~*The Passion of a Dragon*~

By: xKatx

Author's Notes: Oh my gosh! You guys are so awesome!! I've gotten a lot of reviews telling me you like my story! I'm so glad you guys like it! Please, if there are little things you don't like about it, don't be afraid to let me know! Constructive criticism is welcome, but be gentle—I'm very sensitive ;)

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:

Lucius Malfoy, father of Draco, former Death Eater, Hogwarts benefactor

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"That was such a great game!" Ginny squealed as the seven of them headed back up to the castle after the game ended.

Harry gave her a look, and she rolled her eyes, "I know, it sucks that Slytherin won, but it was a good game nonetheless!"

Hermione nodded, "Yeah, I have to admit it was a good game. Hufflepuff never stood a chance though."
Ron shook his head, "No, they didn't. Their Keeper is good, and their Beaters are okay, but their Chasers and Seeker just aren't good enough to beat the Slytherins."

        "Plus, Malfoy's been training the Slytherin's since the day after we came back, and I'm pretty sure they worked over the summer too."

Harry frowned at her, "How do you know that?"
She looked up, and shrugged, "I think I heard it before the game."

They shrugged as they re-entered the castle and headed to the Gryffindor common room before lunch.

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Malfoy checked his upper arm as he changed into a pair of black slacks and a black polo shirt. It was bruised bluish-purple and seemed to keep throbbing. He tried to hide the mark, but the sleeve of his shirt didn't quite cover the entire bruise.

        "Oh well," he muttered as he ran a comb through his blonde hair and made his way out to where his father and Professor Dumbledore stood.

        "Very well done, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Dumbledore congratulated him, shaking his hand.
Draco nodded, "Thank you, Professor."

Professor Dumbledore bid his goodbyes to Lucius as he moved to talk with Professor McGonagall.

        "I'm impressed, Draco," his father told him after the older wizard had left, "You played very well today."

        "Thank you, Father. Your opinion means a lot."

Lucius gave his son an endearing smirk, "I'm even more impressed by the way you handled your hit," he motioned to his son's upper arm, "I see it has bruised."

Draco looked at his arm, but shrugged, "I can have it mended in no time," he informed his father.

Lucius nodded, "I trust you will be returning to the Manor for Christmas?"

        "Unless yours and Mother's plans change before then," Draco replied to his father, his face emotionless.

        "We shall inform you if they do. Your next match is against… Ravenclaw?"

Draco nodded, "But Gryffindor plays Hufflepuff first."

        "Ah, well I shall be attending that game as well. I am very interested in seeing what tactics Mr. Potter has instilled in the team."

        "Yes," Draco agreed with his father, "I agree."

        "Your mother will be sending you an owl this evening," Lucius informed his son, "I shall see you in three weeks at the match."

Draco nodded, "Goodbye, Father."

        "Stay on course, Draco."

And with that, Lucius Malfoy walked toward his awaiting carriage, and drove out of the gates of Hogwarts.

After Lucius' carriage was out of sight, Draco let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, and ran a hand through his hair. He couldn't do any of those things when his father was around. In Lucius' mind, fidgeting displayed unsettled behavior. He was never unsettled, and he didn't expect his son to be either. However, Draco still had his quirks--running his hand through his hair, putting his hands on the back of his neck and standing/sitting with his elbows out, running his tongue along his teeth-he had little habits that used to drive Lucius crazy, so he'd learned not to do that.

His mind flashed forward to the end of the game. He'd seen the Mudblood walking back to the castle with her friends as he stood talking to Dumbledore-she looked nice that day. She seemed to look good every day, in his opinion. He narrowed his eyes. He didn't need to be thinking these things. The mere thought of her made his blood boil. The question was did his temperature go up with anger; or something else?

He shook his head and made his way back to the castle, his stomach growling intensely. He didn't realize how long he'd been standing there, but he knew it was time for lunch, and anything to preoccupy his mind at that moment was a good thing.

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Hermione walked out of her bedroom that evening to find Malfoy on the couch in black slacks and a black polo shirt, a large purplish-blue bruise just visible under one of his sleeves. She felt a pang of pity, but it was quickly pushed aside. She didn't want to pity Malfoy-she could hardly stand looking at him much less talking to him. Why was she pitying him? He was a monster.

She walked over to him and dropped a pile of parchment on his lap.

He looked at the parchment before turning his eyes on her.

        "And what is this?" He questioned in the same condescending tone he used every time she was around.

        "Our research," she spat coldly, moving to put her book back into her bag, "You didn't do it, so I did. Now you take care of the presentation."

        "Giving me orders, Mudblood?" He smirked humorously at her, "Never thought I would see the day."

        "Well you have, so get over it."
She put her bag in the corner by the door and turned around to see Malfoy only feet away from her. She wondered how he had gotten up and over there so quickly, but shook the thought from her mind. All she knew was that he was extremely close to her.

        "Get over it?" He whispered dangerously, his strong, large hands going onto her upper arms, holding her stiffly but gently, "Another command?"

        "You bet your ass it was," she whispered back with equal hate.

He raised an eyebrow, "You've got nerve, haven't you, Granger?"

        "Why wouldn't I? Unlike everyone else here, I'm not afraid of you."

He grinned maliciously, "You're not? Do you know what all you could suffer by at my hand?"

        "I should ask you the same question," she reciprocated, her hands going onto his elbows in an attempt of getting his hands off of her arms, "You already got hit once," she said, glancing at his chest before her eyes, flashing violet, met his again.

        "That was merely a scratch," he told her, his breath on her face, "What I can do is so much more."

        "Then what are you waiting for?" She asked impatiently, tremendous anger in her eyes, "Kill me. Torture me. Do whatever you want but I'll never follow your command, Malfoy."

He ran a finger down her face from her forehead, past her eye, and onto her cheek. His skin was like cool fire; scorching, but chilly at the same time. It was a very conflicting feeling for Hermione, but she tried to focus on beating him at his own war: the war of mind games.

        "Never?" He questioned, quickly deciding to have a little fun with her but reveal some of his harbored feelings at the same time, "I could give you everything," he whispered to her, his hands still on her upper arms, her back against the wall. Her hands still gripped his elbows, "Power… money… pleasure…"

        "Imprisonment," she hissed, "There are two things I want that you can never give, Malfoy. Not that I'd want jack shit from you."

        "What are those?" He questioned, his steel gray eyes burning into her deep amber ones.

        "Why should I even say them? You won't know what they mean."

        "Try me, dear Mudblood."

She narrowed her eyes and pulled his hands off of her arms, "Love and happiness," she told him as she glared at him, walked to her room and slammed the door shut behind her.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. Love and happiness. She was right again--those were two words that had never truly been in his vocabulary. It wasn't a new thing thought; he'd had tons of girlfriends freak out at him because he couldn't give them those two things. He supposed that the power, money, and sex could only satisfy for so long.
He shrugged; he would have to learn love and happiness. And who better to teach him than Hermione herself?

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Sunday morning dawned rainy and windy. All of the Quidditch players were thankful for the weather-all practices had been cancelled.
Hermione was thankful as well. She'd been planning on spending the day outside with her friends, but since the weather was so bad she took this opportunity to spend the day in the library, reading up on something that had been bothering her since the beginning of the year: the prophecy the Sorting Hat had talked about.

Dumbledore had confirmed it was true, but Hermione wanted to know more. Which houses had it been last time? What were the peoples' names? What was the story?

She sat in the History section of Hogwarts' library that afternoon, three books on the table, and one in her hands. She hadn't found anything of any use yet, but she was not going to give up.

She was interrupted, however, by…

        "Hello there," a friendly voice said.

She looked up, and smiled.

        "Hi, Xander," she greeted him warmly, "It's nice to see you again."

        "Oh believe me, the pleasure is all mine," he replied with a smile, "May I?" He asked, motioning to the chair across from her.

She nodded, "Of course."

He sat down, and she closed the book, marking her page with her finger, "So, have you met anyone?"

        "I actually had the opportunity to meet your friends, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Finnigan."

        "Really?" She sat forward and grinned, "Are they crazy or what?"

        "Oh, they're quite amusing," he told her, giving her a smile that sparkled through his clear green eyes, "Mr. Potter is uniquely protective of you."

She raised an eyebrow, "What makes you say that?"

Xander shrugged, "When I mentioned you, he got very sharp and quizzical."

Hermione laughed, "Well, it's understandable. He's the older brother figure of the group.

Xander grinned, "You have no siblings?"

She shook her head, "No, I'm an only child. What about you?"

        "I had a brother, but he died."

She gave him a sympathetic look, "Oh, Xander, I'm sorry. It's got to be awful losing a sibling."
Xander's eyes seemed shaded for moment, but his attention returned ot her, "Yes, it's bad, but I've gotten over it."

She nodded, "So are you the only one left, or are your parents still around?"
        "My mother is," he replied, "My father died as well."
She shook her head, "Oh, Xander, now I feel really bad."

He gave her a smile, "Don't be sad. It's been a while-it's not as hard anymore."

She nodded, and put her hand ontop of his, "If you ever need to talk about it…"
He grinned, "I'll remember that," he told her, gaining a smile from her.

At that moment, someone strolled around the corner.

        "Granger," Malfoy's curt voice said, "Come with me."

        "Is that a request or a command?" She replied, her voice even and guarded.

        "Both. Come on."

She rolled her eyes and closed her book, "I'm sorry, Xander. I don't know what he wants but I'll see you around, okay?"

Xander nodded as he stood and looked at Malfoy.

        "Oh, Malfoy this is Xander, Xander, this is Draco Malfoy."

They shook hands, "Nice to meet you," Malfoy said, his voice short and quick.

        "Same," Xander replied, a wary look in his eye. Hermione could feel the tension, but didn't comment.

        "Bye, Xander," she told him as she and Malfoy walked out of the library.

Xander stood a moment longer before leaving the library as well.