Disclaimer: I don't own jack shit, it all belongs to a flithy rich Miss Rowling. I'm merely borrowing her characters because I am too lazy to come up with characters myself. That, and it would be a true pity to exclude Draco Malfoy from the story.
Title of Story: When Darkness Catches the Light
Summary: Can two sworn enemies ever find true love in each other? What happens when a seductive mission comes along to prod them in the right direction? Draco/Hermione
Rated: PG-13 for language, angst descriptions and some sexual connotations.
Chapter Four: Mixed Emotions
One thing
I don't know why
It doesn't even matter how hard you try
Keep that in mind
I designed this rhyme
To explain in due time
All I know
Time is a valuable thing
Watch it fly by as the pendulum swings
Watch it count down 'til the end of the day
The clock ticks life away
It's so unreal
--In the End, Linkin Park
Draco crossed over to the sofa marked 'H.B' and collapsed on top of it.
Hermione raised her eyebrows. He seems to be actually enjoying this! she thought incredulously.
Draco passed his hand on the top of his gelled hair and yawned ostentatiously.
Hermione felt her lip twitch.
"Well you might as well get comfortable, Granger," Malfoy drawled. "Oh and the whole 'mouth hanging open' fixation – it doesn't really complement your already repulsive face."
Hermione closed her mouth hastily, her cheeks starting to redden.
"Thanks for the tip, Malfoy," she retorted, a little too harshly.
"Temper, temper," Malfoy smirked, waving a slender, pale finger at her.
Hermione groaned in annoyance and walked over to her futon. She patted the mattress, and found that it was actually a small waterbed.
"Cool, we get waterbeds!" she exclaimed, forgetting for a mere instance that Malfoy was in the room.
"Waterbeds, Granger?" Malfoy replied sourly.
Hermione glared at him. His hands were supporting his head and he was leaning casually on the cushion. His robes were open slightly at the top and she caught a glimpse of his surprisingly tanned body. She shook her head and frowned. He was clearly more relaxed than she was.
"Beds filled with water, Malfoy," she said simply, sounding as though she were talking to a two-year old.
Malfoy sneered. "These aren't waterbeds. Though I don't expect you to have acquired that knowledge, you being a muggle and all-"he paused, savouring the annoyed expression on Hermione's face. "To enlighten you, these sofas are actually filled with dreams that the maker wishes the sleeper to experience in his or sleep. The dreams can be happy, frightening, or reflective and the really powerful beds can teleport the person's mind to another place, where an important event could be transpiring. All the properties of the Dream Divan – as it is often referred to – have not yet been completely ascertained."
His voice was steady and it became palpable to Hermione that Malfoy was not the dim ogre she had believed him to be.
"Thank you, Mr. Textbook, even though I was already aware of what a Dream Divan was," Hermione lied, before climbing onto the couch.
It was very soft to the touch and felt like it contained jelly or some other wobbly sort of substance. Her cushions were bright red and yellow, while Draco's were predominantly green and grey.
At that moment, Hermione wished that either Harry or Ron or anyone else for that matter could have been Head Boy. She was not looking forward to sharing a common room with Malfoy, or working together with him in their school duties.
She shivered as she reflected on all the times Malfoy had hurt her.
There was the painful escapade of her teeth being enlarged. The mere memory still brought tears to her eyes. Her jaw had felt like it was tearing in two, and for the first time Hermione had no control over herself or her body. She was scared of being dominated and controlled like that again.
Yet the experience was fruitful in the end, as Hermione's teeth were permanently reduced to normal size. This gave her some confidence and she admitted to herself that she now looked pretty good.
Not as good as mother, though, she thought wistfully.
She turned onto her side and began tracing around the emblem of the Gryffindor lion on one of the cushions. Its eyes were so fierce and the spear that it held seemed awkward for a beast, but then, on closer inspection, it actually seemed to suit the lion at the same time.
Hermione frowned pensively at the memory of when she sat on the Sorting stool and placed the Hat on her head.
Hmm, she remembered the Hat to have murmured. Yours is a tricky case. I see exceptional intelligence and wisdom, seeing you fit to be in Ravenclaw. Yet I also see a hidden strength and bravery that has not been tapped into, as of yet, in which case Gryffindor would be a good choice. So these are the two- wait a moment- the Hat had paused and Hermione trembled as she felt the uneasy feeling of her private thoughts being invaded. She remembered to have repeatedly chanted 'Gryffindor' in her mind. I feel an... intrinsic streak of... malice? The Hat spoke tentatively. It seemed to Hermione as if the Hat was asking a question, and she seemed to have answered it in her head, for it later said, You could flourish in Slytherin, you do realise? Yet by your will I shall say... "GRYFFINDOR!"
Hermione had never forgotten its words.
She did not understand what the Hat had meant. She had an intrinsic streak of malice? Well that really was the surprise of the century. Hermione had not ever felt malice at Hogwarts.
But at home... well, sometimes her temper had been ignited, but she never really did anything too terrible. But malice... what was malice really?
She desperately wanted to talk to someone about the Hat's words. However, she knew Ron and Harry and Ginny wouldn't understand her story. They were probably never told that they would be better in another house, even more so Slytherin house. They were probably true blue – or, more relevant to the truth – true red Gryffindors.
Hermione scanned the room again. The fire was roaring, right next to the transparent compartment door. Hermione thought she saw an odd glimpse of red outside the door, but when she blinked, she realised she had probably imagined it, because it was then nowhere to be seen.
Hermione sighed audibly and only remembered that Malfoy was in the compartment when he spoke.
"Never thought you would lie to Dumbledore like that, Granger. I'm seeing a new side – a Slytherin side – of you, which is very refreshing. Only a few minutes together in the same room and already my qualities are rubbing off on you. Not bad, not bad."
He stared at his fingernails arrogantly as he spoke. He had irked Hermione; exactly what he had strived to do.
Hermione forced a tone of calmness in her voice. "What exactly do you mean lying, Malfoy?" she asked innocently.
Malfoy sneered and shook his head, as if that was his answer to her question.
She sighed exasperatedly. This seemed to entertain Malfoy further and he passed his hand over his hair, smoothing out any possible fly-aways.
"Must you always do that?" Hermione groaned.
Malfoy raised his eyebrows at her. "And what exactly do you mean by that, Granger? Last time I checked, this country was still a democracy."
Hermione felt her blood curdle yet again, but she knew better than to start an argument with Malfoy. She did not want to jeopardise her leadership position. She rubbed her eyes forcefully, greatly hoping that when she opened them again, Malfoy wouldn't be there.
He was still there when she opened them. Hermione groaned inwardly.
"Why did you bring that filthy fur ball in here, Granger? You know, some of us might be allergic to cats," Malfoy said sardonically.
Hermione's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Perhaps that's indeed the reason why I brought my cat, Malfoy."
Malfoy rolled his eyes and walked over to the desk in the corner of the compartment and perused through the documents set there.
"You really shouldn't be looking through those," Hermione reproved.
Malfoy tossed her a casual glance. "Dumbledore left them here so they are obviously for our reference. And even if you are indeed correct, why would I listen to a filthy Mudblood like you anyway?"
Hermione stood up from the divan, her eyes flashing dangerously, reminiscent of dark dungeons. She felt like her whole body was submerged in a fire of pure rage. She had never felt such anger in her life, as suddenly all of her problems came back to her memory.
Not being as pretty as her mother... Creating a façade of loving Ron... Having mixed emotions for both Draco and Ron... Not getting her mail...
And to top everything off, Malfoy had just called her a mudblood. How much of bastard was he?!
Hermione narrowed her eyes dangerously. She felt like fury was running through her very veins. Her eyes began to prickle... the same feeling as when her lips had prickled with Ron's kiss...
Malfoy's eyes widened.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he said sharply, his voiced tinted with mild fear.
She frowned and felt herself calm down somewhat.
"Huh?" she responded vacantly.
Malfoy gaped at her in undisguised awe and confusion. He then slowly shook his head, his eyes never straying from her own.
"It's... not important."
Confusion swept through Hermione. What the hell was Malfoy talking about? She didn't even do anything; she hadn't even moved a muscle to threaten to hit him or anything! So why was he looking so shocked? She knew that questioning him would not yield a mature answer, so she discarded the thought from her mind.
Draco avoided her interrogative stare deliberately. He still looked somewhat stricken.
Just then, a voice rang through all the compartments, advising that they had nearly arrived at Hogwarts.
Hermione hastily packed up her stuff and smoothed the wrinkles out of the sofa. The warmth of the fire was still emanating through her and she didn't want to leave the compartment. Except, of course, to get away from Draco.
She chanced a glance at him.
He was reading a piece of parchment, his eyes slightly wide, but otherwise expressing no emotion.
It was almost as if he was... afraid... to show how he was feeling...
This thought made Hermione's eyebrows rise. She had never met someone like Draco, someone scared to showcase how he or she was feeling. The people she knew were always so open, you could see their emotions clearly adorned on their faces. Happy... sad... angry... you name it, you saw it.
But, needless to say, Draco was... different. He was always so shielded. Perhaps he's afraid of showing weakness, Hermione alleged ponderingly. And I wonder what's in that letter...
Yet Hermione's suspicions were halted as she disembarked from the carriage, Crookshanks in her arms.
"Hermione!"
Hermione had just greeted Hagrid and was just about to start walking toward the Great Hall when she heard her name. She turned to see an exhausted Ginny and Harry, carrying many bags.
"Hey guys," Hermione said uncertainly.
Ginny started to laugh and punched Hermione lightly in the arm. "You are just so sick-minded, Hermione! No, the reason we look tired is 'cause we're looking for Ron."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, you were looking for Ron? He was with you, wasn't he?"
It was Ginny's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Well, no actually, he wasn't. A while after you left, he said he wanted more cauldron cakes so he went up front to get them. Funny thing is, he didn't come back to get his luggage-"she pointed to some of the bags she was carrying, "so when we got off, we just assumed he was with you."
Hermione absent-mindedly scratched her head. "No, I haven't seen him at all. You said that he told you he was going to get cauldron cakes?"
Hermione severely doubted whether this was Ron's actual intention.
Ginny looked mildly perplexed at Hermione's question, as she had only just answered it before, but comprehension dawned on Harry. "Well, that's what he told us," Harry admitted. "I mean, we'll probably just see him in the Great Hall soon enough. Hey Hermione, I'll take Crookshanks for you, Ginny just adores him-"
"Rebecca!" Ginny yelled, spotting her smiling red-haired Ravenclaw friend and tugging Harry, holding Crookshanks, along to greet her. "See you soon, Hermione!"
Hermione chuckled and shook her head. And then she remembered what Ginny had told her. It was indeed possible Ron had gone to get more cauldron cakes, as Hermione knew full well he had a huge appetite. But there was something... more likely... more relevant to the situation that Hermione would have suspected Ron to do.
Spy on me, she growled.
Hermione ushered the others into the castle and once most of them were inside, she herself stepped inside and was just about to turn the corner to enter the Great Hall when before she knew it, she was pulled into a nearby, dark broom closet.
A/N: Argh you all are gonna hate me for that cliffhanger! Who is the mysterious grabber?! Hehehe guess it's more incentive for you to read on! Hope your all going well and also that you like the story thus far. Let me just warn you, the story will end up being very long and the chapters will probably begin to increase in size but I also hope that won't put you off reading it :)!