~*The Passion of a Dragon*~
By: xKatx
Author's Notes: Thank you to the 2 people
(at this moment) who have read and reviewed my story! This chapter is dedicated
to you: Cloud of Mercy, and Suisei! I love you guys ;) And I'm
not egotistical, I just live on your suspense! ;)
Disclaimer: I don't own HP stuff—I'd be in the mountains right
now if I did—I own everything you don't recognize.
Characters You Will Meet In This Chapter:
***No new characters***
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Hermione didn't mention her row with Malfoy in the library to anyone; not even her best friends or Maya. She figured it was just one of those things, and that it would pass. There was no need to initiate that kind of conversation; it would just start that unannounced battle between the girls and the boys about Malfoy.
Hermione found herself staring into the fire that evening, sitting on the black couch in her common room in a pair of baggy black pants and a crimson tank top. Her books were spread over her lap and on either side of her. As she finished each assignment, books were closed and more room was made on the couch. Her pile on the coffee table slowly grew until she'd completed all of her homework. She didn't have to worry about any homework over the weekend, which was a very good thing.
She found herself staring at the orangish-yellow flames, wondering how it would feel to be with Malfoy. She knew they were forbidden thoughts, but she decided since she was alone, she could indulge for a moment.
She wondered how it would feel to hug his strong, masculine body. Was his skin as soft as it looked? She wondered how it would feel to have his large, strong, powerful arms around her body. Would they make her feel safe? Protected? His lips looked so soft--were they? Could he be gentle and passionate, or was he just a wham bam thank you ma'am type of guy? She hoped for the first one, but one never could be sure.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the man on her mind walked into the room. He said nothing to her, regarding her only with a curt stare. She narrowed her eyes menacingly, but said nothing. Instead, she immediately began harshly scolding herself for her previous thoughts. This guy was no man--he was a monster. A monster could never feel love, or passion, or sensitivity. It wasn't in its nature.
And it most certainly was not in Draco Malfoy's nature to be or feel any of those things.
She decided she was not about to waste a perfectly good Friday evening sitting around the common room thinking about Malfoy. She stood up, and moved to put her books away; she had heard Seamus was going to be throwing a party in the Gryffindor common room in honor of the beginning of Quidditch season. It sounded fun, and Hermione needed something to take her mind off of Malfoy.
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Hermione emerged from her room fifteen minutes later. On weekends they were allowed to wear Muggle clothing, so she's taken the opportunity to wear some of her new clothes. She wore a short khaki cargo skirt that hit mid-thigh, and a black hooded shirt with three-quarter cut sleeves. She pulled the sleeves up and slipped on a pair of black flip-flops. Her hair was in French braid pigtails, and she had freshened her make-up.
She saw Malfoy sitting on one of the couches clad in only a black muscle shirt and black pajama pants, and her breath nearly caught in her throat. However, she hid her reaction and gave him a cool glance.
Draco looked up from his book (quite coincidentally, The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet) and he had to remember to keep his mouth shut. Her skirt was high enough to show an extensive view of golden-tanned leg, and her shirt hugged her trim waist snugly. He would have given anything to tell her how beautiful she looked, but he kept his mouth shut. Every time he came close to complimenting her, that horrid memory of falling against her flashed through his mind, and his pride kept his mouth shut.
"Off to shag half of Gryffindor?" He commented icily, his voice chilling to the bone.
She narrowed her eyes, "Not in a million years. Not that you would understand abstinence-one word not in your vocabulary."
That comment startled the hell out of him. She was a virgin? But how could someone so beautiful be untouched? Every beautiful girl he'd ever met had been taken by another man already. Why was Hermione still unknown to a man?
"What do you know-the Mudblood is saving herself," he hissed sarcastically, standing up and shutting the book, "Wouldn't have expected that from one such as you," he enunciated the last word.
One second, Draco Malfoy was putting his book on the coffee table, the next his left cheek was stinging harshly from the sharp slap Hermione had delivered to it.
"I don't know who you think you are," she whispered, her voice shaking with dangerous anger, "But if I ever hear you or learn of you talking about me that way again, I'll do a whole hell of a lot more than slap you, you lame excuse for a human being. I've taken your shit for too fucking long!" She said, glaring at him with such an intensity that he was slightly taken aback, "You should have learned the last time not to screw around with me."
And with that, she walked out of the Heads common room, hoping the party in Gryffindor tower could wipe away all thoughts of Draco Malfoy.
Draco stood dumbfounded. Had that really just happened, or was he imagining things? He put a hand to his cheek. He winced; no, this was definitely real. How dare she? How dare she?! He was a Malfoy; the most feared and respected of all the names at Hogwarts, and this Mudblood had the audacity to strike him?
He collapsed on the couch and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. She'd gotten him again; beat him to the punch--literally. At that moment, he wondered if maybe he'd underestimated her.
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"You slapped him?!" Ginny, Parvati, and Lavender squealed fifteen minutes later. The Gryffindor common room was alive with wizard music, and there was one long table piled with food Harry, Ron, and Seamus had coaxed out of the kitchen elves. People were dancing and laughing and having fun. The boys were off mingling with other Gryffindors, their common topic of conversation being Quidditch.
Hermione nodded with a smile.
"Why?" Ginny asked, looking at her friend suspiciously.
Hermione told them what had been said, and Lavender gasped.
"He
seriously said that?" She questioned.
"I told you guys he was no
different than he's always been," Hermione told them as she crossed her
legs and took a sip of pumpkin juice.
The topic of Malfoy slowly dropped, and they began talking about how Seamus threw parties that almost rivaled the Weasley Twins' annual bashes.
"So, Hermione, are there going to be any balls soon?" Parvati questioned after the girls had moved to the corner of the common room and were leaning against the wall.
Hermione nodded, "The Prefects want one for Halloween, but Dumbledore hasn't okay-ed it yet."
"If we have a ball before Halloween, we've got to have a Hogsmeade trip too," Ginny insisted.
"Of course," Hermione agreed, "How else would everyone get their clothes and stuff?"
"Just making sure you knew," Ginny replied with a grin as Harry, Ron, and Seamus came over with curled ribbon that would be seen on a Muggle birthday present, "May we?" Ron asked, motioning to the girls' hair.
They all nodded. Seamus attached Parvati's, Ron attached Lavenders, and Harry attached Ginny's and Hermione's.
"Thanks," Hermione smiled warmly at her best friend as he looked at Ginny who nodded and was immediately tapped on the shoulder by Neville Longbottom.
"Care for a dance?" Harry asked Hermione, holding out his hand.
Hermione glanced at Ginny, who had already accepted a dance with Neville. She knew Harry and Ginny were close enough not to be bothered by such things as dancing with others. Besides, Harry was her best friend--and that's all he would ever be.
Hermione smiled and accepted, moving to the dance floor with her friend.
The Gryffindors partied in the common room until almost twelve-thirty the next morning, when Hermione finally put her foot down as Head Girl and told everyone to get some sleep--after all, the first Quidditch game of the season would be bright and early the next morning, and they all wanted to see it.
"Thanks for the dances, you guys," she thanked Harry, Ron, and Seamus, hugging each of them goodnight.
"Not a problem," They all replied as they headed toward the boys' dormitory.
"I'll see you girls tomorrow," Hermione told them as she left the common room, and Ginny, Lavender, and Parvati headed toward the girls' dormitory.
Hermione walked silently through the halls of the school. She needed some fresh air before bed, and she knew if she was quiet enough, she'd be all right. After all, she could always make up a reasonable excuse; she was Head Girl.
She walked out the front doors of Hogwarts and made her way to a large willow tree by the lake. Its branches were large enough to hide behind; she climbed through and did just that.
Sitting in the shelter of the willow and looking through the spaces in the branches, she felt complete peace. Even her confrontation with Malfoy wasn't troubling her anymore. Nighttime seemed to do that to her; there was a kind of seductive calm to it all, and it was a comfort to her--even in times of confusion and sadness. This was the same willow tree she'd come to the night after the war. Luckily, that specific tree had not been damaged. Even then, all of her thoughts and trouble had melted away.
"Do you always sneak out of the castle in the middle of the night?" A baritone voice asked from her right side.
She jumped and looked over to see none other than Draco Malfoy climb through the branches and stand to his straight six-foot-one height.
She glared at him, getting to her feet in the process. She intended to leave the shelter of the willow and head back to the castle, but when she tried to pass him, he caught her upper arm in a tight, but not painful grasp.
"Don't leave because of me," he told her. The fact that his voice held no condescending tone or hostility shocked the hell out of her. She looked up at him carefully, her eyes still guarded from showing any emotion.
"You actually want me to be here? I thought having a Mudblood around you was one of the worst things a pureblood would have to go through."
He raised an eyebrow, "Now you know everything that annoys a pureblood?"
She rolled her eyes and took her seat again, part of her wanting them to fight, just so she could get all of her anger against him out. It had become a cancer--something that continued to grow and grow until it consumed everything she knew.
Draco seriously wanted to have a normal, civilized conversation with her. After all, she was his equal intellectually--could she hold a complex conversation?
"What's that?" He asked.
She looked away from the moon and back at him, "What is what?"
He bent down and flicked the crimson and gold ribbons in her hair.
She shrugged, "Got them at the party."
"The one thing all Gryffindors are good at," he muttered sarcastically.
"Maybe I didn't make myself clear six hours ago--I'm sick of your bullshit, Malfoy. Either be civilized or get the hell out."
He cocked an eyebrow, "Giving me ultimatems now, Mudblood?"
She glared at him, "Do you need me to make your other cheek bruised before you understand the point."
"Ah yes, I noticed your handiwork," he said, fingering his bluish purple cheek tentatively, "Congratulations on a bruise well made."
"Sod off, Malfoy," she said, her voice slightly tired and annoyed.
"Why the open hostility, fair Mudblood?"
She rolled her eyes, "Maybe because I've had to deal with this for six years and I'm sick of it."
"No one asked you to deal with it."
"Well, if I was going to continue school, I didn't have much choice in the matter."
"But you didn't have to finish school here--you could have gone to one of those Muggle institutions."
"No, I was hoping your abnormally cocky mouth would finally betray you and you'd be gone," she said through slightly gritted teeth.
He was somewhat shocked at this response. It wasn't news that she didn't want him around; he didn't particularly want her around either. But she wanted him dead?
"My death would be a welcomed event, wouldn't it, Mudblood?" He questioned coldly.
"Only if it were my hand you died by," she hissed back, her voice equally chilly.
His eyes sparkled maliciously, and her brown eyes reflected violet in the moonlight. She was pissed, and so was he.
"And what if it wasn't?"
"Then I'd get over it and celebrate. If it were by my hand, it would only be icing on the cake."
"My downfall would bring only too much joy to you, wouldn't it, Mudblood?"
She stood, wiping her hands off on her skirt, "Not just your downfall, Malfoy--your destruction."
And with that, she left the shelter of the willow and made her way back to the castle, leaving a slightly impressed Malfoy behind.