A/N: Not much happens in this chapter, in terms of actual events to further the story. It mainly focuses on Draco's thoughts (since there's been a lack of them ) and how the relationship between Hermione and Draco is developing (and then there's some pointless fluff). And I know three months can be a long time, but at least it didn't take me six months to update this time. There's no point in my rushing the fic, as I won't write it well (in my own opinion).
I've just finished exams, there was sooo much revision to do (serves me right for doing re-sits to raise old grades as well as starting a new course) so I'm taking a little break - I will probably update next at the beginning of August. It will be sooner if I can manage it, but I do have to go to work as well. That, and I'm finishing the next chapter of When Realities Collide – an update on that fic is way overdue.
As for reviews, thank you to:
Chach-A-Lot – glad you're enjoying it.
Hallie Walker and Mariah Nerissa – obviously it's been updated since you reviewed but thanks for the encouragement.
Jaessa and Crimson-Dragoness – thanks!
Mikasa Wormhole and chibi-elise - 'is flattered' - hope you like this chapter.
Crystalline Temptress – I'm glad you like it; this is kind of a filler chapter so as not to rush developments, but hopefully interesting just the same.
Dragontai – my faithful reader/reviewer! I would e-mail to say when chapters are up, but you don't have an e-mail link in your profile…but then there are always author alerts.
Again, thanks for the feedback, it makes me happy to know someone actually likes my writing.
Chapter 7 – The Art of Muggle Decorating
Draco Malfoy was not happy. He'd just woken up from a dream. One of the most preposterous he'd had in a long while. The boy in the dream had looked just like him, although perhaps he was a year or two older. He'd just been a witness to a wedding which could have been his own, had it been pulled into the future as few hundred years. He made a face at the thought of the High Priestess of Mars. Marrying a woman who bore even the slightest resemblance to Pansy Parkinson was not high on his 'to do' list. It probably ranked a little below 'being nice to Potter'. The thought of marriage and Pansy brought up memories of the evening before, when he'd been informed by Pansy of his impending doom. He grimaced inwardly.
Draco sat up in bed, pushing the covers away instinctively and rubbed his eyes. Yawning loudly, he glanced into the mirror and shuddered at the mess of hair that greeted his sight. "I look like a straw sack," he muttered irritably. Standing abruptly he made his way to the bathroom. If he wanted to get out of the arrangement, sitting in bed was not going to help. He had to speak to Lucius.
He stood still for a few moments, gazing into the bathroom mirror. His hand reached almost subconsciously for his face. He brushed his fingertips lightly across the pale skin, sighing in relief at how smooth it felt. No more fur – thank you, Madam Pomfrey. He smirked as he remembered Hermione's reaction to his transformation. The thought, however, led to others. Such as, her reaction to having to take care of him in the first place. She hadn't seemed too put out; she'd been quite accepting of the situation. But then again, he mused, she might have just been extremely glad that she wasn't getting expelled. The smirked left his face as he stepped away from the mirror, and towards the shower. For some reason, it just didn't seem like Granger at all. She hates me, yet she was…nice. He attempted to flatten his hair with his hands. Then again, she could just have a soft spot for animals. It didn't occur to Draco then that his perception of Hermione could be a little biased.
He was still more than a little annoyed with himself. After all, he'd acted like such a – such a, well, puppy. He'd been obedient for most part, until it came to Weasley anyway, and he couldn't for the life of him understand why. He had the perfect opportunity to make Granger's life a living hell by acting up. No one would have blamed him, he was the puppy; he didn't know what he was doing. Instead, he'd missed his chance to damage Perfect Prefect Granger's reputation a little more. What was more, he distinctly remembered growling at Lucius in The Three Broomsticks, and it was for Granger's benefit. Although, he had to admit, that had been a high point of the whole experience. Defying Lucius Malfoy wasn't usually something you could do without receiving punishment.
And speaking of Lucius, he was in two minds about whether or not he should write to his father about the apparent engagement, or take the direct approach and talk to him face to face. He reached for the shower and turned on the hot water. As he removed his pyjamas, he decided that his best bet was to speak with Lucius directly. His father had a thing about letters; he saw it as the coward's way if a letter was used to discuss a problem. In his opinion, whoever sent him a letter of that nature was simply too scared to face him. Draco knew from experience that it wasn't a good idea to look weak in front of his father.
"Hermione!"
Hermione turned toward the voice instinctively. She smiled at the familiar red-head that was making his way toward her, dressed in Quidditch robes and with a broom in hand. "Hey Ron," she said.
"Have you got a minute 'Mione?"
"I have several actually. What is it Ron?"
Ron sighed. "It's this dance."
Hermione blinked in surprise. "What about it?"
Ron looked around to make sure no one was listening before leaning forward conspiratorially. "Can you dance?"
Hermione blinked again at the question. "Yes Ron. Enough to get by, anyway."
"Well, I was wondering…" He blushed.
"What...?"
"It's kind of embarrassing."
Then Hermione remembered. Ron can't dance. "Ron, would you like me to teach you how to dance?"
"Would you? Hermione that'd be great!" Ron gave her a hug. As Hermione returned it, she thought she saw Ron's blush deepen. He let go hurriedly. "Got to go 'Mione. I have to get some more Quidditch practice in before the Slytherin match." He gave her a quick wave as he all but ran towards the Quidditch pitch.
"That was strange. I wonder what's with him?"
Later that day, Hermione was back in the transfiguration classroom where her problems had begun. Harry was there of course, along with Ron. However, today both Pansy and Malfoy were back. Pansy's earlobes were a little red, but there was nothing else to suggest how big they had been the night before.
Professor McGonagall was going over some basic points of human transfiguration. Hermione, who knew the theories perfectly well, was only half listening to the lesson. Instead, her primary focus was on Draco and partially on Pansy. Draco seemed to be going out of his way to ignore her. Not that it was a bad thing of course, just a little unnerving. At least, that's what Hermione told herself. In truth, she couldn't understand the change. Why was she suddenly being given the cold shoulder? Okay, she and Draco had never been the best of friends, but he was usually doing something that got her attention. The lack of interaction with him since he was changed back had made Hermione realise just how much she did talk to him – even if it was just to throw insults back and forth. It was, simply put, weird.
It wasn't just Draco either. Pansy had been acting strangely ever since she got back from the Hospital Wing. She hadn't uttered a word during the lesson so far and she hadn't so much as glanced at Hermione. She seemed very subdued and Hermione couldn't for the life of her understand why. After all, Pansy's ears may have swelled up, but they were back to normal now. Besides, it had been Pansy's fault in the first place. That was two incidents she'd caused and gotten away with whereas Hermione had taken the fall for both.
Her musings were interrupted when there was a knock at the door to the classroom. McGonagall called to the visitor to enter and a female Slytherin student came in, parchment in hand. "Excuse me Professor," the girl said, "but I have a message for you."
Whilst McGonagall was momentarily distracted, Hermione turned to speak to Harry for a moment but instead found herself being waved at by Malfoy.
"Huh?" was the only reply Hermione's mind could form at short notice. Malfoy rolled his eyes, then glancing over to check McGonagall was still distracted, wrote a message in the air with his wand. Have you got the Divination notes? The green smoke hung in the air for a few moments, before wafting gently away.
Hermione nodded in reply and pointed to her book bag. She also glanced in the professor's direction, then wrote: After the lesson. Wait for me.
He nodded once, before turning away from Hermione once more. As the Slytherin messenger girl left the classroom, Hermione turned back to the front of the room and was surprised to find Professor McGonagall gazing directly at her.
"Miss Granger, please remain behind after the lesson."
Hermione Granger, muggle prefect extraordinaire, was in a situation she was not altogether accustomed to. Professor McGonagall was currently reciting a lecture, for Hermione's benefit, on the importance of paying attention in potions lessons.
"…could get hurt, Miss Granger. Not to mention that Professor Snape won't let me live this down for a while," McGonagall continued. "Hermione, you're supposed to be setting an example for the rest of the Gryffindor students."
"I know Professor, it was a complete accident. It won't happen again," Hermione said, red-faced.
McGonagall sighed. "Hermione, I know you didn't do anything wrong. You know you didn't do anything wrong. However, Professor Snape is adamant you did. Which is why, you will be serving detention this evening."
"Yes Professor," Hermione said.
"You will however, have a companion." Hermione looked up. "Draco Malfoy," the professor informed her. "As far as I can remember, he never served his detention for disrupting my lesson last week."
As Hermione left the classroom, she apologised once more to the professor. She closed the door behind her, leant against the wall and sighed deeply.
"Well?" said a familiar voice.
"What?" Hermione said, looking up at the speaker with tired eyes. It was Malfoy.
"You asked me to wait after the lesson."
"Oh, yes." Hermione thrust a hand quickly into her book bag and retrieved a few sheets of parchment. "Here," she said, handing them to Draco quickly. "There isn't much; I don't really understand Divination."
"What was that about?" Draco asked, taking the sheets with one hand and gesturing towards the classroom with the other.
Hermione frowned. "I have detention tonight, with Professor McGonagall, for deliberately causing Pansy's earlobes to swell like over-inflated balloons."
Draco stared blankly for a few seconds, then began to laugh. "You did that?" he asked incredulously.
"Of course not. But Snape blamed me anyway."
Draco grinned. "That sounds like Snape alright."
"I fail to see what's so funny Malfoy," Hermione told him pointedly. Draco merely smirked in response.
"And I'd wipe that smirk off your face too," Hermione added. "You've got detention right along with me."
That was how that evening, Hermione Granger found herself in a dimly lit corridor, which incidentally, led to the Slytherin Common Room, with Draco Malfoy. He hadn't really been in the best of moods when he'd eventually turned up to detention, although Hermione had reason to suspect that his irritation had to do with more than just having to paint the entire corridor. For that was their punishment. Both Hermione and Draco had been taken aback when they had been presented with two large paintbrushes and several tins of a putrid smelling, acid-green paint.
"Mister Malfoy, Miss Granger," McGonagall had greeted them cordially, before explaining their detention. "You will both paint this corridor, by hand; no cheating with magic. And I will know. The paint begins to act rather strangely when affected by magic." She said this whilst looking pointedly at Draco. He looked back at her with a straight face. McGonagall raised an eyebrow before turning to Hermione. I have some matters to attend to. I trust the two of you are able to complete your task without supervision."
"Yes Professor," Hermione said. Draco merely inclined his head in acknowledgement.
As the professor left the corridor, Hermione eyed the tins of paint apprehensively. "I suppose we'd better get started." She half expected some kind of argument, but to her surprise, Malfoy had already picked up a paintbrush.
Four hours later, they had almost finished. There was just a small patch left. In truth, it had already been painted, but Malfoy had wanted to know the effect of magic on the paint. So far, they had learned that casting magic on the paint causes sections which have already been painted to revert back to their original state, forcing them to paint it again. The paint did not fade away however. Instead, it came off the wall as tiny bubbles, which floated around for a few moments, before falling unceremoniously to the floor, spattering the floor and the surprised students.
Hermione sank down on the floor, supporting herself with her hands. She stifled a yawn. "We're nearly finished. Thank heaven."
"Well hurry up and finish and then we can leave," Draco told her matter-of-factly.
"Excuse me," Hermione said incredulously, "but I already painted that section. You should paint it since you caused the paint to disappear."
"Whatever Granger. That may be true, but are you willing to sit here all night just to prove your point?"
Something in Malfoy's expression told Hermione he wasn't joking. Groaning in frustration, Hermione picked up the paintbrush again, and painted as fast as her tired limbs would allow. The moment she completed the task, she dropped the brush on the covered section of the floor. She sank back down to the floor and watched as Draco sat down a metre away. He was looking in Hermione's direction, a smug look on his face.
"What are you smirking at Malfoy?"
Draco looked at her more closely. "There's some paint on your face," he told her.
"Where?" Hermione asked frowning slightly.
"Right…there." Reaching out, he poked his paintbrush gently against her nose, leaving behind a trail of thick, slimy green paint. He smirked even more. "Really Granger, you should learn to use a handkerchief."
Hermione glared at him. "Oh yeah? Well there's some paint in your hair." With that, she emptied the half-full paint bucket over the boy's head.
Draco wiped the goo from his face with his hand, still clutching the paintbrush. He shot Hermione a look so full of venom that she shrank back a little in fear. Then, taking her by surprise he grinned and picked up the remaining paint bucket. "I'll give you ten seconds," he said.
It took Hermione the first few seconds to understand his intention. Then, realisation dawning on her face, she bolted.
"…seven, eight, nine, ten!"
Minerva McGonagall was on her way to the dungeons to speak with Professor Snape, and of course, to check on the progress of her two detainees. She was taken aback when she saw Hermione running down the corridor, covered in the acid green paint. "Miss Granger?!" McGonagall stared in amazement. "What is going on here?"
Hermione skidded to a stop as she noticed McGonagall's presence and stood quietly, watching the Transfiguration Professor. She was suddenly very aware of the trail of green paint sliding down her left cheek. "Um, Professor, we were just – that is, we –" Hermione stuttered awkwardly.
Just then Draco came sauntering down the corridor, appearing to not have a care in the world, despite the fact that he was also currently modelling the latest in liquid fashion.
Draco wiped some of the slimy substance away from his face casually and gave McGonagall a blinding smile. "Why Professor, I didn't see you there. Granger was just educating me on the art of muggle decorating."
McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "Really? And to think, I thought you were just throwing paint at each other. Terrible colour by the way."
Draco's smile shrank slightly under McGonagall's scrutiny. Hermione stared at the floor. They stood in awkward silence for a few moments. Then McGonagall smiled. The two students looked at her blankly. "And I thought this job was becoming predictable," she murmured, half to herself.
She cleared her throat and reverted to her normal demeanour. "Both of you, clean yourselves and this mess up." She smiled briefly at two of her most gifted students. "I'd advise that you waste no more time on your task; my instincts tell me that Mr Filch will be coming in this direction quite soon." With that she left, heading in the direction of the staff room.
Like it? Hate it?? Tell me, please. Thanks for reading.
Lady Deathscythe 1st July, 2004.