Disclaimer: I don't own anything you probably recognize in this story. However, the plot is copyrighted © to me, jaeEun. You plagiarise, you die.
"Isn't it funny – almost the end of the year," Hermione commented.
"What'd you mean, almost? It is – the school year anyway."
"No – I don't feel as if the school year's really finished until we've gotten through the barrier at King's cross. It has that note of finality, you know?"
Harry grinned, putting aside his fears fro the moment. "You were always strange, Hermione."
"Well, it's a bit hard not to go completely barmy if you're around you two as much as I am." She bantered.
Harry just smiled indulgently and turned his head to look at the blurry countryside of England which was flying by.
Harry woke up – had he fallen asleep? – to the distinct sounds of Ron and Hermione's voices – and great, he thought, Malfoy and his entourage.
"The Mudblood and the Weasel, huh? Oh, look! Potter's just woken up from his beauty sleep."
Crabbe and Goyle, ever the faithful sidekicks, and as thick as ever, guffawed loudly.
Hermione didn't bother to even acknowledge their presence. Her face when completely blank, and she continued to glance down at the book she was reading while looking through Malfoy and muttering to herself.
"Has Granger finally started showing signs of insanity? We all knew she was, of course, but thank goodness! We'll soon be rid of this Muggle filth."
"Get lost, Malfoy."
"All in my good time, Weasel –" The rest of his sentence was interrupted by the muttering of a counter-jinx.
Malfoy narrowed his eyes. He had to admit, the Granger girl was good.
Hermione, who had finally gotten sick of Malfoy's constant insults, had murmured the stupefy jinx. Unfortunately for her, it hadn't landed.
She had to admit, however, she was impressed. He wasn't called the 'Prince of Slytherin' for nothing. She was impressed more than she usually would have been in this situation – she knew that Malfoy was indeed the cold-hearted serpent everyone knew him to be. What Hermione wanted to know was how he could get such excellent marks when all his time was spent in dating, then dumping.
Oh, yes – Draco Malfoy, the elusive Prince of Slytherin who everyone wanted, but could not have. Half the girls in the school wanted him, and the other half wanted Harry. The small minority which was very, very small, wanted neither or someone else.
Hermione, of course, was of the minority. She liked Harry as a good friend – one of her best – but nothing more. The same applied for Ron too. As for Malfoy – she repressed a shudder. She didn't really want to think about him. If she did, she was afraid she'd really, permanently damage him now, due to all the knowledge, and strong dislike she'd piled up, and festered, over the years. While she would have been glad – overjoyed! – at the riddance, or slight break of Malfoy's presence, she honestly didn't want all of the Malfoy-worshippers to come and drag her to a slow and painful death.
She'd thought his arrogance reached its peak in fourth year. Obviously not, as with the formation of his own fan club (Serpent Silver), residing within the school, his arrogance had soared sky-high. It was just so irritating – the squeals and stifled screams of "Draco!" or "Oh, my gosh. Doesn't he look so hot?" constantly echoing around the place. Hermione swore the walls themselves had memorized and absorbed the sounds – there was such an excess of them. Often, she'd want to scream long and loud, in the hope of purging the air of this complete and utter n-o-n-s-e-n-s-e.
Right now, though, strangling Malfoy was on her list of "Thing I Must Do Urgently". Either she'd have to get him out of her carriage, or she'd have to leave. Obviously the former was the preferred option. This was the carriage she was originally in. Malfoy was the invader.
"Out, Malfoy."
"Whatever makes you think I'll listen to you in a million years, Granger?"
"Nothing. Now get out."
"What, can't think properly? My charisma choking you?"
"No. It's more like your pig-headedness that's suffocating me."
"See, Mudblood, I'd like to suffocate you myself, but I'm afraid of staining my hands."
"I'd be afraid of being touched by you because you'd soil my whole being. Petrificus Totalus." She muttered quickly and quietly.
Malfoy, caught off-guard, responded just in time. His face, usually with that sneer, or devoid of emotion, showed surprise for a split second, then smoothed itself into its moulded mask again. He curtly gestured to Crabbe and Goyle to follow him, and they exited the carriage – well, Malfoy did, anyway – in a flurry of black cloaks.
Meanwhile, a very angry Ron was barely being restrained by Harry.
"LET ME GET AT HIM!! HE'S NOT GOING TO KNOW WHAT'S COME TO HIM. THAT FILTHY, LYING, PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A WIZARD!!!"
"Calm down, Ron." Hermione had never told Ron, but Malfoy's insults had never meant much to her; coming from a Muggle family had its advantages. She had never fully understood how bad the word 'mudblood' was. She had a feeling Ron liked to insult Malfoy, and if she gave him the chance, well, so be it.
"Ron, just sit down. We're almost at King's Cross." Harry said, his voice neutral.
Ron huffed and fumed a bit, but in the end there was nothing for him to do except sit down and wait patiently for the Hogwarts Express to pull up at King's Cross.
"See you soon, Neville!"
"Have nice hols, Jayine!"
"Oh, you too, Hilda!"
"Owl me!"
"You too! Don't forget, like last time!"
"Oh, no. Has anyone seen my cactus?"
"OWWWWWWW!!!!"
"Ron, Harry! Over here!"
"Right, Hermione! Oh, hi, Mum!"
"Ron, dear! How was this year? And Harry, and Hermione, too! How are you all?"
"Normal, mum. Per usua."
"We're fine, Mrs. Weasley."
"Harry, we'll see you soon, right? Hermione, you too. I'll send you both owls."
"See you, Ron."
"Bye, Ron." Harry nodded. "I see my aunt and uncle and – he grinned – no Dudley. He must've been too scared."
Hermione laughed. "Don't be too horrible, Harry."
"Me? Never. See you at The Burrow."
"Can't wait. See you, Harry." Hermione sighed. Her parents were here to pick her up – their 6th year had finally ended.