Furiously, Hermione stormed down the grand staircase. She had the vague
idea of visiting Hagrid; he was always good at calming her down. She was
barely halfway through her descent and deep in thought when she ran into
someone tall and muscular.
"Sor-" she began automatically, but stopped short when she realized whom she'd collided with. Standing there rubbing his shoulder was Draco Malfoy, looking annoyed and particularly vicious.
"Watch it, Granger! Shouldn't you be up in the owlery sending some sappy love letter to your Vicky?" he spat. "Only seven days left, you know."
The blood drained from her face. He always-always-managed to get her where it hurt the most. She stammered, "We...we....broke up, not that we ever truly dated or anything, but he left school and didn't want to be..." It suddenly dawned on her whom she was talking to and what she was talking about. "Why do you care anyway?! Besides, you ran into me."
"I did not!" he protested.
"Did too," she said, feeling like a three-year-old. "If you had been paying attention, you would have avoided me."
"Did not," Malfoy said again, apparently at loss for a better comeback.
"That settle that," she snorted. "Go snog in a broom closet with Pansy and leave me alone."
Malfoy's face contorted into something akin to a painful grimace, but smoothed out so quickly that Hermione wasn't sure she'd even seen anything.
"You see, I would," he drawled, "but that would require forcibly peeling her off Zabini."
Hermione's jaw dropped.
"You're kidding! Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini? That's disgusting. He's younger than her."
"Potter's younger than Chang," he pointed out. "And the Weasel and Spinnet."
"Didn't know you kept up on the Gryffindors' love lives," Hermione said, deliberately sidestepping the fact that he was right.
"Please. I can't help but noticing when a couple of idiots are making fools of themselves over a rush of hormones."
To his surprise, instead of defending her friends, Hermione looked thoughtful.
"They are making right prats out of themselves, aren't they? Thinking themselves in love. Really! One simply cannot find one's true love at the age of fifteen."
"Never would have pegged you as a skeptic, Granger," Malfoy informed her.
"Well, it's only logical, isn't it? In fact, the whole concept of love is quite ridiculous. Like you said, it's hormones. You're either physically attracted to someone, or you're friends. Love isn't an option, not the moonlit strolls and bouquet of roses romantic nonsense."
"Sentimental drivel, that's what it is," he deadpanned, then smirked. "Who would've thought, a Malfoy and a mudblood agreeing about something."
"Yeah, I guess anything's possible," said Hermione, nonetheless looking doubtful. "You know, someone ought to inform all the love-lorn imbeciles of their mistakes."
"You're not implying that as the only two sane students, it's our responsibility, are you? Frankly, my sense of civic duty doesn't stretch that far. Besides, it's not as if the gits'll listen to us anyway, we're-"
Somebody was coming around the corner. Several somebodies, by the sound of it, unless there was a schizophrenic enrolled at Hogwarts. Malfoy would rather die than be caught talking to Hermione Granger. Talking to a mudblood was bad enough, but talking to the mudblood was unthinkable. He seized her wrist and dragged her down the rest of the stairs. They crouched in the shadows next to the staircase, listening descending footsteps.
"Oh, I just thought we'd go for a stroll, that's all," came a breathy, squeaky voice. Hermione frowned at Malfoy and mouthed, "Flitwick?"
"All right, but not too long, my first years are tackling Ninscrauts in the morning, so I'll need to be on my toes." It was Professor Sprout, sounding a bit too fond for Malfoy's peace of mind. He shot Hermione a disgusted look, only half feigned.
"Blimey," he murmured in her ear. "Now the teachers are in on it!"
She gave him an appraising look, and then broke into a mischievous grin. A sweep of her wand extinguished the torches lining the entrance hall. Malfoy caught on immediately, dashing towards the confused couple. He positioned himself directly behind Sprout, and breathed heavily on her neck. She whirled around, and, unable to see the already fleeing Malfoy in the twilight, came to the conclusion that it was Flitwick. A ringing slap ensued. Flitwick, befuddled and disoriented, seemed to think someone else was there, and threw out a punch that landed squarely in Professor Sprout's stomach. Gasping and clutching his sides, Malfoy darted down a corridor and into an empty classroom, Hermione following. With the door safely shut behind them, the pair burst into hysterical laughter.
"That was bloody brilliant, Granger!" Malfoy choked out finally.
"I just couldn't take the romance," she said, still chortling. At length she calmed down enough to say, "You did rather well yourself."
"I am astounding, aren't I?" he inquired, looking pleased. Hermione rolled her eyes, but he started talking again before she could say anything. "She's going to have to go to the hospital wing! I never knew Flitwick had it in him. Small but strong."
"She'll be okay, though?" asked Hermione, instantly concerned.
"Sure, haven't you ever been in any fi-er, never mind. Just a stomach ache, but she'll be good as new by tomorrow," he reassured her.
"Oh, well, that's good," she said. "Oy! It's late, I'd better get to bed."
"Yeah," replied Malfoy, disappointed. "Me too, I guess."
She cracked open the door and slipped through it when he called after he, "You wouldn't want to wreak a bit more havoc, would you?"
She grinned impishly back at him, nodding slightly.
He silently saluted her with his wand, then slipped out after her. With that night's mischief over and the promise of more mayhem in the near future, Hermione trotted up the staircase and Malfoy set off to his dormitories, both entirely satisfied with the day's events.
A/N: Yea, a new chapter! That's exciting, isn't it? BTW, this is Mio, because Lina and Katinthehat think it's illegal to update... That disreputable cur known as the ff.net keeps stripping the italic codes, so use your judgement(They think themselves IN LOVE!).
"Sor-" she began automatically, but stopped short when she realized whom she'd collided with. Standing there rubbing his shoulder was Draco Malfoy, looking annoyed and particularly vicious.
"Watch it, Granger! Shouldn't you be up in the owlery sending some sappy love letter to your Vicky?" he spat. "Only seven days left, you know."
The blood drained from her face. He always-always-managed to get her where it hurt the most. She stammered, "We...we....broke up, not that we ever truly dated or anything, but he left school and didn't want to be..." It suddenly dawned on her whom she was talking to and what she was talking about. "Why do you care anyway?! Besides, you ran into me."
"I did not!" he protested.
"Did too," she said, feeling like a three-year-old. "If you had been paying attention, you would have avoided me."
"Did not," Malfoy said again, apparently at loss for a better comeback.
"That settle that," she snorted. "Go snog in a broom closet with Pansy and leave me alone."
Malfoy's face contorted into something akin to a painful grimace, but smoothed out so quickly that Hermione wasn't sure she'd even seen anything.
"You see, I would," he drawled, "but that would require forcibly peeling her off Zabini."
Hermione's jaw dropped.
"You're kidding! Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini? That's disgusting. He's younger than her."
"Potter's younger than Chang," he pointed out. "And the Weasel and Spinnet."
"Didn't know you kept up on the Gryffindors' love lives," Hermione said, deliberately sidestepping the fact that he was right.
"Please. I can't help but noticing when a couple of idiots are making fools of themselves over a rush of hormones."
To his surprise, instead of defending her friends, Hermione looked thoughtful.
"They are making right prats out of themselves, aren't they? Thinking themselves in love. Really! One simply cannot find one's true love at the age of fifteen."
"Never would have pegged you as a skeptic, Granger," Malfoy informed her.
"Well, it's only logical, isn't it? In fact, the whole concept of love is quite ridiculous. Like you said, it's hormones. You're either physically attracted to someone, or you're friends. Love isn't an option, not the moonlit strolls and bouquet of roses romantic nonsense."
"Sentimental drivel, that's what it is," he deadpanned, then smirked. "Who would've thought, a Malfoy and a mudblood agreeing about something."
"Yeah, I guess anything's possible," said Hermione, nonetheless looking doubtful. "You know, someone ought to inform all the love-lorn imbeciles of their mistakes."
"You're not implying that as the only two sane students, it's our responsibility, are you? Frankly, my sense of civic duty doesn't stretch that far. Besides, it's not as if the gits'll listen to us anyway, we're-"
Somebody was coming around the corner. Several somebodies, by the sound of it, unless there was a schizophrenic enrolled at Hogwarts. Malfoy would rather die than be caught talking to Hermione Granger. Talking to a mudblood was bad enough, but talking to the mudblood was unthinkable. He seized her wrist and dragged her down the rest of the stairs. They crouched in the shadows next to the staircase, listening descending footsteps.
"Oh, I just thought we'd go for a stroll, that's all," came a breathy, squeaky voice. Hermione frowned at Malfoy and mouthed, "Flitwick?"
"All right, but not too long, my first years are tackling Ninscrauts in the morning, so I'll need to be on my toes." It was Professor Sprout, sounding a bit too fond for Malfoy's peace of mind. He shot Hermione a disgusted look, only half feigned.
"Blimey," he murmured in her ear. "Now the teachers are in on it!"
She gave him an appraising look, and then broke into a mischievous grin. A sweep of her wand extinguished the torches lining the entrance hall. Malfoy caught on immediately, dashing towards the confused couple. He positioned himself directly behind Sprout, and breathed heavily on her neck. She whirled around, and, unable to see the already fleeing Malfoy in the twilight, came to the conclusion that it was Flitwick. A ringing slap ensued. Flitwick, befuddled and disoriented, seemed to think someone else was there, and threw out a punch that landed squarely in Professor Sprout's stomach. Gasping and clutching his sides, Malfoy darted down a corridor and into an empty classroom, Hermione following. With the door safely shut behind them, the pair burst into hysterical laughter.
"That was bloody brilliant, Granger!" Malfoy choked out finally.
"I just couldn't take the romance," she said, still chortling. At length she calmed down enough to say, "You did rather well yourself."
"I am astounding, aren't I?" he inquired, looking pleased. Hermione rolled her eyes, but he started talking again before she could say anything. "She's going to have to go to the hospital wing! I never knew Flitwick had it in him. Small but strong."
"She'll be okay, though?" asked Hermione, instantly concerned.
"Sure, haven't you ever been in any fi-er, never mind. Just a stomach ache, but she'll be good as new by tomorrow," he reassured her.
"Oh, well, that's good," she said. "Oy! It's late, I'd better get to bed."
"Yeah," replied Malfoy, disappointed. "Me too, I guess."
She cracked open the door and slipped through it when he called after he, "You wouldn't want to wreak a bit more havoc, would you?"
She grinned impishly back at him, nodding slightly.
He silently saluted her with his wand, then slipped out after her. With that night's mischief over and the promise of more mayhem in the near future, Hermione trotted up the staircase and Malfoy set off to his dormitories, both entirely satisfied with the day's events.
A/N: Yea, a new chapter! That's exciting, isn't it? BTW, this is Mio, because Lina and Katinthehat think it's illegal to update... That disreputable cur known as the ff.net keeps stripping the italic codes, so use your judgement(They think themselves IN LOVE!).
