Draco paced the common room, while the old serpentine grandfather clock,
dusty with age, ticked on, the pendulum a swinging snake's head. It would
be coming soon, he knew it; it always came like clockwork.
A scratching, then a fierce crash, was heard somewhere in the boys' dormitories, and a large midnight black owl swept into the room. It landed at Draco's feet, and dropped a large brown parcel. Draco smiled. The family owl had arrived.
"Perfect! Peligroso, stay here. I have something I'd like you to do for me."
The owl's dark brown eyes peered up maliciously as Draco picked up the package and opened it. The usual, a large gourmet box of Celestine's Cosmic Caramels sent from his mother, and a letter informing him of his father's state. He perused it absentmindedly, then threw it to the side. He had matters to handle.
Rushing into his dormitory, and rummaging around the bedside drawer, he pulled out a bronze quill, ink, a picture of his father and some paper. Setting himself at a spare desk, he laid out his supplies, touched the quill to the ink and lay the tip onto the picture. But rather than leaving a splotch of black, the picture absorbed the drops. Lucius Malfoy blinked up at his son, smirked and shook his head. Draco then let the quill tip rest on the paper, free standing, and began dictating his thoughts.
"Most Honorable Professor Snape. . ." The quill began to scratch out ink in the exact penmanship of Lucius Malfoy. "It has recently come to my attention that my son, Draco, has gotten into a touch of mischief with Mr. Harry Potter recently. While troublemaking is never a permissible thing, I found it especially questionable that Professor McGonagall punished only Draco. Now I am not questioning her authority, but I do sense some favoritism, as I'm sure you do as well. Perhaps, it would be fairer if my son served detention with you instead, as I trust your superior judgment, and I know that you would never be harsher upon one student because of another's fanfare. With all that is going on with my trial, I'm sure things are hard enough on poor Draco." Draco sighed. . .this was a bit truer than originally thought. Well, no time to waste now. "Thank you for all your time. Respectably, Lucius Malfoy."
Draco looked upon the letter and smiled triumphantly. Folding it, he turned to the family owl. "Peligroso, listen here. I need you to deliver this to Professor Snape. Make sure he gets this at exactly 5:15 tonight. No later. Understand?" The owl screeched at him, and viciously snapped at the letter. "Don't fuck this up, or I'll have you swinging on a spit for supper tomorrow."
He watched as the jet black owl flew out the window and into the darkness.
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Draco had no sooner sat down in front of McGonagall to polish the desks he had ruined in his fight with Potter, than Snape sauntered into the room. He bowed slightly to a surprised McGonagall, and peered through greasy locks at Draco.
"Professor, I am here to take Malfoy to serve detention."
McGonagall turned her attention straight to Snape. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Professor Snape. He is here to serve detention with me."
"With all due respect, your detention style is not quite what the rest of us would have in mind for this child." Snape narrowed his eyes.
Draco watched with satisfaction as McGonagall rose from her chair. "My detention style? My 'detention style' is quite acceptable. . ."
"In the eyes of those who are taken in by Potter's stories and games." Snape drew closer and loomed over her. "Honestly, this is not what people would expect from you."
McGonagall was outraged. With a voice seething just above a whisper, she met him eye to eye. "Severus, you were not there. This insolent thing ravaged my room and was near to killing Mr. Potter. He should have been expelled, but since you called against that, the punishment is the only thing I can make sure of. And I will not have him go unpunished."
"He will not be going unpunished. He will serve detention with me."
"Hardly a detention then, if you don't mind me saying. You have always been easy on your own house."
"And you've never done the same? Why I can think of a moment just last year with the Quidditch match."
"I will not allow him to be taken from my presence!"
"I have permission from Professor Dumbledore and the boy's father Lucius Malfoy."
McGonagall silenced and sneered at the father's name. Eyes peering from Snape to Draco, she finally relented. "Fine. Take him. But you, Mr. Malfoy," She turned a long finger at the blond boy. "I'll be keeping my eye on you. If another toe is put out of line, not even You-Know-Who himself will keep you from being punished properly!"
Draco muttered a quiet "Yes Ma'am," before rushing out the door with Professor Snape. Following at a respectful distance, he stood straighter, chest puffed out at his success. He had begun to wonder, as the clock ticked down to 5:15, that maybe Snape wouldn't believe the letter to be real. But it worked! It worked perfectly!
"Malfoy. Malfoy?" Professor Snape had turned to face him at the door of his classroom. Draco snapped back to reality. He had been smiling his typical smirk, but quickly stopped to look penitent, eyes turned down from his teacher. "You may be thinking that you're getting off extremely easy tonight. And I assure you, you will not have an excessively difficult detention. I will not be in the room, as I have to aide Madame Pomfrey in a health potion for a rather stupid but solidified second year. But I think it punishment enough to be stuck in a room with Ms. Granger. Go in. Perhaps you can find decent company, if not with her, than with the Poison Octolingus in the corner." He spun quickly, his black robes raising in the air as he walked briskly down the hall to the stairs.
*The moment of truth,* Draco thought to himself. He looked quickly into a newly shined coat of arms, straightening his school robes and smoothing his hair. Smirking toothily, he was thoroughly contented, and walked into the classroom.
There she was, the prey, the soon to be victim, her back turned to him at the sink, once again scrubbing out jars. Hermione's frizzed hair had been pulled back into a quick but wild ponytail, and she was singing softly to herself, some quick Australian ditty, judging from the words. *Some shitty muggle tune, most likely.* Draco thought, disgusted. Then she started swaying, her hips swinging in time to the melody. Draco folded his arms across his chest and smiled in male appreciation. No, the school robes did little to help any girl's figure, but it was enough to tempt imagination. She could be a fairly attractive girl, if she'd pull her nose out of a book once in a while and fix herself up a bit.
She shrugged off the outer robe and let it fall to the ground, back still turned from him, and Draco was allowed the full view of the muggle-born girl. Fairly slim, good long legs. . .Draco could definitely understand why some foolish wizards could turn to a muggle woman. *She could actually make my plan at least slightly enjoyable.* Draco thought to himself. *Hell, she's not nearly as bad as Pansy, and. . .oh. . .wait a minute.* A jar had slipped just beyond Hermione's reach, and she bent over the edge of the sink, stretching to reach the slippery thing. He smirked as he watched her uniform skirt start to rise, still with the notes of the Australian song.
Draco tilted his head lower to the side, catching a view, and smugly called out, "So, how're things 'down under', Mudblood?"
Hermione startled and straightened, turning to peer angrily at Draco. "Probably a lot better than what you've been seeing with Pansy Parkinson." Draco just chuckled softly, knowing she was probably right. Hermione began to scowl. She did not need this, on top of Snape's pointless detention. Unsatisfied with his laughing reaction, she asked, "You should be in detention with Professor McGonagall. So what do you want, Malfoy?"
"Oh, only to keep you company, as per Snape's, not McGonagall's, detention directions. Which, I assure you, is a painful enough detention for me." He sat on the edge of a desk, nearby the sink.
"This is your detention? To watch me work?" She gaped at him disbelievingly. It wasn't fair! Malfoy and his cronies always got out of trouble, and she always got screwed over!
"That's what Snape told me to do. God, don't you Mudbloods hear anything?"
"Stop calling me that!"
Draco stood up from the desk, one eyebrow raised. "What'll you do to make me?"
Hermione stared at him, as if measuring what she was up against. He towered over her now, a growth spurt over the summer putting him just about 6 feet tall, with broader shoulders and a more man-ish jaw line. The guy was built for Quidditch. Gorgeously built for it, and. . .Hermione pulled herself away from that train of thought. He was disgusting, she assured herself, and built for Quidditch. And therefore, any altercation would probably not come out in her favor. She thought again of Harry, who spent a few hours in the Infirmary getting patched up after his fight with Malfoy. Seething, she turned away, back to the sink of filthy jars.
Draco leered at her obvious irritation. "You know, I always thought you were too scared to face me outright. And without your little friends Potty and Weasel, you can't even say what you're thinking."
"Yes, I can!" Hermione scrubbed more vigorously at the jar in the sink.
"Really?" Draco spoke softly, and slowly walked over to her. Time to step up the bets. When he was within inches of her, he stopped. "What are you thinking right now?"
Hermione stopped washing the jars. He was close, too close. Then again, Ron had never even attempted to get this close to her. Her stomach tightened up. It was disconcerting. "I. . .I want you to g-get away from me."
"That didn't sound very believable." Draco came up right behind her, his hands by his side, but leaning in to rasp in her ear. "What are you really thinking?" Hermione gave no answer, her heart beating too loud to think. Draco placed his hands on her waist. "My guess is that you're enjoying this. My guess is that Ron has never treated you with this kind of interest. My guess is that you wouldn't be able to stand if I took my hands off you." Hermione's breath quickened. She closed her eyes, knowing he was right---her knees were took weak to hold her. He pulled her back closer to him. "In fact," Draco's breath was hot on her ear. "My guess is that you wish my hands could go elsewhere. . ."
Hermione shuddered, and without a second thought, turned around and kissed him.
A scratching, then a fierce crash, was heard somewhere in the boys' dormitories, and a large midnight black owl swept into the room. It landed at Draco's feet, and dropped a large brown parcel. Draco smiled. The family owl had arrived.
"Perfect! Peligroso, stay here. I have something I'd like you to do for me."
The owl's dark brown eyes peered up maliciously as Draco picked up the package and opened it. The usual, a large gourmet box of Celestine's Cosmic Caramels sent from his mother, and a letter informing him of his father's state. He perused it absentmindedly, then threw it to the side. He had matters to handle.
Rushing into his dormitory, and rummaging around the bedside drawer, he pulled out a bronze quill, ink, a picture of his father and some paper. Setting himself at a spare desk, he laid out his supplies, touched the quill to the ink and lay the tip onto the picture. But rather than leaving a splotch of black, the picture absorbed the drops. Lucius Malfoy blinked up at his son, smirked and shook his head. Draco then let the quill tip rest on the paper, free standing, and began dictating his thoughts.
"Most Honorable Professor Snape. . ." The quill began to scratch out ink in the exact penmanship of Lucius Malfoy. "It has recently come to my attention that my son, Draco, has gotten into a touch of mischief with Mr. Harry Potter recently. While troublemaking is never a permissible thing, I found it especially questionable that Professor McGonagall punished only Draco. Now I am not questioning her authority, but I do sense some favoritism, as I'm sure you do as well. Perhaps, it would be fairer if my son served detention with you instead, as I trust your superior judgment, and I know that you would never be harsher upon one student because of another's fanfare. With all that is going on with my trial, I'm sure things are hard enough on poor Draco." Draco sighed. . .this was a bit truer than originally thought. Well, no time to waste now. "Thank you for all your time. Respectably, Lucius Malfoy."
Draco looked upon the letter and smiled triumphantly. Folding it, he turned to the family owl. "Peligroso, listen here. I need you to deliver this to Professor Snape. Make sure he gets this at exactly 5:15 tonight. No later. Understand?" The owl screeched at him, and viciously snapped at the letter. "Don't fuck this up, or I'll have you swinging on a spit for supper tomorrow."
He watched as the jet black owl flew out the window and into the darkness.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Draco had no sooner sat down in front of McGonagall to polish the desks he had ruined in his fight with Potter, than Snape sauntered into the room. He bowed slightly to a surprised McGonagall, and peered through greasy locks at Draco.
"Professor, I am here to take Malfoy to serve detention."
McGonagall turned her attention straight to Snape. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Professor Snape. He is here to serve detention with me."
"With all due respect, your detention style is not quite what the rest of us would have in mind for this child." Snape narrowed his eyes.
Draco watched with satisfaction as McGonagall rose from her chair. "My detention style? My 'detention style' is quite acceptable. . ."
"In the eyes of those who are taken in by Potter's stories and games." Snape drew closer and loomed over her. "Honestly, this is not what people would expect from you."
McGonagall was outraged. With a voice seething just above a whisper, she met him eye to eye. "Severus, you were not there. This insolent thing ravaged my room and was near to killing Mr. Potter. He should have been expelled, but since you called against that, the punishment is the only thing I can make sure of. And I will not have him go unpunished."
"He will not be going unpunished. He will serve detention with me."
"Hardly a detention then, if you don't mind me saying. You have always been easy on your own house."
"And you've never done the same? Why I can think of a moment just last year with the Quidditch match."
"I will not allow him to be taken from my presence!"
"I have permission from Professor Dumbledore and the boy's father Lucius Malfoy."
McGonagall silenced and sneered at the father's name. Eyes peering from Snape to Draco, she finally relented. "Fine. Take him. But you, Mr. Malfoy," She turned a long finger at the blond boy. "I'll be keeping my eye on you. If another toe is put out of line, not even You-Know-Who himself will keep you from being punished properly!"
Draco muttered a quiet "Yes Ma'am," before rushing out the door with Professor Snape. Following at a respectful distance, he stood straighter, chest puffed out at his success. He had begun to wonder, as the clock ticked down to 5:15, that maybe Snape wouldn't believe the letter to be real. But it worked! It worked perfectly!
"Malfoy. Malfoy?" Professor Snape had turned to face him at the door of his classroom. Draco snapped back to reality. He had been smiling his typical smirk, but quickly stopped to look penitent, eyes turned down from his teacher. "You may be thinking that you're getting off extremely easy tonight. And I assure you, you will not have an excessively difficult detention. I will not be in the room, as I have to aide Madame Pomfrey in a health potion for a rather stupid but solidified second year. But I think it punishment enough to be stuck in a room with Ms. Granger. Go in. Perhaps you can find decent company, if not with her, than with the Poison Octolingus in the corner." He spun quickly, his black robes raising in the air as he walked briskly down the hall to the stairs.
*The moment of truth,* Draco thought to himself. He looked quickly into a newly shined coat of arms, straightening his school robes and smoothing his hair. Smirking toothily, he was thoroughly contented, and walked into the classroom.
There she was, the prey, the soon to be victim, her back turned to him at the sink, once again scrubbing out jars. Hermione's frizzed hair had been pulled back into a quick but wild ponytail, and she was singing softly to herself, some quick Australian ditty, judging from the words. *Some shitty muggle tune, most likely.* Draco thought, disgusted. Then she started swaying, her hips swinging in time to the melody. Draco folded his arms across his chest and smiled in male appreciation. No, the school robes did little to help any girl's figure, but it was enough to tempt imagination. She could be a fairly attractive girl, if she'd pull her nose out of a book once in a while and fix herself up a bit.
She shrugged off the outer robe and let it fall to the ground, back still turned from him, and Draco was allowed the full view of the muggle-born girl. Fairly slim, good long legs. . .Draco could definitely understand why some foolish wizards could turn to a muggle woman. *She could actually make my plan at least slightly enjoyable.* Draco thought to himself. *Hell, she's not nearly as bad as Pansy, and. . .oh. . .wait a minute.* A jar had slipped just beyond Hermione's reach, and she bent over the edge of the sink, stretching to reach the slippery thing. He smirked as he watched her uniform skirt start to rise, still with the notes of the Australian song.
Draco tilted his head lower to the side, catching a view, and smugly called out, "So, how're things 'down under', Mudblood?"
Hermione startled and straightened, turning to peer angrily at Draco. "Probably a lot better than what you've been seeing with Pansy Parkinson." Draco just chuckled softly, knowing she was probably right. Hermione began to scowl. She did not need this, on top of Snape's pointless detention. Unsatisfied with his laughing reaction, she asked, "You should be in detention with Professor McGonagall. So what do you want, Malfoy?"
"Oh, only to keep you company, as per Snape's, not McGonagall's, detention directions. Which, I assure you, is a painful enough detention for me." He sat on the edge of a desk, nearby the sink.
"This is your detention? To watch me work?" She gaped at him disbelievingly. It wasn't fair! Malfoy and his cronies always got out of trouble, and she always got screwed over!
"That's what Snape told me to do. God, don't you Mudbloods hear anything?"
"Stop calling me that!"
Draco stood up from the desk, one eyebrow raised. "What'll you do to make me?"
Hermione stared at him, as if measuring what she was up against. He towered over her now, a growth spurt over the summer putting him just about 6 feet tall, with broader shoulders and a more man-ish jaw line. The guy was built for Quidditch. Gorgeously built for it, and. . .Hermione pulled herself away from that train of thought. He was disgusting, she assured herself, and built for Quidditch. And therefore, any altercation would probably not come out in her favor. She thought again of Harry, who spent a few hours in the Infirmary getting patched up after his fight with Malfoy. Seething, she turned away, back to the sink of filthy jars.
Draco leered at her obvious irritation. "You know, I always thought you were too scared to face me outright. And without your little friends Potty and Weasel, you can't even say what you're thinking."
"Yes, I can!" Hermione scrubbed more vigorously at the jar in the sink.
"Really?" Draco spoke softly, and slowly walked over to her. Time to step up the bets. When he was within inches of her, he stopped. "What are you thinking right now?"
Hermione stopped washing the jars. He was close, too close. Then again, Ron had never even attempted to get this close to her. Her stomach tightened up. It was disconcerting. "I. . .I want you to g-get away from me."
"That didn't sound very believable." Draco came up right behind her, his hands by his side, but leaning in to rasp in her ear. "What are you really thinking?" Hermione gave no answer, her heart beating too loud to think. Draco placed his hands on her waist. "My guess is that you're enjoying this. My guess is that Ron has never treated you with this kind of interest. My guess is that you wouldn't be able to stand if I took my hands off you." Hermione's breath quickened. She closed her eyes, knowing he was right---her knees were took weak to hold her. He pulled her back closer to him. "In fact," Draco's breath was hot on her ear. "My guess is that you wish my hands could go elsewhere. . ."
Hermione shuddered, and without a second thought, turned around and kissed him.