Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything. Do you even have to ask?
Chapter 4: Ah, you woke up then?
"Erm..." Hermione floundered. This had to be the most embarrassing point of her not all that long life.
This even surpassed the time she was so busy watching a boy walk past that she didn't see her grandmother's Chihuahua, Chichi by name, and ended up sprawled on the pavement. Also, just to make things even worse her skirt had flown up, revealing her underwear to the world.
Hermione wasn't usually the type of girl to boy-watch, but by ignoring that rule she managed to give her grandmother something to talk about to her friends at their coffee mornings. Mavis and Dot, whenever they saw her, asked her rather loudly if she was making sure her underwear was hidden from view.
This moment in time beat every single event where her cheeks had burnt and she had had some inclination to go and hide in a cave for a few years until the laughter had died down.
She wished he would say something, yell at her, try to curse her – anything. As long as he stopped watching her in that way. Half of him seemed irritatingly amused about the predicament she was in and the other half seemed utterly pissed off. Which was a hard combination to be, but hell, it was Draco Malfoy, anything was possible.
The last thought rather scared Hermione.
She watched him watch her and opened and closed her mouth a few times in the vain hope that a reasonable explanation might come out.
It was a very vain hope.
"Would you mind explaining to me why I'm imprisoned in your room?"
At least his voice was working. Hermione continued to do rather unattractive fish impressions. There were also no insults or curses in that statement, they'd probably come later. Luring her into a false sense of security and all that.
"You're not imprisoned. You can leave whenever you want, the only reason you didn't was because you've been unconscious for the past few days!"
Ah, there was the voice. It had finally decided to show itself.
Malfoy arched a brow and regarded her rather disbelievingly.
"Unconscious, eh? I bet you drugged my pumpkin juice or hit me over the head with my own broomstick or something."
To Hermione, it sounded like he could almost believe the preposterous ideas he presented them with.
"And why, pray tell, would I even consider doing something like that?" Hermione snorted in disbelief. A frown crossed Malfoy's face but the superior look returned almost instantly. Hermione placed her hands on her hips and glared at him.
"Really, who says 'pray tell' anymore? Granger, you should spend less time hugging the books in the library - or whatever it is you do in there every evening, and actually learn the English people use in this century." Malfoy drawled, emphasizing every syllable.
Hermione resisted the urge to punch him in the face but kept her fists balled tightly just in case of the perfect opportunity. Instead she just rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh.
"You didn't answer my question." She said meeting his gaze.
"I don't know do I?" A disgusted look crossed his face. "Maybe you fancy me or something." He grimaced exaggeratedly.
"Malfoy, I wouldn't touch you with a barge pole given the choice." She retorted, realizing a little too late that she had taken him in anyway.
"What the hell's a barge pole?" Malfoy decided to ignore the slur and frowned.
"It's a muggle thing. It doesn't matter. The point is, if I had left you where you were Filch would have found you and fed you to Mrs Norris or something."
Malfoy smirked slowly.
"And you care why?" He took a step forward. "Wouldn't it make life easier for the dream team if Draco Malfoy, bane of their existence and all round sex-god, was fed to Filch's extremely ugly cat?"
He grinned wolfishly, obviously enjoying her embarrassment and discomfort.
"You're right."
"What about? The sex-god thing?"
"No, it would make life easier for us if you were eaten by Mrs Norris. Also you're right about that cat, it looks as though it walked into a door. More than once." Hermione said. "And by the way deflate the ego a bit, it's filling the whole room."
"So if you didn't drug me, which I highly doubt, why am I here?" Malfoy didn't miss a beat; he completely ignored the ego remark.
"You were sprawled unconscious in a corridor."
"Nice imagery. Besides, Malfoys don't sprawl. That's what Mudbloods like you do." Malfoy moved across to the window and looked out. He seemed to be trying to judge the distance from the window to the ground.
"Wow. That had to be the closest thing to a civil conversation in six years, but you shot it down in flames with just one word." Hermione crossed her arms – a typical defence position – and scowled at Malfoy.
He stood in the window, outlined by the afternoon sun.
"I'd hardly call talking about decapitation by a feline, conversation." He remarked, opening the window and leaning dangerously far out of it.
In spite of herself Hermione snorted with laughter. Malfoy climbed hurriedly back into the room and frowned at her.
"Please don't laugh. It makes it seem as though we actually shared a joke, and God forbid that should happen."
Draco arched his stiff back and rubbed his eyes in an exaggerated motion.
"So you found me in an abandoned corridor, then what?" Draco sat down on Hermione's lumpy sofa; he got comfortable – something almost impossible to do on the 'sofa of doom' - and looked up at her expectantly.
Hermione fought the urge to scream with frustration. He was being extremely irritating and she could tell he was trying to rile her.
The words sounding extremely forced, Hermione managed to tell an account of what had happened, Malfoy only made a few choice sarcastic remarks during the story.
Once the recap was over Malfoy still looked slightly sceptical.
"I've told you everything that happened." Hermione said, frowning slightly. "Now answer me this, why were you lying unconscious in a corridor in the first place?"
Draco shifted on the sofa. He knew why it had happened, but he certainly wasn't going to tell Mudblood Granger. She'd tell Potter and Weasley, by tomorrow morning the whole school would know.
"I don't know Granger. Freak whirlwind, rabid hyenas, how am I supposed to know?" Draco shrugged lightly. "Anyway, we have bigger worries than how I got there, how I'm supposed to get out of this hell hole of a dormitory for one thing."
For what had to be the hundredth time, Hermione rolled her eyes.
"And I suppose you would like me to help you?"
"Yes. I want you to help me." It wasn't a request. It was an order. Hermione wondered if all the Malfoys were up their own arses like he was. She also wondered whether he actually knew if the word 'please' existed. Maybe it was used in nightmares to scare young Malfoy children.
She ran a hand through her unruly mass of hair and debated whether to just push Malfoy out into the middle of the common room and lock the door behind him, leaving him to the Gryffindors to sort out.
Draco stood up from the sofa as he was beginning to sink into it, Granger seemed to be staring into space and grinning slightly.
She seemed to do that a lot. It was rather unnerving. No wonder the only friends she could get were Potter and Weasley. Potter had become best friends with the first person he met on the train for goodness sake.
He must have had a deprived childhood.
He came to a conclusion that all Gryffindors were weird before waving a hand in front of Granger's face. She came back to reality with a start.
"Well polyjuice is out of the question." She remarked walking over to the desk and pulling out a piece of parchment and a quill.
"What?"
"Do you know how long it takes to brew a polyjuice potion?" Hermione scrawled some ideas on the parchment.
Draco grinned.
"No. How long?"
The amusement must have sounded in his voice because Hermione's head lifted up sharply.
"Well, Snape said that it takes..."
"Granger, I know it was Potter and Weasley in second year. Generally Crabbe's hair doesn't just go bright red." He paused. "Well, if it does it's because someone has hexed him." He paused again and smoothed down his robes. "Usually me."
"You hex your friends?" Hermione sounded shocked.
"Ugh Granger, you need to remember one thing when talking to me. The Slytherins don't really go in for the happy-clappiness and 'a friend in need is a friend indeed' shit that you Gryffindors do. It's a Crabbe eat Goyle world down there, it's hex or be hexed." Draco craned his neck to see over Hermione's shoulder at her ideas.
He glanced down the list, they were all stupid ideas.
"Granger. I am not dressing up as a girl! I want to get out of here as much as you want me out, but I will not, I repeat, will not dress up as a girl!"
"Oh I don't know. I think you'd look quite good as a girl." Hermione fought a smirk, Draco Malfoy in a dress and utterly humiliated would be something she'd pay to see.
"I'm this far away from hexing you Mudblood." His tone was light but it still dampened the mood. Hermione grit her teeth and ignored his casual use of the term.
"You could always use Harry's invisibility cloak." It was a far-fetched scheme and she didn't think he would be up for it.
"That would be like Potter helping me. That's almost as embarrassing as dressing as a girl." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Almost."
"No one would know!"
"I would know!"
Hermione's shoulders slumped. She was aggravated, he could tell without having to see her face.
"You come up with something then Ferret Boy." She stood up, retrieved her glass from where she had dropped it – noticing that Malfoy had dried off fairly quickly, she suspected he had said a drying charm – and filled it up from the tap in her bathroom.
When she returned, sipping the glass thoughtfully, Draco was hanging out the window again. Hearing her come in he climbed back into the room and addressed her almost civilly.
"If I had a broom I could fly down and go round to the entrance hall from there, claiming some incredible kidnapping attempt. But I don't know where I'm going to get a broom from." He turned to Hermione with an evil look on his face. "That's where you come in Granger."
Hermione backed away, arms stretched out in front of her.
"Oh no, I'm not stealing Harry's Firebolt that's going too far." She said shaking her head so vigorously that her hair fell down into her eyes.
Draco made a disgruntled noise.
"Granger, we've been over this. If I'm going to escape from your clutches on a broom, it'll have to be mine."
Hermione's eyes widened as she realised what she would have to do. She almost dropped her cup for the second time that day.
"You can't be serious." She breathed.
Malfoy smirked and took a step towards her.
"Deadly serious." He sneered.
A/N: Aha! I'm so evil!
Thanks to all my reviewers! It really makes my day after double maths!
If anyone has any tips on how to get the HTML to work (I'm a computer illiterate) please tell me in a review or something.
Read and Review!
Chapter 4: Ah, you woke up then?
"Erm..." Hermione floundered. This had to be the most embarrassing point of her not all that long life.
This even surpassed the time she was so busy watching a boy walk past that she didn't see her grandmother's Chihuahua, Chichi by name, and ended up sprawled on the pavement. Also, just to make things even worse her skirt had flown up, revealing her underwear to the world.
Hermione wasn't usually the type of girl to boy-watch, but by ignoring that rule she managed to give her grandmother something to talk about to her friends at their coffee mornings. Mavis and Dot, whenever they saw her, asked her rather loudly if she was making sure her underwear was hidden from view.
This moment in time beat every single event where her cheeks had burnt and she had had some inclination to go and hide in a cave for a few years until the laughter had died down.
She wished he would say something, yell at her, try to curse her – anything. As long as he stopped watching her in that way. Half of him seemed irritatingly amused about the predicament she was in and the other half seemed utterly pissed off. Which was a hard combination to be, but hell, it was Draco Malfoy, anything was possible.
The last thought rather scared Hermione.
She watched him watch her and opened and closed her mouth a few times in the vain hope that a reasonable explanation might come out.
It was a very vain hope.
"Would you mind explaining to me why I'm imprisoned in your room?"
At least his voice was working. Hermione continued to do rather unattractive fish impressions. There were also no insults or curses in that statement, they'd probably come later. Luring her into a false sense of security and all that.
"You're not imprisoned. You can leave whenever you want, the only reason you didn't was because you've been unconscious for the past few days!"
Ah, there was the voice. It had finally decided to show itself.
Malfoy arched a brow and regarded her rather disbelievingly.
"Unconscious, eh? I bet you drugged my pumpkin juice or hit me over the head with my own broomstick or something."
To Hermione, it sounded like he could almost believe the preposterous ideas he presented them with.
"And why, pray tell, would I even consider doing something like that?" Hermione snorted in disbelief. A frown crossed Malfoy's face but the superior look returned almost instantly. Hermione placed her hands on her hips and glared at him.
"Really, who says 'pray tell' anymore? Granger, you should spend less time hugging the books in the library - or whatever it is you do in there every evening, and actually learn the English people use in this century." Malfoy drawled, emphasizing every syllable.
Hermione resisted the urge to punch him in the face but kept her fists balled tightly just in case of the perfect opportunity. Instead she just rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh.
"You didn't answer my question." She said meeting his gaze.
"I don't know do I?" A disgusted look crossed his face. "Maybe you fancy me or something." He grimaced exaggeratedly.
"Malfoy, I wouldn't touch you with a barge pole given the choice." She retorted, realizing a little too late that she had taken him in anyway.
"What the hell's a barge pole?" Malfoy decided to ignore the slur and frowned.
"It's a muggle thing. It doesn't matter. The point is, if I had left you where you were Filch would have found you and fed you to Mrs Norris or something."
Malfoy smirked slowly.
"And you care why?" He took a step forward. "Wouldn't it make life easier for the dream team if Draco Malfoy, bane of their existence and all round sex-god, was fed to Filch's extremely ugly cat?"
He grinned wolfishly, obviously enjoying her embarrassment and discomfort.
"You're right."
"What about? The sex-god thing?"
"No, it would make life easier for us if you were eaten by Mrs Norris. Also you're right about that cat, it looks as though it walked into a door. More than once." Hermione said. "And by the way deflate the ego a bit, it's filling the whole room."
"So if you didn't drug me, which I highly doubt, why am I here?" Malfoy didn't miss a beat; he completely ignored the ego remark.
"You were sprawled unconscious in a corridor."
"Nice imagery. Besides, Malfoys don't sprawl. That's what Mudbloods like you do." Malfoy moved across to the window and looked out. He seemed to be trying to judge the distance from the window to the ground.
"Wow. That had to be the closest thing to a civil conversation in six years, but you shot it down in flames with just one word." Hermione crossed her arms – a typical defence position – and scowled at Malfoy.
He stood in the window, outlined by the afternoon sun.
"I'd hardly call talking about decapitation by a feline, conversation." He remarked, opening the window and leaning dangerously far out of it.
In spite of herself Hermione snorted with laughter. Malfoy climbed hurriedly back into the room and frowned at her.
"Please don't laugh. It makes it seem as though we actually shared a joke, and God forbid that should happen."
Draco arched his stiff back and rubbed his eyes in an exaggerated motion.
"So you found me in an abandoned corridor, then what?" Draco sat down on Hermione's lumpy sofa; he got comfortable – something almost impossible to do on the 'sofa of doom' - and looked up at her expectantly.
Hermione fought the urge to scream with frustration. He was being extremely irritating and she could tell he was trying to rile her.
The words sounding extremely forced, Hermione managed to tell an account of what had happened, Malfoy only made a few choice sarcastic remarks during the story.
Once the recap was over Malfoy still looked slightly sceptical.
"I've told you everything that happened." Hermione said, frowning slightly. "Now answer me this, why were you lying unconscious in a corridor in the first place?"
Draco shifted on the sofa. He knew why it had happened, but he certainly wasn't going to tell Mudblood Granger. She'd tell Potter and Weasley, by tomorrow morning the whole school would know.
"I don't know Granger. Freak whirlwind, rabid hyenas, how am I supposed to know?" Draco shrugged lightly. "Anyway, we have bigger worries than how I got there, how I'm supposed to get out of this hell hole of a dormitory for one thing."
For what had to be the hundredth time, Hermione rolled her eyes.
"And I suppose you would like me to help you?"
"Yes. I want you to help me." It wasn't a request. It was an order. Hermione wondered if all the Malfoys were up their own arses like he was. She also wondered whether he actually knew if the word 'please' existed. Maybe it was used in nightmares to scare young Malfoy children.
She ran a hand through her unruly mass of hair and debated whether to just push Malfoy out into the middle of the common room and lock the door behind him, leaving him to the Gryffindors to sort out.
Draco stood up from the sofa as he was beginning to sink into it, Granger seemed to be staring into space and grinning slightly.
She seemed to do that a lot. It was rather unnerving. No wonder the only friends she could get were Potter and Weasley. Potter had become best friends with the first person he met on the train for goodness sake.
He must have had a deprived childhood.
He came to a conclusion that all Gryffindors were weird before waving a hand in front of Granger's face. She came back to reality with a start.
"Well polyjuice is out of the question." She remarked walking over to the desk and pulling out a piece of parchment and a quill.
"What?"
"Do you know how long it takes to brew a polyjuice potion?" Hermione scrawled some ideas on the parchment.
Draco grinned.
"No. How long?"
The amusement must have sounded in his voice because Hermione's head lifted up sharply.
"Well, Snape said that it takes..."
"Granger, I know it was Potter and Weasley in second year. Generally Crabbe's hair doesn't just go bright red." He paused. "Well, if it does it's because someone has hexed him." He paused again and smoothed down his robes. "Usually me."
"You hex your friends?" Hermione sounded shocked.
"Ugh Granger, you need to remember one thing when talking to me. The Slytherins don't really go in for the happy-clappiness and 'a friend in need is a friend indeed' shit that you Gryffindors do. It's a Crabbe eat Goyle world down there, it's hex or be hexed." Draco craned his neck to see over Hermione's shoulder at her ideas.
He glanced down the list, they were all stupid ideas.
"Granger. I am not dressing up as a girl! I want to get out of here as much as you want me out, but I will not, I repeat, will not dress up as a girl!"
"Oh I don't know. I think you'd look quite good as a girl." Hermione fought a smirk, Draco Malfoy in a dress and utterly humiliated would be something she'd pay to see.
"I'm this far away from hexing you Mudblood." His tone was light but it still dampened the mood. Hermione grit her teeth and ignored his casual use of the term.
"You could always use Harry's invisibility cloak." It was a far-fetched scheme and she didn't think he would be up for it.
"That would be like Potter helping me. That's almost as embarrassing as dressing as a girl." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Almost."
"No one would know!"
"I would know!"
Hermione's shoulders slumped. She was aggravated, he could tell without having to see her face.
"You come up with something then Ferret Boy." She stood up, retrieved her glass from where she had dropped it – noticing that Malfoy had dried off fairly quickly, she suspected he had said a drying charm – and filled it up from the tap in her bathroom.
When she returned, sipping the glass thoughtfully, Draco was hanging out the window again. Hearing her come in he climbed back into the room and addressed her almost civilly.
"If I had a broom I could fly down and go round to the entrance hall from there, claiming some incredible kidnapping attempt. But I don't know where I'm going to get a broom from." He turned to Hermione with an evil look on his face. "That's where you come in Granger."
Hermione backed away, arms stretched out in front of her.
"Oh no, I'm not stealing Harry's Firebolt that's going too far." She said shaking her head so vigorously that her hair fell down into her eyes.
Draco made a disgruntled noise.
"Granger, we've been over this. If I'm going to escape from your clutches on a broom, it'll have to be mine."
Hermione's eyes widened as she realised what she would have to do. She almost dropped her cup for the second time that day.
"You can't be serious." She breathed.
Malfoy smirked and took a step towards her.
"Deadly serious." He sneered.
A/N: Aha! I'm so evil!
Thanks to all my reviewers! It really makes my day after double maths!
If anyone has any tips on how to get the HTML to work (I'm a computer illiterate) please tell me in a review or something.
Read and Review!
