Like A Rose
dangerous-fox
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"Love is much like a rose; beautiful and calm, yet willing to draw blood in its defense"
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Chapter Three » Draco's POV
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It doesn't take me all that much to get into a foul mood… but it does take a lot to calm me down afterwards. After that incident with that third year in the commonroom, I felt in no mood to go and play nice with the Gryffindors in Potions. Not I would ever play 'nice'.
Not with Gryffindors.
No way.
Not with anyone, actually… come to think of it. Since when does a Malfoy play 'nice'? Hell, I barely know the meaning of the word.
Damn, I should've taken my Firebolt out to the Quidditch Pitch… diving through the air is probably the only thing that will get me fully calm. Turning down the corridor I head down the steps.
"Mr. Malfoy," a stern voice snaps out at me, "shouldn't you be in class?"
A freeze, a deep scowl crossing my features. Just my fucking luck to have been spotted by Professor McGonagall. Taking a deep breath to keep from losing my temper, I turn around to face her. "Yes, professor," I say tightly, "I'm heading there now"
"With no books?" she inquires.
"Already there," I lie.
"You are a prefect, Mr. Malfoy…" she says, from where she is standing at the top of the stair case, arms crossed, "I expect you to set a good example for those in the younger years. You will be lucky if your professor doesn't take any points of Slytherin for your tardiness"
I allow myself a small smirk. "I have Professor Snape first," I say, before turning stalking around the corner. No matter how much he may hate me now, Snape wouldn't take any points away from Slytherin. McGonagall knows this, and would've taken the points away herself if I had waited around long enough.
As much as I can't stand the thought of double potions with Gryffindor, I make my way down to the dungeons.
"Finally decided to join us, Mr. Malfoy?" Professor Snape's questions with a dangerous arch of his brow. He draws his lips into a thin line and gestures to a seat at the side of the room, "take a seat and be glad that I will not take any points off Slytherin"
I don't reply, but make my way across the room, head held high - ignoring all the gazes and glares from Slytherin and Gryffindor students alike. There are two empty seats… one next to Pansy Parkinson, and one next to Harry Potter.
Three guesses as to where I chose to sit.
"Any reason why you're late?" Pansy asks, idly copying down notes from the board in her neat, cursive handwriting.
"Any reason why you care?" I snap back, still not in the best of moods.
She doesn't glance my way, but the corner of her lips twists up into a cruel smile. "But who else are you going to tell your woes to? No-one else in this whole damn school would listen to you," she says, mocking me. I glare at her and she snickers. "What's the matter, Malfoy? Don't trust me?"
I'm saved from answering that as the pattering of footsteps is heard making their way down the stone steps to the dungeon. None other than Hermione Granger comes panting into the room, bushy brown hair awry. Just as they had when I entered the room, all eyes flew up to watch the newcomer.
Only difference is that the Gryffindors look to her as some kind of hero.
It makes me sick.
Snape pursed his lips and his eyes flashed as he turned away from the board to watch her. "Miss Granger," he murmurs in an icy tone so cold that several students in the front row shiver, "I do not appreciate having my class interrupted… particularly by your tardiness. Explain yourself"
Hermione froze on her way over to sit by Harry. "I, uh-"
"I'm afraid you'll have to do better than that if you want to avoid a detention," Snape cut through her stuttering smoothly.
Ronald Weasley stands up indignantly. "What?" he burst out, unable to contain himself, "but Malfoy came sauntering in here just as late as she was… and I didn't hear you threatening him with a detention!"
"Mr. Weasley!" Snape barks out, livid at the interruption, "unless you contain yourself now, you will be joining Miss. Granger in her detention!"
"Come on, Ron…" Harry murmurs under his breath, "ease up…"
"20 points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger," Snape says, returning his chilly gaze back to the other Gryffindor Prefect, "be thankful that it isn't more than that… now take your seat. And as for you, Mr. Weasley - 10 points from Gryffindor"
Weasel looks prepared to jump to his feet again, and probably would have, if it weren't for Potter shooting him a warning glance. Damn Potter, I would've loved to see Weasley get himself into a detention.
As the room settles down again, Snape turns back to the board and waves his wand, wiping it clean. Several shouts of protests arise… along the lines of - "hey, I wasn't finished yet!"
"Well, that's your bad luck," Snape snaps, "I gave you plenty of time to get it all down. There will be a test on it next lesson"
"What the fuck was it even on?" I question Pansy, who doesn't really look all that fazed.
"What, weren't you here?" she asks with mock surprise, "oh, that's right… you were too busy getting down and dirty with your Mudblood girlfriend"
I stare at her, too shocked to get worked up. I'd expect this from other people, but Pansy Parkinson? She was supposed to be on my side, damn it! "What are you on about?" I hiss, eyes growing hard and cold.
She looks directly at me, green eyes accusing, "I'm not an idiot, Malfoy"
"Well, you sure are acting like one"
"You expect me to believe that you and Granger happened to both be late to Potions, and then turn up at around the same time?"
Oh, crap.
If I had been in her position, I probably would have thought the same thing.
Glancing around the room swiftly with my gray eyes, I note the gossiping whispers and smirks that seem to be going around the room like some sort of contagious disease. So much for building back my reputation… something tells me that it just got shredded to pieces all over again.
This is all her fault.
I wouldn't be surprised if she deliberately came late to Potions just to make me look worse.
No, actually… I would be. She would never risk losing any points for Gryffindor.
In that case… what the hell had she been doing?
Turning back to Pansy, I reach out to grab her notes. With surprising quickness, she takes hold of my wrist in her slender fingers. "Any reason why I should let you copy my notes?" she asks, still not in a forgiving mood.
"I haven't seen Granger all morning. I have no idea why she was late, but it has absolutely nothing to do with me," I tell her evenly, feeling an odd need to explain myself. Funny, I've never had to explain myself to anyone else before. Not even my parents.
Her eyes narrow shrewdly, but she doesn't let go just yet.
I roll my eyes, "not a very trusting girl, are you?"
"It's not really in my nature to trust people"
"I let you copy my Potions homework this morning"
I grin slightly as I watch her hesitate. Just like I thought she would, she let go of my wrist. Pansy hates the idea of being in debt to some one else, and by letting me copy her notes - we're back on an even ground again.
"Who knew you liked holding my hand so much, Parkinson…" I drawl with an amused look in her direction.
"Just shut up and copy down the notes"
"Yes, ma'am"
Pansy goes on to take down the fresh batch of notes off the board as I take her old ones. From the corner of my eye, I watch as Hermione and Ron exchanged hushed whispers and notes. What are they up to now? Do I even want to know?
Hell, yes.
The rest of Potions goes past without anything of very much interest happening. Once class is dismissed though, I stand up without bothering to gather my books (as I have none) and grab Hermione's arm as we walk out of the classroom. Ignoring the snickers, Snape's frown and Pansy's death glare - I pull my ex-girlfriend into an empty room.
Once we're out of view from everyone else, she yanks her arm out from grasp and glares angrily at me. "Just what do you think you are doing, Malfoy! Are you nuts?" she demands to know, shaking slightly. From rage or from fear, I have no idea.
What am I doing?
I have no fucking idea.
It was a spur of the moment thing. Damn, I'm getting as bad as Weasley - acting without giving any thought to what happens next. Shuddering at the idea that I could be sinking to a whole new low, I eye the Gryffindor girl in front of me.
I feel love and hate for her all at once.
Right now though, as she stares up at me irritated, I feel a whole lot more anger than love.
"Why didn't you tell me about the bet?" I ask quietly, eyes never leaving her own. She flinches as though I had slapped her.
"I… uh, well - " she takes a deep breath, avoiding my gaze, "I-"
"You really have to get over this stammering stage of yours, 'Mione," I chide, using her nickname that she had told me to use when we were going out.
Going out.
I don't think I'll ever get over the fact that I went out with a Mudblood. Especially one that I had spent my junior years at Hogwarts hating. I'd rather forget it.
I wonder if there's a potion to help me achieve just that?
They've got potions for everything now a days… and if not a potion, then at least some sort of spell.
When it becomes clear that I'm still waiting for her to answer, Hermione bites down on her lip. I've noticed that she does that a lot when she's not sure of something - or when she's nervous. I used to find it annoying, then I found it cute… now I find it annoying again.
"Why do you think I didn't tell you?" she asks quietly.
I don't know what sort of response I had expected… or hoped for… but somehow, the fact that she didn't even deny that there was a bet pissed me off. I felt my jaw tense up as my eyes narrow. Recognising the warning signs, Hermione shifted the books around in her arms and reached for her wand.
I would never hit a girl, and she knew that. I may be a bastard from Slytherin most of the time, but I had been brought up as a gentleman in other areas. But despite all this, she was still scared of me.
With good reason.
"Look, Draco…" she says, still using her calm, soothing tone to try and placate me, "can we just talk?"
"What do you think we're doing now?"
She bites back a comment, and I fight the urge to punch my fist into the stone wall. But I'm smart enough to know that it'd probably mean a trip to the hospital wing if I did.
Turning my back on her, I try to calm myself down. I lean back against an empty desk, with my arms crossed in front of me, "you're nothing but a hypocrite, Hermione"
In my mind I could see Hermione's face flush a deep crimson colour as she sputters about angrily. "Me?" she calls out, stomping around so that she's in my line of vision. Yep, she's flushed a red colour now.
"As far as I know, you're the only freak in this school with the name 'Hermione'. No other parents would be that cruel," I drawl, knowing that she'll get riled up at my taunts.
Past caring about any consequences, which is rare for her, she raises her voice slightly, "do you want to know why I made that stupid bet with Ron?"
"Not particularly, no"
She ignores me. "It's all because of your 'I'm-better-than-everyone-else' attitude… this bullshit façade that you put on to make other people's lives hell!" she yells, hand clenched tightly around her wand and books, "all I was doing was knocking you off that pedestal that-"
I cut her off with a disgusted look, "have you and Weasel practiced this speech in front of the mirror or something?"
She looks taken aback, "what?"
"Don't go preaching to me, Granger, because I'm not in the mood," I growl, uncrossing my arms and pushing myself off the table, "and quite frankly - you're not really in any place to lecture me. I meant what I said before when I said that you were a hypocrite"
"I don't see how-"
"No, you wouldn't," I sneer, standing up close. I'll give her some credit for not backing down… "because you're Hermione Granger. Little miss perfect, top student and prefect-"
"I'm not sure if it skipped your mind, Draco, but you're a prefect too," she points out. I choose to ignore that.
"- you only made this bet for the good of mankind, am I right? I mean, lord forbid that you should do anything so despicable as play around with another person's life and love without having some goody-two-shoes reason to back it up!" I sneer sarcastically, "me - I'm a bastard and I readily admit it, okay? I fuck around with other's lives and I couldn't care less… but at least I admit it. At least I don't hide a mask and pretend my actions are something that they're not"
"Stop it, Draco!" Hermione yells, finally taking a step back and trying to get my attention, "you have no idea what you're talking about!"
"Why don't you enlighten me then?" I yell back, "because apparently I don't have a fricken' clue here!"
She falters for a minute while I wait for her to respond. When she can't come up with a coherent reply, I start talking again. My voice is lowered, but every inch as dangerous and scary as it had been when I was yelling.
"Do you even know what a hypocrite is, Hermione? It's some one who professes to hold a certain belief or opinion… and then turns around and does exactly what they appear to be against. In your case, you've preached to me countless times about how I should 'think about others' and 'the way that I make them feel'", I say, mocking her know-it-all voice by raising mine slightly, "there was one that I particularly liked… what was it? Oh yeah, 'don't play around with other people's lives like it means nothing to you. They're not puppets, Draco'. Well, tell me this, Hermione… what the fuck have you been doing with my life if not playing around with it like a puppet master? Seriously now, because I'm very interested to hear"
"How dare you compare the two of us," she grinds out in a soft voice, eyes filled with emotion, "we are not alike. Okay, so maybe I did mess around with your life a bit… but you deserved it!"
"Oh, so let me get this straight. It's okay to screw around with people's lives if they deserve it?" I question, eyebrows arched and with a feigned look of surprise.
"Yes! I mean, no…" she closes her eyes in frustration before opening them again, "stop twisting my words around! You, Draco… you put others down and make their lives hell for no other reason than for your own enjoyment. Me? I had no choice"
"Oh, come now, Hermione… you're smarter than that. You don't expect me to believe that there had been no choice, do you? Just admit it! Some part of you was excited at the idea of fucking up my life. Some part of you wanted revenge… Hell, some part of you probably enjoyed it!"
"No!"
"Yes! There were probably half a dozen different ways to knock me off my pedestal, and yet you decided to go and do the very thing that you are - or should I say were - so against. You played around with my life, and now you stand there denying it. You make me sick"
Hermione swallows hard, fighting to keep her voice steady. "I'm not denying it"
"Then what are you doing?"
She doesn't answer for a while. Her brown eyes look away for a minute or two before resting back on my cold, gray ones. "The end justifies the mean," she says so softly that I almost miss it, "the end justifies the mean"
The saying hits me harder than I had thought it would. Nearly all anger drains away from my voice, leaving me feeling tired. Shaking my head slowly, I head towards the exit. I pause in the doorway and look back over my shoulder to where she staring blankly at the wall.
"The end justifies the mean - is that what you keep telling yourself, Hermione?" I ask quietly, before looking away again, "just remember… say it too often and it'll start to lose all meaning"
As I walk out the door, I swear I heard her murmur something to herself - "it already has"
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.dangerous-fox. - please review
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I'm on holidays now, but so is my muse apparently. Took me a while to get this written up, sorry… I haven't proof read it yet, so there might be some mistakes. I might fix it up later. Don't know yet what to think of this and reviews would be greatly appreciated. As part of my homework over the holidays for French, I've borrowed Harry Potter - "à l'école des sorciers". It's taking me forever to translate, I'm still on the second page… Mr. Dursley has just left for work. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews - please keep them coming!
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