He couldn't understand it. Draco sat in the middle of his four-poster bed,
green drapes drawn shut, hands wringing his feather pillow as if it were a
human neck. It wasn't fair! He was doing just what he knew he had to do. It
was so simple, so easy. There shouldn't have been a problem. But there was.
Was she attractive? Absolutely. Even Draco had to admit that. Compared to Millicent, Pansy or even Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger was considered a Hogwarts hot commodity. Most of his fellow sixth year boys were beginning to notice. They all whispered about her slim legs, and made bets on who would be the first to get between them. Draco had refused to even join in, claiming that fucking a Mudblood would be like fucking a dog. But now he wasn't so sure he would reject the offer. He thought of those legs, the softness of her skin. And the way she kissed, the way her hands reached for him; she was uninhibited. She was intriguing. She fascinated him.
Draco punched the pillow violently. *She disgusts me!* He told himself. Seething, he thought of all her faults. But he was having trouble thinking of many.
"She's nothing! She's a Mudblood! She's a shitty little Mudblood!" Draco hissed through clenched teeth. No one else in the dormitory heard him (not that anyone would say anything to Draco Malfoy), but on the inside, he was screaming.
*This is all their fault! All Potter and Weasley and Granger's fault! None of this would have happened if it weren't for them!* Draco maliciously tore the center of his pillow clear off the seams. Feathers flew in the air, the only softness surrounded a ragged breathing Draco. *Those little shits ruined my family, ruined my life, took away my father.*
Draco felt a sharp pain in his heart. They took away his father. His father. His father would have known exactly what to do in this situation. His father would have taken care of everything. He always did, from Hogwarts to learning to fly a broom. And now he wasn't even sure where his father was, or what was to become of him. Draco, in a saddened fit of misery, threw the dilapidated pillow aside, and crawled to the very corner of the closed four-poster. Curling up into a small ball, he tucked his head between his knees and silently wept.
Little Draco Malfoy missed his papa.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Hermione was sitting by the enchanted lake with Ron and Harry, Harry once again complaining about his bad luck with Voldemort, and Ron, as usual, politely but silently ignoring her. She tried talking to him, bringing up various conversations on the news of the Chudley Cannons, his favorite Quidditch team. But Ron remained silent, eyes focused on an undefined point on the other side of the lake. Confused, Hermione waved her hands in front of his face.
"Ron? Hello?" He didn't even flinch.
Hermione tried pushing and pulling at him, but all he would do was stare straight ahead. Gradually she grew more frustrated at his silence. She began to scream and shove him, his eyes still turned blankly toward the lake.
"What's your problem Ron? You've been acting hot and cold to me all year! I'm sick of it! I'm human, goddamn it! Talk to me!" Silence was her only response.
Finally, in a fit of fury, she screwed up her fist and sent it sailing into his face.
The quiet body was propelled to the ground, but when it came back up, Hermione saw not the red hair of Ron Weasley, but the towheaded Draco Malfoy.
"Did you really want to do that, Granger?" He stared at her coldly, blood dripping from his lip, and then he pounced. Kissing her, giving her a taste of the cut she had given him, he threw her to the floor and wrapped his hands around her neck, choking her. Harder and harder he squeezed, and Hermione was left gasping desperately for air.
Hermione kicked, squirmed and woke with a start. She was dripping in sweat and was having trouble breathing. A tug on her neck told her the problem. She carefully unwound the rope tie of the green Quidditch robe from around her neck. Shocked at the mere rareness of something like that happening, Hermione stared down at the thick cloth as if it were a sinister omen. She shook her head quickly, noting that she was beginning to sound a bit like Professor Trelawney. No, it wasn't a sign; it wasn't that. She had simply been tossing and turning in her sleep. Her dream had roused an aggression in her.
Hermione settled back onto her pillow. Trying to calm her unease, she closed her eyes and feigned sleep. But it wasn't going to happen. She felt alone, so alone. Ron was too scared to approach her, Draco was too eager to, and Harry could not be a shoulder to cry on in this mess. If only there was somebody there who could help her, or even just hold her. . .
She turned and took the green Quidditch robe, burying her face in it. Savoring the scent of sandalwood and musk, she thought of Draco Malfoy and slowly drifted to sleep.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
It had been an exceedingly long day. Hermione walked up the stairs slowly, lugging the books she had took out from the library. Too many thoughts in her head. Too many questions from Harry and Ron. Too many odd and silent stares from Draco Malfoy. With a certain touch of exasperation, she roughly pushed him out of her mind. She had analyzed the situation from every which way, and she still didn't know what to think about things.
As she neared the top of the stairs she heard a conversation. Judging from the voices, they were just in front of the Gryffindor entrance.
"Look, I just need to go in to see this girl. A Gryffindor has something of mine." The aristocratic air was trying to keep low, frustrations obviously leaking through.
"I couldn't care if they had all your galleons, little boy." Hermione immediately recognized the melodic old voice of the Fat Lady. "No password, no entrance."
"You don't understand. Look, she has some of my clothing. . ."
"I BEG YOUR PARDON!? Listen, you impertinent little scoundrel, don't you dare speak of such immodest behavior in front of me! Why, in all my time. . ."
The Fat Lady continued her lecture while the boy protested. "But I didn't mean it like that."
". . .And in a school! You should be ashamed of yourself! If I had any sense, why I'd report you to Professor Dumbledore himself! What's your name, little boy!? What's your name!?"
Hermione peered around the corner to catch a glimpse of the perpetrator. Standing there and arguing with the Fat Lady, was none other than Draco Malfoy. Hermione gasped. He was looking for her!
Draco cleared his throat. Putting on his poker face, he smoothly said, "My name is Goyle. If you wish to go to Dumbledore, that's the only name you'll need to say. He knows me very well."
The Fat Lady raised an eyebrow, looking down snootily upon the student. "I'm sure he does!"
With that, the Fat Lady strutted out of the picture frame, obviously heading down to Dumbledore's office. Her huge pink dress rustled as she left. Draco, upset and at the end of his rope, put his back to the wall and slid to the floor with a sigh. This was definitely not in his plan.
Hermione checked to make sure that the Fat Lady had gone, and hurried out from around the corner.
"Malfoy." She whispered. He didn't seem to notice. "Malfoy!"
Draco's head shot up in her direction. He looked at her oddly, and then got up off the floor. "Hello, Granger."
"Hi." Hermione said near breathlessly. There was an awkward silence, lasting for what seemed to be an eternity. Finally she spoke up. "Can I help you?"
Jostled from his thoughts, Draco stammered, "Uh. . .um. . .what?"
"I don't think a sixth year Slytherin would have gotten lost finding his common room." She smiled and pointed to the door. "Why are you here?"
"Oh." Draco straightened himself to his full height. Hermione suddenly felt very small next to him. "I need my Quidditch robe back."
"Your robe?" She asked, not sure of what he was talking about. She was still calculating how much taller he was compared to her.
Draco smirked and responded sarcastically. "Yeah, you know, the one I need for the match on Friday. The green one. The one you nearly ripped off me last night in the-- "
"Ahem. . ." Hermione cleared her throat to stop him, and then blushed profusely. "Actually, I have it here in my bag." She reached in and pulled out the neatly folded green cloth. "I was going to give it back to you after Potions, but you were with Pansy, and I didn't think it would look right."
"Thanks." He handled the gathered cloth delicately, his large hands brushing against hers when he took it. Hermione looked up at his eyes. He looked so sad. She was about to question why, when she heard the rustle of a dress approaching.
"The Fat Lady's coming back!" She roughly took Draco by the arms and shoved him toward the hallway. "Here, hide in the corridor. I just have to get something from inside and I'll be right out."
Making sure he was safely tucked behind an overgrown urn, Hermione walked up to the Fat Lady's portrait. "Onion soup." She said in an undertone.
"I beg your pardon?" The Fat Lady had just settled herself back on her stool.
"Onion soup." Hermione said with a bit more force.
"I'm sorry, child, but I simply can't hear you." The Fat Lady got up from her stool and drew close to the edge of her portrait.
"I said Onion Soup!" Hermione said louder now, perhaps too loud, as she heard a chuckle coming from behind the corridor's urn.
The Fat Lady recoiled, her face looking as if she had been slapped. "Your rudeness is becoming a habit, young lady. Enter." The frame swung open widely.
Hermione quickly walked inside, and threw her bag down in the usual place by the burgundy sofa. Turning around in the empty fire lit room, she was greeted by Ron and Harry.
"Hey, 'Mione. How's things?" Harry called from behind his transfiguration textbook. He was dutifully finishing a report that Hermione completed last week.
"Fine." She replied quickly. "I need a favor." Harry looked up from his scroll. "I need to borrow your invisibility cloak."
"Now?" Harry squinted, took off his glasses, and began to clean them on the tablecloth.
"Right now."
"Don't see what you're going to do at this time of night. It's nearly curfew. Are you going to earn yourself another detention?" Ron looked up expectantly at her.
"Ron, you sound like Mrs. Weasley. Never mind what I need it for. Please, Harry, please let me borrow it."
"Sure, sure, whatever you want. It's underneath the cushion of the red brocade chair there." He jutted his chin over to where Hermione was already digging. She grabbed the bundle and headed for the door.
"Just get it back to me tomorrow! And don't get caught!" Harry called after her as she swung closed the door. Turning his attention to Ron, he muttered, "Chiding a girl is not going to make you their boyfriend. It'll make you their mother."
Ron shrugged and stared wide-eyed at Harry. "Well, how am I supposed to know what to say to her? She scares me. . .makes my insides feel like mush, you know. It gets me nervous."
"There's no reason to be nervous around her. You're friends."
"Did you see how beautiful she looked by the fireplace? Or today in herbology? And during breakfast, when she was reading her mail. . ."
"You need to relax. Take a shit and relax."
"I am relaxed!" Ron exclaimed, and immediately started bouncing his right leg. Almost at once, he upset the table Harry was working at, sending his papers flying.
"Ron, keep acting like this, and I'll take you to St. Mungo's myself." Harry said with a smirk, picking up his things.
Meanwhile, Hermione had just informed the Fat lady that she had heard quite a dish of a gossip from the three little witches in the lake painting by the fourth floor. As soon as the word 'secret' passed through her lips, the Fat Lady was sprinting out of her frame. Making sure she was far enough away, Hermione walked over to the Urn.
"What've you got there, Granger?" Draco peered up at her from his seat on the floor.
"Just something that can let us explore for a while." Hermione unfurled the invisibility cloak. Draco raised his eyebrow and smirked.
"I'm impressed. Seems you're not as much of a goody-goody as I thought." He stood up to face her.
"Just get over here." She drew close, then wrapped the cloak around them.
The cramped quarters didn't help Draco keep his mind clear. He felt her thigh brush between his legs. "Umm, where are we going?"
Hermione turned around and began walking. "You'll see. All you have to do is follow me."
Draco saw the back of her school robes swishing with every step, and sneered in amusement. With an ass like that, following would not be a problem.
Neither would his plan to handle Hermione tonight.
Was she attractive? Absolutely. Even Draco had to admit that. Compared to Millicent, Pansy or even Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger was considered a Hogwarts hot commodity. Most of his fellow sixth year boys were beginning to notice. They all whispered about her slim legs, and made bets on who would be the first to get between them. Draco had refused to even join in, claiming that fucking a Mudblood would be like fucking a dog. But now he wasn't so sure he would reject the offer. He thought of those legs, the softness of her skin. And the way she kissed, the way her hands reached for him; she was uninhibited. She was intriguing. She fascinated him.
Draco punched the pillow violently. *She disgusts me!* He told himself. Seething, he thought of all her faults. But he was having trouble thinking of many.
"She's nothing! She's a Mudblood! She's a shitty little Mudblood!" Draco hissed through clenched teeth. No one else in the dormitory heard him (not that anyone would say anything to Draco Malfoy), but on the inside, he was screaming.
*This is all their fault! All Potter and Weasley and Granger's fault! None of this would have happened if it weren't for them!* Draco maliciously tore the center of his pillow clear off the seams. Feathers flew in the air, the only softness surrounded a ragged breathing Draco. *Those little shits ruined my family, ruined my life, took away my father.*
Draco felt a sharp pain in his heart. They took away his father. His father. His father would have known exactly what to do in this situation. His father would have taken care of everything. He always did, from Hogwarts to learning to fly a broom. And now he wasn't even sure where his father was, or what was to become of him. Draco, in a saddened fit of misery, threw the dilapidated pillow aside, and crawled to the very corner of the closed four-poster. Curling up into a small ball, he tucked his head between his knees and silently wept.
Little Draco Malfoy missed his papa.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Hermione was sitting by the enchanted lake with Ron and Harry, Harry once again complaining about his bad luck with Voldemort, and Ron, as usual, politely but silently ignoring her. She tried talking to him, bringing up various conversations on the news of the Chudley Cannons, his favorite Quidditch team. But Ron remained silent, eyes focused on an undefined point on the other side of the lake. Confused, Hermione waved her hands in front of his face.
"Ron? Hello?" He didn't even flinch.
Hermione tried pushing and pulling at him, but all he would do was stare straight ahead. Gradually she grew more frustrated at his silence. She began to scream and shove him, his eyes still turned blankly toward the lake.
"What's your problem Ron? You've been acting hot and cold to me all year! I'm sick of it! I'm human, goddamn it! Talk to me!" Silence was her only response.
Finally, in a fit of fury, she screwed up her fist and sent it sailing into his face.
The quiet body was propelled to the ground, but when it came back up, Hermione saw not the red hair of Ron Weasley, but the towheaded Draco Malfoy.
"Did you really want to do that, Granger?" He stared at her coldly, blood dripping from his lip, and then he pounced. Kissing her, giving her a taste of the cut she had given him, he threw her to the floor and wrapped his hands around her neck, choking her. Harder and harder he squeezed, and Hermione was left gasping desperately for air.
Hermione kicked, squirmed and woke with a start. She was dripping in sweat and was having trouble breathing. A tug on her neck told her the problem. She carefully unwound the rope tie of the green Quidditch robe from around her neck. Shocked at the mere rareness of something like that happening, Hermione stared down at the thick cloth as if it were a sinister omen. She shook her head quickly, noting that she was beginning to sound a bit like Professor Trelawney. No, it wasn't a sign; it wasn't that. She had simply been tossing and turning in her sleep. Her dream had roused an aggression in her.
Hermione settled back onto her pillow. Trying to calm her unease, she closed her eyes and feigned sleep. But it wasn't going to happen. She felt alone, so alone. Ron was too scared to approach her, Draco was too eager to, and Harry could not be a shoulder to cry on in this mess. If only there was somebody there who could help her, or even just hold her. . .
She turned and took the green Quidditch robe, burying her face in it. Savoring the scent of sandalwood and musk, she thought of Draco Malfoy and slowly drifted to sleep.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
It had been an exceedingly long day. Hermione walked up the stairs slowly, lugging the books she had took out from the library. Too many thoughts in her head. Too many questions from Harry and Ron. Too many odd and silent stares from Draco Malfoy. With a certain touch of exasperation, she roughly pushed him out of her mind. She had analyzed the situation from every which way, and she still didn't know what to think about things.
As she neared the top of the stairs she heard a conversation. Judging from the voices, they were just in front of the Gryffindor entrance.
"Look, I just need to go in to see this girl. A Gryffindor has something of mine." The aristocratic air was trying to keep low, frustrations obviously leaking through.
"I couldn't care if they had all your galleons, little boy." Hermione immediately recognized the melodic old voice of the Fat Lady. "No password, no entrance."
"You don't understand. Look, she has some of my clothing. . ."
"I BEG YOUR PARDON!? Listen, you impertinent little scoundrel, don't you dare speak of such immodest behavior in front of me! Why, in all my time. . ."
The Fat Lady continued her lecture while the boy protested. "But I didn't mean it like that."
". . .And in a school! You should be ashamed of yourself! If I had any sense, why I'd report you to Professor Dumbledore himself! What's your name, little boy!? What's your name!?"
Hermione peered around the corner to catch a glimpse of the perpetrator. Standing there and arguing with the Fat Lady, was none other than Draco Malfoy. Hermione gasped. He was looking for her!
Draco cleared his throat. Putting on his poker face, he smoothly said, "My name is Goyle. If you wish to go to Dumbledore, that's the only name you'll need to say. He knows me very well."
The Fat Lady raised an eyebrow, looking down snootily upon the student. "I'm sure he does!"
With that, the Fat Lady strutted out of the picture frame, obviously heading down to Dumbledore's office. Her huge pink dress rustled as she left. Draco, upset and at the end of his rope, put his back to the wall and slid to the floor with a sigh. This was definitely not in his plan.
Hermione checked to make sure that the Fat Lady had gone, and hurried out from around the corner.
"Malfoy." She whispered. He didn't seem to notice. "Malfoy!"
Draco's head shot up in her direction. He looked at her oddly, and then got up off the floor. "Hello, Granger."
"Hi." Hermione said near breathlessly. There was an awkward silence, lasting for what seemed to be an eternity. Finally she spoke up. "Can I help you?"
Jostled from his thoughts, Draco stammered, "Uh. . .um. . .what?"
"I don't think a sixth year Slytherin would have gotten lost finding his common room." She smiled and pointed to the door. "Why are you here?"
"Oh." Draco straightened himself to his full height. Hermione suddenly felt very small next to him. "I need my Quidditch robe back."
"Your robe?" She asked, not sure of what he was talking about. She was still calculating how much taller he was compared to her.
Draco smirked and responded sarcastically. "Yeah, you know, the one I need for the match on Friday. The green one. The one you nearly ripped off me last night in the-- "
"Ahem. . ." Hermione cleared her throat to stop him, and then blushed profusely. "Actually, I have it here in my bag." She reached in and pulled out the neatly folded green cloth. "I was going to give it back to you after Potions, but you were with Pansy, and I didn't think it would look right."
"Thanks." He handled the gathered cloth delicately, his large hands brushing against hers when he took it. Hermione looked up at his eyes. He looked so sad. She was about to question why, when she heard the rustle of a dress approaching.
"The Fat Lady's coming back!" She roughly took Draco by the arms and shoved him toward the hallway. "Here, hide in the corridor. I just have to get something from inside and I'll be right out."
Making sure he was safely tucked behind an overgrown urn, Hermione walked up to the Fat Lady's portrait. "Onion soup." She said in an undertone.
"I beg your pardon?" The Fat Lady had just settled herself back on her stool.
"Onion soup." Hermione said with a bit more force.
"I'm sorry, child, but I simply can't hear you." The Fat Lady got up from her stool and drew close to the edge of her portrait.
"I said Onion Soup!" Hermione said louder now, perhaps too loud, as she heard a chuckle coming from behind the corridor's urn.
The Fat Lady recoiled, her face looking as if she had been slapped. "Your rudeness is becoming a habit, young lady. Enter." The frame swung open widely.
Hermione quickly walked inside, and threw her bag down in the usual place by the burgundy sofa. Turning around in the empty fire lit room, she was greeted by Ron and Harry.
"Hey, 'Mione. How's things?" Harry called from behind his transfiguration textbook. He was dutifully finishing a report that Hermione completed last week.
"Fine." She replied quickly. "I need a favor." Harry looked up from his scroll. "I need to borrow your invisibility cloak."
"Now?" Harry squinted, took off his glasses, and began to clean them on the tablecloth.
"Right now."
"Don't see what you're going to do at this time of night. It's nearly curfew. Are you going to earn yourself another detention?" Ron looked up expectantly at her.
"Ron, you sound like Mrs. Weasley. Never mind what I need it for. Please, Harry, please let me borrow it."
"Sure, sure, whatever you want. It's underneath the cushion of the red brocade chair there." He jutted his chin over to where Hermione was already digging. She grabbed the bundle and headed for the door.
"Just get it back to me tomorrow! And don't get caught!" Harry called after her as she swung closed the door. Turning his attention to Ron, he muttered, "Chiding a girl is not going to make you their boyfriend. It'll make you their mother."
Ron shrugged and stared wide-eyed at Harry. "Well, how am I supposed to know what to say to her? She scares me. . .makes my insides feel like mush, you know. It gets me nervous."
"There's no reason to be nervous around her. You're friends."
"Did you see how beautiful she looked by the fireplace? Or today in herbology? And during breakfast, when she was reading her mail. . ."
"You need to relax. Take a shit and relax."
"I am relaxed!" Ron exclaimed, and immediately started bouncing his right leg. Almost at once, he upset the table Harry was working at, sending his papers flying.
"Ron, keep acting like this, and I'll take you to St. Mungo's myself." Harry said with a smirk, picking up his things.
Meanwhile, Hermione had just informed the Fat lady that she had heard quite a dish of a gossip from the three little witches in the lake painting by the fourth floor. As soon as the word 'secret' passed through her lips, the Fat Lady was sprinting out of her frame. Making sure she was far enough away, Hermione walked over to the Urn.
"What've you got there, Granger?" Draco peered up at her from his seat on the floor.
"Just something that can let us explore for a while." Hermione unfurled the invisibility cloak. Draco raised his eyebrow and smirked.
"I'm impressed. Seems you're not as much of a goody-goody as I thought." He stood up to face her.
"Just get over here." She drew close, then wrapped the cloak around them.
The cramped quarters didn't help Draco keep his mind clear. He felt her thigh brush between his legs. "Umm, where are we going?"
Hermione turned around and began walking. "You'll see. All you have to do is follow me."
Draco saw the back of her school robes swishing with every step, and sneered in amusement. With an ass like that, following would not be a problem.
Neither would his plan to handle Hermione tonight.