A/N: Thank you all so much. If I had time, I would write individual replies to everyone, but I can't. Sorry. It took me long enough to just write the chapter...deep sigh It's a hard knock life, for me, It's a hard knock life, for me. I write fanfics, all day, all work, no play, it's a hard knock lifeOK, shutting up now. I can't believe I have over a 100 reviews!
She suspected Malfoy had dragged her back to her room, through the portrait hole, and the Gryffindor common room. She suspected her fellow Gryffindors had not been supportive of the idea of Draco Malfoy helping her into her room. Or getting out of her clothes, she realized with a start, looking down at her pale shoulders. Thankfully, the rest of her bare body was hidden underneath her duvet.
She was exhausted. She was exhausted, and sore, andAnd then it all came flooding back. She felt like crying again, but she was sure by now she was drained of tears. One of the oddest things about her, that only her mother and father knew, was that she cried in her sleep. None of the three had ever known anyone who cried in their sleep, and Hermione couldn't help think of it as a weakness.
She sat up, keeping the covers close, and looked around. It was early, early morning, because it was still dark outside her window, with a hint of light creeping into the shadows.
She blinked a few times, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, and then proceeded to think.
Blaise was a smooth-talking, handsome young man, but he was definitely a Slytherin. Which, in itself, speaks boat loads. Why would he try to kiss her? She was a mudblood, and, though he'd shown no signs of hostility at breakfast, he couldn't be kind and sensitive enough to disregard a thing like that. So he'd kiss her to mess with her, obviously, to make her try and figure it out, which is exactly what she was doing.
But she suspected he was hoping she'd wonder what a wonderful person like Blaise would want with a lowly girl like her. Sadly for him, she was only thinking of a way to deal with him, not be with him.
So, a motive to mess with her mind….Pure Slytherin hate? No. Draco Malfoy. Hurt someone close to him. But Slytherins don't have friends, or girlfriends, she thought ruefully. So I'm close to Malfoy now? And here I was thinking it was all just a charade. Which means Blaise must see something I don't….
How long are you going to try to convince yourself that you and Draco hate each other, which is the opposite of what you really feel? A voice in the back of her mind chided her.
"He's Malfoy, first off. Second, it's all make-believe. Really. And the opposite of hate is love, which I most certainly do not feel," Hermione said out loud, not even bothering to realize she was having a conversation with herself.
"When you talk to yourself Granger, do you get any answers?"
Hermione's head snapped around. Malfoy was sitting in a corner of her room, looking exactly like the evil villain many supposed him to be. Many? Are you included in that anymore? The voice asked.
"What are you doing here?" She asked him, noting that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Why does he always decide to take his shirt off when we're in my room?
"If you're going to be rude…."
"Sorry, it's just weird to wake up naked and find a shirtless boy in your room. And don't pull the 'Don't you remember last night?' line, because I'm not going to fall for it."
He smirked. That stupid, stupid smirk.
"Granger, if you must know, it was your girly Gryffindor friends who undressed you. And I'm shirtless because it was hot in here, no implications meant. I've been waiting because you walked up to me, sank to the floor, and began crying, and I want to know why."
"Why I was crying? Or why I came to you?" Damn, Hermione thought, trying desperately not to blush. I didn't mean to say that.
Hermione didn't have to look up to know he was smirking.
"Why you were crying, Granger. Though why you came running to me, of all people…"
"I was crying because Blaise Zabini grabbed me, pulled me into a closet, shoved against the wall, and kissed me."
"Oh." That's all he has to say? It's practically his fault! It's his little friend, and he could do something-
"Yes oh." –How conceited and jackass-y can he be? I can't believe him! I think I was even starting to like him, to care that much more. I mean, once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin, I know that. I didn't expect him to change completely, but-
"I'm sorry."
"You're what?" Didn't see that one coming……
"I'm sorry."
Hermione grinned. "You're going soft is what."
He grinned back. "That too." Then his face turned serious. "So it was Zabini?"
Hermione nodded. "I have to sit beside him in the Great Hall."
"I could ask to switch seats with him."
"And then our little charade would be blown out of proportion."
"Just don't walk alone OK? I don't mean you have to be with me, just be with someone. He'll hurt you."
"I don't want that."
"Neither do I."
"Stop being so sweet. It's unnerving."
He laughed. "I apologize."
"Good. I'll see you later; I have to get dressed now."
"Bye Granger."
"Bye Stud muffin."
Play practice had become utter mayhem. Students came to watch the hippie knights dancing the Charleston, with good reason. Professor McGonagall tried to tell them that they would see it all on opening night, but they were not to be dissuaded.
Watching the cast work their way through the craziness that had become their traditional fairy tale was quite amusing. But a lot of students, mostly girls, came to see Draco and Hermione. They wanted to see if there was chemistry between them, to see if the rumours were true.
Many were quite disappointed.
What they saw when they sat through the entire thing was fanfare music, which was actually played on kazoos and then amplified. The sound was actually quite majestic until you remembered they were kazoos.
The royal party, the celebration of the birth of a baby girl, and then the evil witch came in, dressed as a Goth. She said some random things in a monotone voice, and then cast an evil spell in a monotone voice, saying something about a "pointy thing."
The three good fairies, dressed in nice floral print dresses, are always giggling. When they hide Aurora away, she is only seven or so, and is played by a scared first year student who looks nothing like Hermione, but she doesn't have to say anything anyways.
The scene where Hermione is singing, her dress is a dark green, which is a fairly good colour for Hermione. Hannah Abbott went through at least fifty dresses at every single rehearsal to get that particular design and shade.
Hermione pricks her finger and is transported by the Goth to a tower, though the evil sorceress doesn't seem to be too enthusiastic about it. There is a lot of talking in the play at this point, mostly between the King and Prince Phillip.
When the Goth evil sorceress comes back onto the scene, she brings with her a giant bunny that has rainbow scales and rather large fangs. The fangs were suggested by another muggle-born, who borrowed the idea from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail," though few knew it and therefore thought he was just a little strange. The rainbow scales were suggested by Hermione, who borrowed the idea from her favourite children's book, "Rainbow Fish." Why she borrowed the idea for a rabbit is beyond most people.
So Draco has to fight the evil scale bunny using a pink, sparkling light saber. The first time he hears about it, Hermione promises to show him the movie some time. This leads to a long discussion about what a movie is, and the rehearsal is held up because of that on numerous occasions.
Everything goes fairly well until they get to the kiss scene, where the two leads promptly start bickering and Professor McGonagall gets aggravated. Everyone starts yelling, and then Draco usually breaks out into a parody version of "Mr. Brightside," by The Killers, and no one bothers asking how he knows a muggle song so well, lest they face his wrath.
By the end of his song, Hermione is laughing so hard she's in tears, and Professor McGonagall is so astounded she lets them skip the scene. Because of this, they haven't kissed in the play since first rehearsal.
By the end of the play, most people are so stupefied they can't even bring themselves to laugh as people in armour with long hair and hemp jewelry dance around singing "All You Need Is Love." Only half the cast can sing, however, since the other half is lying on the stage laughing.
Finally, when the song comes to a finish and Professor McGonagall has taken a fifth year aside to chide him about his inappropriate behavior in the form of pretending to smoke a joint, the crowds disperse. That was a brief synopsis of the way Hermione and Draco have been spending their Saturday's for the past few weeks.
Hermione was caught off guard once again. Blaise pulled her into an empty classroom this time, and it took her a little longer to find her wand and mumble a curse.
"Slower this time,' he said, giving her a malicious look.
"Are you testing me Zabini?"
He shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. I think you like being kissed."
"By you, no. By others, yes."
"Others like Draco?"
"Maybe. Maybe not," Hermione replied, wondering why she was having this conversation. She couldn't for the life of her ever remember admitting that to anyone. What were these Slytherins doing to her?
"Admit it Granger. You have a thing for bad boys."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Like you? I don't think so Zabini. Maybe it's a thing for being pushed against walls."
"I knew you liked it rough."
"Note the sarcasm. And here I was thinking you were smart."
"Granger," Blaise said, coming closer to her. "You know you love it when I do this."
"What are you basing that statement on?"
"The fact that you haven't used your wand yet."
"Maybe I like conversation."
"Maybe. Maybe not."
Hermione ended up on the floor in tears again. To be honest, she wasn't surprised, though she chided herself for being so incredibly weak. If she'd really wanted to blast the bastard, she could have. She knew hundreds of hexes and disarming charms that would have worked perfectly in her situation, though that probably wasn't what they were intended for, and she had failed to sue any of the really powerful ones both times.
What was wrong with her? Either she'd spent too much time away from her Slytherin-hating friends, or she'd spent too much time with Slytherins. Either way, she couldn't help wondering why Blaise attacking her didn't bother her as much as it probably should.
"How many times is he going to get the better of you, Granger?"
"He's not getting the better of me…"
"You're lying on the floor in tears, clearly in deep though, or perhaps it's a state of pre-mature depression."
"Very funny. Do you always have to be so pompous?"
"If I'm too kind, and too caring, I'll have to be a Hufflepuff."
"That would be a fine sight indeed."
"That it would. Come on Granger," Malfoy replied, seemingly exhausted, as he helped her to her feet. "We'll bring you to the room of requirement so the Gryffindors don't try to hex me again."
"They did that?" Hermione gasped, letting him help her up. She was not one to act ornery when she was in such a state of confusion.
He shrugged. "I'm a Slytherin. If I'm helping a Gryffindor, they automatically assume I have an ulterior motive. Especially if it's a Gryffindor girl."
"Should I bother asking for an explanation on that last bit?"
He smiled a sad smile. Hermione wasn't as surprised as she might have been. He was smiling and laughing without malice more and more often. Ever since he started spending time with you, he's being going soft. And see what it's doing to him? He's exhausted. His house as all but disowned him, and your friends trust him less than they did before, if possible.
Hermione began crying, slow, sad tears, as he led her through the halls.
"Granger, you should now by now I can't deal with tears."
"But you have so many girlfriends, Malfoy, you'd think you'd have learned to handle hormones," Hermione replied with as much humour as she could muster. She put on her own sad smile as the tears continued to fall.
"They weren't girlfriends, Granger, as you well know."
"What were they then? Acquaintances?" She was happy for the brief diversion from her rather depressing thoughts, happy that they were talking they way the had before. Witty bantering, back and forth, simple.
He smiled once more. "Perhaps. Why are you crying then? I don't want to ask, but seeing as how I'm your gentlemanly escort…?" He gave her a questioning look as they entered the room, and she sat down on a large armchair. He stood, leaning against the wall in a rather James Dean-ish manner.
"Other than Blaise?"
"We can talk about him later. That's not all though, is it?"
"No," she replied, not even bothering to wonder how he knew there was something more. "You're losing your perfect bad boy image, and you have no housemates, and even if they're not your friends they're still your people, and Harry and Ron and Ginny and all the other Gryffindors trust you less than before, if it's possible, since they think you'd up to something horrible."
"Granger. Your friends, with the exception of Weasley, maybe, think you can make decisions well enough on your own, and they don't appear to be prone to meddling. They trust you, Granger, so you needn't worry. We both know Weasley will be unreasonable no matter what, so you shouldn't think about him too much. My friends, as you insist on putting it, can be won back simply, and besides, that's my problem, not yours. Maybe I am going a little soft, Granger, but it could help me in the end. Don't cry for me; cry for something more important."
"I think you are important."
"You think?"
"You are important."
"I knew it. You love me."
"You bug me."
"Good night Granger."
"Good night stud muffin."
Blaise was surprised. He wasn't surprised that his plan was working. After all, besides Draco, he was one of the most desirable guys in school. Not even a silly mudblood like Granger was blind to his charms and good looks. He wasn't surprised that she didn't show up for breakfast the next morning, as he suspected either Draco had come to his senses and taken advantage of her vulnerability the night before, or they'd both slept in. How sweet, he thought, a smirk on his face and a malicious glint in his eye.
He wasn't surprised that he'd had another stroke of genius to add to his masterful plan, or that he knew just how to include Draco in it.
What he was surprised about was how much he liked kissing the mudblood. Part of it, he was sure, was the power. The feeling of some delicate girl wriggling under you, protesting though she didn't really want you to stop, was pure bliss. And that was only the kissing.
The other part of it was her. And he hated himself for it, for liking her lips, he tongue, her face. He was surprised and maybe even a little upset that he wanted more. Every time he kissed her he wanted more, and he was nearly positive it wasn't just the lip gloss, which he had yet to figure out the flavour of. He'd thought he knew every flavour of lip gloss that the girls wore.
So his excuse was the lip gloss. That was it. He needed to know. It had nothing to do with what it felt like for her lips to press against his….
Hermione was surprised. She wasn't surprised to find herself thinking about Malfoy and what it felt like to kiss him. She wasn't surprised to find herself thinking about him a good portion of her time; to find that he'd taken the place of homework in her mind, an extraordinary feat indeed. Nor was she surprised to know she really was falling for the Slytherin bad boy, as he was so commonly referred to.
She was surprised at the fact that she liked kissing his friend. His housemate turned enemy. Blaise Zabini. She couldn't for the life of her figure out why. When Malfoy kissed her, it was a slow, steady kiss. Certainly, there was passion, lust, strong liking. But Blaise….With Blaise there was perhaps a trace of lust, but mostly a passion fueled by hate. And for some reason, she liked being pushed against walls, on top of desks, into small alcoves and being kissed roughly and urgently.
She was surprised that Blaise Zabini would bother kissing her, even as part of a vengeance plan. And then, of course, her logical mind kicked in, and it occurred to her that maybe what Blaise was doing wasn't just vengeance….That he liked kissing her more than he could ever admit.
Draco was surprised. He wasn't surprised to know that he was falling for the mudblood book worm Gryffindor. He'd known that for a long time. He'd known, however annoyed he could be by her, the steady stream of banter and wit they had going was something no other person, let alone girl, could match. He was not surprised to know that she was different than anyone he'd ever met, and he was not surprised to know what that meant.
He didn't think he loved her. He wasn't sure he could. He was, after all, still a Slytherin. No, he wasn't surprised to know he loved kissing her. Or to see how concerned he was about her, all the time, no matter what she was doing. He couldn't remember ever feeling that compassionate about another person in his entire life.
He was surprised to find he was jealous of Blaise. Hermione and Blaise did not have a relationship. They had a lust-hate connection. He and Hermione, quite obviously at that point, had something more, a deeper understanding and an easy caring relationship. But what ever it was that she and Blaise had, it was fueled by hate, which, he figured, could sometimes be more powerful than love, despite what the fairy tales say.
He was jealous of their hate.
A/N: So it took a bit of a darker turn in this chapter, but I did have the play bit, which I thought was funny. As always, if you have suggestions, I am always open to hearing them, as far-fetched as they may seem. I'll even incorporate a few into the story if I could see them fitting in, and I'd give you credit. So, please review, and share all your genius ideas with me.