Disclaimer: All of it's not my property, I'm afraid. It belongs to JKR and I'm not making a prophet or a profit out of it (lame joke, I know!)
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.
Quick A/N: Hi! Um, whether or not Blaise really is a girl or a boy, for this fic, he is going to remain a boy so I'm sorry if that's not canon, I assure you that I thought he was a boy before I put him in the story, so yeh, read on thanks! This chapter is kinda long. But I hope you read it all the same!
Chapter Fourteen: Anxiety and Mischief
See my days are cold without you
But I'm hurtin while im with you
And though my heart can take no more
I keep on running back to you
So sad, so sad
What love will make you do
--Foolish, Ashanti
Hermione rose from her Head Girl room the next morning to the gloom of the dawn.
She rubbed her eyes out of their sleepy daze and yawned. Her room was virtually engulfed in darkness, a happenstance that was certainly accounted for as Hermione noted the godforsaken hour that she had woken up at.
It was only then that a feeling of dread came over her body, and her eyes widened.
Today was the day that Malfoy wanted to meet her, at the Astronomy Tower.
Hermione groaned and clutched her golden covers under her chin tightly, as if extracting some security from them. She evidently did not care that her hands were beginning to ache with pain.
Was she indeed ready to accept Malfoy's friendship?
If truth were to be told, she didn't even know if the boy was being entirely serious about the whole matter. It seemed a trifle sudden, all the attention she was receiving from him. Not to mention the perplexing quality of his messages.
"A Mud-'muggle' must always stand in the presence of a superior..."
"I never did get to thank you for saving my life that night, did I?"
"… you are inferior to me, and therefore, an inadequate choice for Head Girl."
"I just want to be friends."
Hermione cringed at the memories.
She hated herself for being so malleable to his taunts and praise. Under normal circumstances, she would have never even batted an eyelid to the blonde-haired rebel, no matter the nature of his comments. But nowadays, he was all she could really ever think about.
But then again, Hermione knew that her current situation had long ago absconded from the tag 'normal'. She smiled grimly.
Hermione stood up from her bed, idly straightening the nonexistent creases of her meagre nightgown before pacing toward the large window of her room. She thrust it open, expending all her energy on the heavy glass article and trembled as a tepid breeze swept over her body.
Her eyes closed and her lips quirked into a sad smile.
Hermione loved the feel of the subtle zephyr as it made contact with her skin. She revelled in the feel of the mild frostiness, as it prompted goose bumps to sprout on the surface of her limbs.
For some reason, it made her remember when Malfoy had grasped her arm so firmly in his hand. He had thumbed her soft skin so tactlessly that Hermione had felt shivers run up her spine. But it had granted her such a huge adrenaline rush… the sentiment was almost spooky.
She sighed and took a seat beside the windowpane, her head resting gingerly on her fists.
The sky was still indigo in hue, the tranquil colour perpetual and captivating. Hermione felt as though she could observe the vastness of the heavens forever and never tire from the whim. But duties do have their tendency to intrude upon one's mind when it is in a state of utmost peacefulness.
Hermione sighed in exasperation as images of Malfoy flitted through her mind.
She couldn't help but wonder whether the Head Boy was planning some sort of trap tonight for her, his mortal enemy of the past six years. It would certainly prove to be a relief to her if she had an opportunity to vanquish Malfoy once and for all in a lone Astronomy Tower.
But surprisingly, Hermione didn't want Malfoy to die a gruesomely painful death anymore. True, she would have been delighted by the prospect last year… perhaps at the beginning of her seventh year, even. But now… everything seemed so different.
Merlin, he had looked so incredibly cute after the meeting with Dumbledore. The glinting wisps of his blonde hair were parted flawlessly in the middle of his head, the strands falling delectably into his gorgeous blue-silver eyes and … that dazzling, dazzling smile…
Hermione winced at her evident sin of lust, before crawling back under the covers of her cosy bed.
So what if it was to be an ambush of Slytherins tonight? So what if Malfoy was planning to curse her into a void? Hermione knew she was not elected to be Head Girl for reasons simply regarding popularity and charisma.
No. Tonight, if the need were to arise, Hermione would prove once again why indeed she was the smartest witch in her year.
Even though a large part of her hoped that the blonde-haired boy's intentions proved to be more genuine than one would have anticipated.
Draco arrived at the Great Hall the next morning, his stomach whining incessantly for food.
He had taken a rapid shower – as the delay of his awakening reasoned a compromise in grooming time – and neglected to dry his hair properly, before bounding out of the Head Common room exit door with not even a trace of a smirk on his face.
Draco felt an unfamiliar feeling of anxiety well up in his body.
For the first time in his life, he was desperately worried as to whether or not a girl were to go on a date with him.
Strike that – this is definitely 'not' a date, he scowled, passing his hand through his hair and scanning the Great Hall for nothing in particular.
Yet the fact still remained that Draco could probably acquire a date with any girl he wanted at Hogwarts.
They would most likely lick murky swamp water off his shoes if he promised to blow them a kiss. Sure, some of the girls played hard-to-get at first – but as soon as they got absorbed into Draco's glittering eyes, they soon proved to be rather 'hard-to-get-off' his palatable body.
But Granger… somehow Draco knew that her display of hostility and apathy was not merely a disguise, not merely a ploy to play hard-to-get. She was for real.
And there was also every possibility that she wouldn't show up tonight.
He took a seat next to Crabbe, before spreading ample quantities of butter, banana and sugar on his toast. He was about to take a bite when he felt the piece of bread being prised away from his grasp.
Draco felt a pang of irritation and turned to see who had suddenly obtained the gut to stand up to him, but he felt a pitiless glare spread over his face instantly at the sight of the person.
Pansy was scraping the condiments of Draco's toast with her podgy index finger, eyeing it with a hint of apprehension, before looking up at the boy with desire in her eyes. He scowled as she then plunged the finger into her mouth and smiled at him.
Draco knew that she most certainly thought her actions were seductive, and it was this folly that caused him to grunt derisively.
Pansy cringed ever so slightly, before pasting the same smile on her face once more.
"If you're hungry Draco babe, I'll feed you," she said, taking a seat on the boy's lap.
Draco immediately pushed her away, shaking his head in disbelief and tried to concentrate on what the other Slytherins were talking about.
"… So Draco, how's the position of Head Boy treating you?"
Draco turned to look at the boy in front of him who had spoken, and a smirk crept over his face as he saw that it was the brown-haired Theodore Nott.
The two had been very good friends the past two years, purely because Draco held high respect for the boy that his father spoke so highly of. The Malfoy and Nott families were close acquaintances, both families being wealthy and in the inner circle of the Dark Lord. It was, after all, Theodore that had told him that the Dark Lord was very displeased with Lucius a long time ago.
Yet Draco still did not know the full story about that particular escapade.
"It's actually not too bad, you know, I don't have to patrol at night or anything, so I guess in that way it's easy," Draco said thoughtfully, munching on an apple and cinnamon muffin.
"Aye," Theodore responded, screwing the top off his muffin and throwing the stump at Pansy, who was now seated at the far end of the table. "More food for you, Parkinson, eat up before you get too scrawny!"
Draco laughed at the sarcasm in his friend's words, just as Pansy glowered at the two of them before stuffing the muffin stump in her mouth. Theodore smirked at him before chewing his own muffin rather elaborately.
"What's between you two, anyways, Draco?" Theodore continued, indicating Pansy with a quick nod of his head.
Draco couldn't help but snort again.
"She's my darling girlfriend Theo, so don't get any ideas," Draco murmured cynically, narrowing his eyes in mock of a challenge.
The boy in front of him shook his head in jollity, his dark strands of hair splaying everywhere with the movement. Draco leaned forward to grab a large cream and jelly bun off a silver platter in front of him, but he saw another, tanned hand already there on the same bun. He looked up to see Blaise Zabini with a mean glare on his face.
"Get your hand off it, Zabini, it's mine," Draco snarled, pulling at the bun before it tore into two pieces, each piece in each boy's hand.
"Funny, you seem more possessive of a stupid cream bun rather than your significant other," Zabini returned curtly, licking the cream gingerly off his bun with his dextrous tongue.
Draco glared at him.
"Fuck off Zabini, I am not in the mood for your bullshit this morning," he snapped, throwing the bun back onto the silver platter, just as Millicent Bulstrode eagerly picked it up, winking at Draco.
"So Draco," Zabini continued, stressing the name with fake adoration, "I hear there's trouble in paradise, am I right?"
Draco plunged his hand into his robes and extracted his slender wand, before eyeing Zabini dangerously.
"Whatever happens between Parkinson and myself is none of your business, alright?" he barked harshly, twirling the wand expertly in his fingers.
Zabini glanced at the wand with some apprehension, before regarding Draco once more, his eyebrow raised and his hand on the left-hand side of his chest.
"Why, Draco, I wasn't talking about Pansy," he resumed airily, his eyes flickering to the Gryffindor table. "I was in truth referring to our Mudblooded Head Girl."
Draco felt a surge of hatred spread throughout his body at the insult to Granger, though he did not exactly know where from the feeling had sourced.
"You take that back Zabini," he whispered menacingly, before he could stop himself.
Zabini chuckled amusedly, and shook his head in mirth.
"Touched a nerve, have I, Draco?" he sneered, tilting his head slightly to the left.
"You'll be touching your deathbed soon if you don't keep your fucking mouth shut," Draco snapped.
Zabini stood up from his seat, saluted Draco scathingly before exiting the hall. Draco shot Theodore a warning glance, who raised his hands to indicate he wasn't planning to say anything anyway. Draco perused over his timetable, anguished to note he had Healing classes first up.
He frowned as he remembered why he had taken the said class in the first place, before his sixth year at Hogwarts had begun…
FLASHBACK
Draco was lying on his bed, his arms folded to support the back of his head. His sheets were of a dark green silk, the sleek material chosen by his mother especially to fit his large four-poster. These sheets were chosen despite his father's protests against having a spoilt child, yet a compromise was reached by selecting the colour green.
Facing adversity, Lucius used to say, was merely character building. And what could possibly be wrong with character building?
Draco closed his eyes firmly, blocking out the thoughts of his father. The man had grown to be doggedly persistent in his resolve to introduce Draco to the Dark Side.
The introduction itself had gone smoothly enough… the Dark Lord was certainly impressed with Draco's talent and – exactly as he had put it at the time – Draco's 'unyielding tenacity and immense potential'. The Lord had admired the way Draco was not merely a yes-man – he had said so himself – but he had also stated that Draco would have benefited by learning obedience.
Obedience seemed to be important to the Dark Lord at the time Draco had first met him. This conviction confused Draco.
He had often been told to renounce the path of conformity and to stand up for what he believed in. This principle, more often than not, only allowed him to ridicule muggle-born witches and wizards; he wasn't permitted to speak his mind otherwise on any other topic. But it was this rule enough that made Draco feel as if he still wielded at least some power in his life, some power that his father had not yet confiscated.
But the Lord still insisted that obedience was worthwhile!
Though he did not understand why this was the case initially, Draco soon discovered the penalties of defiance.
He saw, over the next few meetings, how his Master had punished those who had not followed orders. He also observed how his father undertook all possible measures to nearly always ensure a successful mission.
Every now and then, Draco wondered whether his father had ever disobeyed an order in his life. He was convinced that his father was about as dutiful as one could possibly be… but on those very rare occasions, sometimes Draco swore he noticed something different in his father's pale eyes… something so very astonishing…
Something that almost resembled… grief.
Draco looked around his dim room, ruffling his hair lightly with his fingers.
He loved being in his room; it was his one sanctuary away from his father and Hogwarts. It was the place where he felt comfortable letting down his defences; where he could cry if he wanted to, where he could scream if he wanted to, where he could kick the unblemished walls if he wanted to…
Draco heard a tapping at his veiled window and he glanced over to see, in the middle slit of the black curtains, his owl, Cronus, clutching a letter in his sharp black talons.
Draco sighed and let the owl in, closing the curtains quickly so as not to let the light in anymore than it already had. He prised the letter away from his owl's firm grasp, before settling on his bed once more to read it.
It was from Hogwarts, Draco grimly saw. It was a subject selection message, he noted, as his eyes scanned the list of classes he was allowed to take in his sixth and seventh years combined.
As if on cue, his door suddenly opened to reveal Lucius, his father.
Draco felt a pang of fear sweep through his body, but he willed it to disappear quickly. He shuddered to think what his father would say if he ever found out that his only son had sensed fear in his lifetime.
The tall man paced gracefully to his son's bed, beckoning him to hand over the letter. Draco complied submissively and watched his father's inscrutable expression.
"So," his father began slowly. "I suppose you will have by now chosen your subjects?"
Draco shook his head, knowing to dodge the trick question.
"I wanted to ask your opinion on the matter, father," he murmured, deepening his voice slightly.
The smallest of smirks appeared on Lucius's face.
"Well, what do 'you' want to do for the next two years, Draco?" he said dangerously, sitting on the swivel chair of Draco's desk.
Draco winced, but quickly shifted his seating position to disguise his sign of weakness.
"I thought of course, Advanced Potions, father, and Arithmancy and Ancient Runes," he stuttered, careful to look away from his father's lifeless orbs.
"Naturally," his father returned curtly, smoothing his dark jade robes and looking back over the Hogwarts letter. "And what other three subjects?"
Draco knew that this was about as approving as his father was going to get. He felt a feeling of momentary relief spread throughout his body. He was halfway there.
"Perhaps Higher-Level Transfiguration, Extended Dark Arts Defence and Complex Charms Study?" he ventured, twiddling his thumbs nervously.
Lucius looked up sharply to his son, his eyebrow raised.
"Dark Arts Defence, Draco?" he whispered. "Surely you would be more prepared to actually learn the Dark Arts themselves, rather than to pursue learning shielding techniques against them?"
Draco nodded, not knowing what exactly his father was talking about.
"I am pleased that our Master has taken a liking to you, Draco," Lucius continued, eyeing his son intently. "He has himself offered to personally teach you the Unforgivables. This is not an offer to pass up, Draco."
Draco felt a squirm in his stomach. He had to learn how to manipulate someone, how to torture someone and finally… how to kill someone? But he was only in his sixth year at Hogwarts! He wasn't ready to cope with the burden of a person's life on his shoulders. But deep down, Draco knew that he had no say in the matter.
No matter how accommodating his father seemed to sound, he knew it was all just an act. A cruel, pitiless act.
"Father, I fear I am far too young to learn such curses, don't you agree?"
Lucius narrowed his eyes at Draco and he felt a deep sense of foreboding well up inside his quivering body.
"Our Lord has agreed to render you a great service!" Lucius shrieked suddenly, standing on his feet. "I'll be damned if you do not learn these curses! I am the Head of this house and you will do as I say. No arguments, Draco."
"Yes father," Draco whispered quickly, cowering away from his father's wrath despite his resolve.
He missed the look of pure hatred that had swiftly crept across on his father's face.
"You are pathetic, Draco."
"I know, father."
"You are weak, Draco."
"I know, father."
"And I will not tolerate your ignorance any longer, Draco."
"I… I know, father," Draco gasped amid inaudible sobs, watching his father through the gap in his fisted hands.
Lucius walked toward the door of Draco's room, but paused before he walked through it. He gazed for some time at the gold metal of the doorknob, before he spoke once more.
"You will study the art of Healing for the next two years, Draco," he said lazily. "Merlin only knows how useful such enchantments prove to be when you come to be of my age."
And without caring for a response, he slammed the door behind him. He did not even stop to hear the last few words spoken by his son that day.
"It is by your will, father."
END OF FLASHBACK
Hermione walked quickly down to the Great Hall, relieved to note that there were only a handful of scattered students in it at the time.
As she glanced at the Gryffindor table, she was somewhat surprised to note that Ginny Weasley was there. Her body was hunched and her light red hair was unkempt and tied messily into a bun. Her head was resting on her vertical arm and her other hand was tracing the rim of her glass of pumpkin juice.
Hermione felt her heart dip at the mere sight of her miserable best friend.
Her feet paced to the chair opposite Ginny's, and she hesitantly took a seat. Hermione noted the glassy expression on her friend's face and she was rather tentative to break the silence.
"Um, Gin?" she muttered, filling her glass with the contents of the bright red jug on the table.
Ginny didn't stir, but her finger immediately stopped its circuit route on the brim of the opaque, frosted tumbler in front of her.
"Ginny, are you alright?" Hermione urged, patting the girl's forearm but she flinched at the spasm of prickling that shot up her limb.
Ginny recoiled her arm away quickly and looked at Hermione, her eyes scared at the sudden violation of contact. As she saw that it was really Hermione in front of her, Ginny seemed to ease.
"Oh, it's you," she whispered, pasting a weak smile on her face.
"How are you?" Hermione asked uncertainly, eyeing the girl's frizzy hair in front of her with sympathy.
Ginny forced a laugh.
"I look terrible, don't I?" she said, flicking the ends of her hair with her fingers. "Yeah, yeah, I know that. But it doesn't bother me. No one to dress up for any more, right?"
Hermione felt a feeling of dread consume her. This was very, very unexpected. Ginny knew about Harry and Lavender?
"Er… what do you mean, Gin?" Hermione lied, downing her glass of bright yellow-orange juice rather hastily.
Ginny sighed sadly.
"I haven't really talked to Harry for such a long time, you know? I'm really starting to think he doesn't love me anymore. I mean, he hasn't exactly ever said that he loves me. Maybe I was stupid to assume things about him. But it doesn't exactly help that we are in different classes, so I can't talk to him then. He never comes down to the Great Hall, so I don't see him then either. And I am just up to my ears in homework-"
"Ginny?"
"Yeah?"
"You're ranting," Hermione murmured, trying to lighten the dreary mood.
Ginny let out a genuine laugh and nodded.
"Thanks for listening anyways, Hermione," she winked, before massing her temples quite vigorously with her index fingers. "So, like, how have you been doing?"
Hermione smiled appreciatively at the red-haired girl but the jovial expression quickly disappeared as she remembered precisely how she had been doing lately.
She hadn't been sleeping very well, thinking about Malfoy. She had been stressing all morning, thinking about Malfoy. She had been wondering whether or not she was the laughing stock or the central subject of defeat amongst her peers – all because of Malfoy.
"I've been absolutely fine," Hermione lied briskly, placing sliced circles of banana onto her sugared and buttered toast.
"Urgh, what's that you're eating?" Ginny said distastefully, watching with disbelief as Hermione chewed her bread.
Hermione grinned and offered her a piece.
"No offence, but you have the weirdest tastebuds in the world, Hermione."
Hermione joined in the laughter and Ginny wiped a fake tear of laughter from her eye. Suddenly, she looked over at Hermione and her eyes were filled with a probing glee.
"Hey, you wanna go visit Ron?" she said, already climbing into the straps of her bag. "I think your boyfriend would probably be doing much better now, don't you think?"
Hermione dropped the piece of toast in her hand. She didn't want to go see Ron now, of all times; she didn't want to have to bear all the awkwardness of it all. Sure, she wanted to know whether he was doing okay but… a personal visit?
"Why don't you wanna go?" Ginny asked quickly, fusing her eyebrows together at Hermione.
Hermione felt a pang of irritation at the questioning girl.
They were supposed to be best friends – but Ginny didn't empathise at all with Hermione. Ginny simply could not put two and two together that everyone had forced Hermione into a relationship with Ron. No one could ever work that out of his or her own accord.
Hermione and Ron were the indestructible-super-Gryffindor-couple. Hermione smiled dismally at the thought.
"No, I didn't say that – let's go," Hermione muttered, her voice clearly lacking enthusiasm.
Ginny's inquisitive frown immediately disappeared and was replaced with a warm smile as the two girls walked together toward the Hospital Wing in silence, that was sometimes disrupted with casual talk.
Just as they entered through the creaky door of the infirmary and the heavy smells of the different therapeutic potions reached her cowering nose, Hermione felt a pang of uneasiness ripple through her body. She really did not want to see Ron. Not in the slightest.
"Ginny!" Ron exclaimed, as Ginny practically ran up to her brother's bed, leaving Hermione standing rather awkwardly by the door.
"Brother dear, how are you doing?" Ginny said pompously, moving one of the stools in the room next to Ron's bed.
Ron did not answer; rather, he was looking up at Hermione. His gaze was inquiring, and Hermione forced a smile on her face as she noticed the empty state of the room and she walked up to the boy's bed.
"Hey, you," she said genially, punching Ron lightly on his upper arm.
Ron's face broke out into an authentic smile, and he sat up on his bed. His skin had lost most of its green tinge, Hermione was pleased to note.
"Hermione," he whispered, his eyes filled with a strange awe of the beautiful brunette beside him. "How have you been?"
"Yuck, this is way to fluffy for my liking, guys," Ginny yelped, blocking her ears and attempting to walk toward the infirmary exit door. "I'm gonna go now and just leave you to do… it."
"NO!" Hermione yelled before she could stop herself and she quickly ran toward Ginny and grasped the girl's arm.
Ginny turned her head to face Hermione and raised her eyebrow.
"All right, Hermione, chill, whatever you say," she said slowly, still not taking her eyes off Hermione's own imploring ones.
The two walked sheepishly back towards Ron, who appeared to have been quite oblivious to the whole exchange, as he was busily eating his bacon and eggs with great gusto. Hermione could not help but laugh at the display.
"Pleased to see you're gaining your normal appetite," she whispered, not knowing what else to say to ease the tenuous nature of the situation.
"Yeah, you greedy pig!" Ginny shrieked, her usual exuberance evidently returning to her.
Ron nodded rather vigorously and he cut a small square of bacon before thrusting it under Hermione's nose.
"Eat," he commanded, the mischievous glint returning to his eyes.
Hermione smiled at the gesture but she pushed his hand away.
"Not so early in the morning, Ron," she said uncomfortably, smoothing out some of the creases in Ron's sheets.
Her hands began to prickle and she withdrew at once from the action.
"So 'ow's being 'ead Girl, eh?" Ron managed to say through a mouthful of bacon.
Hermione raised an eyebrow at him and he grinned. This prompted the smallest of smiles from Hermione and she took a seat beside Ron's bed, opposite the side his sister was at.
"Yeah, Hermione – are there any funky gatherings coming up that we don't know of?" Ginny urged, her eyes shining with enthusiasm.
Hermione laughed. Dumbledore didn't exactly say that she was sworn to secrecy on the matter of the upcoming ball – what harm would there be to tell her two best friends?
Wrong Hermione – your best friend and your 'boyfriend', a voice rang out in Hermione's mind, and she shuddered vaguely at the thought.
"Um – well there's going to be a ball soon," she said casually.
Ginny shot up in her chair and Ron rolled his eyes.
"What a perfect opportunity!" she squealed, the smile on her face reaching from ear to ear.
"Er – a perfect opportunity for what, exactly?" Ron asked uncertainly.
Ginny turned a dim shade of crimson and she glanced over at Hermione momentarily before she sat back down on her stool.
"N-nothing."
Ron looked at Hermione and she shrugged, before she remembered that she had Complex Charms Study in a half hour.
"We better get going, Gin," Hermione said, swinging her bag on her back and checking her watch.
Ginny nodded and they both bid Ron farewell and started to pace toward the Hospital Wing exit door.
"So what 'perfect opportunity' were you talking about?" Hermione whispered, as they were about to reach the door.
A slight grin crept over Ginny's face.
"I meant a perfect opportunity to talk to Harry, to ask him if he would go with me!" she said, and Hermione felt her heart dip slightly as she thought of the probable rejection that Ginny had in store for her.
"Oh, right."
"Yeah, because obviously you'll be going with my brother and everything-"
Hermione turned to face Ginny sharply once they had walked out of the door.
"Er – actually, Ginny, Dumbledore said the Head Boy and Head Girl have to attend the upcoming ball together, so no, I'm not going with Ron."
Hermione heard a gasp sound from somewhere in the corridor, but it didn't worry her as she saw the look of horror on Ginny's faintly freckled face.
"You don't say? Man, I'm so sorry Hermione," she said compassionately.
Hermione nodded and the two began walking toward their respective classes when Hermione felt someone tap her on the back. She turned around and was irked to note that she was facing Parvati Patil.
"What do you want?" Hermione scowled, her eyebrow raised questioningly at the dark beauty in front of her.
Parvati examined the cuticles of her fingernails before regarding Hermione with her attention. Hermione found this very discourteous, but she knew that nothing better could be expected from the vainest girl in the seventh year.
"Oh I'm sorry, my finger slipped, I didn't actually mean to touch something as vile as you," Parvati whined, her eyes flickering disdainfully toward Hermione's messy ponytail.
"Well next time be more careful then," Hermione snapped.
She tugged at Ginny's arm and they both walked away together, not bothering to hear the characteristic creak of the opening door of the Hospital Wing behind them…
Draco walked with Theodore Nott to his Healing class.
This class was a relatively empty one, with only a handful of students primarily from Hufflepuff that were studying it. Draco grimaced at the mere thought of all those dopey Hufflepuffs in the same room as him…
If only father could see the effects of his decision now, Draco thought contemptuously, as he shoved some of the Hufflepuff seventh- and sixth-years out of the way so that he and Theodore would be at the front of the line.
There came no protests at his actions – just as Draco had anticipated. His eyes flickered amusedly toward Hannah Abbot, the blonde-haired witch that he had dated in his sixth year. Healing class was made mildly amusing by Abbot's attempts to get back with Draco.
Draco could barely even recall moments spent with her; all he remembered was that the… intimacy… had been fairly energising.
Abbot was leaning on the opposite wall of the corridor the students were lined up in, lifting her black robes up to her knee so as to give Draco an explicit view of her long legs. Draco shook his head in mirth and Theodore chuckled beside him.
"Never tires that one, does she?" Draco scorned, loud enough so that Abbot herself could hear his words.
Theodore sniggered and Abbot prowled toward Draco and flung her arms around his neck.
"Baby," she cooed in his ear, and Draco could not deny that he felt a ripple of desire wave through his body. "Baby, I missed you so bad."
But just as her hands somehow found their way to the zipper of the jeans that Draco was wearing underneath his robes, he shoved her away from him, eyeing her trembling form on the floor with detestation.
"Fuck off, Abbot, I'm done with you," he said smoothly, not caring that he was crushing the heart of the girl in front of him.
But just as soon as the tears started to stream down her red cheeks, she was up on her feet again and her hands were balled into fists. Draco found this fairly comical.
"You are the worst boy I have ever had the displeasure of meeting, Draco Malfoy," Abbot snarled, her face screwed up in malice.
"Man, Abbot, not boy," Draco corrected lazily.
The girl fumingly walked away from him toward the back of the line, and Draco felt a considerable weight lift off his shoulders.
"Eurgh, thank Merlin she left, now I don't have to throw up in disgust at that soppy display," Theodore whispered, slapping Draco on the back as he broke out in hysterics.
Draco felt his lips twitch into a smirk, but something rang through his head at Theodore's words.
"… You might want to cover up yourself, before I throw up in disgust all over you."
Granger was invading his thoughts once again. Draco scowled at the memory of the broom closet incident, but he willed it to disappear from his mind. He ruffled his hair with his fingers, his impatience of waiting for Professor Somnus wearing thin.
Draco still had reservations about inviting Granger to dinner with him. For that was what he had planned to set up at the Astronomy Tower platform that night; with the help of a few eager house elves and some quick flicks of his wand, he hoped to organise a cosy evening of dining.
He knew that most girls liked that sort of romantic bullshit.
Draco felt relief consume him as the serene, elderly Professor opened the door of the classroom. Draco took his usual seat at the back of the classroom with Theodore, for he knew how best to manipulate the myopic nature of his Healing Professor.
"Today," Professor Somnus said, her voice shaky because of her old age, "we will be looking at the properties of the Medicus plant. It is the single most important plant in Healing, but as mishandling of it can result in fatalities, we have left the study of it to your final year. It would be very heartbreaking indeed if anyone in this class were to - perchance mix it with Posho Weed in an even weak potion solution and the consequence were to be their untimely demise."
Draco snorted.
"It's comforting to know I am loved," he said loudly, and Theodore cackled beside him.
"Nah, Draco your – untimely demise – would leave me as happy as ever," Theodore said, ducking to avoid a swat from Draco. "Though I guess it would leave Abbot over there a wealthy widow."
Draco could not help but join in the laughter as the aforementioned blonde-haired girl turned a bright shade of scarlet.
"Now, now, let us settle, this is very important information for your upcoming NEWT exams," Professor Somnus continued, not really at all fazed by the Slytherins' disruption of the class. "Even though most of you would think that mentioning the NEWTS now is a touch early, let me assure you that more than a handful of students are surprised when we inform them that their exams are in a month's time."
"Well, they'd have to be pretty thick then wouldn't they?" Theodore said, tapping his head stupidly with his joint index and middle fingers and making primitive, grunting noises.
"Yeah and not to mention they'd have to be Hufflepuffs too," Draco muttered, not loud enough for the teacher to hear but loud enough for several students to turn around in their chairs and glare at him.
He shot them a mean glower and they instantly turned back toward the Professor, who had begun to lecture the class on how to properly identify the Medicus plant.
Draco felt as if brain was still on summer vacation, as the tedious droning of Professor Somnus flew through one of his ears, spiralled around inside his hollow head before taking its flight through the other ear.
Occasionally Draco would snigger at one of the comments Theodore had hotly stated, but other than that, Draco could not help but once again think about his mission for the Dark Lord.
Or, even more relevant to the truth, the gorgeous target of his mission for the Dark Lord…
A/N: Hi! Don't be pissed off at me for not including their date here, as I had promised you last chapter. In truth, everything was initially all one chapter but the chapter got unimaginably long so I split it into two. And about what Draco and Hermione ate for breakfast (the whole banana toast thing) that's actually really nice, so try it! And if anyone's wondering why I always include star- or sky-gazing in my stories – well, it's really calming and thoughtful to watch the stars and night sky, so try that as well! Thanks for the reviews, they make me write faster and update quicker and I like them when they are longer hint hint so lengthen them if you would. Not much else to say here, but please review and I will update as soon as possible. Cheers!