Over the Moon

Chapter Eleven

Disclaimer: I do not own the property of HP.

Summary: Hermione and Draco have been through a lot together. The war over the summer bothers both of them and the time they shared before. But Hermione's past is still unrolling . . . and nobody understands it yet. Okay, Draco, just be ready to learn a lesson or two . . . .

Draco Malfoy

It was now over a week since I arrived here at Hogwarts and no sign of Granger yet. I mean we have to share the same place, and it's bothering me how I haven't talked to her yet. I need to talk to her about the war and everything. I need to talk to her about Mr. Treit. How I hate that man.

A Piece From the War

I watched her face grow red and she seemed to be really angry. "I don't know what the hell happened to you," she hissed. "But you can't just come in here like you own the place."

"And you do?" I sneered at her.

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"What are you going on about? This is Weasel's house, is it not?" I stared at her in disbelief.

"No," she spat. "This is my parent's house. Just be glad they're not going to be back for a while. I was kidding about Ron and his family. If I shouted, no one would probably hear."

I looked at her in amazement. "Wow, Granger."

"Now leave me alone, I need to change!" She got off of her bed, with her blanket covering her, besides one part.

"What's that," I said softly. My eyes swept over a large bruise on her arm.

"None of your business," she spat. "I swear if you don't leave right now, I'm going to seize Crookshanks on you!"

"Wow, I'm so scared," I said in sarcasm walking away.

"You better be," she called after me as I shut the door.

Hermione Granger

How am I suppose to get past Malfoy if he's right there? This is hopeless. I can't just keep avoiding him. I know he has something to tell me. About what happened over the summer. I wish I could just efface what happened. I really wish I could.

A Piece From the War

I quickly changed into dark blue low rise jeans and a blue tanktop once Malfoy left. Then I combed my hair and brushed my teeth. I'd take a shower later when Malfoy left. I'm not taking any chances with him in my house.

"Are you finished yet?" yelled a masculine voice.

"Almost," I yelled. I finished applying concealer over my bruises, then joined Malfoy out in the hallway.

"Are these pictures of you," he asked me when he heard me come. I looked up at the pictures on the wall.

They were all pictures of me. Some of them from Hogwarts where Harry and Ron would be beside me. Some with Ginny. Others with my mom and Dad. And . . . Mark.

"Yeah," I answered. "Come on, let's go to the kitchen. I'm starving."

"Yeah, yeah," he said following me.

Ten minutes later we were seated and eating toast.

"Is this what you normally eat?" he asked with disgust before biting into a piece of toast.

"Yeah, or do you want me to get one of your house-elves to come and do you dirty work."

"Oh, shut up Granger," he drawled, drinking down a glass of orange juice.

"Are you going to leave yet," I asked raising my eyebrow. "It's not everyday, a Malfoy comes apparating into your room."

"Soon enough. Just long enough that my Father thinks I'm trying to kill you people."

"Uh-huh," I murmured. We ate the remaining food in total silence.

Ding-Dong! "What's that noise," asked Malfoy coming back to the kitchen where I was washing the dishes.

"It's the doorbell. Do me a favor and get the door."

He smirked at me. "So Granger does get visitors."

"Whatever," I called as I watched Malfoy leave and open the door.

"And who is this," asked Malfoy in a polite voice. I chuckled at the sound he was making.

"I'm here to see Hermione," said a deep male's voice. I stopped what I was doing immediately. I could recognize that voice anywhere.

"Well, she's busy at the moment," Malfoy answered back sweetly. "And what was your name again?"

"Mark. Mark Treit." I could just imagine him at the door, his brown eyes scanning before Malfoy. Wondering who the heck he was.

"Well, okay Mr. Treit. I''l be sure to tell Hermione you came by. Good-bye."

The door slammed shut and Malfoy came back into the kitchen, wearing his infamous smirk of his. "What's wrong," he asked when he saw my face.

I looked at him. How could he not understand? That was Mark Triet. The guy who's been abusing me. The guy who's been . . .

"It's nothing," I said coming back to my senses.

"Alright then," he said calmly. "I'm gonna just go to your room now."

I just shook my head. It didn't matter if he went into my room. He had met Mark. They had talked together. And that was enough.

Draco Malfoy

"Hey, Granger. I've been meaning to talk with you," I said, spying the pretty witch out of the corner of my eye. She looked startled and slowly walked into the room.

"Hey Malfoy," she said nodding.

"Come on. Sit right next to me. "

She hesitated before crossing the room, then sat at the far end of the couch.

"Look Granger. I'm not diseased or something. And could you look me in the eye. It's like you're afraid of me! Are you afraid of me Granger."

"No," she lied.

A Piece From the War

Granger was acting really strange like I must admit. But she sure looks different. I know she's beautiful, too beautiful actually. How could somebody like her be muggle-born?

But she always looks fragile, but her bossiness covers over it. Maybe someday I will know. Wait Malfoy, you will not know since Granger is just a mudblood and she's even a waste of your time to look at! But why all this talk?!

Before I knew it, I reached Granger's room. The door was closed as I had remembered it I turned the knob with my hand and pushed it open.

Her room was neat, and big. How come I didn't notice this before?

I walked over to a bureau and looked at the stuff piled on top of it. There was make-up? I didn't know Granger used make-up. But what king of make-up was it? Concealer. What the heck was concealer?

My eyes spotted a picture of Hermione. She looks around the age of eight. She's a cute thing, kind of chubby like, but still pretty. It's amazingly weird how muggle pictures don't move. How can they live without magic anyways?

Accidentally my hand reaches across a tiny book. What's this? I stare at it with delight, then decide to look at it. Inside there's blank pages, which doesn't really matter. I take out my fateful wand and whisper a spell. It works and instinctively, words dipped with dark hues of green and black enter the pages before me.

"We," I began. But immediately I was absorbed inside the neat writing, my eyes opened wide, completely shocked. What in blazes was happening to me?

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Yeah, this story has turned out to be so weird. So very weird, although unique. I would love to rewrite this over. Mmm . . . how about next summer by the time this has been successfully completed and I am shaking with happiness? Maybe then, but in the meantime . . .

Thanks to Zimo-devil/paul for his suggestion. I certainly don't want my story thrown off! :)