Try
By Cedar1
Disclaimer: JK Rowling 4 characters and the lyrics (in bold and italic) and inspiration from Nelly Furtado's song 'Try'
A/N and story summary:
Song- fic- like set in the 7th year. Draco and Hermione have been dating in secret. However they don't want to stay hidden anymore, but before they come out into the open they believe that they both need to change before they are accepted by everybody. But it isn't that easy....
I won't be quoting the lyrics in between the story but the verse that the chapter is based on will be at the beginning and the events and views that follow shud reflect it. The story will go from Draco's viewpoint - normal font- to Hermione's which will be in italic. The same events may be seen in both their eyes. If there's any confusion tell me in ure review (so ure gonna have to send one!) and I'll try and figure sumthin out.
Hope u enjoy it!
(and as always reviews r welcome with open arms - have v.long arms- so keep them cumin! ta!)
Warning: a touch of cursing and a few snog worthy scenes will appear in the fic but nothing too adulty.
Huge hugs to my beta: trinity marquise
Try
All I know
Is everything is not as it's sold
But the more I grow the less I know
And I have lived so many lives
Though I'm not old
And the more I see, the less I grow
The fewer the seeds the more I sow
Chapter 1: Everything is not as it's sold
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Draco's viewpoint
His fingers delved into the depths of his bag, searching for his ever elusive quill. He went past the rolls of parchment that were squashed on one side, around the various bottles of ingredients that clinked merrily as they were knocked against one another, and still no quill.
"Stupid bloody thing," he muttered in annoyance. Snape wasn't here yet, but it wouldn't be right if his star pupil wasn't ready. And he wasn't talking about Hermione Granger. No there was one thing that particular Gryffindor wasn't topping, and Draco Malfoy was the victor that knocked her off her perch. And it wasn't just because of Snape and the obvious inclination he had to all things Slytherin. Draco had worked hard, harder than he had ever done before. His early years had been spent swaggering around the school halls, confident that his name was enough to get him the grades and the respect. But fifth year had seen the Malfoy name that had wielded so much power in the past come tumbling down and crashing at the feet of a naive sixteen year old. It had taken a year and a half, a parent's death, and a lot of sleepless nights for him to grow up. But he finally did, and work was at the forefront of his new future.
"Shit." He felt the nib of the quill pierce into one of his fingers. In his shock his bag fell off his lap and onto the floor, the contents spilling out. The sniggers of some incompetent Gryffindors came from his right. He gritted his teeth, biting his tongue before something he'd rather not say aloud came out. He looked up, giving the two boys a steely glare. They immediately averted their eyes, suddenly finding the NEWTS textbook exceedingly interesting. Draco smirked triumphantly. He hadn't lost all his Malfoy talents.
"Were you looking for this?"
Her voice came from above him, and as he lifted his gaze of the floor a small, nail-bitten hand came into view. Within the fingers was held a heavy, green quill, a gift from his father. He stood up, dusting the dirt flecks that had appeared on his robes. She was a head shorter than he was, and at his full height he had to look down at her. A neutral expression rested on her lips, yet her eyes twinkled slightly as they took in his less than immaculate appearance. Amusement? He wasn't sure.
"Here."
She held it out for him, almost insisting he take it off her. So he had been staring for too long, he hadn't noticed. Smirking, Draco took the item from her grasp. No words were exchanged, and in a blink of an eye she had walked off, heading towards her seat a few rows behind him. Draco then proceeded in picking the rest of his belongings off the floor and stuffing them into his troublesome bag. But the task was made more difficult by the fact that his fingers were trembling from the brief contact they had had with her skin. He sat on his seat, willing the shivers to stop coursing through his hand. Hoping that Pansy, who had come to sit beside him and was talking incessantly about some mundane issue wouldn't notice.
Who would have thought a boring, bossy, bushy haired Gryffindor could ever have such an effect on a Slytherin- and a Malfoy at that? Hermione Granger was nothing but a mudblood, a dirty mudblood who learned magic from books. Hers wasn't a natural talent. She wasn't a true wizard. She didn't deserve to be here. How many times had he heard those phrases pass by his ears, muttered by his own lips? A hundred? A thousand? His father, his friends they had fed him an image that had slowly been ingrained in his brain. He thought he had her figured out. That he knew all about her. That he could read straight through her. But he found out he didn't. That all those things that he had been so certain of weren't true. They described a package that wasn't her…not even close.
She was amazing. Smart. Beautiful. Witty. Of course she was still stubborn and annoyingly protective about her books and her work. But it was those imperfections, those tiny things that made her perfect. Draco found himself shaking his head. Did that make sense? Seventeen years of life and the grasp of the English language was still eluding him. You would have thought that he would have figured that out by now. But if anything he found it even more confusing the older he got. And it was because of her. She seemed to be able to stop his mind working, tipping everything upside down and jumbling all the contents of his brain until nothing made sense
"So what do you think?" Pansy's watery eyes bored into him, waiting eagerly for an answer. Her mouth was open in an unattractive gape presumably what she thought was a smile, showing two rows of teeth that were even more unappealing. Hermione had such straight teeth.
"Well? Do you want to go to Hogsmede this weekend with me or not?"
They were white as well. And smooth when his tongue ran against them when he was kissing her. Tasting her.
"Draco." Her hand slid onto his arm, gently squeezing it with her bony fingers. It was incredible how a touch could go from earth shattering to repulsive. And with overly made eyes batting for England, there was no questioning where Pansy's came in.
"You know, Pansy, I'm gonna have to say no. I'm washing my hair that weekend."
Unfortunately the acidity of the comment seemed to be lost on her, as she continued to cut off the circulation in his arm. With the minimum amount of contact Draco lifted the offending hand off and practically threw it back to the person it belonged to. He focused his eyes on the blackboard, ignoring her pathetic whimpers. However his obvious refusal did nothing to quell her determination to get sympathy as they only got louder. He could feel his jaw muscle twitching as anger began to creep into the cracks of his cool composure.
Shut up.
Shut up.
He kept repeating the phrase in his head again and again - a prayer for peace.
But luckily the crash of the door against the wall, and the brisk footsteps of Snape entering the room saved him from having to resort to physical violence. After seven years of tough teaching Snape had them fully trained, and as soon as he was in the room the class descended into silence.
And that included Pansy. Thank God.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Hermione's viewpoint
Clutching her knapsack on one side Hermione made her way to the potions classroom. She used to hate coming down here, taking those steps that led to the dungeons. Everything was so dark, shadows creeping along side her trying to scare her. And when she was younger she was. She dreaded it. She never told anybody. That was her secret. A Gryffindor scared? The Slytherins would have had a field day. But as the years went on the beauty behind bubbling potions and the fragile wisps of smoke that rose from cauldrons surpassed her childish fears. She loved potions now. The intricacies, the tiny details that could swing a potion from a success to a dismal failure. It was amazing how years could change your perceptions. She soon reached the door of the classroom, the dull sounds of her chattering peers from within permeating through the thick pine door. Opening it, she was startled to see his figure crouched over the floor, his hands grabbing the parchment and bits of equipment that littered the area near his feet. Talking about changing perceptions.
She watched as his long fingers grazed against surfaces of paper and glass, wishing it were her skin he was touching instead. She couldn't see his face, the strands of blonde hiding it from her. It took a lot of will to stop herself from reaching out and sweeping the fringe behind his ear.
"Hermione."
She turned to the source of the voice and saw Harry in his seat, his eyes calling her to come to him. He was a sweet boy. A good friend. A charming, handsome face. Two years ago she would have wanted nothing more than to kiss him, to have his arm hang protectively round her shoulders, like a boyfriend did for his girlfriend. Yet it wasn't he that filled her dreams now. No, that pleasure went to a sharp tongued, proud Slytherin. It was his lips and silky touches that consumed her mind during pleasure-filled nights.
To everyone else, he was devoid of any emotions that were not cold and hard. She saw how people still shrank away from him as he walked down the corridors, afraid to make eye contact. His father may have been dead, but they saw that hateful man every day in the body of his son. They looked so similar that the students automatically assumed that they were one and the same. But that wasn't true. It had taken a long time for Hermione to forget the years of name-calling and abuse he had slung at her unashamedly, scornfully, yet when she had managed to shed those memories she saw him for what he truly was…a beautiful man.
A man she loved.
She hadn't been expecting to fall in love, especially not with him, of all people. It was too illogical, too rash, lacking all the common sense and intelligence that had played such a prominent part in her life. She had already done so much in her life, even though her eighteenth birthday was still a speck in the wide expanse that was her future. They had saved lives and prevailed over wizards and witches they should not have been able to defeat. She had gone from a muggle, to a witch, to a heroine.
So many things had happened to her that one would think that she would be wiser beyond her young years. But, in fact, Hermione Granger had never felt younger. Falling in love with her 'enemy' plunged her into a world that she couldn't explain, that books couldn't provide the answers to. And standing in front of him, the more she realised that she could never let him go and the more confused she became.
Harry's eyes were staring at her, a touch of curiosity glimmering in their green depths, wondering why she was taking so long to join him. She took a step towards him when an uncomfortable pang hit the sole of her right foot. Looking down she saw that she had stood on a quill, the shiny green covering contrasting strongly with her old, black shoes. She bent down to pick it up, the coolness of the metal bringing memories of his icy lips on her neck last night on the edge of the Forbidden forest. She found herself involuntarily shivering, the intense need to see him, touch him, compelling her to speak.
"Were you looking for this?"
She had tried to make her voice sound bored, trying to make it look like she didn't care if he paid any attention to her. But it came out softer than she had intended. She looked around worryingly, hoping nobody noticed the fault in the question. In slow motion she watched transfixed as he rose to his feet, shifting his body slightly so he was closer to her. Flecks of dust marred the perfection of his normally impeccable robes, and he began running his hands along them trying to get rid of them. And it happened again, she felt herself being transported to the whirlwind of memories that swept through her brain, remembering how his hands travelled the length of her body. His pale skin practically glowing compared to the dark material of her robe and the blackness that surrounded them. Her heart began to beat more violently as the past began to meld in with the present, and she could practically feel the firmness of his palm on her hip, burning the skin beneath her robe. She lifted her eyes only to make contact with painfully stunning grey pools. They were so deep, capable of holding so much, and yet at the same time completely unreadable. It was that that attracted him to her even more, he was like a puzzle as was her love for him, and she wanted nothing more than to solve it. The scraping of a chair brought Hermione out of her reflection, and she was vaguely aware of Pansy Parkinson staring at her.
"Here." She was virtually throwing the quill at him. It was dangerous to remain like this for longer. People would notice, and furthermore, Hermione couldn't trust herself to keep her hands to herself. He smirked slightly before taking the quill. As his fingers brushed against hers, she actually gasped at the jolt of electricity that the fleeting contact generated. She could feel a flush of redness swamp her cheeks. Embarrassed, she hastily walked away from him.
She hurriedly pulled her chair out from under the desk, collapsing onto it, hoping to calm herself and the shivers that were pulsating through her skin.
"Hermione, are you all right?"
Why did he have to be so damn observant?
Why couldn't Ron be here instead?
About to answer him she suddenly caught the skeletal hand of Parkinson graze against Draco's arm. A sugary sweet smile plastered on her face with thick, black eyelashes fluttering madly in front of squinty eyes. The bitch! What the hell did she think she was doing? Her knuckles were turning white as the fist on her lap began tightening at the blatant display of flirtation performed in front of her. She watched as Draco plucked the girl's fingers from his body, and dropped the hand unceremoniously on the hard wood of the desk, a look of disgust on his features. A sense of pride and love filled her. That was her boyfriend.
"Hermione, are you all right? You're looking a bit green."
Hermione turned around and faced her friend, her hands covering her cheeks.
"I'm just feeling a bit off," she replied quickly.
His lips parted to ask another question, but the crash of the door from Snape's entrance saved Hermione from having to lie again. She turned to face the front, a look of apparent interest and concentration on her face. But in reality, it was anything but that. She wasn't taking in a word he said, she wasn't even watching his lips move. Her eyes had glazed over in thought. She had been jealous. She had never felt that way about him before. It was an emotion she thought she was above, that she was old enough to squash. But in those moments she had felt so insecure, so scared that she would lose him. And she couldn't have that.
Ripping a piece of parchment she began scribbling words that had been in her mind for a long time…
'We have to try'
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*End Chapter 1 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A/N not sure if that was a bit mushy, and if they were a bit out of character. Hmmmmm..... So please (with the cherry on top) review a let me know!
Thanx Cedar1