Immortal
By Cedar1
A/N am really, really...etc sorry for not updating for quite a while, am now back at uni so I don't think my chapters will be being updated as fast as they have been over the summer. Okay maybe fast is too strong a word... hmmmmm. But anyway please send u're reviews in, this sounds repetitive but really the more I get the more it spurs me on. So go on click on that little button!
Disclaimer: "Not yet mine - apart from plot, unless u wanna take that away from me as well" *said with me attempting to sport scary face and waving a bat in one arm *
Chapter 8: A day of fights
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She knew, she knew that he also felt something, that was going to make the tactic of ignoring her harder, for knowing that fact and being the perfect example of Gryffindor stubbornness she wouldn't be easy to put off. But it had to be done. What he felt had been nothing. She was a mudblood, and a Gryffindor with that; he was a respectable Pureblood with a powerful future waiting for him, their relationship could only ever be one of hatred. Despite his conclusions, he fell to sleep oblivious to the fact that a smile had formed on his face knowing he was not the only one exercising the act of denial, he had seen through her when he asked whether or not she loved him; and though her lips said 'no' her eyes screamed a different story.
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Draco snapped his eyes open, and pulled the sheet away from his lethargic body. The cold air hit his exposed skin, stirring the dormant cells. Feeling more awake he whipped his long legs off the bed, and planted his feet on the wooden floorboards. He didn't need to bother checking the time, it was 7 o'clock; his body was somewhat geared to waking up at this time during the school days, Draco liked to think of it as one of his many gifts. Thinking of pure talent, Draco could see the familiar sight of the Quidditch field displayed in front of him, through his large window, the red and yellow flags fluttering playfully in the September breeze. Draco couldn't wait to get on the field, it was when he was flying that he felt free, no schoolwork, no Parkinson, no Lucius and the best bit no bloody Granger to annoy him. No. he was completely free.
And this year, Draco thought with a smirk curving his lips, was a Slytherin year. Draco had been captain of the team last season and was continuing his post this year. And ever since he had been put in charge, the players had got better and better with each practice, it naturally helped that they were too petrified of him to perform below 110%; but as Draco thought whatever means necessary to win. Last year Draco had been so close to wrapping his fingers round that trophy, he could even smell the foul polish Filtch had slathered on it, but no Dumbledore came to Potter's rescue, yet again. Draco stormed into the bathroom as the memory of the Slytherin disqualification slowly played out in his mind. Lucius had been furious, ranting and raving about how it was yet another example of his pathetic son's inadequacy. It wasn't that he objected to the illegal tackles and tactics that the team had employed (which were of course the reason for the slytherin humiliation), no it was the fact that they had got caught. Somehow, as Draco scrubbed his face, Lucius felt that this was all Draco's blunder, he reached out and grabbed the hand towel, it wasn't his bloody fault the team didn't know how to cheat with stealth, they weren't all Malfoy's - into whom the ability had been ingrained. But this season would be different, the team was good enough to trash the others to a pulp with or without dirty tactics, and that trophy was going to be his, Potter's grubby fingers wouldn't even get within inches of it.
Brushing his teeth Draco checked out his reflection in the mirror; broad shoulders topping a toned torso before tapering down to slim hips. However Draco wasn't indulging himself on thoughts of his apparent perfect form, instead his eyes flitted from the faint marks and bruises that tainted his flawless skin. Pleased to see that memories of beatings and degradation were gradually fading away; turning side ways he examined the dark mark that was displayed proudly on his upper right arm, no he was becoming a man. Gratified with his transformation Draco made his way to the oak cupboard, from with he extracted he school trousers and shirt from the mass of black clothing that comprised most of his wardrobe. 'Accio bag' he proclaimed, and his black bag flew from the opposite side of the room to his outstretched hand. He checked his appearance one last time in the long bedroom mirror, raked his hand through his hair, gave one final self- satisfied smirk before leaving the room.
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' Beep, Beep, Beep.' whined the black alarm clock by the side of her bed. The word tapping through the thick layers of hair and skin until it exhaustedly reached the desired destination, her brain. Not to say that it did much good; for the Head girl of Hogwarts, had woken up in the middle of the night aching from the bruises that her Head boy counter part (obviously not Harry) had kindly bestowed on her. Thus using her knowledge from the Mediwitch course she had taken the previous year, one of many naturally, she had been able to cast a spell to dull the pain. However, when you take as many courses as she does you're bound to be ever so slightly rusty, and that would explain why Hermione Granger was effectively knocked out on her bed at this very moment, drool escaping from her parted lips, staining her crooked pillow. Each beep of the clock signaled yet another second passing by, and as the mechanisms clicked to show 9.00 on the display Hermione was officially late for a lesson, for the first time in years.
A contented sigh flowed out of her lips as her body unfurled itself from under her. Hermione had never slept so well in her entire life, and she inwardly congratulated herself on her skills as a mediwitch. She gradually became aware of the annoying beeping noise coming from her clock as the haziness of sleep slowly dispersed. Perfect! Woke up at exactly the right time, if I carry on like this Malfoy will be begging me to love him. Well maybe not quite. Dozily she turned round and glanced at the neon display.
"FUCK!" she yelled as the blinking numbers reflected in her eyes. Jumping from her bed, she grimaced at the pure sensations of pain that the sudden movement had ignited.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" (A/N a '4 weddings and a funeral' inspired moment') she exclaimed, as she madly dashed around her room simultaneously throwing her robes over her nightshirt and flinging books into her school bag.Tossing the bag over her shoulders, she dashed out of the chambers muttering a hurried hello to her very pleasant portrait; who smiled as she saw the brown haired girl run awkwardly down the corridor with her bag swinging wildly, hitting her bum every now and then.
Hermione cursed the books in her bag, another first, as her backside began to numb from the continual bashing it was receiving. She was now spluttering as she cumbersomely made her way down what seemed her 6th flight of stairs. She could now see the oak door of the dungeons room in the distance, the light peaking from underneath it. It had to be frigging potions, 1st thing! Of all the bloody things! She could hear Snape's voice growing louder as she approached what she considered would turn out to be similar to hell. Bracing herself for flames and a fork yielding devil she flung the heavy door open; but seeing Snape's contorted features and furious eyes Hermione realised the next hour would be worse than any hell she imagined.
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Draco leaned back on his chair, stretching his long legs in front of him. He allowed Snape's words to wash over him, for he had already been given an extensive lecture on the benefits of the calming potion from Lucius, and since every Malfoy had been blessed with an excellent memory there was no need to undergo a second round. Anyway his brain was otherwise engaged on more pressing matters, his fingers idly playing with the now opened letter that was laying on his lap. Crease lines Draco's fiddling had caused spoiled the expensive writing paper, however the sentiments remained unharmed. The letter had come during breakfast, but with Pansy groveling for forgiveness next to him it had not seemed like the right time. For the best really, as he re-read the note, if he had read it while he was eating he would probably be suffering from a severe case of indigestion.
(A/N within brackets r Draco's thoughts)
Dear Draco,
I am glad to hear that you reached safely and hope that you are acting as a good Head boy. It will do you good to remember not to do anything that would tarnish the Malfoy name (no doubt Lucius' tender touch. Ironic really for surely Lucius' brief spell in Askaban had done that, money and influence could get you out off a prison sentence but it did nothing for your reputation).
As to your future marriage arrangements ( ah the interesting bit) you shall be told in due time, but as yet it does not concern you.
Love your mother.
Not concern me, my arse thought Draco angrily, screwing up the note in his hand, his fingernails digging into his palm. Personally Draco suspected his mother had not even handled the pen whose ink was scrawled onto the paper, for as well as being a fully pledged death eater Lucius was a masterful forger. However Lucius never bothered enough to vary the tone to match the handwriting, and the detached words screamed off him. Stupid Bastard! He wasn't the one who had the sickening prospect of waking up with Pansy for the rest of his life, sure she was beautiful but unfortunately intelligence didn't top her list of qualities. Hell, he wasn't even sure if it made an appearance. It didn't help that she spent most of her lessons concentrating on feeling him up under the table, like she was doing now. Her hand was squeezing his thigh every so often, noting the pleased look on her vacant face she probably thought he was experiencing some sort of erotic trip, but no instead he was having to endure throes of irritation. Already pissed off by the letter Draco decided to end this; grabbing his unused quill he swiftly pierced the tip into her hand. Result! Her hand jolted upwards, coinciding with a yelp of pain, hitting the underneath of the table. Snape opened his mouth, threats of detention on the tip of his tongue ready to be unleashed, when the door all at once was flung open.
*******************
" I'm so sorry Professor Snape. I couldn't get to sleep last night, so I cast this spell and you see..." Hermione stammered, her voice becoming quieter and quieter under his glare, until she was finally reduced to silence. Her heart was thudding, as she watched with fear filled fascination at the twitching fit his lips were undergoing, the shit was going to hit the fan very soon.
" Little Miss Head Girl, nice of you to grant us an appearance. Will you be staying long, or are you unable to fit us mere mortals into your hectic schedule?" questioned Snape, Hermione could almost see the drips of sarcasm coming of that sentence. Like clockwork her Slytherin classmates laughed at the derisive comment; 'could they be any more predictable?' thought Hermione.
"50 points from Gryffindor," declared Snape, which delivered yet another laugh from the Slytherin corner, in the opposite half the Gryffindor's were exchanging expressions of indignation and dejection, 100 points lost and Neville had yet to get near a cauldron! This was so unfair Hermione thought, how many times had Malfoy just sauntered into class and Snape didn't even bat an eyelash. No as Head Girl she would ensure justice would be done..
"Professor Snape I don't believe you are justified in your punishment. For the past 7 years Slytherins have just strolled in here late, and the most they got was 5 points being deducted. As a teacher at Hogwarts I would hope that you would treat all students the same, and not be biased to your own house."
Hermione was now breathing rather heavily, she looked down at her hands, which were trembling like mad. She could feel several pairs of eyes burning into her, as people began to mutter around her; " That was so brave!", "Snape so deserves that", no doubt from her fellow Gryffindors however in the opposite direction, " How stupid could one person be!" And judging by the rage that was radiating from the Professor and practically heating her up, she tended to agree with the Slytherins. She had effectively made a crap situation, shit.
" Well class, Miss Granger here has successfully volunteered to test all your calming potions," declared Snape, a smirk plastered on his face.
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Hermione looked at herself in the mirror, her mouth was still jerking upwards, as too her hands; the nervous potion had yet to wear off. Angry tears were flowing freely down her face, spilling into the sink below. Even Moaning Myrtle whose toilets she had entered had decided, wisely, to leave the head- girl alone. Well, the slamming of the door and the tirade of curses that Hermione and bellowed in her entrance obviously played a large part in the ghost's hasty exit. Hermione still couldn't believe it; Snape had made her drink 20 vials of ' Nervous Potion' followed by 20 samples of varying success, of calming potion. Needless to say Neville Longbottom's concoction had led to Hermione passing out on the dungeon floor for several minutes. Unconsciously Hermione brought her hand to the bump that had sprouted on her head from that unfortunate incident. But the cause of the tears was not the episode of humiliation she had undergone, but of him.
While the rest of the Slytherins had continued making her the butt of the jokes during and after the lesson, Draco had simply ignored her. Despite her sideways glances, to him she no longer existed. She had even been desperate enough to chase after him down the corridors, the need to speak to him taking over everything else in her brain until it had become her sole purpose. Her fingers loosened their grip on the sink, as she slid down to the cold bathroom floor. Bringing her legs to her chest, she wrapped her shaking arms around her, trying to warm the coldness that surrounded her. The coldness of the memory of him physically brushing her aside when she had got close to him in the hallway. He hadn't even looked down at her, hadn't even registered her. She truly was nothing! She was nothing to him! Why did she ever think she could be any more? And so she remained rocking in the darkness, emptiness blanketing her.
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Draco marched on the quidditch pitch; his team trailing behind him, their bodies tired from the rigorous training their relentless captain had ordered. Even Crabbe and Goyle, defenders of all Malfoy centred topics, were throwing nasty looks at the back of their torturer. Draco could feel the six pairs of angry eyes focused on his back, normally he didn't care, but today he had had enough. He planned the practice in the first place to forget the horrible day he was having, something that was slowly becoming a habit, and he was not prepared for a mutiny, silent though it may be. ...
" That's it! Do you want to win that fucking trophy from Gryffindor, or do want to see Harry bloody Potter get his disgusting paws on it again?" He looked at them questioningly, daring them to answer him. But he had trained them well and the six boys remained silent, their eyes downcast. " You should be bloody lucky you have a captain like me, who can be bothered to lug your worthless arses onto the pitch and teach you how to play properly..What fuck are you all looking at?" questioned Draco, for in the middle of his rant he had noticed that his team's gaze had wondered away from the ground, to the region behind his right shoulder. Nobody answered, they remained enthralled by whatever scene was being played out behind him. Fine thought Draco, and he whirled round.
Did the boy just follow him around or was it just coincidence taking the piss?
Everywhere he went Gryffindors seemed to trail after him, their sole mission being to annoy the hell out of him and Draco could no longer hide the tiredness the situation caused. First there was Granger, who through out the day had been staring at him, as if that would suddenly break him and lead him to confess to undying love. No everything that had happened in the previous 24 hrs had been erased from his memory, and if anything today's performance in Potions would assert that. (A/N and we all know that's not true?). Arguing with Snape like that, stupidity in its purest form; like a Malfoy could ever associate which such a fool! Not forgetting her appearance; her hair in disarray, robes thrown on any which way just highlighted the point that she was a piece of dirt, nothing worthy of his attention. And he had done exactly that, ignoring her at every turn, denying that she existed. But in the corner of his eye he could see the effect his dismissal had on her, the way her eyes bright with hope would dull with hurt; and somewhere, somewhere within him he felt a jolt of some unknown feeling. Pity! It was pity, he argued with his inner self who was determined to suggest it was something different, something not possible..sympathy. To everyone else there is no differentiation between the two emotions, but for Malfoys the two words were a world apart. 'Pity' was expressed for creatures below them, muggles and mudbloods alike; whereas to show 'sympathy' was a weakness, for Malfoys shouldn't feel bad for others, even those they cared for.
And now there was him...
" What do you want Potter?" he asked, weariness edging his voice.
" You're times up Malfoy." Replied the dark haired boy clad in maroon quidditch robes, assuming that this would be answer enough.
But he should have known Draco would be harder to please, " What do you mean my times up? Snape gave us permission to practice till 9.00 and if I'm not mistaken." he glanced at his watch, proving his point, "..its 8.00. Now bugger off, its not my problem if wonder-boy can't tell the time." With that he turned back onto his team, ready to resume his earlier orders.
" Malfoy!" The scream broke through the unsettled atmosphere, and Draco couldn't help but roll his eyes to the heavens, did the fool not know when to just go? Once again Draco had to undergo a face to face with his allocated partner in head-boy duties, and the sight of his red ugly face did nothing for Draco's sensitive stomach.
" You and I know both know you've got no fucking permission, now get off the bloody pitch!"
Ok so Draco had lied, it was in his nature; but no Malfoy took orders from those lower than him.
With the clouds darkening, and the first splatters of rain coming down onto the overcrowded pitch ( A/N the old clichéd atmosphere) the two head boys of Hogwarts involved themselves in a battle of wills. Their eyes burning into one another, neither prepared to give up.
Draco could feel his eyes smarting as time crawled by, the light drizzle had by now descended into a downpour; he could feel his heavy robes sticking to his body and his face slick with the rain. The green eyes of his enemy were also suffering, redness slinking through the greeny shades, only a few more seconds.
As predicted Harry's eyelids dropped, conceding defeat. Satisfied with victory and now feeling the effects of the intense practice Draco turned round and ordered his players to go to the changing rooms. On the verge of leaving the field Draco suddenly heard the mocking voice of Potter talking to his team, " It's not like practice is going to help them," the derisive laughter of his followers flooding his ears. In one fluid motion Draco had strode up to the other quidditch captain and delivered a hard punch to his jaw. The sound of knuckles striking bone, cutting the laughter and in slow motion both teams watched Harry fly through the air and land on the muddy ground with a soft thump.
" We can beat your pathetic excuse for a quidditch team anytime, anywhere," declared Draco, his gaze passing over each of the rival players, ending on Potter who was nursing his jaw.
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A/N Argh! Really don't like this chapter! Did it seem really disjointed? Was that a really odd place to end it? I was going to go on but I didn't want to make the chapter too long, cos I'd prob not finish typing it 4 ages, and I wanted to update soon. I'm sorry if this chapter is abit boring, nothing much seems to happen in it but I promise a more exciting one next time. As ever I would really love it if you reviewed and tell me what you think about; the plot, my attempts at writing good English, and of course the gorgeous Draco! Thanx 2 all those who reviewed last time, Thalion1, Serpent Du Feu, Noisyaime, Mesmer, and Hahero01
.....you're all complete and utter stars!
**Ta very much, and bye 4 now**
By Cedar1
A/N am really, really...etc sorry for not updating for quite a while, am now back at uni so I don't think my chapters will be being updated as fast as they have been over the summer. Okay maybe fast is too strong a word... hmmmmm. But anyway please send u're reviews in, this sounds repetitive but really the more I get the more it spurs me on. So go on click on that little button!
Disclaimer: "Not yet mine - apart from plot, unless u wanna take that away from me as well" *said with me attempting to sport scary face and waving a bat in one arm *
Chapter 8: A day of fights
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She knew, she knew that he also felt something, that was going to make the tactic of ignoring her harder, for knowing that fact and being the perfect example of Gryffindor stubbornness she wouldn't be easy to put off. But it had to be done. What he felt had been nothing. She was a mudblood, and a Gryffindor with that; he was a respectable Pureblood with a powerful future waiting for him, their relationship could only ever be one of hatred. Despite his conclusions, he fell to sleep oblivious to the fact that a smile had formed on his face knowing he was not the only one exercising the act of denial, he had seen through her when he asked whether or not she loved him; and though her lips said 'no' her eyes screamed a different story.
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Draco snapped his eyes open, and pulled the sheet away from his lethargic body. The cold air hit his exposed skin, stirring the dormant cells. Feeling more awake he whipped his long legs off the bed, and planted his feet on the wooden floorboards. He didn't need to bother checking the time, it was 7 o'clock; his body was somewhat geared to waking up at this time during the school days, Draco liked to think of it as one of his many gifts. Thinking of pure talent, Draco could see the familiar sight of the Quidditch field displayed in front of him, through his large window, the red and yellow flags fluttering playfully in the September breeze. Draco couldn't wait to get on the field, it was when he was flying that he felt free, no schoolwork, no Parkinson, no Lucius and the best bit no bloody Granger to annoy him. No. he was completely free.
And this year, Draco thought with a smirk curving his lips, was a Slytherin year. Draco had been captain of the team last season and was continuing his post this year. And ever since he had been put in charge, the players had got better and better with each practice, it naturally helped that they were too petrified of him to perform below 110%; but as Draco thought whatever means necessary to win. Last year Draco had been so close to wrapping his fingers round that trophy, he could even smell the foul polish Filtch had slathered on it, but no Dumbledore came to Potter's rescue, yet again. Draco stormed into the bathroom as the memory of the Slytherin disqualification slowly played out in his mind. Lucius had been furious, ranting and raving about how it was yet another example of his pathetic son's inadequacy. It wasn't that he objected to the illegal tackles and tactics that the team had employed (which were of course the reason for the slytherin humiliation), no it was the fact that they had got caught. Somehow, as Draco scrubbed his face, Lucius felt that this was all Draco's blunder, he reached out and grabbed the hand towel, it wasn't his bloody fault the team didn't know how to cheat with stealth, they weren't all Malfoy's - into whom the ability had been ingrained. But this season would be different, the team was good enough to trash the others to a pulp with or without dirty tactics, and that trophy was going to be his, Potter's grubby fingers wouldn't even get within inches of it.
Brushing his teeth Draco checked out his reflection in the mirror; broad shoulders topping a toned torso before tapering down to slim hips. However Draco wasn't indulging himself on thoughts of his apparent perfect form, instead his eyes flitted from the faint marks and bruises that tainted his flawless skin. Pleased to see that memories of beatings and degradation were gradually fading away; turning side ways he examined the dark mark that was displayed proudly on his upper right arm, no he was becoming a man. Gratified with his transformation Draco made his way to the oak cupboard, from with he extracted he school trousers and shirt from the mass of black clothing that comprised most of his wardrobe. 'Accio bag' he proclaimed, and his black bag flew from the opposite side of the room to his outstretched hand. He checked his appearance one last time in the long bedroom mirror, raked his hand through his hair, gave one final self- satisfied smirk before leaving the room.
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' Beep, Beep, Beep.' whined the black alarm clock by the side of her bed. The word tapping through the thick layers of hair and skin until it exhaustedly reached the desired destination, her brain. Not to say that it did much good; for the Head girl of Hogwarts, had woken up in the middle of the night aching from the bruises that her Head boy counter part (obviously not Harry) had kindly bestowed on her. Thus using her knowledge from the Mediwitch course she had taken the previous year, one of many naturally, she had been able to cast a spell to dull the pain. However, when you take as many courses as she does you're bound to be ever so slightly rusty, and that would explain why Hermione Granger was effectively knocked out on her bed at this very moment, drool escaping from her parted lips, staining her crooked pillow. Each beep of the clock signaled yet another second passing by, and as the mechanisms clicked to show 9.00 on the display Hermione was officially late for a lesson, for the first time in years.
A contented sigh flowed out of her lips as her body unfurled itself from under her. Hermione had never slept so well in her entire life, and she inwardly congratulated herself on her skills as a mediwitch. She gradually became aware of the annoying beeping noise coming from her clock as the haziness of sleep slowly dispersed. Perfect! Woke up at exactly the right time, if I carry on like this Malfoy will be begging me to love him. Well maybe not quite. Dozily she turned round and glanced at the neon display.
"FUCK!" she yelled as the blinking numbers reflected in her eyes. Jumping from her bed, she grimaced at the pure sensations of pain that the sudden movement had ignited.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" (A/N a '4 weddings and a funeral' inspired moment') she exclaimed, as she madly dashed around her room simultaneously throwing her robes over her nightshirt and flinging books into her school bag.Tossing the bag over her shoulders, she dashed out of the chambers muttering a hurried hello to her very pleasant portrait; who smiled as she saw the brown haired girl run awkwardly down the corridor with her bag swinging wildly, hitting her bum every now and then.
Hermione cursed the books in her bag, another first, as her backside began to numb from the continual bashing it was receiving. She was now spluttering as she cumbersomely made her way down what seemed her 6th flight of stairs. She could now see the oak door of the dungeons room in the distance, the light peaking from underneath it. It had to be frigging potions, 1st thing! Of all the bloody things! She could hear Snape's voice growing louder as she approached what she considered would turn out to be similar to hell. Bracing herself for flames and a fork yielding devil she flung the heavy door open; but seeing Snape's contorted features and furious eyes Hermione realised the next hour would be worse than any hell she imagined.
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Draco leaned back on his chair, stretching his long legs in front of him. He allowed Snape's words to wash over him, for he had already been given an extensive lecture on the benefits of the calming potion from Lucius, and since every Malfoy had been blessed with an excellent memory there was no need to undergo a second round. Anyway his brain was otherwise engaged on more pressing matters, his fingers idly playing with the now opened letter that was laying on his lap. Crease lines Draco's fiddling had caused spoiled the expensive writing paper, however the sentiments remained unharmed. The letter had come during breakfast, but with Pansy groveling for forgiveness next to him it had not seemed like the right time. For the best really, as he re-read the note, if he had read it while he was eating he would probably be suffering from a severe case of indigestion.
(A/N within brackets r Draco's thoughts)
Dear Draco,
I am glad to hear that you reached safely and hope that you are acting as a good Head boy. It will do you good to remember not to do anything that would tarnish the Malfoy name (no doubt Lucius' tender touch. Ironic really for surely Lucius' brief spell in Askaban had done that, money and influence could get you out off a prison sentence but it did nothing for your reputation).
As to your future marriage arrangements ( ah the interesting bit) you shall be told in due time, but as yet it does not concern you.
Love your mother.
Not concern me, my arse thought Draco angrily, screwing up the note in his hand, his fingernails digging into his palm. Personally Draco suspected his mother had not even handled the pen whose ink was scrawled onto the paper, for as well as being a fully pledged death eater Lucius was a masterful forger. However Lucius never bothered enough to vary the tone to match the handwriting, and the detached words screamed off him. Stupid Bastard! He wasn't the one who had the sickening prospect of waking up with Pansy for the rest of his life, sure she was beautiful but unfortunately intelligence didn't top her list of qualities. Hell, he wasn't even sure if it made an appearance. It didn't help that she spent most of her lessons concentrating on feeling him up under the table, like she was doing now. Her hand was squeezing his thigh every so often, noting the pleased look on her vacant face she probably thought he was experiencing some sort of erotic trip, but no instead he was having to endure throes of irritation. Already pissed off by the letter Draco decided to end this; grabbing his unused quill he swiftly pierced the tip into her hand. Result! Her hand jolted upwards, coinciding with a yelp of pain, hitting the underneath of the table. Snape opened his mouth, threats of detention on the tip of his tongue ready to be unleashed, when the door all at once was flung open.
*******************
" I'm so sorry Professor Snape. I couldn't get to sleep last night, so I cast this spell and you see..." Hermione stammered, her voice becoming quieter and quieter under his glare, until she was finally reduced to silence. Her heart was thudding, as she watched with fear filled fascination at the twitching fit his lips were undergoing, the shit was going to hit the fan very soon.
" Little Miss Head Girl, nice of you to grant us an appearance. Will you be staying long, or are you unable to fit us mere mortals into your hectic schedule?" questioned Snape, Hermione could almost see the drips of sarcasm coming of that sentence. Like clockwork her Slytherin classmates laughed at the derisive comment; 'could they be any more predictable?' thought Hermione.
"50 points from Gryffindor," declared Snape, which delivered yet another laugh from the Slytherin corner, in the opposite half the Gryffindor's were exchanging expressions of indignation and dejection, 100 points lost and Neville had yet to get near a cauldron! This was so unfair Hermione thought, how many times had Malfoy just sauntered into class and Snape didn't even bat an eyelash. No as Head Girl she would ensure justice would be done..
"Professor Snape I don't believe you are justified in your punishment. For the past 7 years Slytherins have just strolled in here late, and the most they got was 5 points being deducted. As a teacher at Hogwarts I would hope that you would treat all students the same, and not be biased to your own house."
Hermione was now breathing rather heavily, she looked down at her hands, which were trembling like mad. She could feel several pairs of eyes burning into her, as people began to mutter around her; " That was so brave!", "Snape so deserves that", no doubt from her fellow Gryffindors however in the opposite direction, " How stupid could one person be!" And judging by the rage that was radiating from the Professor and practically heating her up, she tended to agree with the Slytherins. She had effectively made a crap situation, shit.
" Well class, Miss Granger here has successfully volunteered to test all your calming potions," declared Snape, a smirk plastered on his face.
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Hermione looked at herself in the mirror, her mouth was still jerking upwards, as too her hands; the nervous potion had yet to wear off. Angry tears were flowing freely down her face, spilling into the sink below. Even Moaning Myrtle whose toilets she had entered had decided, wisely, to leave the head- girl alone. Well, the slamming of the door and the tirade of curses that Hermione and bellowed in her entrance obviously played a large part in the ghost's hasty exit. Hermione still couldn't believe it; Snape had made her drink 20 vials of ' Nervous Potion' followed by 20 samples of varying success, of calming potion. Needless to say Neville Longbottom's concoction had led to Hermione passing out on the dungeon floor for several minutes. Unconsciously Hermione brought her hand to the bump that had sprouted on her head from that unfortunate incident. But the cause of the tears was not the episode of humiliation she had undergone, but of him.
While the rest of the Slytherins had continued making her the butt of the jokes during and after the lesson, Draco had simply ignored her. Despite her sideways glances, to him she no longer existed. She had even been desperate enough to chase after him down the corridors, the need to speak to him taking over everything else in her brain until it had become her sole purpose. Her fingers loosened their grip on the sink, as she slid down to the cold bathroom floor. Bringing her legs to her chest, she wrapped her shaking arms around her, trying to warm the coldness that surrounded her. The coldness of the memory of him physically brushing her aside when she had got close to him in the hallway. He hadn't even looked down at her, hadn't even registered her. She truly was nothing! She was nothing to him! Why did she ever think she could be any more? And so she remained rocking in the darkness, emptiness blanketing her.
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Draco marched on the quidditch pitch; his team trailing behind him, their bodies tired from the rigorous training their relentless captain had ordered. Even Crabbe and Goyle, defenders of all Malfoy centred topics, were throwing nasty looks at the back of their torturer. Draco could feel the six pairs of angry eyes focused on his back, normally he didn't care, but today he had had enough. He planned the practice in the first place to forget the horrible day he was having, something that was slowly becoming a habit, and he was not prepared for a mutiny, silent though it may be. ...
" That's it! Do you want to win that fucking trophy from Gryffindor, or do want to see Harry bloody Potter get his disgusting paws on it again?" He looked at them questioningly, daring them to answer him. But he had trained them well and the six boys remained silent, their eyes downcast. " You should be bloody lucky you have a captain like me, who can be bothered to lug your worthless arses onto the pitch and teach you how to play properly..What fuck are you all looking at?" questioned Draco, for in the middle of his rant he had noticed that his team's gaze had wondered away from the ground, to the region behind his right shoulder. Nobody answered, they remained enthralled by whatever scene was being played out behind him. Fine thought Draco, and he whirled round.
Did the boy just follow him around or was it just coincidence taking the piss?
Everywhere he went Gryffindors seemed to trail after him, their sole mission being to annoy the hell out of him and Draco could no longer hide the tiredness the situation caused. First there was Granger, who through out the day had been staring at him, as if that would suddenly break him and lead him to confess to undying love. No everything that had happened in the previous 24 hrs had been erased from his memory, and if anything today's performance in Potions would assert that. (A/N and we all know that's not true?). Arguing with Snape like that, stupidity in its purest form; like a Malfoy could ever associate which such a fool! Not forgetting her appearance; her hair in disarray, robes thrown on any which way just highlighted the point that she was a piece of dirt, nothing worthy of his attention. And he had done exactly that, ignoring her at every turn, denying that she existed. But in the corner of his eye he could see the effect his dismissal had on her, the way her eyes bright with hope would dull with hurt; and somewhere, somewhere within him he felt a jolt of some unknown feeling. Pity! It was pity, he argued with his inner self who was determined to suggest it was something different, something not possible..sympathy. To everyone else there is no differentiation between the two emotions, but for Malfoys the two words were a world apart. 'Pity' was expressed for creatures below them, muggles and mudbloods alike; whereas to show 'sympathy' was a weakness, for Malfoys shouldn't feel bad for others, even those they cared for.
And now there was him...
" What do you want Potter?" he asked, weariness edging his voice.
" You're times up Malfoy." Replied the dark haired boy clad in maroon quidditch robes, assuming that this would be answer enough.
But he should have known Draco would be harder to please, " What do you mean my times up? Snape gave us permission to practice till 9.00 and if I'm not mistaken." he glanced at his watch, proving his point, "..its 8.00. Now bugger off, its not my problem if wonder-boy can't tell the time." With that he turned back onto his team, ready to resume his earlier orders.
" Malfoy!" The scream broke through the unsettled atmosphere, and Draco couldn't help but roll his eyes to the heavens, did the fool not know when to just go? Once again Draco had to undergo a face to face with his allocated partner in head-boy duties, and the sight of his red ugly face did nothing for Draco's sensitive stomach.
" You and I know both know you've got no fucking permission, now get off the bloody pitch!"
Ok so Draco had lied, it was in his nature; but no Malfoy took orders from those lower than him.
With the clouds darkening, and the first splatters of rain coming down onto the overcrowded pitch ( A/N the old clichéd atmosphere) the two head boys of Hogwarts involved themselves in a battle of wills. Their eyes burning into one another, neither prepared to give up.
Draco could feel his eyes smarting as time crawled by, the light drizzle had by now descended into a downpour; he could feel his heavy robes sticking to his body and his face slick with the rain. The green eyes of his enemy were also suffering, redness slinking through the greeny shades, only a few more seconds.
As predicted Harry's eyelids dropped, conceding defeat. Satisfied with victory and now feeling the effects of the intense practice Draco turned round and ordered his players to go to the changing rooms. On the verge of leaving the field Draco suddenly heard the mocking voice of Potter talking to his team, " It's not like practice is going to help them," the derisive laughter of his followers flooding his ears. In one fluid motion Draco had strode up to the other quidditch captain and delivered a hard punch to his jaw. The sound of knuckles striking bone, cutting the laughter and in slow motion both teams watched Harry fly through the air and land on the muddy ground with a soft thump.
" We can beat your pathetic excuse for a quidditch team anytime, anywhere," declared Draco, his gaze passing over each of the rival players, ending on Potter who was nursing his jaw.
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A/N Argh! Really don't like this chapter! Did it seem really disjointed? Was that a really odd place to end it? I was going to go on but I didn't want to make the chapter too long, cos I'd prob not finish typing it 4 ages, and I wanted to update soon. I'm sorry if this chapter is abit boring, nothing much seems to happen in it but I promise a more exciting one next time. As ever I would really love it if you reviewed and tell me what you think about; the plot, my attempts at writing good English, and of course the gorgeous Draco! Thanx 2 all those who reviewed last time, Thalion1, Serpent Du Feu, Noisyaime, Mesmer, and Hahero01
.....you're all complete and utter stars!
**Ta very much, and bye 4 now**