IMPRESSIONS chapter four
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, except for stuff you don't recognize.
Summary: An emotionally, physically, and mentally wounded Draco needs someone to help him, whether he wants to admit it or not, after his father lands in Azkaban, his mother is committed to St. Mungo's, and his entire world crumbles. Romance/Angst.
Author's Note: Please review!
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"Do you do everything by Potter and the Weasel?" asked Malfoy shortly.
"No, but –"
"Prove it. And don't forget, tonight at 12:00," said Malfoy, turning on his heel and sauntering down the hallway, giving no indication of pain whatsoever.
"I don't have to do what you say!" Hermione called after him angrily. "And I didn't appreciate that little trick you pulled in the bathroom!"
Malfoy slowed and turned. "I happen to be quite good at memory charms," he said blandly. "That are incapable of being blocked by Protego, or otherwise."
Hermione paled. "You're despicable," she spat, turned on her heel, and continued down the hall, leaving Malfoy staring at her back, smirking.
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"Hey, Harry, can I borrow your Invisibility Cloak?" asked Hermione urgently that evening, at 11:30.
Harry glanced up from his latest Potions essay. "Sure, but whatever for?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "What are you going to do?"
"I have to do some extra research in the library, and I forgot to get a pass," said Hermione, biting her tongue on the lie. Why did I have to swear to that stupid prat?
Harry looked suspicious, but he nodded. "Okay, I'll go get it. Don't stay there too late," he advised.
"I won't. Thanks, Harry," said Hermione, smiling at him.
Harry nodded and got up from the table, going up the stairs to the boy's dormitories. He returned a second later with a bag. "It's in the bag," he hissed. "I didn't want it to attract attention."
"Right. Thanks again," said Hermione, relieved. She grabbed a few books for effect and climbed out of the portrait hole, throwing the cloak over her shoulders as soon as she was in the hall.
She stepped cautiously. Filch was fond of patrolling the corridors at night, and especially disliked the Gryffindor wing, for some reason. Hermione supposed it was because of all the un-punished rule breaking she, Ron, and Harry had done over the years.
She entered the library a few minutes later, training her eyes to see to the best of their ability in the darkness. She searched for any sign of life, and found nothing. Assuming Malfoy hadn't arrived yet, she walked back to the Restricted Section and settled at a dusty table, conjuring a glass of pumpkin juice. She didn't bother taking off the cloak; she still wasn't sure she hadn't been seen entering.
At exactly 12:00, a shadow slunk inside the room, the owner of which obviously very experienced in sneaking around the school. He made no sound as he walked over the stone floor, and Hermione didn't look up until he blocked what little light she had for reading. She glanced up to see an extremely pale Malfoy staring down at her glass of pumpkin juice, which, Hermione realized, would appear to be floating in midair.
He backed away, melting back into the shadows, but continued looking at the quill, pages of the book, and the glass, all of which moving on their own. "It's all right," said Hermione. "It's just me." She removed the cloak and slid it into the bag again, looking up at Malfoy with an amused expression.
His eyes hardened. "Where did you get an Invisibility Cloak?" he asked sharply.
Hermione faltered. "A…A friend," she stammered.
An evil grin spread slowly across Malfoy's face. "Potter has an Invisibility Cloak?"
"I didn't say it was Harry's-" Hermione said, trying to cover up for her friend. "It belongs to a friend in Ravenclaw."
Malfoy looked gleeful. "This explains a lot," he smirked. "I'll be sure to mention it to Snape next time Potter does something… dislikable."
"Snape knows," said Hermione, feeling it was pointless to argue with the blond Slytherin.
"He does?" Malfoy sounded mildly surprised. "And Scarhead still manages to stay out of trouble?"
"His name is Harry, Malfoy," said Hermione tightly.
"Oh, do you fancy him? Granger, queen of academics, fancies Potter?" Malfoy sounded absolutely delighted. "Just imagine how that would look. I bet Potter has no idea, eh?" his gray eyes glinted maliciously.
"I do not fancy Harry, Malfoy! He is my friend! And I thought I'd told you to call me by my first name?" said Hermione, her face tinged red in anger and embarrassment.
"Indeed," said Malfoy, leaning against a bookshelf and crossing his arms. Hermione wanted to slap the smirk off his face.
"And why would you ever tell me to meet you, after hours, in the library?" asked Hermione huffily.
A slow grin spread across Malfoy's face. "Bet you've never done it before, eh?"
Hermione went pale as she realized his insinuation. "How dare you!"
His smile widened. "You haven't, have you? Not even with any of your man-friends? Although," he paused thoughtfully, "I don't expect that Weasley or Potter would have a clue, anyway."
Hermione sat still in shock, unable to think of anything to say. She just stared at Malfoy, who was still grinning wickedly. Quite suddenly, he closed the distance between them and bent down, whispering into her ear. "That can be fixed, if you like," he said, his breath tickling the inside of her ear.
Her eyes went wide and she pushed him away and slapped him across the face with all the strength she could muster, which, unfortunately, was not a lot.
Malfoy's eyebrows rose and his lips twisted into a sneer. "Of course, my offer would only stand were you not… shall we say… lacking in an appropriate pedigree."
Hermione's eyes narrowed and she collected her things with remarkable speed, keeping her eyes away from the cool gray ones that surveyed her ever move.
When she stood again, the tip of a wand was pointing at her forehead, a mere few inches from the skin. "Where are you going, exactly?" he hissed, his teasing demeanor vanished.
"I'm going to Dumbledore," said Hermione, unafraid. "I'm going to tell him about your… malady," she said, throwing his earlier words in his face.
"No, you're not," said Malfoy lazily, twirling the wand in slow circles.
"And you're going to stop me?" asked Hermione bravely, plunging her hand into her robes and pulling out her wand. "I'm not stupid, Malfoy. You know as well as I do that I can block any spell you throw at me."
"Is that so?"
"It is. Now move. I can't believe I even came here tonight. I actually thought that you might have been humbled a little, but…. You are still the arrogant prick you always were. And will be."
To Hermione's infuriation, he didn't give the slightest indication that he had even heard her insult, and his silence began to unnerve her. "What are you doing?" she spat.
"Deciding whether to hex you or… rob you of your virginity," said Malfoy, mirth shining in his eyes.
Hermione pursed her lips in fury. "You disgust me. I would never, ever sleep with… such filth."
Although she hadn't been expecting a reaction, the look in his eyes scared her. Instead of the amusement present eyes just a few seconds before, there was now… just pure, cold anger.
"Filth?" he hissed. "Funny, I could say the same for you. In more truth, actually."
Hermione slapped him a second time. "Shut your mouth, Malfoy," she spat. "You're not exactly strengthening my resolve to keep your stupid secret. Imagine what everyone would say if they knew that Draco Malfoy was unable to defend himself from his big, scary daddy."
For the first time in her life, Hermione could really tell that she had honestly offended the Slytherin, and shortly, he had gone quite white and his eyes had blazed with anger. In a smooth movement, he slammed her against a bookshelf and clutched her wrists with his hands. "Don't ever talk about my father, ever. Ever. You can't – you don't have the slightest idea – you haven't met my father – don't even think that – you can't understand –"
"I have met him," said Hermione recklessly, though she still feared the crazed look in Malfoy's eyes, and was uncomfortably pressed against him. "I met him in Flourish and Blotts, remember? And I must say, Malfoy, he didn't look all that scary to me."
He gritted his teeth. "I told you to shut your mouth, you stupid mudblood. I ought to kill you," he snarled. "Don't talk about what you don't understand."
"And I suppose you're going to make me?" countered Hermione, her brown eyes furious.
He seemed to deflate. "Shut your mouth," he repeated, but his tone was lacking in its previous conviction.
"Why should I?" asked Hermione spitefully as he let go of her wrists and backed away. "Seems to me like you aren't terribly dangerous. Bit cowardly, I'd say – can't even protect yourself-" Hermione stopped as Malfoy suddenly doubled over, clutching his stomach. He stumbled away from her, slamming into a bookshelf and sliding down, his head bowed and his silver-blond hair covering his face.
"What – what is it?" asked Hermione, surprised. She walked hesitantly towards him, her anger forgotten.
"Get away from me," Malfoy spat, his words infused with such anger that it made Hermione doubt herself.
"No, maybe I can help –" she said, moving closer to him.
"I said get away from me. I'm filth, remember?" he snarled, standing. He swayed a little for a moment, gave her one more disgusted glance and striding out of the library without another word.
Hermione stared after him; open mouthed and feeling quite horrible.
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Author's Note: Well that was a rather difficult chapter to write… I don't like making them hate each other, but since they do… Anyway, I hope it was entertaining and expect a chapter within a few days. Please review!
Ar-Zimraphel