, "He doesn't know who I am, does he?"
"I would have thought you would have realized this when you saw him. He and Potter are as they were when they were seventeen." And beneath his breath, he muttered something that sounded a lot like, "unfortunately…" with a look of distaste at the back of the portrait.
"Then… would it be all right if I told Harry? And he came to talk to his dad?" she made small gestures with her hands. She was afraid to say more, but he got the idea.
"There are no rules against his coming and speaking to the portraits," he told her with the same irritable tone. "Of course, I shudder at the thought of the two of them together. One at a time is despicable enough to handle." He swept away down the corridor, his robes billowing behind him.
"Right then…" she turned back to the portrait hole, which was still open. "Uh Sirius? James?" the portrait swung back, nearly shutting, but not all the way."
"Aren't you going in? We're not going to stay 'round forever… they're a couple of fine-looking girls up in the corner rooms upstairs."
"You… you won't know me… but I'm Hermione Granger."
James scratched his head, "Never had a Head Girl introduce themselves to a portrait of me before…" he said, "Guess it's nice to meet you too, Hermione."
"Right…" Sirius squinted, looking down at her, "Have we met?"
"No… well, I haven't met you… as you… I don't think…" Hermione stopped, flustered. "I know—knew you in my time. You… uh," she looked down, "You died two years ago."
The two boys in the portrait turned white as they stared down at her in shock. "I'm… dead?" repeated Sirius. "Me?"
"Yeah…"
"What about… me?" asked James, hesitantly. "I mean, not a whole lot of time has gone along, right?" he looked nearly panicked, and Hermione almost regretted telling them.
"You… um…" she shook her head, "I think Harry should tell you all that," she told them firmly, looking up from where she was staring at her feet.
"Harry? Who's Harry?" asked James blankly. "How would he have anything to do with me?"
"He's your… he's your son."
"I have a son?!"
"You have a son?" echoed Sirius, staring at his best friend. "Wow… you did get lucky!"
James ignored him for the moment. "Does he go to this school?" he asked suddenly, all traces of humor gone. "Is he in Gryffindor?"
"Yes… he'll come soon enough looking for me. I'm his… one of his… best friends."
"Great!" and James was back to normal, smiling again. "I can see that my strapping good looks didn't go to waste!" Hermione shrugged, "I suppose. A lot of the girls around here do fancy him. I don't know why you haven't seen him until now. We've gotten into a lot of scrapes in this school… take us everywhere. I must say, your map and your Cloak certainly have come in handy." She grinned at them, "Now, be nice and let me in."
Sirius and James were both staring at her openmouthed, wondering how the hell she knew about those selfsame secret articles she'd just mentioned. "How did you—?"
"I'm his best friend… remember?"
Sirius laughed out loud, "You little minx."
She grinned at him, batting her eyelashes quasi-flirtatiously, "So the boys tell me." The portrait hole swung open with the two of them still laughing good-naturedly, while she scrambled into the portrait hole, and she got her first view of the Head students' common room. It was almost just like the Gryffindor common room, but certainly much more lavish, and she literally fell into one of the plump violet sofa chairs, rapturously sinking into the deep cushioned softness.
"Going to even bother looking at your bedroom then, Granger?" asked a rather sardonic voice from behind, and she leaped to her feet in surprise. Of course, it was Draco Malfoy standing inside an open doorway, and she could see Nagini standing in front of a different doorway with her name written neatly on a small brass plaque on the door. "Oh… yes, that would be a good idea." She floundered out of the chair and dashed towards the only door left. She was left speechless as she stared at it, so used to seeing several other girls looking up whenever she entered the girls' dormitories in Gryffindor. It was simple, but quite elegant, just like her tastes. And on one shelf, there sat predominantly an enormous bookshelf that covered most of one wall. "It's… perfect…" she breathed, surveying it, and the bed especially, which had been laid over with a red silk comforter and gold satin bed sheets. "Better than mine, I'll say. I think Dumbledore favors you."
"I know. We're such lucky, jammy Gryffindors," she replied laughing, still ecstatic enough about achieving all this that even Malfoy didn't seem to annoy her at all, though he had showed up in the doorway of her room. Her trunk was beside her bed already, and most of her things were unpacked already… certainly her clothes were in the dresser, though miscellaneous items had been left, such as her large collection of books. It wasn't until she had bounced her way across the bed towards it and onto the floor beside it, ready to unpack the rest of it that she noticed Malfoy still standing in the doorway, watching her with that same half-smile still on his face.
"Yes?" she asked, waving a hand, as if to attempt to catch his attention.
He blinked, then focused on her. "Uh… right…"
She continued to stare at him, nonplussed.
"Well… I really have nothing to say…" he admitted with a shake of his head, and a slightly rueful smile appeared hesitantly on his face, as if he weren't quite sure how to act around her anymore. She supposed he was trying to be civil, which certainly was a nice change.
"You would, Malfoy." She laughed, still ecstatic enough about achieving all this that even Malfoy's strange behavior didn't bother her at all. Her trunk was beside her bed already and she pounced on the bed, bouncing over it and onto the floor beside her trunk ready to unpack before she turned to see Malfoy still standing in the doorway, watching her almost dazedly. "Yes?" he blinked and half-shook his head before focusing on her again. "Nothing, nothing really…" He straightened and turned around, walking out of the doorway. She raised an eyebrow, but shrugged it off, and went back to work unpacking.
By the time the clock dancing in pirouettes on slender twig-like feet singing the time at odd moments, squeaked out "10:00 p.m.!" she had already finished shoving the last of her extensive book collection into the bookshelf which had suddenly appeared to have shrunk. It was apparent it hadn't, according to the tape-measure she'd conjured up, but then… she eyed the small mountain of books she had yet to shelve, and sighed. Where would they go now?
She sat herself down on her bed for a moment, lying flat down on it and staring up at the high, sloped ceiling for a moment, before she rolled over to continue staring at the piles of books still on the floor. One caught her eye. "Oh!" she exclaimed, snatching it from underneath a copy of Moste Potente Potions she had snuck from a bookshop in Knockturn Alley once after reading it in her Second Year. "I didn't know I brought this!"
She threw herself back against the large plush pillows and began to read, rapturously sinking into the fluffy satin recesses of the satin pillows, the rest of the books forgotten. That was a hazard of being a bookworm, faced with this many books. One was bound to catch her attention and she would simply have to read it all over again.
"Another one of your textbooks, Granger?"
She bounced up into a sitting position at once with a squeal. "Malfoy!" She glared at him, crossing her arms. "Don't you ever knock?!"
He paused as if that idea had never occurred to him, then dismissed it. "Not under normal circumstances, no."
She rolled her eyes, "Why am I not surprised?"
He watched her, as she let out a yawn, stretching, and working out the kinks in her back without any self-consciousness, or true awareness that he was watching her every move. She had changed since she'd unpacked, and dressed as she was in a satin tank top and matching pajama bottoms, she now looked up at him, blinking owlishly. "Well? Isn't it a little late?"
He shrugged, "I'm nocturnal. One of the reasons I like to sleep in late." He watched her as he talked, taking in her face free of makeup, her messy ponytail, and baby blue pajamas, she looked positively pretty. Of course, she always had been rather attractive… but not a full-fledged shining star. Seeing her like this just showed that it didn't have to take a lot of work to be beautiful.
She looked at him with disapproval, the same look he had often seen her cast at Potter and Weasley when she was scolding them over something or other. "But you're Head Boy… you should be setting a better example for the younger students." Draco too, had changed out of his school robes and uniform… if you could call taking off everything except a pair of black silk boxers, changing. Hermione too noticed his long lean form, and the hint of a musculature that was so well hidden in that fine-boned figure. She found herself too answering a mental question from a long time ago. Why didn't Draco Malfoy tan? Because he looked so damn good with pale skin. And he knew it. That white-blond hair would have looked completely washed out if he tanned even the slightest.
He raised an eyebrow, "Granger, I'm a Slytherin. I'm not one of your Gryffindor golden boys. What makes you think I care?"
"You can still get your badge revoked, you know." She replied sweetly, a corner of her mouth lifting up in a very good imitation of his practiced leer.
"And I suppose you and Potter are going to recommend that." A flash of anger flew across his face, making his facial features appear harsher, more clearly defined. "You're good at that… taking everything I work to get and then throwing it in my face with another one of Potter's fabulous victories." The bitterness in his voice was tangible.
"And it was always so one-sided, wasn't it?" she replied, getting angry in her own turn.
"We were always the ones picking on you, weren't we? We were always the ones setting our giant bodyguards to threaten you, or attempting to ruin teachers' reputations, weren't we?" she said, with a hint of great disgust, "You aren't the angel in this story, so stop trying to be!"
He glared at her, his old malice returning. "I never said I wanted to be an angel, Granger." He told her coolly, "But I suppose that probably is what you would expect, dealing with the likes of Potter and Weasley." He said their names as if they were a curse.
"Most likely," she replied just as frostily. "But then, when has it been your job to tell me who are my friends and who are not? You certainly haven't proven yourself to be a worthwhile person to befriend. Why should I bother with what you think, regardless of whether you are Head Boy or not?"
He shrugged, "My dashing good looks?" he offered.
"No go, Malfoy."
"Fine…" he sighed, "Listen, I wanted… er…" for the first time he looked flustered and she raised an eyebrow at that.
"I… I mean… well, it's about Potter."
"What about Harry?"
"Well… there's going to be another Triwizard Tournament. Here. Again."
She gaped at him. "What?! Even after what happened last time it was held here?"
He nodded, "Father found out through one of his more… dubious contacts through the Ministry."
She accepted that, and asked instead, "So what does it have to do with Harry?"
"Take a guess, Daisy… you know as well as I do Potter will be entering… just loves the popularity and the people fawning all over him, doesn't he?" he sneered, "Perfect Potter, have to prove himself to everyone."
She glared at him, and her voice was shrill as she defended her absent friend. "No he's not!" she told him, "He never wanted any of that to happen to him…!"
He raised a languid eyebrow, "Who said I had to believe what you think?"
She glared at him; "You're not answering my question. What does the Tournament have to do with Harry?"
He rolled his eyes skyward, "This is what I get in return for offering unasked for information to a Gryffindor…" he muttered, with a look of frustrated impatience on his face. Patience was a virtue that just did not go well with Draco Malfoy's coloring. "It's our last year as students, Daisy," he told her slowly, as if to a small child, "which means that after this year, we're allowed to use our wands… whenever. That was the reason your precious Harry got into so much trouble throughout the years isn't it? Flouting that Ministry Decree?"
"It wasn't his fault—" she began heatedly, but he cut her off.
"Which means that after this year, when we're legally adults and licensed with our wands for day-to-day use, You-Know-Who will have to be a lot more cautious with the stuff he's going to try to do to Potter won't he? And isn't the Triwizard Tournament the best time to get rid of him?"
She looked at him with wide eyes, "You… why…" she shook her head as if to reorganize her thoughts back into some semblance of order in her head, "Why are you telling me this? Why not speak to Dumbledore?"
"Dumbledore?" snorted Draco, crossing his arms. "Who do I think I am Daisy? Potter? The Headmaster is by no means tight with me as you are with my father."
She frowned at his mentioning of his father. Beastly man… had met him the previous year. Certainly had left something of an impression.
"Well… your father… does he know about this?" she asked.
For a moment, something that closely resembled fear flitted across his face at her mentioning of his father. Then he shook his head quickly, "Nah." He said, reclaiming his composure, "He still thinks I hate you."
"Don't you?" she retorted, crossing her arms with a frown.
"I refuse to answer that without a lawyer, and possibly a mediwizard nearby." He drawled, "Not after the callous treatment I received from your friends, particularly that Ginny spitfire, back in Fifth year."
"Once bitten, twice shy you mean?" she asked with a quirk of her lips, "What a wonderful way to put off answering me."
He shrugged carelessly, "Whatever keeps me alive," he replied lightly, before his expression turned serious. "But I wasn't trying to trick you when I told you to pull Potter from the Tournament."
"How do you know this there even is a Tournament?" she demanded, "Dumbledore didn't mention anything at tonight's feast…"
He smiled, "My father may have been disgraced," he told her, "But that doesn't mean he doesn't still have many good connections to the Ministry and the goings on in there. Trust me… there will be an announcement about that Tournament any day now."
"Then why would they be keeping it a secret? I mean, he told us the first night Fourth year didn't he?"
He shrugged, "Expect Dumbledore had to push really hard to let the Ministry give him back his school back in Fifth year… taken a lot of work to get back in the Ministry's good graces. Place is still as corrupt a place as ever there was. Probably isn't finalized yet." He frowned, "But it will be," he said with a dark look on his face, "He wouldn't stand for it if they tried to veto the idea."
"He? You mean… You-Know-Who?" Her almond-shaped eyes narrowed, as they approached a delicate subject of discussion between two old enemies. "How do you know so much about You-Know-Who's plans anyway? And why are you telling me?"
He took a deep breath before pinning her in a dead stop with those ice-blue eyes of his. "How I know about the Dark Lord's plans? Well… you're the bright one aren't you? It wasn't very hard to figure out on my own once I heard tell of the Tournament being held. They're going to try and assassinate Potter again… they're always at it. As for why I'm telling you…" he trailed off, never looking away from her eyes, "Well, you're one of the only three in this whole bloody school who I know is in Dumbledore's Alliance, or whatever it is you called yourselves. And of the three of you, you were the only one who was the least likely to try and curse me on sight."
"You just might be overestimating my restraint, Malfoy." She replied with a wry smile that might have been the twin of his own. "And you've got a lot of faith in me for someone you've hated for the past six years… I was under the impression you didn't care to want to know anything about me… or Harry and Ron for that matter."
He shook his head, "I hated Potter because he was always so full of himself and was always so adored by everyone. I hated Weasley because he was an idiot that just rode along on Potter's coattails. I hated you on principle." He shrugged, "Twisted principles perhaps, but then I was raised that way." When she eyed him dubiously, he replied, "Well it was like that Muggle Gerry… Rudolf Hitler or whoever."
"Adolf Hitler," she corrected automatically.
"Whoever," he repeated accompanied with a roll of his eyes, "It was like what he said… 'Give me a child at the age of four and he'll be mine for the rest of his life' or… something like that. I just meant that… I guess when you're raised that way, you're always led to believe that's the right way."
She nodded, still rather dubious, but the suspicious light in her eyes was dimmer than before, "Then… what made everything different? For you, I mean."
"I…" he hesitated, "Well… just this whole damn war. There's tension everywhere… you can feel it beneath all their bloody happy-go-lucky prattle and no one's doing anything… aside from Potter that is," he added, his lip curling in patented disgust, "But we all knew he was bound to get in trouble."
"He—" she began before she cut herself off with a shake of her gorgeous head of curls that for some reasons, seemed so much more tamer than they had when he'd first met her. "No, I'm not going to take the bait," she said with a wry grin, "You're entitled to your own opinions. But kindly refrain from bashing from friends in front of me."
He raised an eyebrow, "And you're requesting this of a Malfoy?"
"Oh do shut up, Malfoy," she replied delicately, throwing her nose up in the air in an imitation of his mother. Which, thankfully, he did not recognize.
He frowned at her, "And that's something else I wanted to talk to you about."
"What?"
"'Malfoy'," he mimicked in the exact same tone she had previously used. "I mean, jolly good that you know it and all, but if I'm trying to be civil to you—and you know when I'm trying—then I think you should return common courtesy."
"And referring to that rather embarrassing debacle with my underclothes as a… nickname seems hardly appropriate, wouldn't you think?"
He blinked innocently at her, "How do you know I was talking about your underclothes?" he asked with a rather lascivious smile on his face, to which she self-consciously adjusted her bra strap just in case it was showing. It wasn't. "How do you know I wasn't referring to…" his eyes swept her up and down, "…your anklet?"
She glanced down and looked at the delicate silver chain around her slim ankle, "Oh. But… were you?" she asked, that same lazy, sultry smile that she had used on him back on the train reappearing on her face.
He felt his mouth go dry. After all, she was a girl. A beautiful girl. Sitting there in her bed. Right in front of him.
Wait… when had he thought she was beautiful? He'd come to realize that she was pretty. Pretty. Beautiful was simply a whole new level of feminine attributes that he hadn't previously pinned on Hermione Granger. Apparently the rules had now changed.
Now he had a slim idea why Longbottom and Weasley had been so enamored of her. That Finnigan character hadn't been able to take his eyes off her since Diagon Alley either.
She was still watching him, that infuriatingly captivating smile of hers refusing to fade. He forgot what he was about to say. He could see that knowledge simply absorbing itself into her as her smile widened just a touch.
So he was very thankful when Nagini Whetlyn chose that moment to poke her head through, and look at them both with a slight frown on her face. "Was there a meeting that I was unaware of?" she asked, "Or are you two simply indulging in a bit of conversation between yourselves before bed?"
Hermione smiled warily at the newly-made Slytherin and newly-made Head Girl to boot. "A little of both," she replied with a hesitant smile. "You might join us if you like," she offered gesturing to the one available chair that was not occupied by one Draco Malfoy. Nagini stepped into the room, dressed in an emerald green dressing gown of raw silk and they watched her strangely graceful, rolling walk that would have looked awkward with anyone else, as if she was not used to walking on the ground (which she certainly was not) like anyone else.
Once she sat down, she eyed them both with animal-like patience, "Very well… what is there to talk about?"
"Names," Hermione replied promptly, "And how no one seems to be able to say my name right on the first try. Or on the second for that matter," she added with a small frown.
"Herm-my-o-ninny…" Draco half sing-sang under his breath, before earning himself a frown from the brunette, and a confused expression on Nagini's.
"Do shut up, Malfoy."
"Now, now, what did I tell you about my name…?" he admonished her, shaking a mocking finger at her, "Tsk, tsk Daisy, and I thought you had a better memory than that…"
She rolled her eyes, "Not that you have a better one than most," she retorted, "Last I saw him, Krum still couldn't get my name right."
"You didn't know him for a very long time, did you now?" Draco replied with a shrug, "Affair didn't last very long Fourth year did it?"
"Whatever made you think I'm not still dating with him?" she replied archly, and watched with an internal grin when his mouth fell open.
"D'you mean to tell me that you're still with that duck of a human being?"
She grinned, "No," she replied sweetly, and laughed out loud when he saw his immediate frown, "But we were still an item until this summer. Got sick of trying to talk with him when there are several witches watching from behind upside-down Witch Weekly magazines."
"And… what happened to him?" he asked with a sinking feeling. Hermione didn't seem to be the type to break things off easily, "Him? Oh he found some other worthy fan girl to swoon over. 'Course he ended up with an ugly lump on his face when he got nasty about my breaking up with him. Boy next door came to the rescue."
"And then the summer flings. Daisy, you party girl."
She rolled her eyes but did not answer.
Nagini raised both her eyebrows, "Why do you call her 'Daisy'?" she asked finally, "I distinctly heard the Headmaster call her 'Hermione' tonight or was I mistaken?"
Hermione flushed, "No… no you weren't mistaken. Draco here," she said with a nasty look in his direction to which he had a saintly look on his angelic features, "decided I could do with a pet name."
Nagini raised an eyebrow, "Such women you socialize with, Draco… that Pansy character… and now a Mu—ggle." She shook her head, turning to Hermione and the strange expression already flitting over her face. They all knew what she was about to say. "Forgive me," she said, though she nearly bit her own tongue out at the blasphemy… thank the Heavens the Master could not see her now! "I was raised under… alternative principles."
Hermione nodded stiffly, "I understand." Then she shook her head and managed a weak smile, "Well… a different topic then. How about… where did you come from?"
"Durmstrang, I transferred here. Apparently Karkaroff was an idiot. Murdered last year. Decided to transfer before anything else happened."
"And you came to Hogwarts?" Draco drawled with a raised eyebrow, "Where the Dark Lord decided he would wipe out off the map first?"
She shrugged, "I do not make the decisions. My… guardian does."
"Guardian? No parents?" Hermione asked. She was a quick one… Nagini would have to be wary of that one.
"No, killed… the both of them." One of them several stories below the floor on which we stand upon now, she thought to herself in a sudden wash of old bitterness.
"I see." Neither of them showed anything more than a flash of sympathy… and that made her respect for the both of them—yes even the Mudblood—rise just a little bit more. They weren't bleeding hearts, neither of them.
"Anyway, you said you were from Durmstrang," Draco said, returning to the old topic, "Did you know Victor Krum?"
"Krum? The Quidditch player?" she rolled her eyes in a perfect imitation of Hermione's previous gesture, "With Karkaroff fawning over him as if he were his own personal treasure trove of Galleons? Who would not? Particularly if they went to school with them… as I recall, he graduated last year." She found the perfect moment to bring up a subject that might give her the information she needed. "The girls set up their own personal fan club for the boy… worshipped him as if he were God Incarnate. Ridiculous. But then, I believe you have your own Victor Krum here? Harry Potter?"
Draco rolled his eyes, "Dumbledore's pet Golden Boy. Who wouldn't know who the bloody wanker is? He's only famous for a bloody scar on his head…"
"Methinks I hear jealousy in thy words," Hermione replied sweetly, with a flutter of eyelashes. She turned to Nagini, "Don't listen to him," she told her, waving a hand in Draco's direction, "he's biased."
"Oh, and yours is as pure as the driven snow, Daisy-love?"
"Do shut up," she replied offhandedly, and he frowned at the rebuff. "Harry's not as bad as he says he is. Sure, he's found himself plenty of admirers, but I doubt he even realizes it. He's the foolish kind of boy who doesn't even notice what's right under his nose. Hates the spotlight. Doesn't know a thing about women. Loves playing Quidditch. Hates Malfoy with the passion of a thousand fiery suns."
Nagini raised one perfectly arched eyebrow; "You know a lot about him. I take it you are one of those selfsame admirers of his?"
She blinked. "Me? And Harry? Oh no, no, not ever!" she exclaimed with a shake of her head, sending her curls flying again, "He's been my best friend since we were eleven… I couldn't ever think of him like that."
"So you're trying to explain to me that he is a… nice boy?"
"No other way to put it. Even Draco would agree with me on that one. Right?"
Draco frowned, "Too nice." He replied, "It's just not natural. One of these days, Daisy you're going to find he keeps a stash of Playwitch beneath his bed."
"No, those are hidden at the bottom of his trunk," she replied with a toss of her hand. Then she did a double-take and slapped herself on the forehead, "That was about the most stupid thing I could say in front of a Malfoy…" she moaned out loud.
He on the other hand, was shocked silent. Only a few moments later he recovered enough to say, "You mean you know this?"
She shrugged guiltily, "So I've had my suspicions whether or not he flew that side of the Quidditch pitch," she replied, "There were a few moments of such profound relief before I started being disgusted at the girl on the cover." She grimaced, "I didn't even think you could do that with a wand…"
Draco suppressed a grin. Nagini sighed impatiently, "So you're telling me that this Harry Potter of yours is a heterosexual, perverted-yet-nice, internal kind of boy?"
Hermione grimaced at Nagini's way of repeating her words before shrugging, "I… suppose…" she hedged.
Nagini shrugged, "And perhaps this might be an odd question, but how does this Harry Potter look like? The flow of Daily Prophet into Durmstrang ceased somewhat in the middle of my fifth year, and since coming here I have heard much of this boy, but I cannot separate him from any of the other boys in this school."
"No?" Hermione asked, rather surprised. "I would have thought his picture might have shown up before our fifth year… he did win the Tournament in Fourth after all… but then Fudge certainly was being unreasonable…" she mused out loud as she stared off into space, puzzling over it.
Nagini raised a disapproving eyebrow. This was the company Draco Malfoy kept? He certainly didn't choose them for their looks obviously. Crabbe and Goyle both looked alike with their ridiculously befuddled expressions on their faces, Pansy Parkinson with that hardened look of a pug for a face, and this girl who could not keep her mind on a single topic for an entire minute.
Draco shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable with Nagini watching the two of them. He didn't know who she was… and if her House were to say anything about her, she was Pureblood and probably from an old wizarding family. Then why didn't he know her, or had at least heard of her?
Hermione shrugged, "Oh well, I'll point him out tomorrow for you if you want," she cocked her head with a friendly smile on her face.
At the strained silence that followed Nagini spoke up, "You two were not friends an hour ago. Why now are you talking like old acquaintances?"
"Because we are old acquaintances," Hermione replied wryly, "This boy decided he'd make my life a living hell from the first day we met."
"That wasn't very nice, Daisy."
"Neither were you." She retorted, crossing her arms with a "hmph" sound.
Nagini raised an eyebrow, "Is this how all Gryffindors and Slytherins squabble?" she asked, internally disapproving of how the old roaring rivalries had dribbled down to petty squabbles and stupid pranks.
Hermione shook her head with a wry grin, "No," she admitted, "Whenever Harry and Draco go up head to head the whole school trembles. You should see them on the Quidditch pitch."
Draco looked faintly surprised, "I didn't know you were that interested in Quidditch, don't see you in the stands much anymore."
She shrugged, "Been fascinated since I learned about it. But not like Harry and Ron, not like it should be every conversation's dominant topic." She raised a curious eyebrow, "But why were you looking for me in the stands?"
"You and Weasley are usually the ones that distract Potter the most." He shrugged, "Captain figured if one of the boys smacked a Bludger your way it'd leave me with no competition to go for the Snitch." He looked defensive when he saw her start frowning, "Hey, you haven't seen it happen yet, have you Daisy? I don't need anyone to kill someone in the crowds just because they want me to get the Snitch. I win on my own terms."
"Says the boy who grabs onto Harry's broomstick every time he gets the chance."
"Oh come now Daisy, be fair. That was all the way back in Third. Tournament was Fourth, Quidditch was a joke in Fifth and last year… well you know what happened last year."
She frowned, "It got canceled halfway," she said for Nagini's benefit, "That Slytherin… Penny died didn't she? Bludger to the head?"
Draco nodded, "Yeah. Bludgers are charmed not to kill the players you see… it doesn't say anything about what might happen to the crowds."
"That's why there've only been broken bones…!" Hermione realized thinking back to Harry's accident and what she'd gleaned off of Quidditch Through the Ages.
"And I thought you were supposed to be the bright one. Even Potter figured that one out."
She glared at him.
He ignored it.
Nagini stood up suddenly, her eyes unusually flustered, "There's someone at the door."
"Huh?" Hermione said a split-second before a sharp rapping began at the portrait hole with interjections by Sirius (or James) of "Hey, hey, watch the canvas!"
"Granger, Malfoy, Whetlyn! You get yourselves into bed now before I come in there! What an example you're setting!"
Hermione's eyes widened as she stared through the doorway of her room marveling at Nagini. In the corner of her eye however, she could see Nagini visibly relax. Odd. The girl quickly left the room with a muttered, "Good night," and disappeared into her room.
Draco got to his feet in such a liquid, languid way that it was all Hermione could do not to stare. It was moments like this that she was forced to look past the image of the ferret-faced bastard and see the intelligent and incredibly attractive boy that he was. And she hated it. It was like she was committing some sort of treason by liking the same boy she had so whole-heartedly hated for so long.
She flopped back on her bed against the large and very comfortable cushions as if the feel of silk could make her mind wander to other, less Draco-shaped topics. Unfortunately he was still standing right there in front of her with that serious expression in his eyes in that way that made them look almost silver.
"Yes?" she asked him quizzically, wondering why he was still there.
He shook his head as if in disbelief, "You know, I probably should've paid attention to you a couple of years before," he said with that same look in his eyes, "Maybe then I might've understood something about you… Right now you're tying me in knots trying to figure you out."
She sat up with a small smile on her face, "Maybe. But then that would've made life boring, now wouldn't it?"
He shook his head, "Me? When you're always hanging around with Potter? No chance of that Daisy, no chance whatsoever." He disappeared through the door without even a goodnight. Not as if she'd expected one. Draco or no he was still a Slytherin. They weren't well known for their common courtesies… at least when dealing with Gryffindors anyway.
Nagini, safely enclosed in her own room behind closed doors leaned back against the hard, lacquered wood. This was going to be easier than she'd first thought it might be. After all, once the little mudblood showed her who Harry Potter was, there were any endless number of secret passages to escape through with the boy. She smiled… if the boy was as nice as Hermione had said, then it would be rather easy to 'make friends' with the boy before playing damsel in distress. She frowned. The only hitch was that he was in Gryffindor. But then, he was also seventeen. At seventeen, a boy's libido always won out in the long run.
She shook her head free of these thoughts and turned to those of her own freedom. For the moment, away from the Master, she had a freedom she had never previously possessed. And she was going to take full advantage of this little mission to explore this school that the Master had studied in, and where she herself had been born. Deep in the recesses of the very dungeons in this place, the basilisk had lain asleep for a decade or two, and there were powers there. Old magic, that of the serpent. Of her sire. Quietly, she slipped out of the portrait hole and with a mysterious smile towards Sirius and James's portrait, she disappeared down the corridor with barely a whisper of sound coming from her feet.
Draco in his own room was breathing heavily. He was suspicious of the new girl who could just trounce into the school and rise to power so very quickly. The Dark Lord was not without his spies, and Draco was wary of them. After all, his standing in the Dark Lord's good graces depended almost solely on his father… and his father certainly didn't have as much social stature as he'd had before.
He gritted his teeth… damn that Potter. If he hadn't been such a meddler all the way back in Fifth, his father would still be well acquainted with the Ministry of Magic and Draco wouldn't have to be walking the thin line he was now.
He remembered once wanting to be in the Dark Lord's circle, wanting it so much because it promised and tempted him with power. But he'd seen some of the things that the other Dark Eaters, the ones the Dark Lord were displeased with, had had to face. He didn't want to be a Death Eater… power was something that he couldn't attain with the Dark Lord. If there was one thing Draco knew, those in power wish to stay in power. And they would never allow anyone else to take even a scrap of it. That his father believed otherwise was the only thing that had kept him tied to the Dark Lord for so long. There had been many long and bitter arguments that had raged between the both of them. Narcissa Malfoy, as much as both son and husband loved her, was unable to convince either of them to see the other's way about the subject, so the Malfoy manor had been even less restful than previous years. He stared up at the blank whiteness of the ceiling that seemed to glow in the dim light of the moon filtering in through the thin curtains over the big bay window, and it served as a projector for his thoughts as he replayed the scenario that had taken place just before he'd left for school.
"The Dark Lord has risen and he has accepted us into the fold again… we must join him. We must follow him!"
Draco watched the older man with wary eyes, "What would you gain by being in the Dark Lord's little fan club? If the Dark Lord does defeat Dumbledore and the Ministry and their Order, there is only one who can rule… and you know he does not share power."
"What powerful sorcerer are you to say these things about someone more powerful than yourself? Only once have you seen the Dark Lord. Once. You can see the power the man radiates. I am a part of that power, I am part of what gives him that stability. He needs us, my son. He needs us to succeed and once he accomplishes everything, he will reward us."
"Father, you know as well as I do once something has outlived its usefulness the owner tosses it away and forgets about it. He'll do that. Use you and once he's finished wringing every bit of usefulness from you, he'll dispose of you. Look what happened to the Dark Mage!" Their voices had grown progressively louder and louder, the braver of the house elves cringing away, while the lesser ones had already vanished with a CRACK. The story of the Dark Mage was nearly legendary amongst the Death Eater families, and the elder Malfoy cringed before he could stop himself. "That won't happen." He said in a tone that seemed more as if to reassure himself than to assure his son of the truth.
"And what proof do you have?" Draco replied with a disgusted look on his chiseled features, "Wormtail's hand?"
Lucius struck him, struck him hard enough to make him stumble a step as he roared in the face of his son, "Don't act impudent to me!" his voice growing louder and louder though it hadn't previously seemed possible, "You stand here right now because of my work for the Dark Lord. He holds much power and everything that is mine is his. The Dark Lord wants you, Draco. And you are consecrated to be his!"
"Well what if I don't want to be?" he yelled back, rebellious of what his father wanted from him. "What if the Dark Lord loses again? He isn't above losing! And what do you think will happen to the Malfoy name if that happens after your monumental screw-up at the Ministry?!"
"And what would you do if you ran away from the Dark Lord's circle? Do you think that Potter boy and Dumbledore will welcome you with open arms and let you into the fold? Do you really believe the Dark Lord would stand for it? You're not above mortal death, you know."
"Are you threatening me?" Draco replied evenly, watching his father with eyes that could have been Lucius's own.
"I don't need to. The Dark Lord has already chosen you. You have already been branded. There is nothing you can do."
He shuddered, wrapping his blanket closer around him, banishing the thoughts. He had to be careful this year… this was the last year they'd be at Hogwarts, and where Harry bloody Potter would be most vulnerable. The Dark Lord had appeared all the way back in Fourth. He had built up enough power around himself to be able to attack. The fireworks were going to start this year… he was sure of it.
He was not going to be involved. He needed connections on both sides of this silent war, and establishing a 'friendship' with Hermione Granger—a mudblood and a widely-known supporter of Harry Potter and Dumbledore, would do just that. His plan was coolly calculated and thorough. At least, that was what he tried to tell himself. Damn teenaged libido.
Things had to work out this year. He'd see to it, and woe betide anyone who got in Draco Malfoy's way. He turned over in his bed, closing his eyes resolutely, attempting to go to sleep. There were, after all, classes tomorrow.
That was when he heard the scream coming from the room right beside his.
Hermione's room.
His heart nearly stopped.
~*~*~*~
REVIEW ME!
End! A chapter with not a lot perhaps, but it was needed. I mean, the Gryffindors don't like the Slytherins. But it's a known fact that Hermione is more open than let's say Ron (I'm recalling a certain 'fraternizing with the enemy' thing from Goblet of Fire concerning Krum) and she is the perfect person to have the whole friendship thing going. So Draco's not the cruel, pompous bastard we all love, who cares? He's cool, and if he can be nice, that's a bonus! And since I have gone through the trouble of revising this fic so that it is a little better of a read, please review.
