Chapter Ten
Hermione rolled around on her bed, rubbing her temples and trying to think of something other than the article or Draco, without having much success. She finally gave an exasperated sigh of defeat and rolled over again merely to fall off the bed, down three feet, and loudly collide with the floor. She let out an irate holler and kicked her feet like an infant.
"I can't believe the luck I'm having!" she cried, turning onto her stomach and burying her head in her arms. "Oh, bloody hell…"
"Hermione…" came a quiet voice from her doorway. The brunette looked up and saw Ginny standing warily in the doorway. She seemed like she didn't want to come too far into the room in case Hermione blew up at her.
"Come in, Ginny," she murmured. "I'm not angry at you. I'm…irate at Witch Weekly right now and…and…and…and there are no words to describe how mad I am at Malfoy!"
"Oh yes, blame it all on Malfoy," drawled someone behind Ginny, making the redhead jump into the room. "Wow, great distance, Weasel's kid sister."
"She has a name, Malfoy!…and what do you want, anyway?" Hermione snapped, stretching and getting to her knees.
"Oh, you're in a good position to be taking that tone with me." He was obviously referring to her being on her knees on the floor. "If that's all you wanted, Granger, you only had to ask. I didn't know you liked people watching, though."
"Ginny, duck," said Hermione, picking up her book from the floor. "Malfoy, hold still."
Draco wasted no time in ducking, and strangely, pulling the youngest Weasley down with him as a book came hurtling through the doorway. Ginny and he got to their feet and the redhead gave him a very curious look.
"Thanks," she said, looking rather befuddled.
"Don't mention it," he began, looking rather angry with himself, "ever!"
He swaggered off toward his room after giving Hermione a meaningful and pensive look before holding up the issue of Witch Weekly.
"You've read this, I presume," he drawled, tossing it to the floor in front of her.
"Unfortunately," she replied, kicking it away with her foot, "and I have never felt so sick in my life."
"I don't know what you're moaning about," he replied, crossing his arms and giving a rather cagey look at another book near Hermione. "I'm the one with the valuable reputation at stake. Being associated with a mudblood," he ducked yet another book, Ginny sidling out of the way on her own, "could shatter it beyond repair. You, on the other hand, are being romantically paired, media-wise, with the richest and most eligible bachelor." He dodged another book and Ginny, who had been leaning against the wall outside of Hermione's dormitory, watched as he headed toward his own.
The Weasley girl entered into Hermione's room to find her furious, on the verge of tears, and trembling with a passion to hex Draco to pieces. Ginny closed Hermione's door and moved over to sit on the bed. She settled, instead, on sitting on the floor next to Hermione. Ginny patted the brunette on the back and watched as she stubbornly held back the tears. After a few moments of enraged silence, Hermione got to her feet and left her dormitory, with Ginny on her heels, heading for the Gryffindor common room.
Draco, however, was digging around in his trunk. He pushed aside old school books and found something wrapped in old, patched robes and tied with a dirty sock. He pulled it out and removed the sock, popping the cork off a bottle of Ogden's Fire Whiskey. He took a large swig and smacked his lips as his tongue got used to the all too familiar taste. He downed another gulp and then just stared blankly into the reddish-amber liquid. He knew that if he drank the whole bottle, he could easily be slobbering drunk and find himself awake the next morning with six different girls. He made a silent decision not to let it carry out that far. Every time he managed that feat, the women he saw were too old, too young, or too ugly. He knocked back another mouthful and sighed, staring at the glittering Head Boy badge on his chest.
"Screw it," he murmured, licking the rim of the bottle hungrily.
He closed his eyes and pictured himself in the Witch Weekly once more…with Hermione on his arm. He shuddered slightly, sipping the fire whiskey again. He had to admit, she had almost looked pretty. 'Almost…what the Merlin am I saying? This is mudblood Granger after all. When has she looked pretty? Big teeth, bushy hair, and overly expressive eyes.' He sighed and opened his eyes, eyeing the whiskey again before taking another mouthful and swallowing. He could feel his head swirling slightly and everything became slightly dull.
"Aw, who needs women?" he asked, thrashing his bottle around. "Especially no-good, mudblood, Granger!"
Hours had passed and day was soon night when Hermione came through the portrait from Gryffindor. She had said the password, quietly, to the still lion and the portrait had creaked open, showing stairs leading down to the Head's common room. She heard loud yowling, when she got in, which it sounded something quite like Weird Sister lyrics.
"Oooh baby! It'sh not easeeeeeeee bein' crazeeeeeee…" the screaming person, which, from Hermione's perspective, sounded undoubtedly like a banshee, howled. She looked up in the direction of the music and found she was staring at Draco's door.
She was reluctant to go near it, though. She feared that, knowing Draco's family background, that it actually could have been a banshee. When she touched the doorknob on his door, she jumped as the person on the other side continued screaming lyrics.
"An' you ish drivin' meeee crazeeeeeee tonigh'!" Hermione pushed the door open and came saw Draco dancing on his rug, waving an empty whiskey bottle around. He stopped singing when he heard his door open and looked at Hermione.
"Oooh, hey Grangah!" he spat out, drunkenly. "How you doin'? You ain't gotsh nooo booksh wish ya, do ya?"
"Merlin's beard, Malfoy," exclaimed Hermione, "are you drunk!"
"Maybeee," he drawled, stumbling toward her. "What'sh it tooo ya, babe? Heh, I called yooou babe."
"Goodness," mumbled Hermione. "How much did you drink?"
"Jusht one bottle o' Ogdensh," he said, holding up the bottle as proof. "Seeee?"
"You're going to hate yourself in the morning," she said. "Go to bed, before you cause too much ruckus and stir the professors."
"Make me," he snapped, dropping the bottle to the floor, which, as Hermione found rather thankful, did not shatter, and crossing his arms like a spoiled baby. Hermione sighed exasperatedly and strode over to him.
"If you insist," she said, grabbing his arm and dragging him to his bed. She crawled onto it, hauling his stubborn form up with her. Just as he and she were both up there, he blinked blearily and passed out, right on top of Hermione. "Oof! Malfoy! Come on! This isn't funny! Malfoy! Malfoy wake up! I don't care how randy you are, that is no excuse for—for—for this!" Draco gave no reply and Hermione found herself exhausted with all of the effort she had put in trying to shove his hefty form of her body. "You ass."