Chapter One
PLEASANT SURPRISES
Let me introduce you to the Head Girl of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Easily the cleverest girl in school. Though she wasn't very pretty. No, she wasn't blessed with good looks. Just a knack for reading and getting herself into things she could have easily avoided. Let me introduce you to me, Hermione Granger.
Now, you must know, just one year ago, anyone who would have told me that I would fall in love with Draco Malfoy could be pronounced clinically insane. Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger have been sworn enemies since the day they met. Me, I was intent on keeping it this way, and I could have said the same for him. At eighteen years old, in my 7th and last year at Hogwarts, I was ready to face some major changes in witch-hood and in womanhood. But never, NEVER in all my years as a student at Hogwarts would I have expected something so drastic.
My best friends, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter: they were the only things keeping me alive throughout year after year of torture. That, and my dignity as a Muggle-born witch. This was the trouble when two people with similar pride tried to keep up an argument for seven years. His arrogant pureblood attitude and my stubborn muggle-born attitude held up against each other so well; it was the only thing that kept us from cracking under all the pressure. The pressure was tremendous: to pretend to keep hating each other. To pretend that nothing had changed in the slightest. Keeping up this childish attitude for so long was beginning to feel silly, but I was stubborn: I milked it for all it was worth for seven straight years.
Now, my story truly begins six years ago, when I was first starting Hogwarts. But I'd rather not drag you back that far...we could start in my seventh year. I'm pretty sure you won't miss anything during that 6-year period.
Even though SOMETHING changed during that time. Something cracked. Something was different, from my fifth year on; things were beginning to lighten up. But neither of us acknowledged this change, and neither of us felt the need to indulge it. We left things at the same dreadful note every year. He was never so important to me that I thought about him enough to really know how I felt. I decided I'd rather stick with 'terrible, egotistical, slimy ferret' than the fact of it.
So we left it at that.
It all began, so to say, on a rainy autumn evening that was September first...
"Hermione, we've been looking all over for you!"
I stopped for a moment to explore the grounds of the platform: two blurry figures were drawing nearer to me.
"Oh, Harry, Ron, it's you!"
"Well, who did you expect, Crabbe and Goyle?" came the distinct voice of a Weasley.
I giggled softly and glanced once more at the Scarlet Steam Engine that was the Hogwarts Express. Then there came an unfamiliar tug at my heart. It was something like sorrow, but I didn't take the time to acknowledge it.
"You're Head Girl!"
A voice floated in from the back of my head.
"What? Oh, yes, yeah I am. Is one of you Head Boy?"
"Not me. Dumbledore already told me I wouldn't be Head Boy, last year..."
"Oh yeah, Harry, because you NEVER break the rules..."
"Shut up. I don't see YOU wearing a Head Boy badge, unless I'm mistaken."
"Do you know who's Head Boy?" I had no time, really, for this silly argument.
"No, sorry 'Mione. But me and Ron have got to get up onto the train, and you too, you've got to get to the Heads' Compartment."
"Right. 'Bye, I'll see you guys later!"
I made my way through long hallways, while my mind was swarmed with excitement: I wanted to know who it was I would be forced to share a common room with for the rest of the year - whoever it was, it was bound to be someone very intellectual: I couldn't wait to meet him. Or maybe I already knew him. What house could he be in? Maybe it could still be a Griffindor - Oh, I hope it's not a Slytherin...
But it all came crashing down as, when I opened the door to the Heads' Compartment, I saw a thin, pointed face with sharp gray eyes grinning up at me:
Draco Malfoy.
No, no, I thought. It can't be Malfoy, it just can't be!
"You're HEAD BOY?!" I said, just stupidly blurting out whatever was on my mind. Typical me.
"No, Granger, I just popped in here for a little visit; couldn't resist, you know. First thing on my mind since I came, see. 'Oh, I can't wait to see the Mudblood, wonder if she's Head Girl?'"
It took a moment for me to catch the sarcasm. Luckily for him, I hadn't noticed the spark of sincerity in his eyes. But before I could shoot something back at him, he spoke again.
"And quit staring at me, Granger. When did I ever give you consent to make eye contact?"
"Oh, like I'd ever want to make eye contact with you," I hissed, dropping my things on the floor rather violently.
"That's all right, Granger, we mustn't lie now. Just about every girl in this school can't take her eyes off me. Now, what makes you any different?"
He made himself comfortable on the large leather chair, as if he'd been stiff with nerves before I'd entered.
"Two reasons, actually. One, not looking at you, Malfoy, is quite easy. I've had much practice. Two - "
" - You've already GOT a boyfriend... Right, right..." he trailed off thoughtfully.
"Excuse me?"
"Well you spend so much time in that bloody common room with Potty and Weasel, Merlin knows WHAT you're doing..."
"I do NOT have a boyfriend!" I countered angrily, keeping a wary eye on his wand pocket.
He chuckled softly.
"You're right Granger, don't know what I was thinking. Who'd want to be YOUR boyfriend?"
"Somehow, I'm thinking...not you."
"Oh, yes. And if I were you, I'd keep your eyes off my arse - you're not getting anywhere near it anytime soo - AARGHH!"
I had pounced.
"I CANT BELIEVE YOU SAID THAT!" I drove my fist into his face. "YOU'RE GOING TO PAY FOR THAT ONE MALFOY," Once more. "NEVER IN ALL MY LIFE..." One more time, just for the hell of it. "AND YOU'RE NEVER GOING TO SAY IT AGAIN. GOT IT? CLEAR?!"
"OUCH! Oh yeah, crystal..."
"Good!"
Anyone who would have walked in on the scene would think their eyes were fooling them: Malfoy was sprawled upon the floor, looking flabbergasted. Both of us were breathing unnaturally hard, his hair was ruffled around his delicate face like he'd just been rolling around on the floor and my robes were slightly disshelved: it was sheer luck that no one had been around at the time; it would have been at the expense to both of our reputations. Having sex with your enemy in a train compartment was just not acceptable.
"You're lucky your little Headmaster didn't walk in on us, Granger. You might just be out of a job," he sneered.
Well of course, I had been thinking along the same lines.
"You started it," I said simply, trying to stop myself from simpering in his direction: beating up Malfoy had been an unfamiliar and surprisingly pleasurable sensation. But he wasn't to know that.
He cocked an eyebrow. After a while, as if dropping a concept he decided was stupid, his face fell in defeat, and he frowned.
"Yeah, well, whatever."
"Whatever, Malfoy." I began to unpack my things.
"Whatever, Mudblood."
The train ride to Hogwarts seemed to last forever. And I mean, FOREVER.
Sometimes, being stuck in a train compartment with your worst enemy for a matter of hours can seem like years, even DECADES. The silence made it worse. Well, I really considered the matter, and, at least I didn't have to TALK to the slimeball. But it was awkward anyway.
He was immersed in a book about Salazar Slytherin. From behind the book cover, I noticed one of his long, slender fingers pointed in my direction - the middle one to be exact - slightly sticking up from the top. Just enough so I could notice it, anyway. I could see him grinning.
I was ready to pounce again - right ready to pounce, when...
"Lunch time!"
I ran up to open the door for the woman with the lunch trolley. She trotted in with an array of various food items - I chose some sort of chicken - indefinable, really, more of a hard, brown lump on a plate.
Malfoy whipped out a large moneybag. It almost reached the floor, it was so bloody big. About three quarters of it was filled with galleons. It weighed him down.
He scooped up a handful of them carelessly, like he had just so damn many, he really didn't care what he did with them. But then, I remembered, he didn't.
"Two of those. One of those. Three of those. And...ah, yes, that, too. Yes. Here."
He scrambled back to a chair, his arms full of too much food for one person to possibly consume at once, and I didn't know which was worse: the fact that he bought all of that food just to eat it in front of me, or the fact such a rich man could be such a wastrel with his money.
"What is THAT?" I pointed to a green, lumpy, steaming object. The question that was burning inside of me just sort of, came out.
"If you're asking for a donation, Granger," he said, still mercilessly stuffing his face, "you're not getting anything out of me."
I ignored him. "Is that an artichoke?"
"Ah, that's right, Granger," he said, brushing this aside. "I bet your family's been living on some MUGGLE shit. You've probably never tried anything along the lines of what a Malfoy has for lunch."
"Oh, right. Smoked Artichokes. That all I'm missing?"
I interested myself in my book bag, unnecessarily rearranging its contents, just to avoid Malfoy's glares that I could feel from a mile away.
The train was rolling by mountains and lakes and plains, and it didn't show signs of stopping, or even slowing down, any time soon. I let out a groan when I had decided to land one eye on the clock.
"Yes, Granger, we're stuck here alone for another six hours. Thank you for noticing."
I glared across in his direction, and let out another sigh; my seventh year in Hogwarts, Head Girl, and what did I have to show for it? I was going to be stuck in a common room with Draco Malfoy for the next ten months. And I thought Dumbledore LIKED me.
PLEASANT SURPRISES
Let me introduce you to the Head Girl of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Easily the cleverest girl in school. Though she wasn't very pretty. No, she wasn't blessed with good looks. Just a knack for reading and getting herself into things she could have easily avoided. Let me introduce you to me, Hermione Granger.
Now, you must know, just one year ago, anyone who would have told me that I would fall in love with Draco Malfoy could be pronounced clinically insane. Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger have been sworn enemies since the day they met. Me, I was intent on keeping it this way, and I could have said the same for him. At eighteen years old, in my 7th and last year at Hogwarts, I was ready to face some major changes in witch-hood and in womanhood. But never, NEVER in all my years as a student at Hogwarts would I have expected something so drastic.
My best friends, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter: they were the only things keeping me alive throughout year after year of torture. That, and my dignity as a Muggle-born witch. This was the trouble when two people with similar pride tried to keep up an argument for seven years. His arrogant pureblood attitude and my stubborn muggle-born attitude held up against each other so well; it was the only thing that kept us from cracking under all the pressure. The pressure was tremendous: to pretend to keep hating each other. To pretend that nothing had changed in the slightest. Keeping up this childish attitude for so long was beginning to feel silly, but I was stubborn: I milked it for all it was worth for seven straight years.
Now, my story truly begins six years ago, when I was first starting Hogwarts. But I'd rather not drag you back that far...we could start in my seventh year. I'm pretty sure you won't miss anything during that 6-year period.
Even though SOMETHING changed during that time. Something cracked. Something was different, from my fifth year on; things were beginning to lighten up. But neither of us acknowledged this change, and neither of us felt the need to indulge it. We left things at the same dreadful note every year. He was never so important to me that I thought about him enough to really know how I felt. I decided I'd rather stick with 'terrible, egotistical, slimy ferret' than the fact of it.
So we left it at that.
It all began, so to say, on a rainy autumn evening that was September first...
"Hermione, we've been looking all over for you!"
I stopped for a moment to explore the grounds of the platform: two blurry figures were drawing nearer to me.
"Oh, Harry, Ron, it's you!"
"Well, who did you expect, Crabbe and Goyle?" came the distinct voice of a Weasley.
I giggled softly and glanced once more at the Scarlet Steam Engine that was the Hogwarts Express. Then there came an unfamiliar tug at my heart. It was something like sorrow, but I didn't take the time to acknowledge it.
"You're Head Girl!"
A voice floated in from the back of my head.
"What? Oh, yes, yeah I am. Is one of you Head Boy?"
"Not me. Dumbledore already told me I wouldn't be Head Boy, last year..."
"Oh yeah, Harry, because you NEVER break the rules..."
"Shut up. I don't see YOU wearing a Head Boy badge, unless I'm mistaken."
"Do you know who's Head Boy?" I had no time, really, for this silly argument.
"No, sorry 'Mione. But me and Ron have got to get up onto the train, and you too, you've got to get to the Heads' Compartment."
"Right. 'Bye, I'll see you guys later!"
I made my way through long hallways, while my mind was swarmed with excitement: I wanted to know who it was I would be forced to share a common room with for the rest of the year - whoever it was, it was bound to be someone very intellectual: I couldn't wait to meet him. Or maybe I already knew him. What house could he be in? Maybe it could still be a Griffindor - Oh, I hope it's not a Slytherin...
But it all came crashing down as, when I opened the door to the Heads' Compartment, I saw a thin, pointed face with sharp gray eyes grinning up at me:
Draco Malfoy.
No, no, I thought. It can't be Malfoy, it just can't be!
"You're HEAD BOY?!" I said, just stupidly blurting out whatever was on my mind. Typical me.
"No, Granger, I just popped in here for a little visit; couldn't resist, you know. First thing on my mind since I came, see. 'Oh, I can't wait to see the Mudblood, wonder if she's Head Girl?'"
It took a moment for me to catch the sarcasm. Luckily for him, I hadn't noticed the spark of sincerity in his eyes. But before I could shoot something back at him, he spoke again.
"And quit staring at me, Granger. When did I ever give you consent to make eye contact?"
"Oh, like I'd ever want to make eye contact with you," I hissed, dropping my things on the floor rather violently.
"That's all right, Granger, we mustn't lie now. Just about every girl in this school can't take her eyes off me. Now, what makes you any different?"
He made himself comfortable on the large leather chair, as if he'd been stiff with nerves before I'd entered.
"Two reasons, actually. One, not looking at you, Malfoy, is quite easy. I've had much practice. Two - "
" - You've already GOT a boyfriend... Right, right..." he trailed off thoughtfully.
"Excuse me?"
"Well you spend so much time in that bloody common room with Potty and Weasel, Merlin knows WHAT you're doing..."
"I do NOT have a boyfriend!" I countered angrily, keeping a wary eye on his wand pocket.
He chuckled softly.
"You're right Granger, don't know what I was thinking. Who'd want to be YOUR boyfriend?"
"Somehow, I'm thinking...not you."
"Oh, yes. And if I were you, I'd keep your eyes off my arse - you're not getting anywhere near it anytime soo - AARGHH!"
I had pounced.
"I CANT BELIEVE YOU SAID THAT!" I drove my fist into his face. "YOU'RE GOING TO PAY FOR THAT ONE MALFOY," Once more. "NEVER IN ALL MY LIFE..." One more time, just for the hell of it. "AND YOU'RE NEVER GOING TO SAY IT AGAIN. GOT IT? CLEAR?!"
"OUCH! Oh yeah, crystal..."
"Good!"
Anyone who would have walked in on the scene would think their eyes were fooling them: Malfoy was sprawled upon the floor, looking flabbergasted. Both of us were breathing unnaturally hard, his hair was ruffled around his delicate face like he'd just been rolling around on the floor and my robes were slightly disshelved: it was sheer luck that no one had been around at the time; it would have been at the expense to both of our reputations. Having sex with your enemy in a train compartment was just not acceptable.
"You're lucky your little Headmaster didn't walk in on us, Granger. You might just be out of a job," he sneered.
Well of course, I had been thinking along the same lines.
"You started it," I said simply, trying to stop myself from simpering in his direction: beating up Malfoy had been an unfamiliar and surprisingly pleasurable sensation. But he wasn't to know that.
He cocked an eyebrow. After a while, as if dropping a concept he decided was stupid, his face fell in defeat, and he frowned.
"Yeah, well, whatever."
"Whatever, Malfoy." I began to unpack my things.
"Whatever, Mudblood."
The train ride to Hogwarts seemed to last forever. And I mean, FOREVER.
Sometimes, being stuck in a train compartment with your worst enemy for a matter of hours can seem like years, even DECADES. The silence made it worse. Well, I really considered the matter, and, at least I didn't have to TALK to the slimeball. But it was awkward anyway.
He was immersed in a book about Salazar Slytherin. From behind the book cover, I noticed one of his long, slender fingers pointed in my direction - the middle one to be exact - slightly sticking up from the top. Just enough so I could notice it, anyway. I could see him grinning.
I was ready to pounce again - right ready to pounce, when...
"Lunch time!"
I ran up to open the door for the woman with the lunch trolley. She trotted in with an array of various food items - I chose some sort of chicken - indefinable, really, more of a hard, brown lump on a plate.
Malfoy whipped out a large moneybag. It almost reached the floor, it was so bloody big. About three quarters of it was filled with galleons. It weighed him down.
He scooped up a handful of them carelessly, like he had just so damn many, he really didn't care what he did with them. But then, I remembered, he didn't.
"Two of those. One of those. Three of those. And...ah, yes, that, too. Yes. Here."
He scrambled back to a chair, his arms full of too much food for one person to possibly consume at once, and I didn't know which was worse: the fact that he bought all of that food just to eat it in front of me, or the fact such a rich man could be such a wastrel with his money.
"What is THAT?" I pointed to a green, lumpy, steaming object. The question that was burning inside of me just sort of, came out.
"If you're asking for a donation, Granger," he said, still mercilessly stuffing his face, "you're not getting anything out of me."
I ignored him. "Is that an artichoke?"
"Ah, that's right, Granger," he said, brushing this aside. "I bet your family's been living on some MUGGLE shit. You've probably never tried anything along the lines of what a Malfoy has for lunch."
"Oh, right. Smoked Artichokes. That all I'm missing?"
I interested myself in my book bag, unnecessarily rearranging its contents, just to avoid Malfoy's glares that I could feel from a mile away.
The train was rolling by mountains and lakes and plains, and it didn't show signs of stopping, or even slowing down, any time soon. I let out a groan when I had decided to land one eye on the clock.
"Yes, Granger, we're stuck here alone for another six hours. Thank you for noticing."
I glared across in his direction, and let out another sigh; my seventh year in Hogwarts, Head Girl, and what did I have to show for it? I was going to be stuck in a common room with Draco Malfoy for the next ten months. And I thought Dumbledore LIKED me.