Merlin, Not Another Cliché!

From Draco's Wounded Heart

Summary: Draco is the totally redeemed, snarky Head Boy and Hermione a studious Head Girl. And is it just me or is Dumbledore trying to put these two together?!

Draco stepped off the Hogwarts express, a gleam in his eye and a smirk on his face. "Behold, everyone! I'm the Head Boy of Hogwarts!"

Around him everyone started laughing, because his voice had cracked midway through. He tried again. "Behold, everyone! I am the all mighty Head Boy of Hogwarts!"

There. Much better. Just to make up for earlier mishap, he terrorized a first year and two second years on his way to the carriages. He was just so excited to find out who the Head Girl was. It had been bothering him all day. He really kind of hoped it was Granger because he had a secret crush on her since he'd been at Hogwarts. No, scratch that, since the day he was born!

Never mind, the author huffed, that he didn't seem all that appreciative of her in the books. In this story, she would tenderly pull out Draco Malfoy's sensitive, wonderful side, and, she decided, he would be GOOD! How could he be evil?! Evil was so last year, anyway.

Quickly forgetting the fact that Draco had terrorized three people on his way to the carriages, the author dropped him into carriage number one, handed him parchment and a quill, and instructed him to write "beautiful, beautiful poetry from the depths of your wounded heart."

And so he did.

Hermione Granger, on the other hand, was unceremoniously shoved into carriage number one where she gasped on cue, "Please tell me, Malfoy, that that badge you are wearing means that you are head—I mean, means that you are NOT head boy! You foul…tiger, you!"

Draco gave her a soft, sweet smile. "But when my eyes rest upon the beauty that is you, I melt until only my eyes are left and I am just a pile of seeing flesh on the floor destroyed by your extravagance."

Hermione's hard, cold heart had already begun to melt but she pulled it together. "Stuff it, Malfoy," she begged. "You are the most despicable little buffoon ever."

"Please," Draco batted his eyelashes and flicked his beautiful blonde hair, "call me Draco."

Just at that moment said Head Boy and Head Girl reached Hogwarts. The author decided that instead of those two having to make the long journey up to Dumbledore and such, just to skip the sorting, the meal, the meeting of old friends, Hagrid, McGonagall, and anything else you might encounter at Hogwarts besides of course, true love.

Dumbledore himself came out to greet them. "Draco, Hermione!" he grinned.

They grinned back. "Sup, Prof D?" Draco sent the peace sign.

"Marvelous to see you," Hermione sang.

"K, so here's the deal," Dumbledore began, his eyes ever twinkling. "Look, the head girl rooms have burnt down and the head boy rooms have burnt down so I have to shove you two in a small closet with just enough space for one bed. And you can use the prefect's bathroom. I'll give you guys a slot of 7:30 in the morning and 10:00 at night, okay?"

"But Professor," Hermine's lower lip trembled, "I can't possibly spend that much time with this devil of a boy! Surely…we could sleep in an empty classroom…or I could sleep in the Gryffindor dormitories and he could sleep in Slytherin's…"

"Eh, you could, but don't you want to…hint hint, get it on?"

Draco nodded. "Come on, Hermione. It'll be fun!"

"See, there you go," Dumbledore smiled. "K, gotta go. Ministry biz, you know the drill."

"Laters!" Hermione and Draco called.

"So," Draco turned to Hermione as Dumbledore left. "I have to tell you something."

"What?"

"Well…I've gotten to know you since the beginning of the school year and stuff, having to share this itsy bitsy room and bathroom slots—heh, we've had some real fun—and…"

"Hold, on, Draco, I have to forward time!" Hermione rolled her eyes. With a quick swish and flick of her wand it was successfully only two days left until they graduated from Hogwarts.

Man, seventh year sure had gone fast.

The author giggled. She was just getting to the very best part of them all—when Draco confessed his undying love…and tension, tension, would Hermione accept it?!

"Okay, go," Hermione directed. "Come on I don't have all day."

Wow, she was mean.

Draco began again. "Look, so I know you and all now…and the thing is, Hermione, you've made me…want to be good! Just like you!"

Didn't matter that now he'd turned into some sodding sappy nancy boy who probably liked it up the rear; he was GOOD now! GOOD!

Oh, my gosh, Draco would be the next Dumbledore type character! He was benign and kind and gracious and gorgeous and he wrote beautiful, beautiful poetry from the depths of his wounded heart.

A perfect package.

Hermione gasped at Draco's unpredictable revelation. "NO!" she moaned. "You're Lucius's son! I…I won't believe this, Draco. You're lying."

"Lying?!" Draco gasped. "NEVER! I could never lie to you Hermione, you mean everything to me! In fact—

I'll be your dream
I'll be your wish I'll be your fantasy
I'll be your hope I'll be your love
Be everything that you need
I'll love you more with every breath
Truly madly deeply do."

He sang with all his might, hoping the romantic lyrics would sway Hermione into believing him.

"Oh, Draco!" Hermione gasped, and that one word was repeated for the fiftieth time in the author's story, "I believe you, I really do!"

They kissed. It was terribly romantic and wonderful.

They graduated. It was terribly sad and wonderful.

They got married.

And then Voldemort came back into play.

"Heh, heh, heh," Draco laughed evilly. "I was just kidding! I really am evil! And do you know why?!"

"WHY?" gasped (again) the surprised people of wherever the hell Draco was.

"Because it's in again!"

A/N: Yes. I know it's silly, but Draco-quickly-redeemed fics sometimes do annoy me. Okay, let's see…stuff to address. Number one, those lyrics belong to Truly, Madly, Deeply by Savage Garden (a song I was once very, very fond of). Number two, thank you all for such fun reviews! Yay! Tell me some more clichés!

To that one reviewer, Riiight, hey, guess what…this is supposed to have stereotypes. It is supposed to be full of clichés. And lastly, it is supposed to be annoyingly stupid. So thanks.

And to RedHotChiliPepper12—okay, this is going to make you retch, but…I honestly didn't know the Smashing Pumpkins were a real band. I swear. I'm sure they're not really posers; hey, I listen to top 40 music and they're not on there, so obviously not posers…sorry!

Anyway, please review this! It's my silly fun of the day, and, plus I want more clichés. Hehe. Believe me, plenty more exist.